She nodded her thanks and gave Finnie another nudge. “Let’s go, Finn.”
Once again, Finnie hesitated, looking down at Pru. “Call me if you need anything, lass.”
“You call me,” Pru said. “And don’t have fun without me, Dogmothers!”
With a quick wave, Finnie turned and hustled along with Agnes.
“Sweet Saint Patrick there’s a little chemistry between those two.”
Agnes grinned. “We’re getting really good at this matchmaking.”
“But ye see she’s torn and wants to be with us.” Finnie sighed. “My dear Prudence, on the precipice of womanhood, but still a wee lass.”
“She’s not wee. She’s sixteen and could use a little male attention,” Agnes replied, tugging Finnie into the bustling mall with Gala and Pyggie leading them on. “And so could I, so move it, Finola Kilcannon.”
Finnie clucked as they threaded their way through the throngs of shoppers, past a group of carolers belting out Joy to the World, and spent some time detained by a ten-car train on its way to Santa’s Workshop outside the food court. The only time they voluntarily slowed was to check out the contained, AstroTurfed play area for dogs, which had plenty of pups running around.
“Maybe that rambunctious dog could run off some of his energy in here,” Finnie mused.
“Except he’d jump the fence, eat the decorations, and scare the poor little ones half to death.”
Finnie laughed. “The boy loves him, though.”
“I can see that,” Agnes agreed.
“I always say you can tell a lot about a man by how he treats his dog.”
“I thought you always say it’s how he treats his kids.” Agnes stood on her toes to see over the crowd, spotting the Santa’s Workshop sign and a massive tree draped in gold and red. “There he is! Santa!”
A woman walking by shot her a surprised and somewhat disgusted look.
“What’s her problem?” Agnes muttered.
“You’re never too old for Santa!” Finnie called out as the woman walked away.
Agnes squeezed her friend’s arm. “God, I love you, Finnie.”
In front of them, Gala pranced a little, always in tune with a rise in excitement. She must have known Agnes’s heart was pounding as they got closer.
“He’s over there, on the other side,” Finnie said. “Facing the food court. Let’s get ourselves situated at a table, and we can watch him in action.”
“Good plan, but can we just walk by first? Not too close, although I doubt he’d recognize me from that picture.”
“The one taken in 1980?” Finnie teased.
Agnes laughed lightly, knowing she sounded a little like those teenage girls giddy over Lucas, but she didn’t care. Crushes knew no age. “Let’s cruise by him, real nonchalant,” Agnes said. “I want to get a good look and be sure it’s him under the beard and fat suit.”
“Off we go, lassie.”
And she did feel like a lassie, for the first time in years. Hooking arms and letting the dachshunds part the crowd for them, they made their way around the giant tree surrounded by huge red boxes and bright gold ribbons.
As they came around to the food court side, she got her first real look at him.
Well, as good as it could be considering he was covered in a fur-trimmed red suit and wore a white beard. But she could see those dark eyes and his straight Roman nose. He was tall, too, probably six feet, with broad enough shoulders, considering he was eighty.
Just as they got a little closer, he ho, ho, ho’d a little boy off his lap, handing him over to his mother, an attractive woman in her thirties. Santa said something that made the woman throw her head back with a hearty laugh.
“See? He’s funny,” Agnes said, tamping down a little bolt of unexpected jealousy when the woman said something that made Santa laugh, too.
“Can we get a little closer?” Finnie asked, adjusting her crooked glasses. “I can’t quite see him.”
“You can. I don’t want to draw his attention.”
“Stay on the other side of me,” Finnie said.
Swept up in the moment, Agnes agreed, letting Finnie lead them to the roped off area, nestling up to a few parents taking pictures. They were close enough for Agnes to see the sparkle in Aldo’s eyes that wasn’t an act for the kids.
“Better get a Ferrari under the tree,” he said to the woman. “Fortunately, I think he means a toy remote-control Ferrari, or you’d be out a few hundred grand.”
The woman smiled. “That’d be a problem since I’m a single mother.”
“You are?” He inched closer. “Are you in the market for a husband?”
What?
Finnie gasped softly, inching back, proving that Agnes had heard that correctly. Finnie instantly turned away. “Let’s get out of here, Agnes,” she whispered harshly.
But Agnes didn’t move, mesmerized by what was unfolding in front of her and vaguely aware that Finnie was walking away. Agnes knew she should follow, but something stopped her. In fact, something drove her closer to listen to the exchange.
“Of course I am,” the woman said. “But there are very few men who want to take on a wife and a child.”
“Then leave your number and—”
Next to her, a child squealed, making it impossible to hear the rest of what he said.
Really, Aldo? Her faith in mankind, always on shaky ground, tumbled around a little in her chest.
“I’m only interested in a man in his thirties, responsible, and likes to cook,” the woman said as the kid beside Yiayia sucked in air between screams.
As Aldo replied, Gala was barking at the screamer, the mall train whistle blew, and the kid hit high C louder than the carolers crooning It Came Upon a Midnight Clear.
Then the young mother gave a business card to Aldo, who grinned and tucked it in his pocket.
Was he a cad? A player? A flirtatious Lothario? God knew Agnes already had had one of those in her life, so many years ago, before Nik saved her. That kind of man was the last thing she’d ever want again.
But the woman had been clear in her list of must-haves and still had given him her number, so…what had he said to her? He certainly didn’t meet the “in his thirties” criteria.
On a sigh, Agnes went to hunt for Finnie. Part of her wanted to run and forget this whole crazy thing. But part of her knew there was still much to learn about Aldo Fiore. And she wasn’t quite ready to write him off.
Chapter Five
Of all the things Pru had thought might happen today, discovering that Lucas Darling wasn’t a scary, intimidating, unapproachable hottie with a baditude was not anything she’d have put on her to-do list when she’d rolled out of bed.
Shockingly, he was kind of…darling. Just like his dog, who wasn’t bad, not really. He was kind of darling, too. Shy and understated, but so impressive that people couldn’t look away or resist stopping to pet him.
No surprise, a good many of those “people” were female, under eighteen, and flipped their hair when they talked in sentences that sounded like questions even when they weren’t. But to his credit, Lucas didn’t flirt back and was super protective of Tor. Having been raised in a big family that built its whole business around dogs, Pru gave him props for that.