by Emma Lea
He’d told her it wasn’t real, but the erection in his pants had seemed real enough to her. Was it just that she was half naked and rubbing up against him that had caused the monster sized woody? Would any woman have given him the same reaction?
His words had said one thing but his body had told her something completely different…and it wasn’t just the anaconda in his pants. The way he held her, the way he kissed her; these things told her that he wanted her just as much as she wanted him. So why did he turn her down? It didn’t make sense.
She slumped onto the couch with her coffee and his scent wafted around her. What was it about him that made her so fucking crazy with lust? Did he have super-Zoë-pheromones or something? She’d once done a product test on pheromone perfume at FMR and she knew that certain scents affected people differently. Whatever it was about Blake, it seemed to be her catnip.
She sighed and sucked down her coffee. She needed to get her damned ovaries under control. He obviously wasn’t interested in a summer holiday fling with her as much as she was prepared to throw away her moratorium on men for him.
A knock on the door jerked her out of her self pity.
“Hey,” Jessie said. “Your mum asked me to come and get you. Something’s happened to Seb.”
Zoë stood and sat her coffee cup in the sink. She slipped her thongs on and followed Jessie out the door. “Is he okay?” she asked as they headed toward the pavilion.
“I don’t know,” Jess said. “But Aunt Julia’s called a meeting.”
The main table of the pavilion was covered with the remains of breakfast. Her stomach growled and she quickly grabbed a plate to fill so she could eat while her mother held court. She took a seat on the long bench and was surprised when Blake sat down next to her.
“Good morning,” he whispered, and she resolutely held back the shiver that his voice always caused. “Sleep well?”
“Like a baby,” she answered. “What about you?”
“Zoë, about last night—”
But he didn’t get to finish that sentence because Julia got up and clapped her hands to get everyone’s attention.
“So you’ve probably all heard by now that Seb went and injured himself last night,” Julia said.
“Is he okay?” Trina asked.
“Dad’s with him now and he will survive, unfortunately it means we need someone to fill in for him tonight.”
“What’s tonight?” Blake asked softly in her ear. “And who is Seb?”
“The town Christmas Bush Dance is tonight,” Zoë replied. “Seb is a neighbour and usually plays Santa for all the kids.”
“What about Grandad Farraday?” Cassie said.
“No way,” Grandad said. “The last thing I want is to be trussed up in that god-awful Santa suit sweating through the night as I get mauled by a million spoiled brats.”
Zoë covered her mouth to hide her smile.
“Aw, come on, Grandad,” Trina said. “It can’t be that bad.”
“Then you do it,” Grandad Farraday replied.
“Shotgun not,” Grandpa Jones said as all eyes turned in his direction. “I’m with Frank on this. I’m too old and it’s too bloody hot to put that Santa suit on.”
“Come on,” Julia said, “surely one of you can do it. The kids are counting on you.”
All the men around the table averted their eyes.
“Blake can do it,” Zoë said.
“What?” Blake choked, looking at her with wide eyes.
“You know,” she said smugly, “because this is like your jam. You do it for a job. Who better to entertain all the little rugrats than a professional?”
“That’s a great idea,” Julia said, her eyes lighting up. “And even better, none of the kids know you so it adds that little element of magic to it, like you might actually be the real Santa.”
Zoë watched Blake as he swallowed and then looked at each person around the table. She expected him to beg off. There were other people in town who could take Seb’s place and she’d really only suggested him to get him back for embarrassing her last night.
He put down his fork and wiped his mouth with a napkin. “I’ll do it,” he said and the table cheered.
Zoë looked at him in shock. “You will?”
He nodded and grinned a crooked, cheeky smile at her. “I’ll do it on one condition,” he said and the table quietened down waiting for him to speak. “If Zoë dresses up as an elf to help me.”
“What!?” Zoë screeched, jumping to her feet.
“It’s only fair,” he said, smirking at her. “If I have to dress up then so do you.”
