“Yeah, we can,” I agreed as he pushed away from the screen and spun, rushing down the driveway as he began to hum the theme music to the Mandalorian.
I blinked back tears as my heart let that same hope trickle in. “One day at a time.”
“Are you Santa?”
I looked up from the work I had been doing on an old hotrod, tinkering around with the engine when a small voice caught me off guard. I nearly dropped the wrench I had in my hand as my head lifted, locking eyes with a bold kid who walked right in like he paid the damn rent. Little squeaker stood not five feet away and had entered my garage without a sound. He was stealthy as shit.
Kid’s question caught me off guard as I nearly growled my answer. “No.”
“Well, you look like Santa.” He didn’t skip a beat and ignored my tone.
“Yeah, but looks can be deceiving.”
Scrunching up his face, he considered my words and then smirked. “You’re telling a white lie.”
Huh. Interesting he phrased it that way or even knew the difference.
I picked up a rag and wiped some of the grease off my fingers after I placed the wrench in my toolbox and peered down as the kid puffed out his chest, trying to appear bigger. “Why do you say that?”
“Mama says there’s two kinds of lies. Little white ones that protect people and keep them safe. Then there’s the kind that are just mean and wrong.”
Intelligent kid.
“Why do you think I’m telling a white lie?”
“Because you’re here to check on all the boys and girls and make sure they’re being good, but you can’t really tell anyone because it might ruin the magic.”
“Shit,” I blurted, barking out a laugh. “You’re too smart for me.”
He stood taller, squaring back his shoulders. “I got all A’s on my new report card. Mama says we’re gonna buy some ice cream.” He folded his scrawny arms across his chest. “Just so you know. Santa isn’t supposed to cuss.”
This kid.
“Well, I’m just a helper and not the real Santa. I’m not quite as perfect as old Saint Nick. How old are you, son?”
He blinked up at me and his eyes narrowed. “Eight. I think you need to go back to the North Pole.”
“Why’s that?”
“You need more training.”
Fuck. Put in my place by an eight-year-old with big brown eyes and too much snark. Should have known he would say something like that.
“Your mama know where you are?”
“Sure. I told her I was huntin’ for reindeer.”
“You sure they’re out in the desert?” I asked, holding back a laugh.
“Well, yeah. Santa has to go all over the world. He can’t skip Nevada.”
Lifting a brow, I watched as he waved and began to stroll down the sidewalk, peering into yards, around the cactus, and up into the sky as he tried to find his imaginary sleigh pulled by Santa’s reindeer.
He had to belong to the new family that moved in because I’d never seen him before today. I hung around enough to know most of the neighbors. Didn’t have an issue with the neighborhood. It was safe with lots of families and children always running around. I spent a lot of time at the Crossroads and wasn’t bothered by all the noise there or at home. The neighbors didn’t mind that an old biker lived on the street since my presence meant the Royal Bastards MC protected the area.
Shaking my head, I chuckled to myself and decided it was time for a beer. I kept an extra fridge in the garage since I wasn’t running inside every time that I needed a fuckin’ drink. Popping the top, I took a long pull and leaned against one of the workbenches lining the interior wall. It was only ten a.m. on Sunday morning, and I was restless. My hand kept tapping my thigh and I knew I needed to get out of the house.
The Crossroads would be as silent as a grave this early and even if I wanted to stir up some shit just for fun nobody would be around to give me a hard time for it. Maybe I was lonely, but I’d never admit that shit to a single soul. My happiness had disappeared eighteen years prior and I wasn’t looking for a relationship to take the place of the one person in this world I had loved the most.