Charlie

AFTER DELIVERING THE bikes to Toys for Tots, sledding on the mountain, and making curls out of ribbons for an hour—all three things I’ve never done before—it is time to get ready for the kids’ party. I’ve been tasked with helping Mr. Jones...Mark...get the Santa suit on and get him to the party since he can’t reach the steering wheel with his extra padding.

To say that it is unsettling to spend one-on-one time with the father of the woman I’m currently trying to get into bed would be an understatement.

And so is the phrase “trying to get into bed.” I’ve had more than one chance to do it, and my cock is currently hating me for discovering I have a nice-guy side. I’m tense. Grumpy as fuck. And need a release my morning run did not provide. If I don’t fuck her soon, I’m going to have to start a bar fight. I don’t see any other way around it. Fuck or fight.

“How’s your Camaro, son?” Mark asks while I attach his Santa belly.

“She’s a beauty. Jason Jones should quit the sheriff gig and rebuild cars fulltime.”

Mark laughs. “Not likely. He likes his job too much. What about you?”

I cinch the belt and hope it will hold. That is more than a bowl full of jelly. “Me?”

“What are your plans now?”

I should know the answer to that. I wish I did. I’m thirty-eight years old, but I feel like a kid just graduating high school again. Not the kind of guy a man wants sniffing around his daughter, that’s for sure.

“After the Camaro, I don’t really know.”

“Lots of men go into law enforcement after the military. Do you need to start working right away?”

I shake my head and help Mark into the furry red jacket. “I didn’t spend much over the years. My car is gonna cost me, but I have a good sized savings. Plus retirement pay.”

Mark nods. “You should have Emily go over finance stuff with you. She’ll tell you she’s just the bookkeeper for my parents, but she majored in finance. She could have gone anywhere. She’s really good. But she likes it here in Maple Grove.”

I smile but don’t look up. I’m sure the effect of hearing her name is written all over my face. I’ve never had it like this for a woman before. A car, maybe. A woman, no. “Maybe I’ll do that.”

Mark sits in the chair, and I bring over the boots. “You ever think about teaching as a career, Charlie?”

“Me? No. Why?”

“Carter tells me all the guys learned a lot from you. He thinks you have a knack for it. The patience he lacks.”

The boot needs to be tugged. Hard. Mark grunts as it finally slips over his ankle. “Sorry, man,” I say, knowing that didn’t feel good. I get the other one on easier. “I don’t have the education to be a teacher.

“There’s the GI Bill.”

“Who’s going to let a man my age into college?”

“Lots of men your age go to college. Or change careers and go back to college.”

I never thought about going to school. Not even once. I never thought I was the schooling type. “If I ever went to college again for a job, it would be something for disadvantaged kids.”

Mark hangs his beard over his ears. “Really? Like foster kids?”

Suddenly self-conscious, I hand him the Santa hat. “I grew up in the system, so yeah.” No shame, right? I worked hard to outrun the shame, but it still haunts me. Maybe it always will.

“We have a program in Washington you could volunteer for. It’s called CASA. They train you to be a guardian ad litem. I’ll get you the brochure. You’d be a child advocate in the court system. It’s a volunteer position—but the experience would maybe point you in the direction for a career.”

I think about that the whole drive into town. I never had an advocate when I was a kid. If I could do that for someone else...

“Hey Santa, do they have that program in other states, too?”

Mark shrugs. “Probably. I’m only familiar with Washington laws though. It’s a good state. You might like to stay. You know people here. There is a university twenty minutes away. Emily could help you find a place in town.”

I shoot him a look, but Mark just chuckles, his stomach jiggling. “Carter told me you wanted to take Alan out with a punch the other day. That’s a ringing endorsement as far as I’m concerned. My daughter could do worse.”

“I’d still like one shot at his nose.”

“I can’t condone violence or breaking the law. But if you happen to find yourself in need of a lawyer...”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

My daughter could do worse. I let that sink in the rest of the way to the community center.

At the party, I get swept up in helping Mrs. Jones and Mike the librarian for hours, but every sight I catch of Emily steals my breath. She hasn’t changed any on the outside—she’s wearing a heavy, dark, nearly shapeless skirt that comes past her knees, and her cardigan covers a blouse that buttons all the way up her neck—but she shines the way the moon glints off snow. She could probably wear a nun’s habit and I’d think she glowed. This is insane.

Mrs. Jones finds me. It is time to fold the tables and put the chairs away. I like that she seeks me out to help. I don’t mind hard work.

“Charlie, thank you so much for helping tonight. I wish I felt worse about using my houseguest as the hired help.”

“I like feeling useful, ma’am.”

“I hope you also feel included. You fit in to the community so well tonight.”

I add another chair to the stack. It’s starting to feel like Mr. and Mrs. Jones are up to something. “Mrs. Jones, you know I can’t—Mrs. Jones?” She’s turned an ashen shade and her eyes are glassy. “Are you okay?”

I think she is going to answer, but instead her eyes close and she starts to fall. I rush to her side, catching her mid-swoon and lowering to the floor with her. “I need help over here!”