Hi there, everyone! It’s Char and Cheryl here, along with our other half, CiCi Cordelia!

We just wanted to grab a moment from this busy time, to wish you all a wonderful holiday season. Your love for our stories means the world to us, and we can’t thank you enough for being part of our writing journey.

We hope the following days are filled with loads of joy, laughter, and a bit of that special magic that makes this time of year so meaningful. Here’s to a new year brimming with new adventures and those sweet romances we all can’t get enough of.

We have a holiday gift for your reading pleasure, CiCi Cordelia’s heartwarming Christmas short story, Merry Christmas, Baby, below. If you enjoy our little holiday romance, be sure to check out the rest of our books. We’re also on Audible!

Happy Holidays and much love, Char, Cheryl, and CiCi Cordelia.

Merry Christmas, Baby

Chapter 1

Galena, Illinois

“Black Friday”

Sydney gave her SUV a bit more gas and flipped on the wipers as the snow came down harder. Her gaze flicked to the dashboard. 7:42. After dropping her twin daughters off at day-care, she’d gotten caught in a traffic snarl near Park and Bouthillier.

She tried to find something positive about having to work on the day after Thanksgiving. At least she had a good excuse to stay out of the stores and away from all the crazed shoppers. Avoiding their vehicles as they tore up and down the streets of Galena was another story. 

I should slow down, her conscience whispered, but I can’t miss this meeting. Even as she self-argued, her tires hydroplaned in the icy mush, forcing her to ease up on her speed.

Dammit. It would make the second time this month she was late.

She couldn’t afford to screw up on this job. Having lost her husband Karl to a brain aneurysm five years ago, she’d struggled financially as a single parent. Her boss, Marsha, had been more than accommodating. Still, Sydney felt guilt and worry to think the woman might finally lose her patience and fire her.

Then again, who else would work for her?

Lifting the now lukewarm pumpkin spice Frappuccino from the cup holder in the center console, Sydney’s amused chuckle vibrated against the side of her cup as she sipped the sweet concoction. Marsha might be a top-notch attorney, but her people skills were appallingly poor, especially when the staff gathered first thing in the morning to go over the day’s cases.

As her legal assistant, Sydney had often saved major deals with their high-end clients. Smoothing over bruised egos caused by her boss’s usual curt, no-nonsense personality was apparently her superpower.

At the corner of Monroe Extension, her company’s four-story brick came into view. She could still make it on time if she found a decent spot inside the building’s parking garage that it shared with the bank taking up the first floor.

Flashing her pass toward Joe, the parking attendant, she entered on the ground level, figuring any empty spaces wouldn’t show up until the top lot. Slowing to the required crawl needed to traverse the circular ramp, she climbed two floors as she finished her Frappuccino. As she glanced down to place the empty Styrofoam cup into the holder, a sudden jolt flung her forward, then snapped her back into her seat.

She groaned aloud, realizing she’d tail-ended a black car in front of her. At least she’d been inching along slowly, so the air bags hadn’t deployed.

Dare I hope for no damage?

With her mortgage, the twin’s preschool tuition, and Christmas fast approaching, any added expenses were impossible to contemplate.

Karl’s death had been so unexpected, they’d had little in savings. Crappy health benefits and no life insurance also meant trying to deal with a mortgage and a pile of medical bills she’d only recently gotten under control. A few months after his funeral, Sydney discovered she was pregnant, adding even more to her debt.

Seeing that double-line positive indicator form on the pregnancy stick, she’d felt such joy at the thought of having Karl’s baby. Finding out she carried twins only made her joy more profound. She loved her sweet girls as big as the sky.

If only their father had gotten a chance to know them.

The car she’d smacked into finally moved out of the way of others trying to park, bringing her attention back to the present. Sydney eased her vehicle to the side as well, grimacing to see she’d fender-bendered a snazzy muscle car.

Crap.

Palming the nape of her stiffening neck, she squinted through the melting snow on her windshield. Her mouth dropped open when the driver’s door flung wide, and Santa Claus climbed out.

***

Scratching an annoying itch above one eye caused by the spirit gum holding his fake brows in place, Dominick Santos circled the back of his brand-new Dodge Charger to look for damage.

Expected at the bank for a scheduled event, he hated showing up late. Illinois Bank & Trust was one of his best customers. He usually attended at least five Santa events during the Christmas season. This year he’d agreed to attend events at the Stockton and Elizabeth locations, too. He didn’t mind traveling the extra miles to fulfill his favorite gig as Jolly Old Saint “Mick.” Besides, it gave him more opportunities to drive the Charger.

Still, he’d rather not stand around in this getup while the cops were called in. A reluctant grin tugged at his lips. Many of them knew him and some wouldn’t hesitate to grab their bellies while they shouted, “Ho Ho Ho, Santos Santa!” It’d happened a few times already.

Spotting a long scrape underneath his bumper, he muttered, “Shit.”

He strode to the compact SUV that’d hit him, checking the front end for damage. Not seeing any, he shifted his attention to the pretty blonde still sitting behind the wheel, gaping at him. When he approached the vehicle, she opened her door and scrambled out.

She met him near the front of the silver Subaru. “I’m so sorry.” She studied the rear bumper of his car. “I hope there’s not too much damage.” A thick strand of hair fell over her forehead. She pushed it aside, tucking it behind one small pink ear. “I do have insurance.”

Mick couldn’t stop staring at her. She had the most arresting face he’d ever seen, with glowing peachy skin, the biggest brown eyes, and a pert little nose. Her rosy lips matched the flush riding high on her cheeks. The top of her head barely came halfway up to his shoulder. He wondered if she sat on a cushion to see over the dashboard of her vehicle. He almost peered into the side window to satisfy his curiosity.

She cleared her throat softly. “Sir?”

Something poked Mick’s arm. Blinking, he looked down to see her holding out a business card. He had to shake himself to snap out of his daze.

Get a grip, Santos.

Slowly, he took the card, nodding toward the Charger’s rear bumper. “It’s not too bad. Just a scrape. My brother owns a body shop. He can fix anything.”

“Oh, that’s good.” She fiddled with her jacket, making Mick wonder if his size intimidated her. He was a big guy. Wearing not only Santa padding under a load of red fur and heavy black boots probably didn’t help any.

“Listen, I don’t think you have to worry,” he began.

“I’m very late for work,” she blurted at the same time. “Like, really late. My name’s on the card. Sydney Bromlee.” Edging toward her open driver’s door, she offered a smile. “I sincerely apologize for the trouble I’ve caused.”

