Santa Cam (MyHeartChannel Romance)

by Maria Hoagland

  To think he hadn’t wanted to be Santa. He’d been shocked that any kid would buy into him being Santa, and yet they had. He’d figured kids these days were much more cynical and savvy than he’d been at their age, and that they wouldn’t fall for it. Except, when it came down to it, they hadn’t been. They bought into it because they wanted to. There had to be a life lesson there.

  Camden racked the weight bar to give his muscles a couple of minutes’ recovery time before pushing again. Like a kid waiting for Christmas, in his excitement about heading home today, he’d finished trip preparations too early. This waiting around until it was time to call a ride to the airport was killing him, but it was better than being cooped up at the airport, waiting for his flight.

  He hoped he wasn’t putting too much on this trip home, but Camden needed this break from life, just for a minute. Lately, it had been easy to answer “fine” when people asked how he was, and it was truthful—enough. Like when people asked him what he thought of Texas, it made them happier if he said he loved it, but honestly, it didn’t feel any different than any other state. He could box his feelings away and get to work, because one pitch, one stadium, one city or another were interchangeable, right? Yet life would be a heck of a lot better if he felt connected to the community, somehow.

  His time at home would be the breather he needed, and Cobble Creek the place that would ground him again. Time away, no matter how short, always helped him put life back into perspective. Too often lately, he’d found himself examining his life, and while he felt satisfied, he was missing something, or maybe someone, to help him see how truly blessed he was. He had a job he loved, and couldn’t imagine giving up soccer until he was forced to, but being on the road wore on him. There wasn’t anything in particular drawing him back.

  Maybe if he found someone like Zeke had found in his wife Kendall. Over the past months, he’d watched them closely, and he was convinced he’d never been lucky enough to have what the two of them found in each other. He dreamed of finding that one special person who would give him tingles of joy when he thought about her, talked to her, and spent time with her.

  None of his previous relationships had ever fallen into that category, and in the past, that hadn’t bothered him. His brief relationship with Mary Alice had been fun, and she was a great person, but she never really got him or his jokes. She was far too serious a person for him, and yet never serious about him.

  What would it be like to have someone’s eyes light up when he walked into the room—not because he was famous, not because he was Santa, but because they knew him, inside and out, and still preferred him over any other man in the world? Someone like Talia, the Christmas elf? She had a smile that lit up a room and a kind word for everyone. Encouragement and optimism that he could sure use in his life. If only someone like her felt that way about him.

  Cam’s ringtone commandeered his speakers, blocking the pump-up music that had been streaming while he worked out. It interrupted his daydream just in time.

  He shook his head at himself and dropped the weight bar onto the cage’s safety rack. He’d been getting carried away by his good mood. He was going home—the thing he’d been looking forward to for weeks—and he didn’t need anything else.

  He wiped his hands along his shorts, taking note of his agent’s name on the screen. His fingertips shook as he swiped to answer. Long ago, he’d learned to tame his nerves, but having the agent call him during the winter break when the viral video of the bar fight was still fresh had Cam concerned.

  “Good morning.” He stood next to the weight bench and worked at keeping his breathing even. Not only did he not want to appear worried; he also didn’t want to come off as out of shape, if Derrick realized Cam had been working out. “It’s probably too early to gauge, but tell me the Hartford Hope event made a difference, even if you’re lying to make me feel good.”

  The words tumbled out as a joke. A couple of hours playing pretend at an obscure bowling alley on a random night would doubtfully sway public perception, and especially not in twelve hours.

  “Actually, the club’s marketing department called me this morning for that very reason.” Although the news was good, Derrick’s voice didn’t exactly sound like it was. “Whatever you did volunteering last night seemed to have a positive impact. Better than anticipated.”

  Gnawing concern over what Derrick really had to say was keeping Cam from feeling good about this. “Then why don’t you sound happy about it?” Derrick had better not be calling to say Camden was being transferred again or looking at a lawsuit over the video. His heart thudded in his chest.

