by Bacarr, Jina
He put on the Santa jacket, skipping the padding. She excused herself, telling him to hurry. The program would be over in a few minutes, she said, and the students would rush in, anxious and excited to see Santa.
Jared sneaked a glance at her as she left, admiring her from the rear, her ponytail hanging down her back, the big bow on her apron drooping, her tight jeans hugging her butt. What man wouldn’t play St. Nick if she asked him to? He tugged on the red jacket, trying to fasten the big, furry buttons. Not easy. The jacket was too tight in the shoulders. It wasn’t made for a guy used to carrying seventy pounds of gear on his back through the desert heat.
He got a punch to his gut when he remembered he wasn’t that guy anymore, not after that hellish day when his mind plummeted down that black hole. A riveting moment of truth lost in a place so dark no beam of light could get break through. For months he’d found no relief from this anguish, though the doctors told him he was in good shape physically. Flipping through his file fast and quick on their clipboards, they warned him he could continue to experience memory loss for a long time, his mind scattering like a deck of cards on the wind.
Jared wasn’t buying it.
He was a number on a set of dog tags to them. Nothing more. A casualty of war. They did what they could, but an inner voice told him that the moment of truth, the surrender of his brain to remember what happened that day in the desert, would have to come from him. No fancy meds, no shock therapy. It would happen when his mind healed, his faith became strong again, his soul whole. It could come tomorrow or years from now or never.
He wasn’t waiting around the hospital to find out. Not when he had a mission to do. They’d tried to keep him under observation, but Jared refused to stay. Not when the force inside him to do right by his buddy was so strong.
What did the doctors know anyway? he thought, plopping the fur-trimmed red Santa cap on his head. No one understood his need to escape into the shadows, to be a ghost until he could straighten things out in his mind. He hadn’t completed his last mission and until he did so, he couldn’t move on.
So he’d packed his duffel bag and checked out of the VA hospital and then started walking, taking one bus then another until he got here.
To Kissing Creek.
A little town forgotten by time.
The minute he’d stepped onto the snowy sidewalk, he smiled at the sight of the bustling street. Scott had talked about the Kentucky town and the general store with the fresh pickle barrel, the confectionary shop with rock candy and red licorice. How Kristen dragged him back here every year to visit her Aunt Gertrude. It was so Christmasy, she said. Together with her aunt, she’d bake the most delicious holiday treats. Cookies the size of a man’s hand topped with green sprinkles, Scott told him, warm mince pie, and chocolate cake so thick with frosting it took two big bites for him to find the cake.
Jared figured Kristen had come back here when he couldn’t find any trace of her on base housing. It hadn’t taken him long to find out where she worked. A trip to the tiny post office on Main Street and here he was, playing the jolly man himself.
Sitting in a wooden sleigh surrounded by presents with crinkly bows. The vintage sleigh was painted a bright red with gold trim and lined with red crushed velvet seats a man could get real comfortable in. Silver bells hung over the side along with white plumes that kept getting in his face and tickling his nose.
Time to play Santa.
Little girls dressed up as angels jammed into the cold stable right on cue, giggling and lining up in front of the sleigh, waiting their turn to see Saint Nick.
But it was the blond angel standing off to the side that grabbed his attention. He gave her a long look as Kristen helped an older woman with big, fat curls bouncing on her head hang mistletoe from the rafter. Nearby, another woman they called Miriam kept shaking her head in disapproval. Whoever she was, Jared didn’t like her.
Kristen never lost her smile, even when Miriam stomped off, her look still disapproving. She fought to tamp down her emotions and keep smiling as she put her arm around the other woman, comforting her. Scott said she was like that. Good-hearted and always thinking of others.
Still, he’d found out she had boundaries she wouldn’t cross. Which included getting too chummy with him.
A stranger.
