Dad Bod Secret Santa (Dad Bod Christmas)

Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

MAGGIE

E veryone ready?” Hank asks, glancing at our girls in the back seat.

They nod eagerly, and Hank pulls away from the cabin, the soft glow of the dashboard lights illuminating his profile. He is a lot more okay with this outing than I’d have imagined.

Wendy and Vivian chatter excitedly in the backseat, their voices high-pitched and full of anticipation. They talk over each other animatedly, their happiness contagious.

“Mom, are we going to see the house with the giant Santa on the roof?” Wendy asks, practically bouncing in her seat. “You know, the one with the reindeer that moves and everything?”

I glance back at her, smiling at her enthusiasm. “If it’s still there, we’ll see it,” I say, experiencing a tug of nostalgia. Every year, I expect her to grow out of this tradition, and it makes me happy that she hasn’t yet.

Driving through the light displays was a family tradition before the divorce, and it’s been odd the last couple of years with just Wendy and me. But now, sitting here with Hank, his daughter, and my Wendy? This feels right in a way that catches me by surprise.

After Oliver left, I lost faith in men. There are women I work with—like my boss Beth Walden—who have amazing husbands, but it felt like good men were limited in quantity and I didn’t get a winning ticket in that lottery.

But with Hank? My view on men is changing rapidly. Hank isn’t a flashy guy, but he’s solid. He’s an excellent dad, a strong part of his community, and he’s just…steady. It’s no longer a low-burn lust I see when I look at him, but a deeper attraction that has me wondering if something real could develop between us.

“You two all right back there?” Hank’s voice breaks through my thoughts and I turn and look back at the girls. With all the time they’ve had to spend together so far, they’ve been in seventh heaven.

“Yeah!” Vivian pipes up. “I want to see all the lights! Dad, can we going to get hot chocolate after? Please say yes.”

Hank chuckles, glancing in the rearview mirror. “We’ll see. Depends on how well you two behave.”

Vivian giggles, and Wendy joins in. I smile. It’s hard not to be caught up in their excitement. If I’m honest, I’m starting to get into the Christmas spirit for the first time since Oliver said he was leaving me.

“How are things at the tree farm?” I ask, glancing at Hank. “Busy, I imagine.”

He shifts slightly in his seat and glances at me. “Busy is an understatement,” he smiles. “This is the first year we’ve run the farm, but it’s been good. Lots of families coming in.”

I nod, enjoying the warmth of his voice. I like that he takes pride in his work. “Sounds like you’re making a difference. Didn’t I hear that it’s a fundraiser?”

Hank’s expression softens, and his eyes light up. “Yeah, all the profits are going to Warrior Cares. It’s a local nonprofit that helps veterans get back on their feet. Waylon, the guy who owns the land, is a veteran and wants to support them. They’ve helped a lot of men, including a couple of the guys I work with.”

“That’s incredible,” I say admiringly. “My dad was a vet. He would’ve appreciated something like that.”

Hank’s eyes briefly meet mine and the look they hold makes my heart skip a beat. “It’s important,” he says quietly. “We’re trying to help. Community means a lot to all of us.”

Hank is different from other men. He is solid and grounded, and the more we talk, the more I want to know about him. We’ve been acquainted since the girls became friends, but this is the first time we’ve exchanged more than pleasantries or details about our daughters.

“What about you?” he asks after a few moments of quiet. “How’s work been? You work at the bank, right?”

I laugh softly. “I do. It’s mostly numbers and spreadsheets. It’s a lot of helping people get mortgages, which keeps us busy considering the area is expanding. I like it. It’s steady work, and helping people meet their financial goals is very satisfying.”

Wendy’s voice interrupts my thoughts. “Mom! Look! We’re here!”

I turn to the window in time to see the first house in the neighborhood, and my breath catches. I love visiting these Christmas displays as much as she does, even if I haven’t felt the same level of Christmas spirit since my ex left.

Every roof is lined with twinkling lights, the lawns are dotted with glowing reindeer, and trees sparkle with even more lights and decorations.

Vivian gasps from the backseat. “Dad! This is so cool!”

Hank slows the truck, giving us time to take it all in. “They really go all out around here.”

