Her Mistletoe Bachelor

by Carolyn Hector

  “Is it me,” Stephanie asked, handing an elementary school–aged kid’s card to British, “or are we starting to see the same children over and over?”

  “I thought the same,” said British. She looked at the card and mouthed the name to Donovan. She thought she knew everyone in town. Donovan, being the first African American Santa of the season, brought out the neighboring communities to the town center. Southwood’s diverse community blended races, which made it possible to have a representative from every culture that celebrated Santa. Next weekend one of the Reyes brothers would don the suit.

  “Hello, Gracie,” Donovan greeted someone in his deep voice.

  British headed back to where Stephanie stood. She peeked around at the never-ending line and smiled with satisfaction. She was proud at how focused the team members were...at least up until the moment another one of the GRITS girls from the after-school program ran over to whisper in Stephanie’s ear.

  “OMG,” Stephanie gasped. “Excuse me, y’all,” she said to the crowd and pushed her way through.

  British shook her head and tried to remember these were adolescents. She picked up the slack and brought the next child over the red threshold. While she waited, British watched Donovan. For a man with such a playboy reputation, he certainly possessed a down-home quality. He was great with the children. He’d bonded with her nieces and nephews, all of whom she did not have to remind Donovan of their names. Part of British wondered what Donovan would be like as a dad. Probably spoil the kids, she thought.

  “Be careful, dear,” Joan teased, coming up behind British. “You look like you’re falling for him.”

  “Whatever, Mother.” British shrugged her mother’s hug off and focused on Santa. Falling for him. Whatever. They bonded over hot sex and no promises. That worked for them, or at least that was the final compromise this morning before they’d left her bed.

  “Excuse us,” Stephanie bellowed, pulling a young girl by the hand to the front of the crowd. “Excuse us. VIP here.”

  “That’s Quandriguez’s sister,” explained Kathleen. “She’s deaf, you know.”

  “I know,” said British.

  The petrified young girl stood stock-still at the sight of Santa. She wore an ice-blue windbreaker with a blonde princess in a matching blue dress on the back.

  Donovan motioned for her to step forward but not even his dazzling smile got her to budge. The crowd watched carefully. British rushed over to help but, like the girl, stood frozen. Donovan took off his glove and began to sign for the girl. At that moment the audience all gave a collective sigh and fell in love with this Santa a little more. Including British.

  “Hey, Home Ec.”

  British cringed at the nickname and rolled her eyes at the moment being spoiled by none other than Cam Beasley. Given the Mrs. Claus outfit she’d had to wear, she decided to mind her manners. Besides, he was probably here with his kids. The last thing they needed was to be reminded of what a jerk they had for a father.

  “Cam,” British said with a droll eye-roll before turning around.

  “I thought I recognized you,” Cam said, coming up to the velvet rope. Two small children flanked him on either side. “I’m surprised to find you here.”

  Do not take the bait. Do not take the bait, she warned herself. “Well. I am.” She smiled sweetly and adjusted the faux gold-framed glasses slipping down her nose.

  “I figured you would be practicing.”

  “My girls are just fine,” British said. She pulled the curls of the gray wig away from her face and bent to face the young boy and girl with him. “Are you guys excited to meet Santa?”

  The sweet children nodded and cheered, ready for the introductions. British couldn’t hold their father against them. She took their hands and led them up the walkway. Thankfully, Cam moved to the other side of the drop-off line to pick up his kids.

  The next group of visitors stumped her. The gorgeous couple standing in the front didn’t have a child with them. As a matter of fact, the next half dozen women didn’t have children with them, just groups of girlfriends all pointing their cell phones at Santa.

  “What is going on?” British asked Kathleen.

  “The Southwood Santa is now viral and he’s more like the sexy Santa.”

  British clutched the white fur collar around her throat. Her knees buckled. The back of her throat became dry. “Kathleen,” she gasped, shocked at the photograph.

  “What?” Kathleen shoved her bedazzled cell phone in British’s face. “Everyone is talking about it.”

  Shielding the screen with her hand from the blaring afternoon sun, British looked at the photograph of the precise moment when a set of twins sat on Donovan’s lap. One twin pulled down Donovan’s beard while the other struggled to climb up his arm, thus pulling his red jacket open and exposing his buff chest and arms. Regardless of the twins’ actions, Donovan stayed in character. Though she knew the story behind the photo, Donovan still won the prize for sexiest Santa. Her Sexy Santa, she thought. A jolt of excitement raced through her veins.

  “Excuse me,” a deep voice said behind her.

  British turned and came face-to-face with the Greek letters across the shirt of a six-foot-plus man. She slowly looked up and cleared her throat. “You’re going to have to stand behind the ropes, sir,” she said boldly. “Does your child have a card?” Beyond his frame, she didn’t see a kid near him. All day today unaccompanied children pushed themselves over the line, eager to see Santa.