Before he could share his name—or anything—in response, she jumped into her little SUV and cranked the engine.

Mick spotted the briefest glimpse of a child’s security seat as she drove away. She obviously had a kid. A husband.

Not about to ask himself why that knowledge depressed the hell out of him, Mick clomped back to his car.

Chapter 2

“Uncle Mick!”

The lilting chirp from his nephew brought a grin to Mick’s face as he entered the office of the body shop his brother Antony owned. Thrusting out a hand, he high-fived Kenny, taking care to tap his palm gently.

“K, my man. You hanging out with me today? I need an elf.” Mick twisted around so Kenny could see his bulky backpack. “Your mom gave me your Spock ears and that stocking cap you wore last winter. I got your meds in here too, along with my stuff.” Knowing how important finger exercises were for his nephew’s condition, Mick added enticingly, “And a deck of cards so we can play slapjack during our lunch break.”

Kenny’s eyes lit up. “Sure. I can do the elf gig today.” He pointed to the red, long-sleeved tee shirt he wore on his thin frame. “I already got the right color on.” He peered through the office window. “Am I riding in the Charger?”

“Nope. Your dad’s gonna fix my back bumper, so we’re swapping rides for today.”

Antony strolled through the garage door, wiping grease off one muscled arm. “You taking this irritant for the afternoon?” He hip-bumped his son’s wheelchair just enough to make it advance an inch, earning him a giggle and an enthused head-nod. “Well, that’s fine by me. Little bugger ate my last Oreo.”

“I’ll make sure he’s fed,” Mick promised, sharing a conspiring wink with his nephew. Kenny’s sugar craving was barely outdistanced by his lust for cheeseburgers. Providing both during Santa’s lunch break wouldn’t be a problem.

He rooted in his jacket pocket for his car keys and tossed them to his brother who caught them mid-throw. “Charger’s parked in front of the lift bay. Have fun.”

Antony turned to the corkboard affixed to the wall behind his desk and unhooked his truck keys. “Same goes.” He slid them across. “You done at five?”

“Give or take.” Snagging the jacket and wool beanie off one of the customer chairs, Mick helped Kenny into his winter duds, tugging the beanie so far down the boy’s face, he burst into a delighted laugh.

It brought warmth to his own heart to hear Kenny’s easy happiness over the smallest things in life. He’d lived with cerebral palsy for most of his nine years. Despite the mobility limitations the disorder had forced on him so early in life, Kenny remained happy, positive, and sweet.

“Okay, nephew. You’re mine for the day,” he teased, catching hold of Kenny’s chair handles. “Let’s go do our North Pole thing.”

***

Rose ran circles around her sister, while Ruby jumped up and down like a crazed thing. “Santa! Santa!”

“All right, you two.” Sydney grabbed her girls in mid run-and-jump. “Out of your pajamas and into some real clothes—”

“I want pink.” Rose made a beeline for the stairway and their bedroom, Ruby fast on her heels.

“Red, red, red,” Ruby chanted, while Sydney flopped on the sofa, already exhausted.

On good days the girls kept her hopping. Every day, she counted her blessings even as she cajoled, scolded, offered bribes, whatever it took to get her daughters moving in the right direction.

Extroverts to the max, just like their daddy. The thought didn’t feel as bittersweet these days, mostly comforting. Karl had been whisked from their lives far too soon, yet her children grounded her.

Speaking of . . . the sounds of shrieks, squeals, and thumps overhead warned her in advance. Sydney groaned as she dragged herself off the sofa. “There had better not be a pillow fight going on up there.” She climbed the stairs and headed to the twins’ bedroom. “I want to see two little angels dressing for Santa by the time I get in there. One, two, three,” she intoned, advancing slowly as she counted.

Stepping through the doorway, she spied a pair of deceptively innocent faces peeking up at her, chubby little hands gripping pillows. The room looked as if a bomb had exploded.

“Good grief.” Sydney stared her children down, biting back a grin at how cute they were at their most mischievous. “I guess nobody wants to visit Santa today.”

She smothered her laughter when both Rose and Ruby dropped their makeshift weapons and dived for the closet.

“Want any help?” she offered, picturing stripes and plaids intermingled with flowers and polka dots. Imagining the worst, she leaned against the door and waited, determined to let her girls wear whatever they wanted since they’d have their coats on anyway.

When both emerged, decently dressed, Sydney applauded loudly. “You did great. Either of you need a potty break?”

“Uh-uh,” Rose shouted, while Ruby started bouncing again, wildly shaking her head.

“All righty then. Let’s head out.”

***

Santa’s Magical Workshop—aka the inside rotunda area of Wildwood Garden and Gifts—wasn’t too jammed, thankfully. Mick figured he’d sit on Santa’s padded velvet chair for roughly three hours with only a quick restroom break, then eat a hurried lunch at Lucille’s Burger Barn with his nephew before hopping back in place for three more. By then, his sister-in-law, Mae, would stop by to pick up Kenny, who was currently having a blast in his elf costume and chatting up a six-year-old patiently awaiting his turn several places down in line.

Mick smiled at the tiny redheaded pixie snuggled on his lap, sucking at her thumb while her mother eagerly worked the camera on her phone. “What can Santa bring you, Sparroe?”

The child blinked up at him. “Dolly that peeth,” she lisped.

“Peeth?”

At the mother’s discreet cough, Mick glanced her way in time to see her mouth, “Pees.”

“Ah, I see. You want to change your dolly’s diaper.” The little girl frantically nodded, her thumb still plugged firmly in place. “I think that’s a fine thing to ask for, sweetheart.” He gave her a gentle hug before setting her on her feet. “My elf has a candy cane just for you.”

As Sparroe and her mother headed toward Kenny and his basket of goodies, Mick bellowed, Ho, ho, ho, and waved the next child forward. Identical twin girls ran through the decorative gate surrounding his chair while a young woman stood by beaming. A spark of familiarity trickled over him before his attention returned to the little ones heading his way.

Bracing for impact, he opened his arms to catch them, grunting under his breath when each child landed squarely on his knees. He balanced both more securely as two sets of wide hazel eyes stared up at him.

“Looky here,” he said with a big friendly Santa smile. “Seems like I’ve got a matched set of cutie pies.”

“I’m Ruby,” the left child shouted in his ear, making him wince. “I’m almost five.” She pointed at her twin. “That’s my little sister, Rose.”

