Bring Me a Maverick for Christmas!

by Brenda Harlen

  “Santa very soon will...”

  The response of the chorus faded away as the singers noticed that Santa was, in fact, here now. Several clapped, others pointed and many whispered excitedly to their neighbors.

  “And here he is,” Mrs. Claus said, then smiled warmly at him and gestured for him to take a seat.

  Bailey nodded as he made his way to the chair. He was too nervous to smile back, although she probably couldn’t tell if he was or wasn’t smiling behind the bushy mustache that hung over his mouth anyway.

  He settled into his seat as the leader announced that the young Tiger Scouts would get to visit with Santa first. There were craft tables at the far end of the room for groups waiting to be called and refreshments available.

  Bailey felt his palms grow clammy again as the kids lined up, but it didn’t take him long to realize that his sister-in-law had been right: the kids knew what they were doing. In fact, most of them didn’t expect much from him beyond listening to their wishes and offering them a “Merry Christmas.”

  There were a lot of requests for specific toys and new video games. A couple of requests for puppies and kittens, building blocks and board games, hockey skates or ballerina slippers. Some of the kids asked questions, wanting to know such random facts as “who’s your favorite reindeer?” or “how old is Rudolph?”

  He gave vague responses, so as not to contradict anything else they might have been told by their parents, and he was careful not to make any promises, assuring each child only that he would do his best to make their wishes come true.

  And if he was a little stiff and unnatural, his supposed wife was the complete opposite—warm and kind and totally believable. She did more than move the line along and hand out candy canes. She seemed to instinctively know what to say and do to put the little ones at ease.

  He was about halfway through the Bear Scouts and finally starting to relax into his role when a scowling boy climbed into his lap.

  Bailey, anticipating one of the usual requests, was taken aback when the boy said, “Christmas sucks.”

  “Yeah,” Bailey agreed. “Sometimes it does.”

  Mrs. Claus gasped and the boy’s eyes immediately filled with tears.

  “You’re not s’posed to agree,” the child protested. “You’re s’posed to tell me that it’s gonna be okay.”

  Since Bailey didn’t know what it was, he didn’t feel he should make any such promises. But he belatedly acknowledged that he shouldn’t have responded the way he did, either. Being called out by the child was only further proof that taking his brother’s place as Santa had been a bad idea.

  “Now, Santa,” Mrs. Claus chided. “I told you not to take your grumpy mood out on the children or I’ll have to put you on the naughty list.”

  This threat served to both distract and intrigue the little boy, who eyed her with rapt fascination.

  “I’m sorry, Owen,” she continued, speaking directly to the child now. “Santa’s a little out of sorts today because I warned him that he has to cut down on the cookies if he wants to fit down the chimneys on Christmas Eve.”

  Then she sent Bailey a pointed look that had him nodding in acknowledgment of her claim as he rubbed his padded belly. “I really like gingerbread,” he said, in a conspiratorial whisper to the boy his “wife” had called Owen. “But I definitely don’t want to end up on the naughty list.”

  “Can she do that?” Owen asked.

  He nodded again, almost afraid to do otherwise. “So tell me, Owen, is there anything Santa can do to help make the holidays happier for you?”

  “Can you make Riley not move to Bozeman?” he asked hopefully.

  This time Bailey did shake his head. “I’m sorry.”

  The child’s gaze shifted toward Mrs. Claus again. “Can she do it?” Because apparently the boy believed Mrs. Claus not only had authority over her husband but greater magical powers, too.

  “I’m sorry,” he said again.

  Owen sighed. “Then maybe you could leave a PKT-79 under my tree at Christmas and I can give it to Riley, so that he’ll have something to remember me by.”

  It wasn’t the first request for a PKT-79, and though Bailey still had no idea what it was, he was touched by the child’s request for the gift to give to someone else.

  “I’ll see what I can do,” Santa told him. “Merry Christmas.”

