It's That Time of Year. Christine Wenger

      Before she could reply, Kyle answered for her. “Sure, Santa!”

      As soon as they climbed into the car Melanie knew it was a mistake to put Sam in the front seat next to her. He was too close, intruding on her senses.

      Kyle took no notice of her discomfort. He was giddy that Santa was riding in his mother’s car and kept up a steady stream of chatter about everything and anything. Sam laughed a lot, staying in character all the while. He was clearly enjoying Kyle’s excitement.

      Melanie let herself relax a bit, as much as she could with Sam so close. The lowtimbre of his voice was masculine and every so often she’d catch a unique pronunciation of a word—traces of his French accent coming through. The white beard around his face contrasted with his tanned skin. Maybe his latest disaster had taken him to a tropical island.

      Preoccupied by her evaluations, she almost ran a stop sign.

      She hit her brakes and they skidded on the snowcovered mountain road. “Oops.”

      “Careful—it’s slick out here,” Sam said.

      Her heart beat wildly. She assumed that it was due to the close call on the icy road instead of Sam’s sexy accent.

      “Why do you talk that way, Santa Claus?” Kyle asked.

      “You mean my accent? It’s French. You see, Kyle, Santa knows other languages, like French, because he travels all over the world.”

      Nice recovery. Sam could sure think on his feet.

      “Hey, Santa, will you say something in French?” Kyle asked.

      “Joyeux Noël. That means Merry Christmas.”

      “Noo-ell.” Kyle giggled.

      Melanie had to smile as Sam spent the next few miles teaching Kyle a couple of lines from a French Christmas carol, and in spite of Melanie’s resolve to dislike anything and everything about Sam, she found herself laughing and enjoying his interaction with her son.

      Finally, she made the turn into Hawk’s Garage and saw her father walking out of the office. She rolled her window down.

      “Hi, Dad.”

      “Hello, Mel.”

      “Hi, Grandpa!” Kyle piped up.

      “How are you doing, tiger?” With a big grin, Ed pointed to the front seat. “Is that who I think it is?”

      “It’s Santa Claus, Grandpa!”

      “Ho, ho, ho!” Sam added helpfully.

      “Well, Mr. Claus, your truck is all ready,” Ed said. “Ronnie is the best and the fastest with alternators.”