  “Because the team still needs more.” Derrick cleared his throat. “The owners decided to require one more mandatory event before everyone takes off for the break—a Christmas gala and tree auction. It’s an annual event for the community, but I don’t think the Shooting Stars have been involved before.” Derrick sounded slightly fuzzy on the details, which made sense when he had just received the call that morning in his office or his home or wherever his own Christmas plans may have taken him. “All I know is that everyone on the roster is require to donate a decorated tree. The marketing department will send an email with the specifics.”

  And just like that, the satisfaction of his Santa success gave way to the crushing weight of disappointment. “When?”

  “December 14.” Derrick sounded apologetic.

  Camden clenched his teeth. Eleven days from now—meaning twelve before he could go home. He’d never been very good with patience, and putting off what he’d been looking forward to was testing his now. This was, however, part of the job.

  “And I was told you need to bring the elf with you.”

  “The elf?” Were they talking about Talia? Why?

  “Well, not dressed as the elf, but as a guest for the auction, if she’s willing to come. Apparently, she made some kind of impression on the owners?” Derrick didn’t sound like he knew any more than Cam could guess on his own.

  What an odd request. The network news story must have had some impact, and maybe they’d seen Talia. It hardly made sense, considering Jocelyn had relegated her to a prop in the background.

  Yes, it was part of the job to make community appearances, but Cam was still bugged. Taking this big of a chunk out of his winter break was not in Camden’s contract with DFW United, and his blood roiled with the injustice of it. He hadn’t been contractually obligated to postpone his trip the two days that he already had, and yet he’d donned the horrible Santa outfit worn by who knew how many men with questionable hygiene and pretended to be all happy with everything. And now they were pushing it further?

  The fingers of his free hand balled into a fist, clenching and unclenching and feeling the tightness in his muscles. He hated feeling like he was being taken advantage of.

  His first instinct was to argue this case, but knowing it was Derrick’s job to intercede when Cam asked him to, he refrained, mulling over the options silently instead as he came to grips with this bump in his plans. He could skip the event—what would team management do then? Kick him off the team? Fine him? But if he didn’t show, it would backfire when it came to unity with the team and coaching staff. Things were already strained, and making enemies with the club’s owners felt just as dangerous.

  “You there, Cam?”

  Cam grunted, not trusting himself to speak.

  “Less than two more weeks. That’s all they’re asking. It will pay off for you in the long run.”

  What Cam wanted was an acknowledgment from DFW United that they were asking him to sacrifice something important, but for the moment, this was the closest he was going to get. “I’ll do my best,” he conceded.

  The idea of bringing Talia along, though—now that wasn’t a half-bad idea. If Camden had to go, he could pass an enjoyable evening with her at his side. And what better excuse than that he’d been told to bring her, right? She intrigued him, made him happy, and maybe being with her would give him the chance to fi
gure out where he knew her from, because he was becoming convinced there was something else he was forgetting.

  What he needed now was a way to persuade her to accompany him to the Christmas tree auction. His mind spun like bald truck tires in icy snow.

  10

  The first thing Camden did when he got off the phone with Derrick was call his mother to break the bad news. He winced, knowing this would disappoint her. It was inevitable. He pushed her name on his favorites list, and she answered, breathless.

  “Hello, Cam?” He could hear the apprehension in her voice.

  His father let it slip once that every time the phone rang, Cam’s mother braced herself for bad news—always worrying he’d been injured or fired or any of a litany of ridiculous scenarios like being arrested. Unfortunately, she hadn’t been too far off when he unwittingly starred in a viral bar fight video. That had been a fun conversation, though one she’d initiated, thanks to some meddling small-towner who felt it their duty to keep her informed.

  “Aren’t you supposed to be on your way to the airport?” she asked.

  “Should be,” he muttered. He had to put a positive spin on it, for her sake at least. “Looks like the owners scheduled a Christmas fundraiser on the fourteenth I can’t get out of.” He heard her exhale in frustration and felt the same way. “I’ll be flying home on the fifteenth, no matter what.”