I nod, watching the magic unfold through the window. It’s the kind of scene that makes you believe in Christmas again, even when you’ve stopped believing in so many other things. Romance has been the last thing on my mind since the divorce, but Hank sparks a desire in me that I thought was dead.

Hank is attentive, a great father to Vivian, and stable. And he’s as hot as hell. He’s always been quiet when we’ve seen each other in the past, and I’ve never been able to get a read on him. The more I learn, the closer I want to be to him.

Hank pulls over so the girls can get a better look at the final house, which is completely over the top. A giant Santa sits on the roof with a full set of reindeer. Somehow, the owner has rigged it so it looks like the reindeer are in the process of landing, with some of them still airborne. Wendy and Vivian squeal, pressing their faces against the glass.

“That’s the one!” Wendy says, pointing excitedly. “The Santa waves! See?”

If I could bottle this feeling, I’d never have a tough day in my life again.

“Thanks for doing this,” I say, reaching out and putting my hand on Hank’s arm while we wait at a stop sign.

He glances at me and flexes his arm. My core floods with heat, and my mind goes into overdrive, thinking about having sex with him. Whoa. Maggie.

“Of course,” he says, putting his hand lightly over mine. My heart pounds even faster.

“Dad, can we get hot chocolate? Pretty please?” Vivian asks, her question breaking our moment.

Hank glances at his daughter, who’s pointing at a stand across the street. He meets my eyes and tilts his head as if asking my opinion.

I grin. “I don’t have any objections.”

Hank pulls into a small lot next to a stand serving hot chocolate and hot apple cider. The scent of cinnamon and cocoa fills the air as soon as we step out of the truck, and the cold bites at my cheeks.

“Okay. What does everyone want?” Hank asks, pulling his wallet from his back pocket.

The girls ask for hot chocolate with extra whipped cream and candy cane sprinkles.

“Cider would be perfect. Thanks,” I say when Hanks looks at me.

The girls stand talking next to the truck, and I rub my hands together as we approach the stand and get in line, wishing I’d brought my gloves.

As we stand by the makeshift fire pit near the stand, sipping our drinks, Wendy and Vivian stand off to the side, whispering and giggling.

I raise an eyebrow at Hank, nodding toward them. “What do you think they’re talking about?”

He shrugs, his eyes filled with patience and amusement. “With those two, it could be anything.”

I sip my cider, the warmth spreading through me as I steal another glance at Hank. He’s so different from Oliver. Burly and rugged, yes, but he has a gentleness in the way he talks to his daughter. He includes Wendy and me as if we’re already a fixture in Vivian and his lives.

Suddenly, Wendy and Vivian call out to us, their faces lit up with mischief. “Mom! Hank! Come here!”

Hank and I exchange a look, then chuckle. We toss our cups in a trash can as we make our way to where they’re now standing under a tree.

“What is it, sweetheart?” I ask my daughter.

The girls exchange gleeful looks, and Wendy points above where Hank and I are standing, her eyes wide with excitement. “You have to kiss!”

Hank inhales sharply, and my heart thumps as I process the situation. Hank and I look up, and sure enough, a huge bunch of mistletoe is hanging above our heads.

I glance at Hank, expecting him to brush it off, to laugh it away. But he doesn’t. Instead, I see a hunger in his eyes that matches the desire building inside me.

“Mistletoe rules,” Hank says softly, his voice low and gravelly.

Before I can protest, Hank closes the distance between us and takes me in his arms. His lips capture mine in a kiss so unexpected, so overwhelming, that the only thing I can do is feel —and this feels better than anything in a long time. His firm lips press more forcefully against mine, and I lean into it, my hand instinctively reaching for his chest, feeling the solid warmth beneath his jacket. My knees go weak, and for a second, I think I might melt right here in the snow.

Suddenly, Hank pulls away, coughing, his eyes searching mine. I’m too stunned to speak, unable to form a complete sentence if my life depended on it.

The girls, oblivious to the intensity Hank and I just shared, squeal and clap, delighted by the spectacle they created.

“That was the best kiss ever!” Vivian declares.

Hank rubs the back of his neck, his cheeks coloring slightly. “All right, all right,” he says, trying to downplay the emotion I can see written all over his face. “That’s enough shenanigans. It’s time to go home,” he says firmly, directing the girls back to the truck.

Hank’s home , I remind myself. What would it be like to say our home ?