“Put on the suit,” Andrew repeated, barely able to contain his laughter as all the crew began chanting along with him.

“I’ve heard about taking advantage of the new guy, but this,” he held up his putrid green candy cane, “is ridiculous.”

“Hey, I think it’s cool you get to be Santa,” Ben said, and Cole had no doubt he meant it. Cole’s friend would have jumped at the chance to take the role if he’d drawn the green candy cane. Ben always smiled, was friendly to everyone, and would make a great Santa.

“Just think, all the kids are going to love you,” his friend continued.

Not one of Cole’s life goals. Not that he wanted kids to dislike him—far from it. He just didn’t think much about kids one way or the other. He certainly had no plans to ever have any of his own.

No way would he ruin a kid’s life by giving him or her a dad as messed up in the head as he was.

Cole still marveled at the life he’d made in Kentucky, at how much he had changed from the civilian drifter he’d been when he’d signed up for firefighter school. Working as a firefighter had given him purpose, and coming to Pine Hill to move into the farmhouse his late uncle had left him had given him a home. The Marines had been his family for more than a decade, and now he belonged to a second family, too. But at times like these, he questioned the motives of his brother firefighters. They sure liked to push him out of his comfort zone, and if he didn’t know better, he’d think they’d rigged the stocking draw.

Regardless, being Santa in the parade was what was expected of him. Cole would do his job, and he’d do it well. Never again would he be the weak link of his team.

“Fine. I’ll put on the suit. But if I catch any of you with your cellphones out taking pictures, I refuse to be held responsible for my actions.”

Andrew grinned. “Just be sure to say cheese when you come back out.”

“Instead of ‘ho, ho, ho’?” Cole shook his head. “Not happening. If I’m going to do this”—and it looked as if he had to—“then I’m going to do it right, so every one of you clowns better straighten up if you want to stay off the naughty list.”

At six foot one, Cole was a good four inches taller than Bob, and the pant legs currently only came down mid-calf. The cuffs definitely needed to be let out, Cole thought miserably as he stared at himself in the mirror. His tall black boots mostly hid the poor fit except when Cole moved and they rode up, exposing his calves.