  “I am a child of God,” said a familiar voice, stepping out from behind him. “That counts, right?”

  “Zoe?” British shaded her eyes. “What on earth?”

  Zoe Baldwin, now Ravens, pushed past the man British realized was her husband, Will Ravens, also known as Donovan’s brother. She cast a glance over her shoulder to see if Donovan had noticed them. Cam’s kids kept his attention.

  “What are you doing in town?” British asked. “I thought you only returned for the summers.”

  The creative design director at Ravens Cosmetics had spent a few summers in Southwood. Her grandmother no longer ran the Mas Beauty School but the home still stood. It didn’t surprise British to find Zoe back in town. Her father still lived here. As British hugged Zoe, she realized what a perfect match Zoe and Will made together. She was an expert makeup artist and Will was CEO of the world’s best cosmetic company. It made sense for Zoe and Will to get together. It was as if destiny designed their future. Where did that leave British and Donovan?

  “Girl, this outfit is everything,” said Zoe, walking around British. While Zoe admired the Mrs. Claus look, British whistled at Zoe. Tall, thin, beautiful Zoe belonged on the cover of a magazine as well as in the pages. “I might need one for a little later.” She elbowed Will in the ribs.

  Will reached for Zoe’s hand and managed to maneuver her in front of him and wrapped his hand around her waist. “By Christmas, you won’t need any padding.”

  British’s mouth dropped wide open. “Zoe, are you?”

  Zoe pressed her finger to her mouth. “We’re trying to find my folks to tell them before everyone else finds out.”

  “You know, I saw Miss Jamerica and my mom heading over to the Cupcakery.” Joan and Zoe’s mother, Jamerica Baldwin, modeled together back in the day.

  “My mom is eating a carb?”

  Back in the day, it was Joan who’d introduced Zoe’s parents to one another at one of their photo shoots held at Magnolia Palace.

  “Stranger things have happened,” said British. She turned her attention to Will, who let go of Zoe’s belly with one hand and began filming Donovan with his cell phone. “Hey, now,” she said to him. “You have to donate a canned good or money in order to get a picture with Santa or take pictures—that includes recording him.”

  Will narrowed his eyes on her. “Mrs. Claus?”

  Perhaps it wa
s because they were brothers, but British couldn’t help but pick up on the arrogance of the man. She squared her shoulders. “I’m serious. The donations for today go to feed the hungry.”

  Will reached into his pocket and pulled out a wad of cash. “Will this do?”

  British glanced back at Donovan. “Well, it’s all in the name of charity—film your brother all you like.”

  * * *

  The crowd around them began to disappear. The young elves, also known as the GRITS team, ran around with the other kids in the town square. To think a few nights ago this center had been transformed into a fall festival and was now a winter carnival. A safe, bright and loud merry-go-round spun on one corner of the square. The line there matched the line for Santa. The smell of funnel cakes, grilled hot dogs and popcorn floated through the crisp air. All Donovan wanted to do was to grab something to eat and head back to British’s place, since it was closer than Magnolia Palace.

  By the end of his shift as the Southwood Santa, Donovan sat back on his red-velvet throne. He kind of wished more parents would bring their children just so he could avoid speaking with Will, who’d clearly enjoyed exploiting Donovan’s job today. Why didn’t it click in his head, when Will told him he and Zoe were going off for the holidays, that they’d come here to Southwood? Every half hour for the rest of the afternoon Will had stood down by the photographer and annoyingly filmed him. The camera caught every bad moment such as when a kid almost lost his lunch on Donovan, a diaper leak and a few candy canes stuck in his fake beard. The one redeeming part of the afternoon was the connection he shared with British. They were so in sync. The pit of his stomach flopped when she approached him.

  “Hey,” British said, coming close. The sweet scent of her intoxicating perfume flooded him. His stomach growled. “Are you hungry?”

  “For food?” Donovan teased, wiggling his brows.

  “Careful, Santa,” she said playfully. “I overheard your brother Will talking about taking you for dinner at Valencia’s. It’s another spot you have to try before you leave.”

  The top portion of Donovan’s lip curled. One, partly because his brother being in town threatened to take away time from British and, two, the idea of leaving loomed in the back of his head.

  “Give me five minutes to get rid of him.” He gave a sinister laugh and rubbed his hands together.

  Donovan took a step forward but British placed her hand on his forearm. “You can’t kill him right now.”

  “Because I’m dressed as Santa?” If that were the case, Donovan was ready to get out of the red costume now. British and Donovan waved once more to the onlookers and posed for a few more pictures as Mr. and Mrs. Claus. They received a round of applause before a few of the elves opened the curtain for them to exit.