Mick’s eyebrows arched. “Your little sister?”

Ruby held up a tightly curled fist. “I’m this minute’s older.”

“Okey-dokey,” Mick managed, thinking the number had to be more than one and less than six.

Demanding his attention, Rose bounced hard on his kneecap, screeching, “I like pink!” The child wore enough of the color to rival a flamingo, her sister equally draped in eye-popping red.

He chuckled. “I can see that.”

No doubt the only way to tell them apart.

“Well, Ruby and Rose, Santa wants to make sure you have a Merry Christmas this year, so please tell me what you’d like most of all.” Mick cuddled the little darlings closer, finding himself enchanted when each draped an arm around his neck and nestled their cheeks in his collar fur.

Rose sucked in a huge breath and chanted, “I-want-Nurse-Barbie-and-her-blue-car-and-a-big-green-house.” She gusted out a noisy exhale and grinned. “Pwease.”

“I see.” What a charmer. He nodded to her sister. “How about you, Ruby?”

She lifted her head from his shoulder and began, “I want a—”

He missed the end of her gift wish when a sudden popping noise drew his attention. Are kids setting off firecrackers in the store? It sounded a good distance away, at the north end of the sprawling building.

After an additional blast rang out, Mick realized it was gunfire. Though he’d heard the sound often during his stint in Iraq, he’d never thought to hear it in his small hometown of Galena. Panicked screams and shouts exploded into the air.

“Everyone down,” he yelled, jumping to his feet, a little girl tucked under each arm.

Glancing wildly around for Kenny, relief thundered through his chest to see the boy being helped to the floor by the mother of the two kids he currently held. As more gunshots sounded, he took cover behind his chair.

“Mama,” one of the girls sobbed.

“Shh,” he soothed, wondering what the hell was going on. “We’ll find your mommy.”

Chapter 3

Angry shouts and a series of odd pops had caught Sydney’s attention.

She’d turned, trying to spot any sort of altercation through the milling crowd. Panic had set in when she’d realized what she’d heard was actually gunfire, terrorized screams filling the air.

With her heart in her throat, Sydney’s first instinct had been to run for the girls. When she’d crouched, prepared to crawl toward the roped-off, ornate throne, the little boy in the wheelchair near her, dressed like an elf, had cried out in alarm. More gunshots pinged, one right after another, sounding like a small war underway. She couldn’t just leave him to fend for himself. So she’d grabbed for him, lowering him to the floor and curling his small body close.

Amid the noise and echoing confusion, she did her best to shield the child. Paying careful attention to his head, she prayed the actor playing Santa would keep her daughters safe as well.

After several long, terrifying minutes, an eerie silence descended upon them, broken only by the sound of traumatized shoppers quietly weeping. Some, like her, lay prone on the floor, while other shoppers crouched behind anything they could find to shield them.

The rotunda and surrounding displays made for a huge area that led into other parts of Wildwood. The shooter could be anywhere. Lifting her head slightly, she peered down at the young elf. “Are you all right?”

Big brown eyes stared up at her, fear lingering in their depths. “Yes, ma’am.”

Her tense muscles ached from anticipating more danger. “You can call me Sydney,” she told him, offering a comforting smile.

“Yes, ma’am,” he repeated. “I’m Kenny.”

Speaking in hushed tones, the shoppers scattered around the Santa display began to climb to their feet and run toward the nearest exits. When no more gunshots sounded, she pushed off the floor on unsteady legs, desperate to get to her daughters but unwilling to leave this child on his own.

“We need to go, Kenny.” He nodded solemnly, and she gently lifted him, settling him back into his wheelchair.

“Wanda, you bitch! Where’s my kid?” The deep, furious voice echoed a good distance away, muffled and growing closer.

“Oh, hell.” The mother Sydney had been chatting with, right before the gunfire erupted, also scrambled to her feet, her toddler clutched tightly to her chest. The woman’s terrified expression spoke volumes. “It’s my ex.” Panic radiating from her, she spun and joined the fleeing crowd, darting through the shoppers headed for one of the back exits.

Though Sydney had lived in Galena a long time and knew many of the families with young children, she had no idea who this woman and her little boy might be other than someone new to town. Now understanding Wanda and her son had an angry man—with a gun, no less—after them, she hoped they got safely away.

I’ve got to get my own family to safety, too.

Determined not to abandon Kenny, Sydney reached for the handle grips, intent on finding the twins. When she spun the wheelchair around, she found Santa striding their way, carrying both of her children.

“Uncle Mick,” Kenny murmured quietly, relief evident in his tone.

“Hey, little elf,” his uncle said. “How ya doing?”

“I’m okay.” His rejoinder quivered a bit. 

“Mama.” Whimpering, Ruby stretched out her arms to Sydney.

As she plucked Ruby from Santa Mick’s grasp, Rose continued to clutch his neck, her face buried in his snowy beard. Sydney shifted Ruby on her hip. “A woman told me the shooter’s her ex, before she took off with her boy.”

When another volley of gunshots rang out in the distance, Mick’s gaze took in the handful of frightened mothers and their children. Still carrying Rose, he waved toward the opposite side of the North Pole display, spinning his nephew’s wheelchair with his free hand. “There’s a place we can hide. Hurry, everyone.”

Knowing they’d never be able to get all the little ones outside fast enough, Sydney gripped her daughter tighter and fell into step with the rest of the group. Mick led them to a narrow room that held oblong tables with assorted mismatched chairs and a curtained off area framing a pair of vending machines.

“Employee lounge,” he explained. “No lock, but we can barricade the door. It’s the only way in or out.”

He set Rose on her feet. She immediately plastered herself against the side of Sydney’s leg, moaning. “Shh, sweetheart.” She hugged the twins close. “Can you be big girls for Mama?”

At the watery “Okay,” from Rose and a nod from Ruby, Sydney kissed their tear-dampened cheeks.

Striding to a portable closet, Mick retrieved a push broom, shoving the thick metal pole through the handles of the double doors. “This should hold fine.”

Silently, a few of the women began flipping over tables and taking cover behind them with their children.

“Smart.” He nodded approvingly.

When he turned around, Sydney looked into a familiar pair of blue eyes and recognized him despite the bushy beard and curly white wig.

He was the same man she’d rear ended on Black Friday.

Realization sharpened his regard as he offered a brief smile, then ruffled Kenny’s hair. “C’mon, sport. We’ve got some little ones to entertain. Quietly, of course.”