“It’s perfect,” Mum said, rubbing her hands together. “And I have the perfect outfit for you to wear.”
“You have an elf costume in the back of your cupboard?” Aunt Sissy asked.
Julia grinned. “One of Trina’s old fancy dress costumes.”
“The slutty elf?” Zoë squeaked.
“Ooh, I like the sound of that,” Blake said only loud enough so she could hear it.
Trina sighed. “I have fond memories of that costume,” she said.
“So do I,” Tony said, nuzzling her neck. “Maybe you can borrow it back later.”
Zoë groaned. “TMI.” She spun on Blake. “Are you serious right now?” she whispered.
“Deadly,” he replied and then pulled her on his lap to kiss her.
“Enough of that,” Julia said. “We’ve got plans to make and you need to try on that costume.”
Blake stood her on her feet and tapped her on the butt. “Off you go, Slim,” he said with a wink. “I’ll catch you later.”
Blake was astounded by the hive of activity that centred around the large barn. It was the site of the Christmas Bush Dance and it seemed that nearly every resident of Hope Springs and the surrounding area had converged on the place to get it ready for the festivities.
A large tree had been set up inside the barn and decorated to within an inch of its life. Paper streamers swooped across the ceiling and strategic bunches of mistletoe hung around the room. The large, wooden floor had been swept and then mopped with a mixture of kerosene and linseed oil before dusting with a fine layer of sawdust. He’d never seen such a thing and one of the older men explained to him that it made the floor ‘fast’—slippery in other words—for the dances to come. A live bush band rehearsed on the small stage while kids raced wild around the room, slipping and sliding on the slick dance floor.
There was an annexe off the main room where the food tables were set up. It had a large kitchen at one end and was filled with women from town. Extra fridges were brought in to hold all the cold food and some of the younger kids were employed as ‘fly swishers.’ Not that they were really needed. Any food that was safe enough to leave out was covered with a fine layer of netting to keep the flies at bay. Blake was pretty sure the job of ’fly swisher’ was created to keep the kids occupied.
Bales of hay were spread around the interior and exterior of the barn to act as seating and a large bonfire was erected under the supervision of the local Rural Fire Brigade. The bonfire would only be lit if they got the go ahead from the supervisor because of the risk of bush fire. A fire truck would be on hand regardless.
Apart from the bonfire, there were the fire pits for cooking. One was set up with a whole pig on a spit and another had brisket in a hot smoker. There would also be a few barbecue plates for the kids’ sausages and rissoles. Blake had never experienced anything like it.
As the sun slid slowly across the sky, people disappeared back to their homes to get ready for the festivities.
“Come on up to the house,” Bill said. The barn was on his property and he’d hosted the annual bush dance his whole life, as had his father before him.
“Where’s Zoë?” he asked, looking around for the woman who had made herself scarce. She was avoiding him, more than likely.
“Bev’s already got her,” Bill said.
Blake climbed into the Landcruiser ute besid
e Bill and tipped his head back as the hot wind blew in through the open window. He was hot and tired but surprisingly content. He could get used to country life.
Bill led him into the farmhouse and handed him a beer.
“Get that into you,” Bill said, tipping his own bottle back and taking a long drink.
Blake swallowed the icy cold drink and sighed. Was there anything better than a cold drink on a hot day? He didn’t think so…unless it was having a woman spread out on the bed waiting for you. He knew the moment she walked into the room without even having to open his eyes.
“This is for you,” she said, holding up a red Santa suit.
He grinned. “Where’s yours?”
“Somewhere safe,” she replied.
“There’s a shower down the hall if you want to freshen up before climbing into that thing,” Bill said with a shudder. “Better you than me.”
Bev came into the kitchen and eyed the Santa suit. “You’re going to need some padding. Seb’s a might bigger than you.”
“A couple of pillows should do it,” Blake said, swallowing the last of his beer. “I’ll take that shower now if you don’t mind.”
