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hadn’t quite noticed before.
    He said, “You’ve never actually been back here. What’s the occasion?”
    She seemed to have difficulty tearing her gaze from him, but eventually did and surveyed the workshop and all the tool chests and various saws scattered about. Santa’s sleigh sat on the thick carpet of grass that really ought to be covered in two feet of snow at this point, but that was fairly moot, since Nick couldn’t do anything to fix the weather.
    “This is quite the setup,” she commented. “I had no idea...” With a shake of her head and a soft, slightly tormented-sounding laugh, she said, “I guess I had no idea what you really did.”
    “Mostly design work,” he told her. “But then this project unexpectedly landed in my backya—in my lap—and I have to admit, I’ve really enjoyed getting back to fixing up sleighs, not just conceptualizing new ones.”
    She took a few steps closer and gingerly ran her fingertips over the shiny red exterior. “This pretty much looks like the ultimate ride.”
    Hadn’t he thought the same thing the first time he’d laid eyes on it? “It’s impressive. And I’m the lucky guy who gets to work on it.”
    Her gaze drifted to him and she smiled enticingly. “It’s incredible. Clearly, whomever it belongs to is also lucky—to have you taking such good care of it.”
    His chest puffed out a bit. Could it be he wasn’t just some dumb mechanic in Vixen’s eyes?
    True, that concern had been buried in his subconscious mind all this time, keeping him from being upfront and honest with her about his feelings. His intentions toward her.
    Trying to get a grip on his jumbled thoughts, he asked, “What brings you by?”
    “Oh, right.” She quickly composed herself. “I just wanted to thank you again for fixing all the lights around town. It was a very kind thing for you to do, Nick.”
    “I was sort of goaded into it,” he confessed. “But that’s a story that can’t be told without a lot of alcohol.” He let out a half-snort. That Christmas Bomb had certainly blown his mind—and worked its holiday magic. “Anyway, I’m glad I got the wakeup call. We really have needed a kick-start around here.”
    And, admittedly, Nick had needed an attitude adjustment. He still wasn’t sure he’d cleared his name from the Naughty List—that might never happen given the sizzling thoughts he always had about Vixen—but he gave it his best effort.
    “Are you doing all of this so that your parents will come back?” She pinned him with a serious, challenging look that almost knocked his legs from underneath him.
    “I, uh...” Whoa . That was a loaded question.
    Vixen rushed on. “I get it, you know? I mean, you always had a really tight family. So it must have thrown you for a loop when they decided to move to Florida. Florida!” She gave a strained laugh. “Talk about going from one extreme to the other. But at the same time...maybe that was exactly what they needed. Everything changed the year my granddad died. Like we’d all secretly believed in Santa and then suddenly, with no warning, he was...no more. It’s not the same as when some kids are eased into the reality of the situation. For us...we all believed in our hearts. Because my grandfather was here every single day, sitting in that chair at the department store, more than happy to hear everyone’s wish list no matter what time of the year.”
    Her big blue eyes turned watery, and a fat drop rolled down her cheek.
    Nick felt a peculiar tightening in his chest. Well...maybe not so peculiar. He’d experienced it a time or two. When Mr. White had died. When his parents had left town.
    Shit .
    He dropped the mallet he’d been holding in one hand and it hit the lush lawn—frustrating him even more, because all this damn grass should be lying dormant under a thick layer of snow.
    “It’d be okay to admit you miss them,” Vixen said in a quiet voice.
    His gaze locked with hers. “I don’t exactly hear