Pressing his palm to her back, Mick urged her and the girls to the overturned tables as well, Kenny following in his wheelchair. He flashed the mothers a reassuring smile from behind the fake beard he still wore. “We should be safe in here.”

He crouched low to the children’s level. “Hi, kids. We need to be real quiet so when the nice policemen get here, they can do their jobs.” Reaching into a pocket of his costume, he came out with a handful of hard candy. The children sniffled, wiping tears from their faces, each one plucking a wrapped treat from his palm while their mothers looked relieved. “Be good for your mommies, and I’m sure Santa will get you what you want for Christmas.”

While Mick went over to double check that the door was tightly secured, Sydney, worried about the way his nephew’s wheelchair edged above the nearest upended table, murmured, “Why don’t you come down here with us, Kenny?”

Not knowing the extent of his physical capabilities, she held out her arms and hoped she wasn’t overstepping, reassured when he leaned forward and allowed her to slide him off his seat and set him next to Ruby. He grinned at her daughter, revealing a gap in his front teeth.

Ruby instantly reciprocated, showing him an almost identical gap in hers. “I got a whole dollar for mine. What’d you get?”

“Same. I put it in my piggy bank,” Kenny boasted.

Her grin grew even wider. “I bought a Chunky an’ a Kinder Joy with mine. I like candy.” She eyed his wheelchair. “Don’t your legs work?”

Uh-oh. “Ruby,” Sydney started to caution.

Kenny shook his head. “It’s okay.” He pointed to his slender frame. “I got cerebral palsy. I can’t walk too good and I’m shaky a lot. So my chair helps me.”

“Oh.” Ruby’s hand crept out and clutched his as she glanced toward the bolted door. “Are you scared?”

“Yeah.” Frightened or not, he still encouraged Rose when she scooted closer, holding out his free hand for her to clasp. “Santa will take care of us.”

His childish tone radiated complete confidence in his uncle’s ability to keep everyone safe. Sydney’s heart melted at the way he managed to have a calming influence on her girls, both of whom tended to overreact and often instigated each other as only twins could do.

Kenny’s smile encompassed all the children. “Who wants to hear a funny Santa story?”

Chapter 4

Beyond the lounge area, the shouting had escalated. Not knowing what was happening and unable to do more than drum up wild guesses of her own, Sydney wondered if the man hollering for Wanda had a friend or two helping him look for her.

Santa dropped down beside her. “Hello, Sydney. I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced.” He leaned in and spoke quietly, so the children didn’t overhear. “Name’s Mick Santos.”

The fact he knew her name took her by surprise for only a second, then she recalled giving him her business card when she’d hit his car. “I wish I could say it was nice to meet you, again, but . . .” Humor lightened her voice.

A wry smile formed at the corner of his mouth. “How’s everybody holding up?”

She blew out a breath. “The kids are doing better than I am.”

His gaze shifted to the children, where his nephew slumped to one side. Although the boy’s legs stuck out stiffly from his body, he was keeping her girls and the rest of the children distracted from the danger by playing games of thumb wars.

She scraped loose wisps of hair out of her eyes. “All I can picture is some furious, unstable man shooting off a gun and threatening people.” Fresh worry broke her out in a sweat. “What if he’s hurt someone or taken a hostage?”

“I get it, but we need to concentrate on keeping everyone in this room safe. The police are here now, and they’ll handle whatever the hell’s going on out there.”

She nodded toward the barricaded door. “Do you think it’ll hold?”

“It should. Hopefully that nutjob will get captured before anyone gets hurt. I’ve got a call in to my buddy Roger at Galena PD. He’ll contact me when he knows something more.”

He studied Kenny again, a frown forming between his white fake bushy brows. “Did you help him out of his chair or was the kid determined to do it on his own?”

“I helped him some. He told us about his cerebral palsy.”

Mick gave an acknowledging nod. “He was diagnosed at a year old. Spastic diparesis, affecting his legs. On a good day he can take a few steps with help from forearm crutches. Most of his time is spent in the chair.” His eyes held a visible sheen of emotion. “He’s why I became an EMT.”

“Poor kid,” she began, then paused when Mick snorted.

“Don’t let him hear you feeling sorry for him. Kenny’s tough as nails. He’s also the most upbeat child I know. Happy all of the time. Always busy, always wanting to help with something. In one day, he achieves more sitting in a wheelchair than most kids with two sound legs can do in a week.”

She returned her attention to the children, admiring the way Kenny interacted with her often-too-exuberant twins.  Her miniature whirlwinds were unusually calm in the boy’s presence, playing without their normal sisterly competitiveness. “I see what you mean.”

A welcomed change, for sure.

Noting how all the mothers had their cell phones out, contacting their loved ones, a sense of sadness engulfed her, and she dropped her gaze to the wedding rings she’d been unable to remove since Karl’s death.

“Do you need to call your husband or something?” Mick asked. Obviously, the man easily read her thoughts.

“No.” She cleared her throat. It was time she stopped dwelling in the past and instead looked to the future. “My husband died before the twins were born.”

“I’m sorry.”

She instinctively reached for her wedding set and twirled the slender bands on her finger. Realizing what she was doing, she dropped her hand to her side. “It’s okay.” She drummed up a smile. “What about you? Married?”

It surprised her how much she hoped Mick was single. How long had it been since she’d found a man interesting? Even without knowing what he looked like underneath all that fake hair, Sydney already knew he was a good man, a loving uncle, and a brave and amazing Santa.

Their gazes locked, and her heart fluttered at the look of interest in his eyes. His voice lowered intimately. “Nope. Single as the day I was born.”

The sound of the children’s soft laughter drew their focus to where Kenny was performing magic tricks with a coin, keeping everyone entertained. This special boy might have legs that didn’t work for him, but his fingers were certainly flexible.

Small blessings, Sydney thought, finding herself impressed anew. “He’s really good with the kids,” she mused.

When he didn’t respond, she glanced over to find his brows drawn into deep furrows over worried eyes. She scanned the room for potential danger. “What is it?”

“I just remembered I left Kenny’s meds in my backpack. Which I can’t get to because it’s stashed behind the stupid North Pole throne.” He tugged off his white Santa gloves, tossing them on the floor, rubbing at his forehead. “He needs it for pain.”

“How soon does he need a dose?”

His concerned gaze met hers. “Real soon. If we’re stuck in here much longer, he’s going to be hurting.”

Chapter 5

About a half hour after they’d barricaded themselves in the employee lounge, Mick’s cell phone rang. He listened to Roger Lund’s report, clenching the phone hard enough to break it.