“Ho, ho, ho!” Jared called out to the crowd of parents and relatives filtering in behind the girls. He let out a low whistle. High-class people with plenty of bling and stock portfolios to match. So unlike the big family of mechanics and truck drivers he’d grown up in back in South Philly. What they used to call blue collar until the economic bubble burst. Hardworking folks who knew a dollar didn’t grow on trees even if they didn’t have any in their front yards. Proud people who went to Church on Sunday and never failed to find something to put into the poor box. That was why when his dad’s auto repair garage went belly up, Jared joined the Army. He had to pay back what they’d given him. A good home and good parents. He wanted to serve his country and put food on the table at home.
A hot, sticky day in Afghanistan changed everything.
Wind blowing, crickets chirping. Then the blast, shattering his world.
Sometimes a word, then two would break through in his mind. No more. The message from Scott remained a blur, like a voice recording slowing down. Still, he couldn’t go home, back to Philly. Not like this. Half a man. Not in body, but in mind. He had to work out a few things first.
Kristen was at the top of his list.
What was it Scott wanted me to tell her?
It sat there on the edge of his mind, but he couldn’t grab onto it. Like morning mist melting under the noon desert sun.
Couldn’t. Why, why?
He thumped his fingers on the velvet seat, trying to concentrate, but he lost focus. Red and gold and silver swirled before his eyes and a buzzing in his ears blotted out the little girls’ voices.
A cold sweat broke out on his forehead.
He pushed the Santa cap back on his head, blinked. Then again. Damn, he couldn’t talk to these kids. He’d been isolated too long. He hated crowds. Then he saw her. Kristen was at his side, her eyes full of concern. She knew something was wrong. She assured the little girl Santa was okay, just tired from his long journey from the North Pole. She grabbed his hand, held it.
God, was there anything better?
He met her gaze and the look in her eyes told him that she understood he needed help. That she was reaching out to a soldier to bring him back from the pain, nothing more.
He didn’t care. Her hand was warm, her heart kind. Just like Scott said. In an uncanny way, it was like his buddy put her up to it.
After that moment, to his surprise, Jared got into the spirit of playing old Saint Nick, his deep baritone voice laughing, and then asking each little girl what she wanted for Christmas.
Kids were kids, he thought, like his own brothers, excited as all get out about the holidays. Fun and good cheer bursting out of them so fast their mom shooed them outside to work off their excess energy. Good times, he thought. Meanwhile, Kristen watched him with a careful eye. She blushed when he met her gaze head on, warming his heart even more.
Still, his Santa act had its moments. One kid hugged him and got gum on his jacket, another snapped a picture of him on her cell phone. A third said she wanted a pony. All in all, they acted like normal kids, eager to open their presents, each beautifully wrapped with silver paper and a stiff red taffeta bow.
All except one little girl.
“My mommy says I can’t keep the present,” said the freckle-faced child with pigtails. She said the words like a grown-up, each word precise and clear. Then, with a deep sigh, she ran her tiny hand over the smooth silver paper before handing the package back to him, her lower lip trembling.
“Why not?” Jared asked, not understanding. Something about this kid made him take a closer look. Quiet, her eyes sad. She wasn’t like the others.
“Because my mommy works for the scho
ol,” said the little girl. “Miss Miriam told her I have to give the present back.”
“Rachel, don’t bother Santa,” said Kristen, embarrassed.
He could see her wringing her hands, and then smoothing her palms on her apron. He grinned. Rachel was her child. And Scott’s. He should have seen the resemblance. The little girl had Scott’s eyes. Wise eyes that were always looking, observing.
But she had Rachel’s mouth. Full lower lip and a cute dimple on her left check when she smiled. He looked back at Kristen and noticed she had a dab of flour on her nose. She wasn’t more than a kid herself.
“She’s no bother. I like kids,” Jared said, bouncing her on his knee. Rachel looked bewildered, but pleased. “Folks don’t realize when you’re in a war zone, you don’t see many children. I miss their curiosity, their questions about the darndest things, and their honesty. You can’t lie to kids.”
Did he see Kristen’s eyes flicker? As if she understood that all too well. What had she told the child about Scott?
