Secret-Santa Cowboy: The Buckskin Brotherhood

by Thompson, Vicki Lewis

  “Yeah, I’ve seen that guy with your dog. Thought it was great. I’m honored that Scooby’s giving me the same treatment. By the way, I sure appreciated the musical greeting. You’re talented with that harmonica.”

  “Thanks. I’m teaching the boys. Jay’s not too keen on it, but Davey’s picking it up. It’s handy to have a musical instrument you can stick in your pocket.”

  The discussion about harmonicas had the potential to go on indefinitely. Fiona glanced at her phone. Time to call this one. “Just got a text from Mrs. Claus, Santa.”

  “Let me guess,” the dad said. “She wants you to pick up a loaf of bread on your way home.”

  Clark grinned. “Exactly. Ready to go, Galadriel?”

  “Ready.” Picking up the empty bag, she called out a quick Merry Christmas and hurried over to him. She kept her voice down as she walked back to the truck with him. “I didn’t start timing this visit until after the song, but—”

  “That’s fine. But we need to keep the timing thing going or we’ll never make it.”

  “I know. It’s just that each stop is special in its own way.”

  “I agree. Leaving is the hardest part.” He opened the door for her.

  Climbing in, she tossed the bag in the back seat with the others. The names on the list stretched out, taunting her. They had to get faster at this. She checked the location on the next few stops.

  Clark did his running board shout of Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night before sliding behind the wheel and closing the door. “What next?”

  “Good news. These first three are on the outskirts of town and spaced far apart. Now we’ll hit clusters of stops where we only need to go a block or two between each one. That should speed things up.”

  “Great.” He buckled his seatbelt and started the truck. All business, now, he turned the truck around and started back to the main road.

  She reeled off the details of the next location and the kids he could expect there.

  “Got it.”

  She could fall in with his get-’er-done mentality, but the last stop had left her with questions. She wanted answers. “Clark…”

  “What?”

  “Something’s not adding up. You weren’t meeting Scooby for the first time. You told me when you opened the door that you’d met him in town. I think you’re the wrangler Mr. Hillman was talking about.”

  “I am, but on this trip, I’m supposed to be Ben.”

  “For the kids, yes. For the adults, it’s not such a big deal. Why didn’t you say you were that person?”

  “For the kids’ sake.”

  “They weren’t paying attention. They were involved in a moose battle.”

  He hesitated.

  “Look, you said your name is actually Clark, and I believe you, but I’m starting to question the Smith part of it.”

  “Fiona, I—”

  “You probably are Clark, and it could be like Marilyn’s birth name was Norma Jean.”

  “It’s not the same—”

  “What I’m trying to say is this. If you’re a bigger star than you want me to know, if you’re hiding out in Apple Grove to get away from the paparazzi as well as your parents, that’s fine. If you’ve chucked fame and fortune to be a wrangler on a ranch here, I get it.”

  “You’re partly right.”

  “I thought so.”

  “But there’s more to it than that.”

  “You don’t have to tell me. We can just enjoy this one magical night with the snow falling and the carols playing on your phone and the kids eagerly waiting for us to bring them toys.”

  “You paint a lovely picture.”

  “Thank you.”

  “But I don’t believe for one second that you’ll rest until you solve the mystery. Galadriel wouldn’t let it go and neither will you.”

  “Normally you would be right, but in your case—”

  “Besides, I never intended this to be an unsolved mystery.”

  “Oh?” She twisted in her seat to stare at him. “You had intentions about tonight?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Her brain stalled. “What were they?”

  “To reveal who I am over pie and hot cider.”

  “Wow, that’s dramatic.” And unsettling.

  “Believe me, it isn’t the route I would have chosen. But desperate times call for desperate measures.”

  “Desperate?” Her uneasiness grew.

  “That may be a slight exaggeration.”

  “I should hope so. In any case, we do need to step up the program with these deliveries. We can’t let ourselves be slowed down so much by cute kids, lovable dogs and harmonica-playing dads.”