“Mick?”

Sydney’s soft voice instantly centered him, and he relaxed his grip. “Thanks, man. Keep me posted.” He ended the call.

After making sure the kids were occupied and wouldn’t hear him, Mick turned, pocketing his phone. “That was Galena PD. My buddy just got verification on the escape of a man identified as Stuart Bailey, arrested in Dubuque on assault charges. Bailey was awaiting trial on house arrest with an ankle monitor, but he slipped out of the apartment he’d been occupying, assisted by Louis Bell, who happens to be his brother-in-law.”

He sighed, digging a finger under one corner of the itchy beard he’d left on for the kids. “Bailey’s headed for Galena on the hunt for his ex-wife—”

“Wanda.”

“Yep. Even with a history of bruises and broken bones, the woman refuses to pin the blame on Bailey. Instead, she filed for divorce and moved herself and their kid to Galena.”

“Where she’s not too hard to find, especially when the ex has a friend in her brother,” Sydney guessed.

“You got it. Anyhow, the police are trying to capture Bailey before he hurts someone. His brother-in-law is holding them at bay while Bailey searches for Wanda.” Guilt formed like a lead ball in his muscles. “And I need my backpack.”

If Kenny felt even one ounce of pain because he didn’t have access to his meds, it’d be Mick’s fault.

I’m an EMT, for fuck’s sake. I should have grabbed them before rushing in here. He had to retrieve Kenny’s meds without getting himself shot. He couldn’t wait for some kind of ‘all-clear’ from the police. God only knew how long that might take.

The touch of Sydney’s slender hand, on his upper arm, pulled him from his self-castigation and he met her compassionate gaze.

“You can’t go out there yet, Mick. I can see by that look in your eyes you’re considering it. Didn’t you just tell me how brave your nephew is? He wouldn’t want you to try something foolish that’d get you killed.”

His mouth tightened. Accepting she was right didn’t erase the untenable thought of Kenny in pain, something he couldn’t allow. He’d do whatever was necessary to help his family. “We have a little time,” he assured her.

Not much time. Mick knew he’d agonize over every minute.

About ten minutes passed with random, raised shouts outside the barricaded door before falling quiet once more. Kenny was doing a fabulous job at keeping the kids distracted.

Mick burst with pride as his nephew began yet another Christmas tale, though the frown lines on Kenny’s forehead worried him. Certain the boy was experiencing leg cramps and pain, retrieving those meds had amped up from necessary to dire.

He muttered under his breath, “Sydney, I’ve got to get my bag—”

Suddenly, a man’s angry shout burst into the air, not far from where they were hiding. “I know you’re here, Wanda! I’ve got one of them clerks. Get your ass out here now, or I swear she’s dead.”

Sydney clapped a hand over one of the girls’ mouths when she would have screamed. Her shocked eyes met Mick’s. “He doesn’t know Wanda left,” she whispered.

“Stay here.” Mick rose into a half crouch and eased toward the door, unsure what he’d do once he got there. But he couldn’t just sit any longer and do nothing.

He froze when a single gunshot pierced the air.

The children’s crying, offset by their mothers’ attempts to soothe them, continued behind him for a long moment, before the door rattled and a deep, familiar voice yelled, “Mick, we got him. Open up.”

It sounded a hell of a lot like his other buddy on the force. “Buck?”

“Yeah. Bailey’s down and secured.”

Cheers went up from the mothers as some of the children scrambled to their feet. 

Mick opened the door and Buck stepped inside. “The scumbag’s on his way to the hospital.” He lowered his voice and leaned in. “There’s quite a bit of blood out here. One of the clerks found a tarp and tossed it over the mess. The espresso bar next door is closed for the season, but it’s unlocked. We can move everyone in for questioning without traumatizing these kids any further.”

“Good idea.” Turning on his Santa persona, Mick and the parents kept the kids distracted as they hustled them from the crime scene.

***

After Sydney answered the nice policewoman’s questions, she was cleared to leave.

“Wait for us?” Mick asked her. “Kenny and I will walk you and the girls out.”

Pleased at the request, Sydney nodded.

Fifteen minutes later, with Mick still in his Santa costume, they headed toward the exit with Kenny and the twins leading the way.

“Mama,” Rose called out, hurrying toward them, a huge smile on her face. She grabbed for Sydney’s hand while Ruby and Kenny waited patiently by a wreath display. “Can we get some candy from the machine?”

An oversized gumball machine took up space in front of the exotic plant shop. “Sure, honey.” As she reached into her purse, Mick beat her to it when he withdrew a handful of quarters from his pocket and passed them to her daughter.

“Here you go, sweetheart.” As Rose thanked him and ran off, he glanced over at her. “I hope that was okay.”

Sydney laughed, watching the kids happily surround the candy machine for their treat. “Of course. It isn’t every day my kids are given candy money by Santa.” She turned back to him. “Thank you. It’ll help take their minds off what a horrible day it’s been.”

“Well.” Mick arched his brows as he studied her. “It hasn’t been totally horrible. I got to meet you and the girls.”

A thrill of excitement made her heart pound. Is he flirting with me? Dusting off social skills she hadn’t used in years, unwilling to let this chance to know him better slip away, Sydney smiled shyly. “This isn’t exactly our first meeting.”

His burst of laughter soothed her jittering nerves. This man had the uncanny ability to put her at ease with nothing more than a word, a laugh, even a look. There was just something about him that gave off vibes of calming strength. Solid as a rock, Mick possessed a generous heart for those he loved, and anyone else who was fortunate enough to cross his path. And she very much wanted to cross his path.

Again and again.

“They say third time’s the charm. What do you think, Sydney? Will you give me a third time?”

The only sensible answer was, “Yes.”

Chapter 6

Struggling to read the house numbers against the beautiful sunset that illuminated Sydney’s cul-de-sac, Mick plucked his sunglasses from his Charger’s console. The older subdivision, with its mid-sized homes and large yards, gave just enough distance for privacy yet close enough to get to know the neighbors.

Having joined the Army right out of high school, he’d only recently returned home to be near his family and re-enter civilian life. Renting a condo had been a no-brainer, since his job as an EMT demanded odd hours, and he enjoyed the low maintenance it offered. But he could certainly see the appeal of a neighborhood like this.

Looks like a great place to raise kids.