The water felt good but he kept the shower short out of respect for the water restrictions. He dried off and wrapped the towel around his waist before stepping out into the hall. Zoë was waiting for him. Her eyes did a slow glide over him and she bit her lip. Shit. The last thing he needed was to be turned on by her just before being around a whole bunch of kids.
“You wanna point me in the direction of the room where I can get dressed?” he asked.
She grinned. “Sure. Just down here.”
He followed her down the hall and into the room. It was all done in yellow and white and looked like it belonged to a twelve year old girl with a pony obsession. Posters of horses covered the walls alongside coloured ribbons from gymkhanas and pony club. It was cute.
The Santa suit hung on the door of the wardrobe and his small overnight bag sat on the frilly yellow bedspread.
“Get dressed,” Zoë said, “and then Bev will be in to help you with your padding.”
She left him alone and he sighed. Maybe having her dress up as his little elf helper hadn’t been such a good idea. If he was going to keep his distance from her then he had to actually keep his distance and not manipulate situations where they had to spend time together.
He dragged on some boxer briefs and then the Santa pants. Thankfully they had braces, which he pulled over his shoulders. The suit was made from red velour and trimmed with fake fur. It was going to be hot and even with just the pants on he was already sweating. He imagined with the beard and hat and coat he’d be lucky not to melt in a puddle by the end of the night.
The door opened and Bev came into the room, two fluffy pillows in her arms.
“I’ve got your padding,” she said cheerily. “And it looks to me like you’re going to need it.”
13
Zoë tugged at the hem of the elf skirt. It wasn’t too indecent but she would have to be careful about bending over. The fur trimmed costume hit her mid thigh, just covering the tops of the red and white striped thigh-high stockings she wore. The bodice was strapless and laced up like a corset in the front. It was also fur trimmed and already it irritated her skin, but all that was forgotten the minute Blake stepped into the living room where she waited.
He was dressed as Santa with the red suit and the big black belt and even the gumboots. He wore the hat and the beard and his belly was like a bowl full of jelly—or so the song went. It wasn’t the way he was dressed that flushed her body with heat, but the way he looked at her. Those blue eyes deepened as they swept her from head to foot and she felt his gaze like a caress. Her skin prickled with goosebumps and she was torn between crushing her arms over herself for protection and rubbing herself against him so that he could soothe the ache that throbbed inside her.
Bill walked into the room and whistled. “Don’t you two make quite the pair. Come on, time to go.”
“That’s what you’re wearing?” Blake said quietly in her ear as they followed Bill.
“There’s one more piece that I haven’t put on yet,” she replied. “It’s so hot I was waiting for the last minute.”
“Please tell me it’s a coat.”
“Nope,” she said and forced a grin to her face. “My hat.” She held up the Santa hat for him to see and he groaned. “Do you have a problem with my costume?” she asked.
“You look…” he swallowed and cleared his throat. “You look great,” he said. “Too fucking great,” she thought she heard him say under his breath.
“Santa’s sleigh awaits!” Bill said loudly and Blake froze beside her and gaped at the ute.
Zoë laughed, not at the ute which was a sight to behold, but at Blake’s expression. Bill had been busy while they got dressed and had decorated the old Landcruiser ute with tinsel, a pair of imitation deer antlers attached to the roof, and a big red nose that was tied to the front grill.
Bill opened the tailgate and Zoë climbed up into the tray, taking care not to flash her festive knickers at either of them. “Come on Santa, we’re keeping the kids waiting.”
“You want me to get up there?” he asked.
She nodded.
“Is it safe?”
“We’re only going down the drive to the barn, not on any public roads and I’ll drive slow.”
“Plus there’s this handy ‘oh shit’ bar to hang on to,” Zoë said, tapping the chrome bar that arched over the back of the cab. “Come on,” she said when he hesitated. “This is how Seb and Bill do it every year. The kids are expecting it.”
