Santa, I have a wish!

Chapter 7. Pancakes

“Do you have anything to change into?” he asked, eyes scanning me with that calm, careful gaze.

“All our things are in the car,” I admitted.

“Then we improvise,” he said. “Shower first. I’ll find something. After that, food, and then we tackle the rest.”

I could feel the warmth from him even in the cold living room. There was a quiet authority in the way he moved, gentle but decisive. My pulse was racing, not from the cold, but from being this close to someone so capable and commanding.

~

As I started moving boxes toward the bedrooms, I noticed the little girl stirring. Her eyes blinked open, and she yawned, still nestled against him. He adjusted her carefully, brushing hair from her face, still holding her close.

“You’re safe now,” I whispered to both of them, though mostly to the man.

He looked at me, a small, appreciative smile tugging at his lips. I felt the heat rise in my chest, a flutter of something I hadn’t felt in years—excitement, anticipation, curiosity. The storm outside, the snow piling up, the chaos of my half-unpacked home—it all faded. For a moment, it was just us, working together, surviving, protecting, and slowly… noticing each other.

I helped him maneuver the last few boxes. He carried the heavier ones without effort, glancing at me occasionally, that subtle spark of amusement in his eyes. The little girl, now fully awake, giggled softly, reaching for her father.

I smiled too. Somehow, in the middle of this snowy chaos, it all felt… right.i

~

The night passed quietly after the bed was finally inside the bedroom, it took maybe 40 minutes then the bed was perfekt!

. I slept on the air mattress I bought—it was far, far better than that horrible sofa that nearly killed me. My body finally had a chance to recover, and I woke up feeling… human again.

When I opened my eyes, it felt strange to see a man and a little girl sitting together on a makeshift sofa he had built from empty boxes. The pillows I had bought yesterday were arranged like a tiny princess crown on top of the cardboard structure. It was impressive, to be honest—he must have spent quite a while constructing it carefully, even though the boxes were fragile.

“Annabelle, look,” he said softly, pointing a finger in my direction

The little girl turned her head, her blonde hair catching the light and fluttering slightly. She was like a living doll, perfect and delicate. She was only one year and nine months old, with big blue eyes, long eyelashes, and a few tiny curls on her head. She was smaller than most girls her age, but that just made her even more adorable.

Her eyes were exactly like her father’s. Both of them sat there, calm and peaceful, with eyes like the ocean and hair like yellow flowers in the sun. Even in this new, half-unpacked home, she looked serene.

“Was the bed okay?” I asked, glancing at him.

He had helped me move it inside yesterday and even built it himself. I hadn’t had to touch a screwdriver. I tried not to stare, but honestly—if you ever see a very hot, muscular man assembling furniture, it’s hypnotic. And he had refused my help.

Normally, anyone would accept help after being rescued in a snowstorm. But not him. He insisted.

I had let them sleep in the bed; they needed it more than I did. He almost argued, worried about taking up too much space, but eventually, he joined them. Thank goodness. It was so strange to argue with a man this kind—my heart thumped just thinking about it.

I got up quietly, heading to the kitchen to make pancakes. My pancakes are always a hit, and I hoped they’d enjoy them.

“Are you hungry? I can make some pancakes,” I offered.

“Yes, please,” the little girl said politely, and I saw a flicker of pride in her father’s eyes.

He was wearing some old clothes I had found in the boxes—an old shirt that was snug across his chest and pants that fit perfectly. I noticed the lines of his muscles beneath the fabric. He had a beautiful smile, a warm voice… and now this. I had to remind myself to breathe.

In the kitchen, I started preparing the pancakes, trying to keep my distance. It was impossible not to notice them—especially her. I’d always dreamed of having a child, and she fit that dream perfectly. But I couldn’t get too comfortable.

This was temporary. I couldn’t let myself get attached, not after my disastrous marriage.

No… I could live alone.

It wasn’t as bad as people made it out to be. Quiet, peaceful, manageable.

But every time I looked at those big blue eyes, I felt the pull of something I wasn’t ready to give into.

I wanted to scoop her into my arms and hold her, but she wasn’t mine.

They’d be leaving soon. I had to keep my distance.

Still, a small, persistent thought crept in—what if they wanted to stay in town?

What if this little snowstorm had brought something else with it—a chance at a fresh start, maybe even a family I didn’t expect to find?

~