He noted the tilt of the red hat with its big fuzzy white ball on top, the fake belly that added girth to his middle but did nothing to fill out the sleeves and pants, as his muscular legs and arms were far more toned than Santa was meant to be. Additionally, his furry coat sleeves were also a bit too short, though he supposed they could be made to work with a pair of gloves that covered more of his wrists. The white wig and beard fit right, at least, and covered most of his face except for his eyes, nose, and the top of his cheekbones.

He eyed the furry white stick-on brows and shrugged. Why not? He removed the backing and pressed them over his own eyebrows.

With some adjustments and help with make-up from Jules—and a position up on top of the fire truck, where no one could see him all that closely—maybe none of the kids would notice what a terrible Santa he made.

“Here goes nothing,” he muttered to his Santa reflection, and then, sucking in a deep breath, he embraced his role.

Like true brothers, the other firefighters would just keep ribbing him about the being Santa if they thought it bugged him, so the best way to get through this would be to show how unbothered he was. As he reentered the break area, he slapped his round midsection and bellowed, “Ho, ho, ho. Merry Christmas. Who’s first to sit on Santa’s lap?”

“Hey, Cole, there’s someone here to see you.” Andrew’s voice cut through where Ben sang along to the Christmas music still playing on the overhead speaker.

Looking over, Cole saw the pretty young woman standing next to his best bud, looking toward him with wide, surprised hazel eyes and her shiny hair—light brown streaked with gold—falling around her shoulders. She wore jeans, mid-calf boots, and a red sweater with a big cartoonish reindeer face on it, and her jaw was hanging open as her gaze met his.

A hard punch landed deep in Cole’s gut, making his breath whoosh out from between the white hair that surrounded his lips.

Sophie Grace Davis.

He almost took a step back from the impact of her expressive eyes. Which was saying a lot because Cole usually ran into the face of danger, not away from it. Always had, and he suspected he always would. And for some reason, meeting Sophie’s eyes felt exactly the same as all those times he’d seen danger straight ahead.

Not that Cole knew Sophie. Not really. They’d briefly met over the summer at Andrew’s Grandma Ruby’s Fourth of July picnic and had bumped into each other a few times around town in the months since then. All of which Cole could recount in vivid detail, even if he’d barely said two words to her.