  There was a pause before she responded. “The fifteenth isn’t so bad, Cam. The rest of the family won’t be in until after that, you know, and this is your job, just as much as finishing the semester is for your sister.” He could almost hear the shrug and feel the acceptance of fate.

  With the call finished, Cam was more fired up now than before. Returning to his workout, he pushed through his routine of weights and ab crunches until his muscles were fatigued, but his frustration lingered, so he went for a hard run.

  Three miles in and still no closer at devising a plan to approach Talia, he began the return to his house in a steady cool-down jog. What incentives did he have to lure her in? Unlike her brother, she didn’t appear to be impressed with his notoriety. In fact, after the news interview, Talia had confided that the only sport she followed was Texas football. Other than being a nice person—helping her father decorate for Christmas, delivering Christmas cookies, volunteering with kids—and being the kind of person who danced in her car, he didn’t know anything about her.

  And yet, those two things told him enough to give him hope. Maybe all he needed to do was ask. The smiles and teasing conversations they’d shared gave him reason to believe there was a chance she would say yes.

  With a quarter of a mile left before his block, Cam took off at another all-out sprint to expend the rest of his pent-up energy. He reached the corner satisfyingly out of breath and charged with exercise endorphins.

  He rounded the corner, his vision clearer and his mind calmer than it had been since Derrick’s call. His mom’s comment was true. December 15 would give him enough time at home.

  A couple houses away, his neighbor was struggling to maneuver an overloaded trash can with another box teetering on top. Not only was it off-balance and probably heavy; the back gate insisted on swinging shut every time she got close. Cam jogged over to help.

  “I’ll drive if you’ll hold the gate,” he suggested to the woman, who had to be Talia’s mother. She had the same blond hair and wide, trusting face.

  Her pale green eyes, the same shade as Talia’s, flared open for a moment. He hadn’t meant to startle her.

  “I don’t think we’ve met formally. Camden Sharpe, you neighbor across the street.” He motioned to the house he was renting.

  She squinted at him. When her squint loosened with a smile, he knew she’d placed him. “Santa?”

  He chuckled. She’d probably been there last night, but he hadn’t had the pleasure of meeting her. “I guess you could call me that.”

  “I wouldn’t be the first.” Her own laugh was light and felt like home. She angled the trash can his direction and relinquished it. Then she walked to the gate and held it open with her hip. “Thank you for playing Santa to my daughter’s elf. You were the perfect holiday duo.”

  “She was certainly a festive one. I’ll take that as a compliment if I even came close to being on par.”

  “Nobody comes close to my Talia Joy when it comes to Christmas spirit, but you gave it a valiant try.”

  He liked Talia’s mother’s sass. “I’ve always loved Christmas, that’s for sure, but call me crazy, this—” He held both arms out to his side, indicating temperatures in the low sixties and emphasizing that he was wearing short sleeves and shorts. “This doesn’t feel like Christmas weather to me.” He said it lightly, making sure she knew he was teasing and hoping she wouldn’t take it the wrong way. He parked the garbage can at the curb and set the box next to it on the sidewalk. “Have a great day, Mrs. Thomas.”

  “It’s Patricia, and thank you for your assistance. You made it a great day.”

  Half an hour later, he’d barely finished showering and getting dressed when there was a knock at the door. Towel-drying his hair, he headed to answer it, completely thrown off when Talia stood on the other side of the screen door with a canvas grocery bag in one hand and a burlap wreath in the other.

  She wrinkled her nose adorably. “This is going to sound weird, but my mom sent me over.” She lifted the sack. “She wanted me to bring you some Christmas cheer as a thank you.”

  He opened the door wide to invite her in, slightly disappointed that didn’t mean more Christmas cookies. Her cookies were worth training extra hard to keep in shape over the holidays. “A thank-you? For what?” Oh, helping take out the trash? “She doesn’t owe me anything. I was just doing what neighbors do, and besides, it was nothing.”

