Santa Cam (MyHeartChannel Romance)

by Maria Hoagland

  And yet he couldn’t let it go. All through the flight, and now in his mother’s car, he was grieving over what he’d thought were very real possibilities less than twenty-four hours ago. He needed to let it go—at least enough to enjoy his time at home.

  Mesmerized by the rise and fall of the snowdrifts outside the passenger window, Camden’s eyes snapped from one road marker to the next like they were bread crumbs leading him back to Cobble Creek. There were some pretty great things about being in a small town, but longer travel days weren’t one of his favorites.

  “I have white chicken chili in the slow cooker,” his mom said from the driver’s seat.

  “That sounds great.” He turned to face her and forced a smile. He probably didn’t sound like it was great. He really was happy to see her—to see everyone—but he wasn’t even into Cobble Creek yet and he was missing Dallas. Well, maybe not Dallas. Bluebonnet.

  Which wasn’t exactly true either. It was a person he was missing, not a place, and not just anyone. Talia Thomas, the MyHeartChannel reporter who’d stolen his heart and then apparently didn’t want it.

  “Are you okay, Cam?” Her concern was like a warm quilt, comforting, nostalgic, and the slightest bit confining. “Is everything okay now at work?”

  He allowed a laugh to bubble out of him, and it felt good. “You say that like I’m at an office eight-to-five.”

  His mom harrumphed. “Well, it is work, is it not? You do get paid for it.”

  Contrite, Cam calmed himself. “Thank you for that, Mom. I actually appreciate you calling it work, because sometimes I get the feeling people don’t think of this as my job—as much a job as anything anyone else does to get paid.” He sighed. “To answer your question, yes, things are good with the team.”

  “Then it’s a girl.” Again, like he was a teenager.

  They drove into town, his mom turning onto Main Street, where a banner stretched over the two lanes. “#SeeTheGood Christmas Festival.” Cam squeezed his eyes shut and then opened them again quickly so he wouldn’t miss the banner. Did it really say what he thought it did?

  For a moment, everything felt surreal, like he was entering The Twilight Zone or something. “What happened to the Cobble Creek Christmas Festival banner?”

  She looked at him sideways, probably to watch his reaction. It must have amused her, because she smiled. “The city council voted to do something a little different this year.” His mother’s mirth over the change was apparent in her voice. Knowing the banner was there, this was probably why she’d driven down Main Street instead of taking their typical route.

  Camden cringed. “So you’re telling me everyone knows about the videos?” He wasn’t sure why that disappointed him, but it did. Especially now with the state of things between the Santa and the elf, the videos felt too personal to share with people who actually knew him.

  “Just when I didn’t think you could become more of a celebrity in your hometown, you go and do this,” she teased.

  “I never should have done those videos,” he mumbled.

  “What are you talking about, kid?” The way she turned to stare at him, he was sure Sheriff Lockhart was going to swoop in and cite her for distracted driving. “Did the videos hurt your reputation?”

  “No.” He turned his face to the window, barely taking in the many white lights and Christmas wreaths adorning the streetlights and business fronts down Main Street. Memories flooded back as they drove past Frank & Signs, Graham’s Pharmacy, and Tops Bakery. So many great little shops filled with people he cared about.

  “Did it help?” his mom asked, making him concentrate on the painful topic of Talia and their Christmas adventures.

  “Maybe.” Certainly, if he was being honest.

  “Then?”

  He turned in his seat to face her, pulling his knee up slightly to do it. He barely fit, and much less than he had the last time they’d had a serious car conversation like they were now. “She wasn’t doing it to help me. She did it to help herself.”

  When he turned back in his seat, it wasn’t to show he was done with this conversation but because he fit better that way in his seat. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t acting like a salty teenager.

  She chuckled good-naturedly. “You keep telling yourself that, son, but the rest of us—we could see it from the videos. That girl’s got something for you; you just have to figure out if you want it.”