  “Yeah,” Owen said, his tone slightly less glum. “Merry Christmas.”

  Mrs. Claus held out a candy cane to the boy.

  Owen paused to ask her, “You’ll make sure Santa can get down my chimney, won’t you?”

  “You bet I will,” she promised, with a wink and a smile for the boy.

  Bailey paid more attention after that, to avoid another slipup. When all the children had expressed their wishes to Santa, he and his wife wished everyone a Merry Christmas and headed backstage again.

  By the time he made it to the dressing room, Bailey was more than ready to shed the red coat and everything it represented, but Mrs. Claus walked into the room right behind him.

  Closing the door firmly at her back, she faced him with her hands on her hips. “I don’t know why anyone would ask someone with such an obviously lousy disposition to play Santa, but you have no right to ruin Christmas for the kids who actually look forward to celebrating the holiday.”

  Bailey already felt guilty enough for his unthinking response to Owen, but he didn’t appreciate being taken to task—again—by a stranger, and instinctively lashed out. “A lecture from my loving wife? Now I really do feel like we’re married.”

  “I’d pity any woman who married you,” she shot back.

  His ready retort stuck in his throat when she took off the granny glasses and removed the wig, causing her long blond hair to tumble over her shoulders, effecting an instant and stunning transformation.

  Mrs. Claus was a definite hottie.

  Too bad she was also bossy and annoying. And...vaguely familiar looking, he realized.

  She twisted her arm up behind her back, trying to reach the top of the zipper, but her fingertips fell short of their target.

  While she struggled, Bailey removed his own hat, wig and beard.

  She brought her arm around to her front again and tried to reach the back of the dress from over her shoulder, still without success.

  He should offer to help. That would be the polite and gentlemanly thing to do. But as his sister-in-law had noted, he was a Grooge and, still stinging from Mrs. Claus’s sharp rebuke, not in a very charitable or helpful mood. Instead, he unbuckled his wide belt, removed the heavy jacket and padded belly, eager to shed the external trappings of his own role.

  Finally, she huffed out a breath. “You could offer to help, you know?”

  “If you need help, you could ask,” he countered.

  “Would you please help me unzip my dress?” she finally said.

  “Usually I buy a woman dinner before I try to get her out of her clothes.” He couldn’t resist teasing. “But since you asked...”

  Chapter Two

  She turned her back to give Bailey access to the zipper, but not before he saw her roll her eyes in response to his comment. “Do you have to work at being offensive or is it a natural talent?”

  “It’s a defense mechanism,” he said, surprising them both with his honesty. “I screwed up in there—I know I did. I knew I would. That’s why I didn’t want to put on the stupid suit and pretend to be jolly.”

  “You ever try actually being jolly instead of just pretending?” she asked, as he tugged on the zipper pull.

  “Yeah, but it didn’t work out so well.”

  “I’m sorry.” She pulled her arms out of the sleeves and let the bodice fall forward, then stepped out of the skirt to reveal her own clothes: a snug-fitting scoop neck sweater in Christmas red over a pair of skinny jeans tucked
into knee-high boots.

  A definite hottie with curves that should have warning signs.

  He looked away from the danger zone, pushing the suspenders off his shoulders and stepping out of Santa’s oversize pants, leaving him clad in a long-sleeve Henley and well-worn jeans. He picked up the flannel shirt he’d shed before donning the Santa coat and put it on over the Henley.

  She neatly folded her dress and tucked it into a shopping bag. He watched her out of the corner of his eye, unable to shake the feeling that, though he couldn’t think of her name, he was certain he knew her from somewhere.

  Before he could ask her if they’d met before, there was a knock at the door.

  “Come in.”

  They both said it at the same time, then she smiled at him, and that easy curve of her lips only increased her hotness factor.

  The door opened and Annie poked her head in.

  “Oh, Serena, I’m so glad to see that you made it.”

  “I did. Sorry I was almost late. There was some excitement at the clinic this morning.”