  As Talia stepped past him, the scent of vanilla followed. He closed the door behind her, and she turned to face him in the entryway of the 1960s rambler. “I think she might have had ulterior motives.” She rolled her eyes. “You know moms.”

  Camden chuckled. “That I do. I have one of those myself.”

  “But you might like this surprise.”

  She had his attention. With no idea what might be in the sack, of course, he was mildly intrigued. He was also relieved that he didn’t have to figure out a way to orchestrate a meeting with Talia. As long as he was able to segue into the Christmas tree auction before she left his place, the problem would be solved. And since she’d said the bag was full of Christmas cheer, that might not be too difficult.

  He hung his bath towel over the doorknob to his laundry room and ran his hand through his still-damp hair, hoping it wasn’t standing up in any strange places. “You think I need Christmas cheer, huh? Wasn’t I a good Santa?” He placed a hand over his chest as if she’d wounded him.

  “Eh . . .” She made a face like she didn’t want to hurt his feelings by telling him the truth. “I guess, but I have a feeling it was all for show.” She looked up at him as if glaring over granny glasses. While he was several inches taller than she was, this accentuated the difference he hadn’t felt the night before.

  Camden gave a paranoid look around his living room. “You got some Elf on the Shelf spying on me?” He placed a hand over his heart. “I’m as sincere as they come.”

  “As sincere as fake Santas come . . .” She pursed her lips. “That’s not saying much.” With her fist on her hip, the bag dangled from her wrist. She gave him a look of challenge.

  “Which is exactly as real as a Texas Christmas,” he lobbed back at her. What would she say about that one?

  Talia nodded, seemingly accepting of his assertion. “Then completely legit.”

  He blew out a breath and rolled his eyes. She’d gotten him with that one.

  “You don’t believe it?” she asked, her eyes wide with feigned surprise. She was so fun to tease.

  “Maybe I’m waiting for someone to prove it.”

  Her expression froze, and Cam’s mind backpedaled. He hadn’t me
ant it to sound so forward.

  “Actually, I need some help.” He let the words rush out. “I found out today the team owners volunteered us for a Christmas gala in a couple of weeks.” He paused. This might not be the best way to approach the subject, but his gut said it was worth a shot. “They made a very odd request.” He shook his head. “I have no idea what gave them the idea—maybe it was the news segment, maybe Zeke told them, I don’t know.”

  He raised his palms up, emphasizing his words. He gave her his best puppy-dog eyes, hoping she wouldn’t shoot him down. “They asked me to bring the elf.” He held his breath, hoping she’d say yes when he asked. “Would you . . . go with me?”

  She turned her back on his foyer and looked at his living room, hand still on her hip. He wished he could see her face. Was she trying to figure out what to say to let him down gently?

  “You really do need to get into the Christmas spirit if you intend to enjoy the gala,” he heard her say.

  Was that a yes? He held back his victory fist pump. “You do know I’m not going to be here for Christmas. That’s why there aren’t any decorations.”

  She shrugged, conceding the point. “Okay, I can see that. But if you’re going to be around for another two weeks, we’ve got to do something to get you in the mood.” She turned back to face him, shaking the bag.

  He sighed heavily for her benefit, though he wasn’t actually opposed to Christmas cheer, as she’d called it. “What have you got?”

  Talia pushed her pink lips together, and he felt her eyes travel across him. He found he rather enjoyed it. “First, shoes.” She pointed at his bare feet. “We’re headed outside to your truck.”

  Thank goodness he’d run it through the car wash yesterday. “Oh, no.” He gave her a warning look and the slightest of head shakes. “You don’t mess with the truck.”

  She rolled her eyes to the sky. “And you’re not even from Texas.” Her hands flew into the air in front of her.

  “Wyoming,” he said. “When it comes to pickups, it’s the same thing.” He opened the door to his garage where he kept his shoes, and she followed.