  The words were nice, though there was no way for either of them to know how right she was.

  21

  Early Sunday afternoon, Talia’s phone rang. She dreaded another call from Camden. After last night’s display, there wasn’t a thing she wanted to hear from him. Disappointment and disgust weighed her down. She couldn’t believe she’d been blinded by a charming man once again.

  Not the type to just let it go to voicemail without knowing who was calling, she checked the screen. Relief hit when she saw it wasn’t from Cam, so she answered.

  “I just wanted to check how you’re feeling today,” Kendall said. Despite the fussing of her baby in the background, she sounded sincere. “Are you feeling any better than when you left the auction last night?”

  It felt good to have someone check up on her, but would Kendall still do that when she learned Talia wasn’t going to be hanging around her husband’s friend anymore?

  “Yes, I am. Thank you.” The baby’s fussing was becoming increasingly more insistent. “It means a lot that you’d check on me, but do you need me to let you go so you can tend to Mia?”

  “She’s been fussy all day—I think she’s getting a cold, poor thing—but Zeke’s got her.” There was barely a break as Kendall continued, “We missed you for the rest of the event.”

  “Cam missed you!” Talia heard Zeke yell in the background.

  “I had no idea Cam was so good at improv.” Talia had been about to request that Kendall take her off speaker, but if Kendall could ignore Zeke’s comments, so could Talia.

  “You should have heard his bit about Cobble Creek Christmases versus Texas Christmases—it was a riot.”

  “Oh, don’t worry. I’ve heard his opinions on the matter.” Talia employed sarcasm to express her feelings. While he’d seemed to gain appreciation over the last few weeks, she imagined he’d been less than complimentary to his adoptive state.

  “Someone’s got a burr under her blanket.” Zeke’s teasing grumble was becoming as much a part of the background noise as the baby’s fussing.

  “No, you would have liked it,” Kendall said. “It was good. Funny.” Kendall laughed, and Talia couldn’t tell if it was a response to Zeke and the comments both women were ignoring, or her memories of Camden onstage. Kendall took a breath, signaling she wasn’t done speaking. “It would have been great for your MyHeartChannel, actually.”

  Talia didn’t want to think about it—about what she might have missed out on by leaving early, about how fun it might have been to watch Camden onstage under different circumstances, and mostly about who he was with up there and how they were interacting. “Hmm,” she said, because she didn’t want to say what was actually on her mind with his buddy there in the room.

  The baby’s protests had turned to crying, and the crying was escalating to wails.

  “Here, talk to Zeke for a minute,” Kendall said without giving Talia a chance to respond.

  While she wasn’t sure what to say to Zeke, it would have been rude to hang up while Kendall passed the phone. The crying baby got louder as the phone got closer to her, and then quieter again as Kendall moved away from the phone.

  “So what happened last night?” Zeke’s no-nonsense yet caring tone reminded Talia of talking to her father about things. “And don’t give me that you didn’t feel good stuff. I don’t buy it. You were just fine dancing with him five minutes before.”

  If Zeke was going to call her out without so much as a “Hey, how you doing?” she was ready to dish it right back. “I was tired.” Tired of seeing Camden flirt with Rosalie Cayhill.
“Since Camden was going to be occupied with the auctioneer for a while …” The image of Asher’s smug sneer flashed in her mind. How he’d loved seeing Camden flirting with someone, knowing it was hurting Talia. She shouldn’t say anything more to Zeke about it, but unable to stop herself, she muttered, “An auctioneer he apparently knows quite well.” She made sure her insinuation was evident.

  “The auctioneer? Rosalie Cayhill?”

  “You can’t tell me you didn’t see what everyone else in the room saw.”

  “If you’re looking for bad, you’re going to find it. Whatever happened to your #SeeTheGood campaign?”

  Talia kept her anger in check, though frustration was seething underneath. How dare he throw her own campaign in her face? “Sometimes if you only look for the good, you miss the truth.”