Out of respect, he changed the subject, told Rachel a story about how Rudolph got his red nose and played patty cake with her. How could he not like kids? He had four brothers at home. All younger and itching to follow him into the Army. He wouldn’t discourage them, but he often joked that somebody had to take over the family business and start it up again when times got better.
“We have to go, Rachel,” said Kristen, picking up her little girl. Seemed their conversation had struck too close to home. The lady was gathering her troops and pulling out. “It’s Christmas Eve.”
“But we don’t have a tree, Mommy,” Rachel said, wrapping her arms around her mother’s neck. Her eyes were big and filled with questions.
They didn’t have a Christmas tree? Why not?
“I know, baby, but we’ll have a merry Christmas,” Kristen said, sounding hopeful while holding back tears. “Just you and me.”
“Will Daddy be watching us like you said?” Rachel wanted to know. Jared’s heart skipped a beat at hearing her simple words. So the kid didn’t know. What was it he’d said about lying to kids? Wasn’t he lying to her mom by not saying he knew Scott? That he was his best buddy?
He felt like such a heel. The absolute faith in the little girl’s voice filled him with guilt. He had to do something about it, but what?
“Yes, baby, Daddy’s watching us,” Kristen said, looking straight at him. The message in her eyes was clear: Don’t say anything to change that.
Jared swallowed hard. The poor kid. He’d do anything he could to make it easier for them. But how? His Santa gig was over. He had to parlay it into something else.
“Can I help you clean up?” he asked innocently.
“I’ll manage,” Kristen insisted, picking up the mess of torn silver paper and red bows scattered everywhere. “But I’d be grateful if you could keep Rachel occupied until I’m finished.”
“Grateful enough to give me—”
“An extra piece of pie, Sergeant,” she teased, smiling. His heart swelled. She wasn’t throwing him out after all. “Nothing more.”
You can’t blame a guy for trying, his eyes said loud and clear.
He wasn’t the only one charmed by her smile.
“I reckon you’re the prettiest gal here, Kristen,” he heard a man’s voice say behind him.
Trouble, he was dead sure of it.
Jared spun around and a big ostrich plume hit him in the nose, making him sneeze. Flour filled the air. He ignored it.
Santa had a bigger problem.
A country sheriff long on ego and short on manners poked his way through the crowd and was cozying up to Kristen. The lanky lawman pushed his cap back on his head and grinned wide, his eyes taking in every inch of her. Licking his whiskers like a cat eyeing a pretty, blond canary. Her ruffled apron tied tight around her small waist did little to hide her full breasts. The swell of her cleavage was enough to make any man pounce on her.
Jared tensed. The sheriff had no right to look at her like that.
You did. What makes you any different?
Because Scott told him to watch out for her, right?
Okay, so that was just an excuse. And a lame one, at that. His friend’s dying wish had nothing to do with his rising desire to steal more than a kiss from her.
He wanted to feel her in his arms, her warm body pressing against his, his hands finding their way to her butt and squeezing her. The thought of it appealed to him, set his libido up more than a few notches.
But he couldn’t forget his reason for coming here.
That her husband had given him a message for her. Something that would change her life, Scott said.
He sucked in a sharp breath. The frustration of going over that day a hundred, a million times, was eating him up alive. Making him do dumb things.
Like wanting to make love to her.
Off limits, buddy.
Jared tossed the Santa cap into the sleigh. Somehow, he had to remember what Scott told him and he only had a few hours left to do it.
Chapter Four
“Where did you find that discount store Santa?” said the sheriff, making Kristen cringe.
Ooh…she wanted to throw a bucket of cold water on him for saying that. He had a way of sending her into attack mode like no one else could. Whatever his agenda, he had no right to talk like that about a man who had served his country.
“Sheriff Hogan,” she said hotly, “you have no idea what you’re saying.”
“How can I with you standing so close to the mistletoe?” he snickered.