He pulled into the driveway of her place, a well-maintained, two-story brick Colonial. A snowman, around the same height as her daughters, sat in the middle of the yard. They’d done a reasonably good job, even if it looked to have melted somewhat under the unusually bright winter sun.

A picture formed in his mind of Sydney and her girls playing in the snow as they lovingly built the snowman, and it made him smile. Maybe if their date went well, he could help them build a bigger one after the next snowfall.

Exiting his vehicle, Mick strode up the freshly shoveled sidewalk and rang the doorbell. His gut tightened in anticipation. Though they hadn’t yet had the opportunity to spend quality time together, he liked her very much.

You more than like her, Santos.

Sydney Bromlee was not only beautiful, sweet, and kind, but from what he’d seen, a loving, caring mother. Mick’s heart thudded hard against his ribs. Yeah, I’ve already got it bad for her, he silently admitted.

His ears perked up when the sound of stomping footsteps neared, and the door opened. Sydney greeted him with a hesitant smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

Disappointment sucker-punched him. Had she changed her mind?He didn’t think so, since she’d dressed for the date, wearing a long-sleeved, knee-length dress that clung to her slim frame, showcasing curves his hands itched to stroke. The deep wine shade brought out the warm hues of her pretty brown eyes.

The twins peeked around her, each clutching a leg and watching him curiously. He didn’t see any recognition in their gazes and figured his Santa disguise was still safe. Hopefully he hadn’t ruined Christmas for them.

“Hi.” Mick offered a smile.

“Hi,” Sydney returned sweetly, a blush coloring her cheeks. She didn’t seem like a woman who’d changed her mind about their date.

Relieved, he lowered his gaze to Ruby and Rose. “Hello, girls. I’m Mick, Kenny’s uncle. It’s very nice to meet you.”

Their adorable little faces lit up, and they exclaimed in unison, their words stumbling over each other.

“Elf Kenny,” Rose squealed, darting out from behind her mother to beam up at him.

Ruby followed suit, bouncing up and down. “We knows Kenny.” She peered around him, searching. “Where is he? Is Santa here too?”

Mick knelt to their level, resting one arm on his knee. “Kenny’s home with his parents. He’s not really an elf. He’s Santa’s helper whenever he comes to town.”

“Oh,” they said in unison, eyes wide with awe.

“I’m taking your mama out to dinner tonight. Is that all right?”

Their excitement faded, adorable pouty lips protruding. The cuteness was almost more than Mick could take and he had to bite back a chuckle. Shooting a quick glance at Sydney, he noted her unsure expression as she nervously chewed at her lower lip.

He could easily read the concern for her children in her eyes. Earlier, when she’d opened the door, he’d noted the absence of her wedding rings. This could possibly be her first date since her husband’s death.

Making a flash decision, he rose and turned to Sydney. “How about we pick up Kenny and go out for some pizza?”

Her tense expression immediately cleared as the girls squealed in delight, and he knew he’d made the right call.

“That sounds lovely.” She took his hand and gave it a squeeze. “Thank you for understanding.”

He squeezed back. “Of course.”

As Ruby chased Rose deeper into the house, both almost tumbling over each other, Sydney paused, then pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. “Just let me send the babysitter home, and we can be on our way.”

***

Thinking Mick was too good to be true, Sydney held her breath during the first hour or so of their date, waiting for the other shoe to drop. He’d continued to be amazing. She’d only tried dating a couple times over the years, and it’d never worked out. Most men seemed to treat her children as obstacles and not the precious treasures they were.

Mick gets it right.

Her gaze lingered on the oh-so-sexy man sitting across from her, munching on a piece of pizza. He’d been nothing other than wonderful all evening long. Kenny and the girls were having a good time, playing word games and coloring in the soft-cover books the establishment offered at the tables for children. With plenty of time for her and Mick to chat, her interest in him had only grown.

Her thumb rubbed at her finger, acutely aware of the absence of her wedding rings. Never had she taken them off before. Something about this man had told her it was the right choice.

Karl would approve.

Her husband had been a wonderful man, and she knew he wouldn’t want her to stay mired in grief. She could almost hear him whisper in her ear, Time to move on, Syd.

Being an intuitive man, Mick didn’t miss the gesture. Understanding shone in his eyes. “We can take this as slow as you like. But I hope I can see you again. I think you’re special. You and the girls.”

Sydney’s heart melted at his words. The way he continued to include Ruby and Rose in everything was endearing. Because she and her daughters were a package deal. Mick seemed to understand that. He wasn’t just saying the words to get into her good graces. She could tell by the way he interacted with his nephew, and how great he was at playing Santa Claus, that he truly cared for children.

Again, Karl’s voice sounded in her head, Go for it, babe. Be happy.

For the first time since her husband’s death, Sydney felt like she could have a place in her heart for someone other than her children. As a sense of peace settled over her, she reached up to cup his cheek.

“I think you’re special too, Mick. And I’d love to see you again.”

Chapter 7

Two weeks later

Hoisted over Antony’s shoulder like a sack of flour, Kenny giggled, turning his head so he could see the twins. “Night, Ruby! Night, Rose!”

Both girls screeched, “Goodnight,” in unison, while Sydney teasingly clapped her hands over her ears.

“You two are awfully loud,” she commented, hustling them into the house.

Pausing on Sydney’s porch, Mick watched his brother buckle Kenny into the back seat of his truck while Mae folded the portable wheelchair and tucked it next to the boy. He waved as the two jumped in the front seats, Antony gunning the engine noisily as he drove into the lightly falling snow with his family.

Kenny lowered his window and hollered, “Night, Uncle Santa!” Then he busted out laughing at something Antony must have said. 

Mick found himself constantly touched at the lengths his brother went to ensure Kenny’s happiness. His nephew’s laughter was like the sweetest of frosting on an ice cream cake. Brushing off the thick flakes clinging to his jacket, Mick scraped his boots a few times on the welcome mat before following Sydney and the girls inside.

Hanging his jacket in the foyer closet, listening to the sound of water running in the tub upstairs, the twins’ feet stomping around, a smile spread across his face. He’d come to care for this family very much, the girls’ ready acceptance of him a welcomed bit of happy mayhem in his life.

In the kitchen, he pulled a bottle of Cabernet off the counter and dug out stemware from the dish cabinet, carrying everything into the living room. Uncorking the wine, he placed it on the coffee table to let it breathe. He didn’t plan on staying long. A single glass before he left wouldn’t mess with his driving.