  For a moment, the only thing Talia heard was the hysterical baby’s cry slowing, softening as she calmed.

  “And what truth is that?” Zeke asked.

  “That Camden Sharpe was using me.” She didn’t want to show her vulnerability, but there it was, under the surface, if Zeke was paying attention. “Used me to decorate his tree, give him positive press, and keep him occupied while he was stuck here in town.”

  What she left unsaid was that she’d actually been foolish enough to think she was falling in love. She’d developed feelings for him—the first man she’d really opened up to since Asher, and now, here she was, dealing with the same kind of garbage she had with him.

  Camden was charming enough to get her to think he was truly interested in her, but then when she saw him turn those same charms on another woman, she couldn’t believe she’d been so easily taken in. Again. If life gave her an insecure man who was a little bit awkward and a lot sweet next time, she promised herself she’d give him a shot. No more men so confident in their own skin that they didn’t need her, because she certainly didn’t need that.

  “What you think you saw may not be the only truth. Sometimes to see the good, you need to consider other angles. Consider that there might be more to the story than was evident at first glance.”

  Did Zeke know something she didn’t, or was he just trying to calm her down? “Like what?”

  Last night, things had seemed pretty dang clear. There weren’t too many ways to interpret the way he looked at Rosalie when she first walked to the microphone, the way he talked about her looks, and the way they teased each other with such familiarity.

  “With all due respect, and you are in no way obligated to answer me, are you or are you not an investigative journalist?”

  She opened her mouth to respond with something witty or snarky or snide, but nothing came. She closed her mouth and breathed in deeply before letting it out slowly. It was a fair question, and Zeke was obviously giving her a lead.

  When she didn’t respond, Zeke continued, “I could answer your questions, but I think you’ll find out far more if you look into it yourself. Since I’m his friend, you might not believe me, and since I’m your friend, you may not like what I have to say.”

  What was that supposed to mean? She’d expected Zeke to defend Cam, to get Talia to consider that Rosalie Cayhill was just a friend or something, but if she wasn’t going to approve of the information Zeke had to offer, maybe it wasn’t all good.

  “He left today for Cobble Creek. It’s ten days before Christmas. I’m sure you can find out what you need to before then.” He hardly took a breath. “Here’s Kendall back.”

  When her new friend got on the phone, Kendall didn’t say one more word about Camden or the gala or even Christmas, and after a few minutes, Talia could no longer focus on their conversation. Zeke had a point. Talia would never be able to put this to rest until she’d uncovered the truth.

  “You know what? You and Zeke might be right. I should check out some flights,” Talia said. “Thank you again for checking up on me.”

  “Anytime.” Kendall’s voice sounded like a smile. “Talk soon?”

  “Absolutely. I’ll let you know how things go.”

  22

  Several hours of teammate interviews and extensive internet searches, five days, two airplanes, and one very long Uber ride later, and Talia Thomas finally understood at least part of the fascination Camden Sharpe had with Cobble Creek, Wyoming.

  An hour outside Jackson, the small town was set against rugged mountains softened by rolling drifts of snow and clumps of trees. Behind them, the sky darkened with oncoming dusk, an inky indigo background to streetlights and Christmas lights lining what looked to be the only main artery through town. Despite the cold, couples traveled the sidewalks hand in hand with kids running toward a park with a gazebo. Everywhere she looked, Christmas decorations brightened doors of businesses and shop windows.

  “It’s adorable!” she breathed, gaping out of the window as someone waved to her. She waved back, hoping the greeting had been for her and not someone else.

  “Don’t get the idea Cobble Creek is like this all the time.” The camouflage-clad driver adjusted his Redrocks baseball cap as he looked at her in the rearview mirror. “It’s the night of the big Christmas festival.” He pointed to the banner stretched out across the street in front of them. “I’m not sure what all this #SeeTheGood stuff is, but I guess it’s this year’s theme. Anyway, every year the whole town comes out for a service night—an angel tree kind of thing over behind city hall.” This time he pointed at the gazebo area, where a large evergreen tree was surrounded by people.