  “Right.”

  “I won’t distract you with pyramids and the evolution of paper, either.”

  “We had travel time to fill. That wasn’t—”

  “Maybe you drove slower.”

  “I might’ve. Talking to you is fun.”

  The compliment put her on alert. Had he asked for this job before or after Ben had chosen her to be the elf? Was this a setup? The blind date to end all blind dates?

  Now that he’d admitted a plan to reveal his identity at the Choosy Moose, she questioned his motives for taking the job, although he clearly loved doing it. She might be icing on the cake.

  This wasn’t the time to sort it out, though. They had presents to deliver. But when that was done, she wanted answers. And not necessarily in a public setting.

  Chapter Seven

  Showtime. Leo focused all his energy on emptying the truck bed before nine. The proximity of the houses scheduled for a delivery helped enormously. Discussions with Fiona were short and to the point.

  She was too smart to waste her breath on questions that would be answered once they were face-to-face at the Choosy Moose. By some miracle he’d made it through three toy deliveries before she’d questioned him about his identity.

  Evidently she’d accepted that a reveal in the middle of spreading Christmas cheer could louse up the schedule. The tension of keeping this secret from her was getting to him, though.

  After the last bag was delivered, he texted Ben to let him know they’d finished on time. Then he drove toward the town square and the Choosy Moose, relieved that he’d finally be able to come clean.

  The place was jumping and parking along the Moose side of the square was out of the question. He glanced at Fiona. “Mind if I leave Ben’s truck in front of your shop and we walk over?”

  “I was going to suggest that. It’s a madhouse. We’ll be lucky to get a table. But I’m okay with sitting at the bar.”

  “Oh, we’ll get a table. Ben reserved a two-top by the dance floor for nine-fifteen. It’ll be available or heads will roll.”

  “By the dance floor?” She didn’t sound thrilled with the news.

  Ben had suggested it, hoping that after the first shock, Fiona would agree to dance with him. In Ben’s mind, a few dances and maybe a few drinks would get them past the awkward stage. “We can ask for different seating when we get there.”

  “How about just telling me now? I’m not good with being surprised when I’m in the spotlight.”

  “I guess I could tell you before we go in.” He should have nixed Ben’s idea. Ben was a showman who believed in the grand gesture. His reasoning had made sense for someone like Henri, but not for Fiona. He pulled into a diagonal parking space in front of her shop. “Would you rather skip going to the Moose?”

  “I’d like to go. It’s a nice way to finish off the evening. But—”

  “Then let’s have our conversation here.” Anxiety churned in his gut. He’d counted on being able to see her face and judge her reaction. The Moose was a happy place full of light, laughter and maybe forgiveness.

  Sitting in the cab of Ben’s truck had none of that. Maybe he could engineer a compromise. “On second thought, let’s take a walk, head over to the gazebo.”

  “It’s snowing.”

  “I know.” He glance
d at her. “What’s a little magical snow between friends?”

  She met his gaze in the dim light. “I’m game.”

  “Then let’s do it. Listen, if you’ll sit tight for a sec, I’d like to divest myself of the Santa belly before we head over there.”

  She gave him a smile. “Okay.”

  “I’ll be around to get you in no time.” Climbing out of the truck, he closed the door and moved to the cab’s back door. Nobody was around to notice as he took off the Santa jacket. He draped it over the rim of the truck bed.

  As he started to untie the Santa belly, the wind picked up and the snow fell harder and thicker, pelting his bare skin. He wrenched the door open, tossed the padded vest inside and slammed the door. Shaking snow off the jacket, he put it on, belted it and checked the pocket. The plush moose he planned to give her was still tucked inside.

  His teeth chattered as he walked around to the passenger door. When he opened it, a gust of wind whirled snow into the cab. “I’m rethinking this plan.”