They’d all had a fun evening, with dinner out at Durty Gurt’s and then back to Sydney’s for popcorn and board games. The adults had played Clue while the kids demolished Candyland at the dining room table. Mick hadn’t laughed so much in ages.

Mae had taken him aside and expressed her approval. “I like her. She’s a keeper.”

I couldn’t agree more.

“Mick, the girls want The Grinch,” Sydney called from the second-floor landing. “Again.”

“On my way.” He took the stairs two at a time, eager for story time with Ruby and Rose. It’d become a little ritual, an endearing ending to the dates he and Sydney shared with her daughters.

Rounding the hallway, he entered the frilly bedroom with its canopied beds and piles of pillows shaped like everything from Minions to Mickey Mouse. As usual, Ruby bounced on her mattress, while Rose danced around Sydney like a pink tornado.

Meeting her exasperated yet amused gaze across the room, Mick leaned against the door frame. “Sugar overload?”

“Most definitely. One too many reindeer cookies.” Sydney clapped her hands briskly to get the twins’ attention. “Okay, in bed, now. Or else no Grinch and Who-ville.”

Both girls immediately dove for their beds, knocking pillows aside in their hurry to situate themselves for their story. Identical cherubic faces turned toward the door where Mick stood. “Pwease?” The entreaty, in stereo, was too cute.

Straightening, he shot a wink at Sydney as he accepted the book she held out. Ambling toward the reclining chair situated between the beds, he plopped down and turned to the first page as the twins wiggled with excitement.

Deepening his voice in a decent imitation of Boris Karloff, he began to read . . .

“Every Who Down in Who-Ville Liked Christmas a Lot . . .”

***

Sinking down on the sofa next to Mick, Sydney rested her head against his shoulder. “Asleep at last. Probably not for long, but I’ll take what I can get.”

He picked up her hand and threaded their fingers together. “Another five AM day?”

“I wouldn’t be surprised. The closer to Christmas, the earlier the little stinkers wake up, as if I’m going to let them open any gifts before the big day.” She eyed the wine bottle and her best stemware, placed on her coffee table in a perfect triangle. “Only one glass for me. I have to pick up my parents from the airport in the morning.”

He played with her fingers, then brought them to his lips for a light kiss. “Want me to drive you?”

She shivered at the feel of his mouth on her sensitive skin. “You’d do that?”

“Well, sure. I’d like to meet them, and I’d definitely rather fight the sloppy roads than have to see you do it all alone.”

“My hero.” Not allowing herself to overthink it, she turned into Mick’s body and hugged him, pressing her cheek against his. It was the most touching they’d shared, even after several dates and outings with the kids. Each of those evenings had ended with a gentle kiss at the door, their lips brushing together, easy and casual while he held her hand. She understood he’d been giving her time to adjust to having a man in her life.

I think I’m ready for something more.

Moving away until she could meet his eyes, Sydney whispered, “Mick . . .”

No other words were needed, as he claimed her mouth with a passion that cleared everything from her mind except for the man embracing her in strong, sheltering arms. Deep inside, she knew kisses and caresses were all she could handle right now. She also knew Mick wouldn’t push for more than she could give.

Tangling her fingers in his thick, silky hair, Sydney kissed him back.

Chapter 8

Sydney applied an extra thin layer of spirit gum to both of Santa’s eyebrows, thinking they resembled white fuzzy worms as they lay on the kitchen counter.

In the bathroom, Mick’s off-key rendition of “Jingle Bells” brought a smile to her face. She could picture him in there, trying to cram his over-six-foot muscular frame into first the large Santa belly, then the heavy red coat and pants.

Capping the gum, she set it aside. The brows would have to dry for about five minutes before they’d be tacky enough to apply. She’d already combed out the beard and brought it to him, an improvement over the one he wore to Wildwood just a few weeks ago, inasmuch as this one tied on around his head under his shaggy Santa wig, no adhesive needed. Once all his fake hair and suit was in place, Mick would be ready to entertain the kids in his final gig of the season, a walk-about ‘Santa sighting’ in Galena’s downtown historical district.

With elf Kenny otherwise occupied this evening, and Sydney’s parents happily spending quality time with the twins, volunteering to be Santa’s assistant had been something fun to anticipate. She’d driven to Mick’s condo for a quick sandwich before helping him get buckled and strapped into his suit.

She fingered the pointed ears she’d borrowed from Kenny, grinning when she caught a blurry glimpse of herself in the microwave window. Tying her hair into crazy pigtails, she’d wired them so they’d stick out beneath her red pom-pom cap. She looked like a cross between Mrs. Spock and Pippi Longstocking. The overall effect of her red and green striped tunic sweater and green leggings would be wasted since she’d cover it all up with her thick Triple F.A.T. Goose parka, but she’d be plenty warm enough.  

“Sweetheart,” Mick called from the bathroom. “I’m ready for the brows.”

“Coming.” Carefully, she scooped one into each hand and carried them down the hallway.

Mick’s condo bathroom boasted separate shower and a garden tub. A sudden image of the two of them sharing a bubble bath came to her, so sharply she almost gasped aloud. At his inquiring look, she hastily mumbled, “Pepsi burp. Here you go.” She held out the brows.

“They always look like worms to me,” he commented, taking them one by one and affixing them.

“Exactly,” she exclaimed.

Chuckling, he pressed a thumb over each, counting, “One-Mississippi, two-Mississippi.” He waggled the bushy things teasingly. “Have you been naughty or nice this year?”

“You’re a goof.” Sydney tested a brow, tugging lightly. “They’ll do.” She lifted the belly. “Ready for this monstrosity?”

“In a sec.” He stepped into the pants and pulled them up over his jeans, easing the suspenders onto his shoulders. “Okay, pad me up.”

She tugged the straps supporting the front part of the belly into place on top of his suspenders, then fastened the buckles in the back, patting the hip area of the padding. “All set.”

Four buckles later, he faced the mirror, the belly and padding in place over the muscle tank he wore beneath. Sydney gave him a fast onceover. “It looks fine, but won’t you be cold in just a thin undershirt? Don’t you want a sweater or something?”

“Are you kidding?” He hoisted the fur-trimmed coat. “This getup weighs more than Jolly Old Saint Nick himself. Once I get the coat on, I’ll be roasting.”

As he shoved his arms into the sleeves and buttoned up the front, his cell chirped. Sydney plucked it off the sink and handed it to him. Poor guy was already sweating, so she figured he’d stay warm enough even walking around in the snow.