Kristen’s eyes blazed, her cheeks flamed. She should have known he’d show up. He wouldn’t let her alone since she’d come back to Kissing Creek. What was it with men and mistletoe? Like it was an aphrodisiac. One whiff and she’d be swept away to paradise with the closest male. That wasn’t going to happen.
Wasn’t’ it?
Then why was she so protective of her handsome Santa soldier? And why was she so quick to forgive him after he saw through her little ruse with Rachel? That she didn’t have the heart to make the child accept the fact that her daddy was never coming home.
God, no, she couldn’t do that. Not at Christmas.
In spite of that fact, Kristen had to smile, a pleasant quiver going through her. Why did she suddenly find herself looking at a man again with a hunger in her soul?
That’s why. Over six feet four of hunky male in a Santa suit ready to split at the seams because his shoulders are so broad. Making Rachel laugh and giggle again like a child should. Pulling on her pigtails and playing hide and seek with her.
When the day started, Kristen never would have dreamed this spirit of joy surging inside her was possible. Now look at her. Smiling, too, like Rachel. Like a shadow lifted from her heart and a sudden warmth filled her.
She ignored the danger bells going off in her head, warning her to be careful. Her job was to fix the man a hot meal and then send him on his way.
Do I have to? she asked herself, hoping she’d come up with a good answer to let him stay. After all, he was an Army sergeant. By the haunted look in his eyes when he saw the kids and the way he handled himself, he’d seen combat. Afghanistan, most likely. Maybe he was stationed near Scott.
A tear rolled down her cheek. She got a ping to her heart just thinking about connecting with a small part of her husband. She wanted to talk to the sergeant, ask him what it was like over there. What the soldiers missed most about home. Scott always raved about the packages she sent him filled with beef jerky, candy, and disposable razors. And his favorite homemade cookies: thick, chewy oatmeal raisin. Talking to the soldier would be like being a part of Scott’s world, if only for a little while. She liked that idea. Liked it a lot.
Kristen wouldn’t admit she also liked the sergeant. That worried her. She knew the day would come when her female urges would stir, when her need for a man would surface as her grief slowly subsided. She just didn’t expect it to come so soon.
What lonely wom
an wouldn’t be enchanted by the sergeant? How he walked, his deep voice. She felt her feminine desires come to life standing next to him. She’d convinced herself that her hormones had gone into Sleeping Beauty mode after Scott died.
This man woke them up with the promise of a kiss.
Did that make her a bad person? Oh, God, did it?
She was daydreaming about what it would feel like to have his hands rub her shoulders, his lips brushing the back of her neck when she heard the sheriff say close to her ear, “I wouldn’t get too cozy with your Santy Claus.”
“What are you talking about?” she asked, turning away before he noticed her flushed cheeks.
“The guy who robbed the bank today fits his description.”
Kristen spun around and faced him. “I don’t believe it.”
He shrugged. “Tall, dark hair, muscular build.”
That fits the sergeant. A man with muscles so tightly coiled I can only imagine his strength. But then I saw how he was with Rachel. Tender, caring. Telling her a story about Rudolph. No, I don’t believe he’s the man they’re looking for. I won’t.
“You’re mistaken, Sheriff,” Kristen said in an unsubtle manner to show her distaste for his remarks. The lawman was over zealous in his job. He’d give Santa a ticket for reckless sleigh driving if he could. “I’d be more careful with your accusations if I were you.”
“Listen to the little lady,” the sheriff said, blowing out his breath. “So that’s how it is with you two.”
“No, that’s not how it is,” she said hotly. This was getting out of control. Maybe she was wrong to want the sergeant to stay. “Why don’t you and your dirty mind go play somewhere else?”
“C’mon, Kristen, give a guy a break,” the sheriff said with a mock tone in his voice. His gaze checking her out said he wanted more than that.
“Why should I?” she wanted to know. “Ever since I came back to Kissing Creek, all you do is follow me around, watching me. All because I won’t go out with you doesn’t mean you can accuse the soldier of your crime of the day.”