  Serena.

  Clinic.

  The pieces finally clicked into place and Bailey realized why the substitute Mrs. Claus looked familiar. She was Serena Langley, a vet tech at the same clinic where his sister-in-law was the receptionist.

  “What kind of excitement?” Annie asked, immediately concerned.

  “Alistair Warren brought in a fat stray that he found under his porch. The cat turned out not to be fat but pregnant and gave birth to nine kittens.”

  “Nine?” Annie echoed.

  Serena nodded. “Exam Room Three is going to be out of commission for a while, because Brooks doesn’t want to disturb the new mom or her babies.”

  “I can’t wait to see them,” Annie enthused. “But right now, I want to hear about the substitute Santa’s visit with the local scout troop so that I can report back to his more-sick-than-jolly brother.”

  Bailey turned to Serena again. Truthfully, his gaze had hardly shifted away from her since they’d entered the dressing room. He’d thought it was because he was trying to figure out where they might have crossed paths before, but even with that question now answered, he found his attention riveted on her.

  He waited for Serena to say that the substitute Santa had sucked and that the event had been a disaster—although maybe not in terms quite so blunt and harsh. At the very least, he anticipated her telling his sister-in-law that Bailey had screwed up and almost made a kid cry. And he couldn’t have disputed either of those points, because they were both true.

  But Serena seemed content to let him respond to the inquiry, and he did so, only saying, “It was...an experience.”

  His sister-in-law’s brows lifted. “I’m not sure how to interpret that.”

  Bailey looked at Mrs. Claus again.

  “Everything went well,” Serena assured her friend.

  Annie exhaled, obviously relieved. “Of course, I knew the two of you would be able to pull it off.”

  “If you were so confident, you wouldn’t have rushed over here to interrogate us,” he pointed out. “Although I suspect your concerns were really about Santa and not Mrs. Claus.”

  “Well, you were the more reluctant substitute,” she told him. “Serena didn’t hesitate when I asked her to fill in.”

  “I’m always happy to help a friend,” Serena said. “But now I should be on my way.”

  “What’s your hurry?” Annie asked.

  “I’m not in a hurry,” she denied. “It’s just that I left early this morning and...well, you know that Marvin doesn’t like it when I’m gone all day.”

  She seemed a little embarrassed by this admission, or so he guessed by the way her gaze dropped away.

  Bailey frowned, wondering about this Marvin and the nature of his relationship with Serena. Was he her husband? Boyfriend? How did he express his disapproval of her absence? Did he give her the cold shoulder when she got home? Or did he have a hot temper?

  The possibility roused his ire. Lord knew he wasn’t without faults of his own and tried not to judge others by their shortcomings, but he had no tolerance for men who bullied women or children.

  “You worry too much about Marvin,” Annie chided.

  “You know I can’t stand it when he looks at me with those big sad eyes.”

  “I know you let him use those big sad eyes to manipulate you,” Annie said. “You need to stand firm and let him know he’s not the boss of you.”

  Bailey didn’t think his sister-in-law should be so quick to disregard her friend’s concerns. No one knew what went on behind closed doors of a relationship.

  “Is Marvin your...husband?” Bailey asked Serena.

  In response to his question, Annie snickered—inappropriately, he thought—and Serena’s cheeks flushed with color as she shook her head.

  “No, he’s my, uh, bulldog.”

  “Your bulldog,” he echoed.

  She nodded, the color in her cheeks deepening.

  Well, the big sad eyes comment made a lot more sense to him now. As the humor of the situation became apparent, he felt his own lips curve.

  “He’s a rescue,” she explained. “And very...needy.”

  “Only because you let him be,” Annie said. “Not to mention that you have a doggy door, so he can go in and out as required.”

  “Well, yes,” Serena admitted. “But he still doesn’t like to be alone for too long.”