“Mick here.” He listened for a few moments, then nodded. “Okay, thanks for letting me know.” Another pause. “No, not a problem at all. Merry Christmas.” He disconnected and laid the phone back on the sink.

“Everything all right?” Sydney asked, holding out the wig and beard.

“The downtown event was cancelled due to sleet. City Council thinks the sidewalks and streets would be too icy.” Mick took the beard from her hand and held it up to his face. “Want to fasten this for me?”

She reached for the ties and secured the beard, then frowned. “If you’re not doing Santa downtown, then why do you need the beard?”

Instead of answering, Mick slipped the wig over his head and tucked in what pieces of his own hair stuck out. Checking himself in the mirror, all of Santa in place other than the gloves and boots, he turned to Sydney.

He swept her up into his arms, holding her at eye level. “So, Miss Bromlee, have you been a good girl?”

Catching on quickly, she batted her eyelashes. “Why, Santa, you betcha.”

He nuzzled her cheek, the fake beard soft against her skin. “What would you like for Christmas this year?”

With a snort of amusement, she wound her arms around his neck and leaned in to whisper very dirty things into his ear.

“I was hoping that’s what you wanted.” Pressing a tender kiss onto her lips, he carried her into the hallway. Her husky moan sounded loud in her ears as she realized they’d moved to the bedroom with its oversized king mattress.

He sat her on the edge then straightened, gazing into her eyes. For a long moment, a tangible emotion connected them, one that felt a lot like a promised future.

She lifted her arms and stripped off her sweater, taking the foam ears along with it, and tossed it to the floor. When she released the front snap of her bra, he groaned, “Perfection.”

Her fingers gripped the waistband of her leggings. “Move faster, Santa.”

As if shaken from a stupor, he quickly discarded his costume while she slipped out of the rest of her clothes.

Finally, wearing nothing but those fake bushy brows and a broad grin, he reached for her. “Merry Christmas, baby.”

Epilogue 

Christmas Day

One Year Later

Humming a holiday tune, Sydney removed a pan of brownies from the oven and placed it on the cooling rack on the counter. Mick was with Ruby and Rose, helping them get ready for today’s family gathering while she baked. 

It’d been over four months since he’d moved in with them, and things couldn’t be working out better.  

Life is good. 

The sound of the doorbell chiming indicated their first guests had arrived. Snatching up a small towel, she wiped her hands and tossed it back onto the counter before exiting the kitchen. 

“I’ve got it,” she called up the stairs, crossing over to the entryway. She could hear her father’s booming voice even before she reached them. She’d offered her parents the spare bedroom, but they’d insisted on staying at a hotel nearby.  

When she opened the door, her mother stepped inside carrying a box marked apple pie. Her father followed with an armful of gifts. 

Grinning, Sydney chided, “Dad, you already have a ton of gifts under the tree. You’re going to spoil them.” 

Her father just shrugged, sidling past her to deposit the gifts along with the others. “What are grandchildren for if we can’t spoil them a little?” He swung back around, his tender gaze encompassing her mother. “Isn’t that right, Grandma?” 

“Your father is exactly right, dear. Someday you’ll understand.” She patted Sydney’s cheek. “Now where are my sweet angels?” 

“Nana,” Rose screeched, hopping down the stairs two at a time, then zeroing in on her grandfather who stood next to the mounds of gifts underneath the tree.  

“Slow down, young lady,” Sydney admonished, thinking how adorable her daughter looked in her bright-red Rudolph sweater and matching leggings.  

Clutching the stair rail, the little minx slowed only a fraction, her excitement no less exuberant as she reached the bottom, running over to fling herself into her grandfather’s arms. “Papa, you brought more presents!” 

“Sure did, pumpkin pie.” 

Mick appeared at the top of the stairs, holding Ruby’s hand. She’d dressed in the same outfit as her twin sister. Sydney had to agree with her mother’s assessment. The girls absolutely looked like little angels. 

Noting Mick had chosen to wear the matching Rudolph sweater she’d purchased for him, along with hers and the twins’, her heart burst with love. She hadn’t been sure he’d actually put it on.  

Now she thought he’d never looked sexier, and her body flushed with desire. Reaching the landing, he strolled over to her as Ruby broke free and ran into the living room where her grandparents were playing with Rose. 

His intense gaze indicated he easily read her emotions, and his lips twitched. Brushing two fingers down her cheek, he murmured, “Hold that thought for later tonight, and I’ll rock your world.” 

Her breath caught in an audible gulp, causing him to chuckle as he took her hand and drew her into the living room. That sexy laugh of his got her every time, her nipples pebbling tight in reaction.

Thank goodness for thick sweaters. 

Feeling happier than she had in years, she snuggled on the sofa with Mick, enjoying how the girls tried to guess what was in the Christmas packages while they waited for his brother’s family to arrive. 

***  

With Sydney curled against him on the sofa, Mick watched the kids open their last few packages, Ruby and Rose nestled on the floor next to Kenny’s wheelchair. It’d been a perfect Christmas morning as far as he was concerned.  

His heart warmed at the way their two families got along. Anthony and Sydney’s dad had talked cars for hours. Evidently Henry Bromlee had been quite the gearhead in his day. And Maureen, Sydney’s mother, was funnier than hell with her low-key humor, keeping them in stitches. 

Sydney and Mae had become fast friends shortly after they’d met, when Antony had invited her and the girls over for holiday movie night. And when Mick had needed a woman’s feedback on the engagement ring, Mae had made herself available to help him find the perfect one. The woman was beyond excited about Mick’s upcoming proposal, and she could barely contain herself, sending him ‘hurry up already’ glares throughout the morning. As soon as the girls were finished, he’d put her out of her misery. 

Nerves he wasn’t accustomed to churned inside him.  

What if she says no?

He could feel perspiration sliding down his spine under the silly Christmas sweater he’d worn for the girls, and the ring box was burning a hole in his pocket.  

“Everything all right?” Sydney asked, her concerned gaze lifting to him. 

He looked into her eyes, filled with love for him, and his nerves settled. “Depends on your answer.”  

Mick reached into his pocket.

Mae punched a fist into the air. “Finally!”

The room fell silent. Even the children seemed to sense the anticipation. 

Eyes locked with Sydney’s, reading the dawning realization in her soft brown gaze, Mick withdrew the red, crushed-velvet box and held it out to her. “Sydney, honey—” 

That was all the farther he got before she threw her arms around his neck.

“Marry me, baby,” he whispered.

Her lips brushed his ear. “Yes.”