Santa, I have a wish!

Chapter 6; White bed

After making some easy soup and salad we were ready for bringing the stupid big box of bed inside

~

Snow was still falling in thick sheets, covering the driveway in a white blanket. The bed was sitting on the porch like an impossible puzzle. I stared at it, feeling like I might cry or laugh—or both.

“Okay,” I muttered to myself. “We can do this. Just… somehow.”

He—mysterious, snow-dusted, impossibly handsome—stood beside me, still holding the little girl like she weighed nothing. He gave me that half-smile, the one that made my chest tighten without warning.

“Ready?” he asked. Calm, but there was a spark in his eyes.

I squared my shoulders. “I was born ready.”

“Good,” he said, like he was challenging me.

I grabbed the edge of the mattress. Immediately, I realized it was heavy—way heavier than the description had promised. My hands were slipping on the slick plastic covering, snow melting onto my gloves.

“Uh… careful,” he said, leaning close, his arm brushing mine. That touch sent a jolt straight through me.

“I am careful,” I shot back, trying to sound authoritative while silently questioning all my life choices that led to this moment.

We lifted. It was awkward. One side higher, one side lower. I cursed under my breath as snow blew into my face. He laughed quietly. That laugh—warm, low, teasing—made my heart skip.

“Hey, don’t laugh,” I said. “This is serious work!”

He shook his head, still smiling. “Oh, I take this very seriously. But it’s fun watching you try to boss me around.”

I glared at him—but the corners of my mouth betrayed me. I was laughing too.

We maneuvered the bed up the steps, slowly, inch by inch. My hands were numb, my back ached, and yet… somehow being side by side with him made it… lighter. Somehow.

“Careful with the left side,” I instructed, trying to sound bossy again. “If you drop it, we’ll be buried in bed and snow forever.”

He tilted his head, giving me that look that made me want to melt right where I stood. “I think I could survive being buried in bed with you,” he said, his tone teasing, but his eyes—those eyes—were serious.

I stopped. My hands froze on the mattress. Did he just…?

“Focus,” I muttered, glaring at him again. “Bed first. Flirting later.”

He laughed—quiet, teasing, dangerously close to smug. “Yes, ma’am.”

By the time we got the bed into the hallway, both of us were panting, shivering, and covered in snow. My hair was plastered to my face, gloves soaked. He looked… untouched. Effortless. Perfect.

I wanted to hate him for looking like he just walked out of a magazine while I looked like a frozen disaster, a really ugly snowman … but… I didn’t. I couldn’t hate him

“Almost there,” he said, and I felt my knees shake. The hallway was narrow. I had to squeeze the mattress around the doorframe. My gloved hands slipped again.

“Careful!” he said, reaching out. Our hands touched—longer than necessary. Heat shot straight up my arm.

“I’m… fine,” I said, trying to sound assertive, but my voice betrayed me.

“You’re lying,” he said softly. “You’re always lying when you say that.”

My heart did a weird little somersault. How did he…?

We managed to slide the bed into the bedroom, both of us collapsing on the floor for a second, laughing and gasping for breath. Snow had melted onto the wooden floor, making it slippery and cold, but I didn’t care.

“Good work,” he said, standing above me with that teasing smirk. “I think we make a great team.”

I looked up at him, trying to be stern, but I couldn’t hide the grin. “Next time… we do this after the snowstorm.”

He bent slightly, brushing a stray lock of wet hair off my face. “Next time… I’m hoping for something less… exhausting,” he said, voice low, almost intimate.

I swallowed hard. “Uh-huh. Sure.”

"Maybe some hotter, more intimate” his smile was the definition of flirting

He didn’t move away. Our eyes locked for a heartbeat too long, and I felt that slow burn—the kind that makes you want to say something bold, but also freezes you in place.

Annabella’s tiny voice from the doorway broke the tension:

“Did Santa bring the bed in?!”

We both jumped. I laughed, embarrassed. He laughed too—rich, full, teasing.

“Yeah,” he said, tossing me a look that made me forget my own exhaustion. “Santa helped. But I think he needs a cookie after all that work.”

I rolled my eyes, but my chest was still racing.

“Come on,” I said, leading the way. “Let’s get you warm. Hot chocolate, blankets, everything.”

He followed, just a little too close for comfort—but not too close. Perfect.

And somehow… I knew this was going to be one Christmas I’d never forget.