  Which led Bailey to believe that there wasn’t anyone else at home—husband or boyfriend—to put the dog out or deal with his neediness.

  Not that it mattered, because he wasn’t interested in any kind of romantic relationship with his sister-in-law’s friend and colleague.

  Was he?

  * * *

  “I hope Danny is feeling a lot better before Tuesday,” Annie said as she picked up the bags containing the costumes.

  The worry was evident in her friend’s voice, compelling Serena to ask, “What’s happening on Tuesday?”

  “We’re supposed to play Santa and Mrs. Claus for a visit to the elementary school.”

  Which gave Annie’s husband only two days to recuperate from whatever had laid him up.

  “I’d be happy to fill in again,” Serena immediately offered.

  “Oh, that would be wonderful,” Annie said. “And such a weight off my shoulders to not have to worry about finding a replacement at the last minute again. Thank you both so much.”

  “Both?” Bailey echoed. “Wait! I never—”

  But his sister-in-law didn’t pause long enough to allow him to voice any protest. “In that case, I’ll leave the costumes with you and just pop over to Daisy’s to pick up some soup for Danny. Fingers crossed, he’ll be able to keep it down.”

  “—agreed to anything,” he continued.

  Of course, Annie was already gone, leaving Serena and Bailey alone again.

  She wasn’t surprised when he turned toward her, a deep furrow between his brows. “I never agreed to anything,” he said again.

  “I know, but Annie probably couldn’t imagine you’d object to doing a favor for your brother,” she said reasonably.

  “Another favor, you mean.”

  “Was today really so horrible?”

  “That’s not the point,” he said. “But you’re the type of person who’s always the first to volunteer for any task, aren’t you?”

  She shrugged.

  It was true that she hadn’t hesitated when Annie asked her to fill in as Mrs. Claus. Although she generally preferred the company of animals to people, she was always happy to help a friend. And when she’d acceded to the request, it had never occurred to her to ask or even wonder about the identity of the man playing Santa Claus.

  But even if Annie had told her that it was Bailey Stockton, Serena wouldn’t hav
e balked. Because how could she know that she’d have such an unexpected visceral reaction to her friend’s brother-in-law?

  After all, this was hardly their first meeting. She’d seen him at the clinic—and even once or twice around town, at Crawford’s General Store or Daisy’s Donut Shop. He was an undeniably handsome man. Of course, as far as she could tell, all the Stocktons had been genetically blessed, but there was something about Bailey that set him apart.

  Maybe it was the vulnerability she’d glimpsed in his eyes. It was the same look of a puppy who’d torn up the newspaper and only realized after the fact that he’d done something wrong. Not that she was really comparing Bailey Stockton to a puppy, but she could tell that Bailey had felt remorseful as soon as he’d agreed with Owen’s assessment that the holidays sucked.

  Serena knew as well as anyone that Christmas wasn’t all gingerbread and jingle bells, but over the years, she’d learned to focus on happy memories and embrace the spirit of the season.

  But now that she and Bailey were no longer surrounded by kids pumped up on sugar and excitement about seeing Santa, now that it was just the two of them, he didn’t seem vulnerable at all. He was all man. And every womanly part of her responded to his nearness.

  When he’d unzipped her dress, he’d been doing her a favor. There had certainly been nothing seductive about the action. But she’d been aware of his lean hard body behind her, and his closeness had made her heart pound and her knees tremble. And although she was wearing a long-sleeved sweater and jeans beneath the costume, she’d felt the warmth of his breath on the nape of her neck as the zipper inched downward, and a shiver had snaked down her spine.

  While she was wearing the costume, she could be Mrs. Claus and play the role she needed to play. But now that the costume had been packed away, she was just Serena Langley again—a woman who didn’t know how to chat and flirt with men. In fact, she was completely awkward when it came to interacting with males of the human species, so she decided to do what she always did in uncomfortable situations: flee.

  But before she could find the right words to extricate herself, Bailey spoke again.