  “I figured.” She grabbed her coat as he helped her down. “There’s a thin line between magical snow and a blizzard. Let’s go into the shop. You can tell me the big news there.”

  “All right.” At least he wouldn’t have the truck’s console between them. He did his best to shield her from the icy blast as they hurried across the sidewalk to the shop’s entrance.

  She sucked in a breath. “I’m freezing.” Twisting the key in the lock, she shoved open the door and scurried into the dim interior.

  He followed, pushed the door closed and faced her, heart pounding. This was it. He’d lead with the plush moose.

  “Better lock the deadbolt, Clark. When the wind’s this strong, it’ll blow the door open. I learned that the hard way. Lost some inventory.”

  Pivoting, he engaged the lock. Then he took a slow swallow as he turned back to her and reached in his pocket. “Fiona, I—”

  “Do you want to come upstairs?”

  He nearly choked. “Come upstairs?”

  “Wait, wait. I didn’t mean it like I think you just took it.”

  “I didn’t—” He cleared his throat. “I didn’t take it that way.”

  “The heck you didn’t. I can’t see your face very well in this light, especially when you’re wearing those glasses, but I guarantee your eyes bugged out.”

  “I’ll admit you startled me.”

  She took a breath. “Just for kicks, what if I had meant it that way?”

  Dear God, how to answer? “I…um…well, I—”

  “Never mind. That was unfair. I could be insulted either way.”

  “That was my thought.” He exhaled. “And insulting you is the last thing I want to do.”

  “I only suggested it because standing in the dark while we have this discussion seems silly. I have a nice sitting area upstairs.”

  The longer he stood in the shadows, the more he liked unburdening his conscience here instead of under bright lights. She’d made the right call. “This won’t take long. If we’re still on good terms after I’ve had my say, we can just leave and head on over to the Moose.”

  “You think I might get upset?”

  Way to go, dude. “Not necessarily. And I’d like to take you over to the Moose as planned. It’s part of the experience.”

  Her gaze moved to the shop window where snow hit the glass like buckshot. “Mother Nature seems to have a different idea.”

  “It might let up.”

  “And what if we’re not on good terms?”

  “Let’s think positive.”

  “But if we’re at odds, the pie and cider plan doesn’t sound very—”

  “True. We can skip it. I’ll drive Ben’s truck to the parking area behind the bar, trade his vehicle for mine, and head home.”

  “Where is home?”

  “You’ll know that in a minute, but first I want you to have this.” He held up the moose. “You get a Merlin, too.”

  “Aww!” She took it and held it against her cheek. “Have you been carrying Merlin around the whole time?”

  “Had to. He’s little and could get lost.” At least that move had made him some points.

  “Are you sure Merlin’s a he? Just about every name these days can be either.”

  He smiled. “And checking underneath is no help. Gender neutral down there. Decision’s up to you.”

  She gazed at him. “You’re not using your Ben voice anymore.”

  “No, ma’am.” His heart rate picked up. “Time to be me.” After stuffing his gloves in his pocket, he put the glasses in there, too.

  “I’ve heard that voice before.”

  “Yes, you have.” He pulled off the stick-on eyebrows and took off the hat, which went in the other pocket. Last of all, he unhooked the beard from around his ears and crammed that in his pocket, too.

  She stepped closer, peered up at him and gasped. “Leo?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  She moved back so fast she bumped into a display table of boxed stationery. “You told me your name was Clark!”

  “Because it is. My birth certificate says Clark Leopold Marston.”

  “There’s no Smith in there, I’ll bet.”

  “No, that was a cheat, but it seemed like a somewhat fair one. Nobody’s named Smith.”

  “No, everybody’s named Smith. That’s why crooks use it for an alias. And sneaky cowboys.”

  Ouch. “Fiona, I was out of options. I just found out last night why you won’t date me, so I asked Ben if—”

  “You dreamed this up last night?