“Fine,” he said, climbing up beside her in the back of the ute.
Bill slammed the tailgate shut and jumped into the cab. “Hold on!” he called through the open window.
The ute moved off at a sedate pace and she felt Blake relax beside her.
“Is that the bag full of toys?” he asked, nodding at the big red bag at their feet.
“Yeah,” she said. “The parents buy the gifts and put their kids’ names on them.”
“And I’m supposed to know their names?” Blake asked, his eyes going wide behind the big white beard.
“That’s why I’m here,” she said with a wink.
The drive down to the barn didn’t take long and as they got closer she could smell the roasting meat and hear the live band as they belted out some recent country hits. They came around the bend and were greeted with excited cries of delight and laughter as the kids caught sight of them. She had to admit that it was kind of fun.
“Ho! Ho! Ho!” Blake yelled as the ute came to a stop and the kids went wild. “Have you all been good little girls and boys?”
“Yes!” came a collective cry from the crowd that gathered around the ute—sleigh.
“Give Santa some room,” Bill said as he came around to lower the tailgate.
He helped her down first and then turned to help Blake, but Blake was already jumping down like he’d done it a million times. He was practically mobbed by the crowd of little people and yet he handled it like a pro. Well, she supposed he was a pro when it came to this sort of thing.
Eventually they made their way through the mob to the special throne that had been set up for Santa near the big Christmas tree.
Bill and a few of the other men dragged the big sacks of presents into the room behind them and a couple of the mums were on hand to help her with the presents. They settled into a comfortable rhythm as she handed him a gift and told him the name, even trying to tell him which child it was so he could look in the right direction when he called the name. Blake was a good sport as kids climbed all over him and parents took photos of their darlings as they got their present from Santa. Zoë handed out lollipops and candy canes and then finally the last gift was handed out and the hyped up kids dispersed.
“That’s it, Santa,” she said with a weary sigh.
“Not quite,” he said, curling his fingers ar
ound her wrist and tugging her. She over balanced and fell, landing on his lap. “Have you been a good girl this year, Slim?”
“No, Santa,” she said, a little breathless to be so close to him. “I’ve been a very bad girl. Are you going to punish me?”
He growled and then lowered his head to kiss her except the beard got in the way. She laughed and tugged it away and then he kissed her.
“Say cheese!” Someone said and then there was a flash of a camera followed by laughter.
“That scandalous photo is going to be all over the town’s Facebook page tomorrow morning,” Zoë said.
“I don’t care,” Blake said, kissing her again.
Comfortably stuffed with food and satisfyingly loose with a few beers in him, Blake was having a great time. He’d been to big events before, usually two-thousand-dollars-a-plate charity events where everyone tried to impress everyone else with how much money they had. He’d never once enjoyed himself at one of those; most of the time he was counting down the minutes until he could leave.
But not tonight.
Tonight he was content to stay and dance and talk and eat and drink…as long as Zoë was by his side.
Blake had never attended a bush dance and didn’t know the steps, but it didn’t matter. With Zoë in his arms and the band calling out the steps—although he’d no idea what a do-si-do was or some of the other weird names the bush band called out—he was now proficient in such dances as The Virginia Reel, The Heel and Toe Polka, The Pride of Erin, and something called The Drongo.
The food wasn’t fancy—all the side dishes and desserts were prepared by the people in the town and were served buffet style. Bushies with thick beards and Akubras presided over the barbecues with tongs in one hand and a beer in the other. Eskies overflowing with ice were crammed full of beer, cans of Jack and Coke, Woody’s, and soft drinks for the kids. After dinner the little ones were given frozen Zooper Doopers while the adults partook of the spread of cakes, slices, and pavlovas that miraculously appeared on the banquet tables after the main meal was cleared away. Paper plates and plastic cutlery were collected in big black garbage bags and kids collected the empty aluminium cans and glass stubbies to take to the recycling centre the next day for cash.