  Her eyes darted from one family to another, noting not only their friendliness but their familiarity as they stopped to chat with each other. Sure, when she went to events in Bluebonnet, Talia ran into a few people she knew, but not like this. She hadn’t had many people stop her to chat at the Jingle Bell Fun Run or the Dickens Christmas festival, though everyone she approached for interviews was accommodating.

  The driver cleared his throat. “Which reminds me. Jessie, the owner of the B&B—you’re staying at the Country Quilt Inn, right?” He waited for her to nod. “Jessie’s down here at the festival somewhere, so she wanted me to give you your key—”

  He handed it over his shoulder, and Talia took it.

  “She also wanted me to tell you that you’re welcome to head over to the inn and hang out in one of the living areas, or I could drop you off here and take your luggage over there and she’ll give you a ride back afterwards. What do you think?”

  That was a lot to take in, but given the option of checking out a Christmas festival—in Camden’s hometown, using her hashtag for their theme, in a community of people who knew Camden when she was researching him—there wasn’t even a question. “You would do that?” she asked. Only slightly wary. “You’d drop my suitcase off for me?”

  He must have taken that as his answer, because he slowed the car and pulled to the curb closest to the gazebo, double-parking. “Of course. It’s no problem. I live out that direction, and I’m headed home to pick up my family. We’re coming to add some things to the tree, so I’ll keep an eye out for you. If Jessie hasn’t found you by then, I’ll introduce you.”

  Talia blinked, stunned. “Thank you.”

  Stepping out of the car was like stepping onto a movie screen, except for the subtle clues that it was also real life. In the background, she heard a smattering of bickering from siblings, saw the shabbier clothes worn by those who’d fallen on harder times, and noticed the furrows of concern on some adults’ foreheads even as they went out to mingle with the community.

  But Talia chose to concentrate on the good she saw around her: The children who held the hand of a smaller sibling, excitedly chatting about the Christmas decorations. The claps on the shoulder and smiles as one rancher greeted another and asked if he and his family were doing okay. The smiles that chased away worries. The joy on the faces as they beheld their loved ones. This was community. This was universal. And this was Christmas—the same Christmas she felt in Bluebonnet, her own small corner of the huge DFW metroplex. Every town, no matter th
e size, had this if you knew where to find it.

  After picking up a cup of steaming hot chocolate from a food truck to keep her hands and her insides warm, Talia made her way slowly through the crowd until she had her turn at the tree. From a distance, it had appeared ragged and strange—a decorating style she couldn’t place until her eyes could comprehend what she was looking at. Up close, the collection was indeed odd—a mismatched cacophony of paper ornaments, candy canes with attached tags fluttering in the breeze, and small trinkets with slips of paper secured on them.

  She stretched out her hand, and her fingertips flattened one slip of paper that had curled around a small silver bell. She read, “The beauty of the snow on the barn the Graham family helped us build and knowing our animals will be warm this year.”

  What a huge blessing. She wasn’t sure yet what this tree was, but if each of these slips of paper contained something this monumental, Cobble Creek residents should be nominated for sainthood. Eagerly, she picked up a small wooden train missing one wheel. On the bottom, scrawled in a child’s handwriting, it said, “I saw Mason help Joseph when he fell on the playground.” Perhaps the effort given was nowhere near what the Graham family had donated, but maybe it was—and just as beautiful.

  A paper ornament, cut out of red card stock, fluttered in front of her as if asking to be read. She obliged. “The way Lucy Moran knows everyone’s name and makes each person feel special. She has the best smile.” Almost involuntarily, her lips turned up in a huge grin. The people here were amazing, and knowing this little tidbit about Lucy made Talia hope to meet her.