  “Late last night, to be exact, after the Brotherhood wrapping party at the Moose. On the way home, I pleaded with Nick to tell me why you never—”

  “He didn’t tell you before? I thought for sure—”

  “He didn’t say anything because he figured there was nothing I could do about it. And there wasn’t, except for this. It gave me one night to—”

  “Does Ben know?” The pace of her breathing picked up.

  “He does, but if you’re upset, please don’t blame him. I convinced him that he’d be doing us both a huge favor.”

  “Oh, did you, now?”

  “Because I believe it. You’ve just spent more than three hours with me. Did you have fun?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Are my looks really that big a deal?”

  “You look like a movie star!”

  “You knew that when you bid on me.”

  “Fair enough. I bid on you to challenge myself, take another step out of my comfort zone. Turns out it was a giant leap out of my comfort zone. You’re so handsome I can’t think straight. Literally.”

  “My looks are a curse, not a blessing. Early this year I gave up dating. Want to know why?”

  “You were tired of women throwing themselves at you?”

  “Yes, because I appeal to the ones who are fixated on appearance. I was afraid you’d be the same, but you weren’t. Made me so happy. But now—”

  “Attractive men, I’m fine with. I’m attractive, too. But when—”

  “You’re beautiful, Fi.”

  “Not like you. When I see that face, when I gaze into those blue eyes, I’m overwhelmed. I don’t know what to say, what to do.”

  “You’re holding your own right now.”

  “Because I can barely see you, especially now that I’m way over here. And you’re wearing a baggy Santa suit.”

  “I could wear baggy clothes.”

  “You can’t work in baggy clothes. They’d catch on things. You need those snug jeans and those sexy shirts that make your shoulders look a mile wide.”

  “I have a couple of ugly ones, a dirt tan and pea-green plaid and a barf brown and gray striped. They were on sale at Jeans Junction. They’re hideous. If I—”

  “Stop. You could wear the ugliest shirt sold in that store or in the entire world and you’d still turn my brain to mush. I don’t like it when that happens. I don’t like feeling like an idiot.”
<
br />   “But you’re not an idiot. I was all set to talk about Pluto on our date and you cut yourself off.”

  “I was too distracted to discuss it intelligently. I would have started babbling nonsense.”

  “You didn’t babble nonsense on the way home from Ed’s party. We had a great discussion.”

  “About what? I was a little bit… toasted.”

  “Paper.”

  She groaned. “And I rambled on about it again tonight. You must think that’s all I talk about. How embarrassing.”

  “Don’t apologize. I enjoyed every minute.”

  “Sure you did.”

  “Damn it, I like that you’re smart and you know stuff. Turns me on when you bring up subjects like how the Egyptians built the pyramids.”

  “Are you kidding?”

  “No! That was the whole point of this, to prove that you could have fun with me, that we could enjoy interesting discussions. And unless I’m a bad judge of such things, we had chemistry tonight.”

  “I had chemistry with Clark Smith.”

  “Which is me.”

  “No, it’s not. Clark Smith is jolly Saint Nick. You’re Leo Marston, smokin’ hot cowboy. Too hot to handle.”

  He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. “So I take it we’re not going over to the Moose for pie and cider?”

  “Definitely not. The minute I see you in full light, I lose thirty IQ points. Maybe forty.”

  “And you still won’t go out with me?”

  “That’s right.”

  Time for a Hail Mary pass. “Then this is it, the last time we’ll spend time alone together?”

  “Leo, I can’t relax and be myself when I’m with you. I wish I could, but—”

  “Will you let me kiss you goodbye?”

  “What for?”

  “To end the evening on a friendly note. We could shake hands, but considering you saved me from a little kid who was assaulting my manhood, I think we’ve moved past a stuffy handshake.”

  “I suppose.”

  “I’ve been thinking about kissing you ever since our date back in August, when it was clear you didn’t want that. I’ve just spent the past three and a half hours thinking about it and hoping this time you would let me kiss you. Give a guy a break.”