  Just before they disappeared, British shook her head back and forth, grinning and speaking through her teeth, “Because we’re going to have a civilized dinner.”

  “And then I can kill him?”

  “No.” She linked her hand in his but not before slipping off her white glove and his.

  The skin-to-skin contact was so needed since he wasn’t able to kiss her right now. Given the only privacy they had was a strung-up sheet, Donovan decided acting on impulse—to take British into his arms right now—needed to wait. After eight hours of playing Santa and being on his p’s and q’s, he needed some one-on-one time with British. For Donovan the suit jacket with the three giant black-plastic buttons on the front came off easily. Knowing it was going to be hot underneath, he hadn’t bothered putting on a shirt.

  The Mrs. Claus dress required help, which Donovan didn’t mind. Again, the two moved in unison and without words. British took off her hat and gray wig, then lifted her dark curls off her neck and exposed her back to him. Donovan resisted raising her skirts and showing her just how much he wanted her right now. An excited scream from a girl outside the area stopped him. Regretfully, Donovan rebuttoned British’s costume. Kissing her neck, he swatted her bottom.

  “Did you have fun today?” British asked him, turning around in his arms.

  “I hate to admit it, but I did.” Donovan never thought he’d have a blast playing a married man. They walked down the red carpet toward Will and Zoe. Zoe he liked. Will? Donovan balled his fists together. But as they approached his little brother, Donovan’s irritation settled and he reached out to hug him.

  “What the hell are you doing here, man?” Will asked him, patting him on the back. “Have you been here this whole time?”

  “Yep,” Donovan answered.

  Despite the latest pressures of the job making the youngest member of the Ravens family act like a tyrant lately, Donovan knew he couldn’t stay mad at Will. Will had never asked to be the CEO of the company and Donovan had played his part by nominating him to be at the helm. Will had just come off a career-ending soccer injury, and Donovan had known he’d needed something else to focus on. And he’d been right. Will’s vision for bringing classic beauty back to the company had helped refresh the sales. Donovan had seen the financial reports.

  “You’re such a copycat,” Will joked. “This is my hideaway spot.”

  Zoe stepped between the two men to give Donovan a hug. “Don’t be mad at Donovan for having good taste. Hey, brother-in-law.”

  “Hey, sister-in-law,” Donovan replied. “You look as beautiful as ever.”

  “Thank you.”

  “So beautiful, I think you should grace the face of Ravens.” Donovan gave Will as smirk before letting Zoe go.

  “You’re not getting off that easy,” Will said, tugging his wife’s elbow so she fit in the crook of his shoulder when he draped his arm over her shoulders. “You still need—”

  Zoe silenced him with a squeeze to the hand. “Sweetie, we’re on vacation.”

  “Speaking of which...” Will began. “Where did you spend Thanksgiving?”

  “Here,” Donovan said.

  “With my family.” British spoke up. “Hi, we haven’t officially met.”

  “Oh my God,” Zoe knocked herself in the head with the palm of her hand. “Where is my brain?”

  Zoe, Will and British laughed at some inside joke, which baffled him. Donovan cleared his throat to break up the camaraderie. “Will, allow me to introduce you to someone very special, British Carres. British, this is my annoying little brother, Will, and his—”

  “British and I go way back,” said Zoe, with the flick of her left wrist, waving the Ravens family heirloom engagement ring When Will had asked for it from their grandmother, Donovan couldn’t have been more pleased. He loved Zoe but wondered if it would be rude to ask for it back when the time was right. Donovan gulped at the thought. Prior to coming to Southwood Donovan was sure he’d never get married. And now here he was, not sure if he wanted to leave without taking British as his wife. The notion was a pleasant surprise. British made him happy.

  Will extended his hand to British. “Pleased to meet you. Thanks for allowing me to film Donovan.”

  Donovan looked between the two of them. “What’s that?”

  “Well...” British began, her cheeks turning his favorite reddish hue. “This is for charity and with the load of cash your brother dropped, we’re able to feed everyone in Four Points whether they need it or not.”

  “My humiliation for charity, huh?” Donovan accepted with a nod. “I suppose no one is going to recognize me.”

  Again the three of them shared a laugh.

  “Oh, honey,” British cooed, “I don’t know how to tell you this but you’re Southwood famous now.”

  Whatever that meant, Donovan didn’t care, just as long as it got British to move against his frame. As natural as it felt, he wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pretended to ignore Will’s questioning gaze at the intimate touch.

  “Is that Maggie Swayne?” Zoe asked, shielding her eyes from the setting sun. “Sh
e’s been MIA in Miami for a while now.”

  “Speaking of missing...” Will said. “Donovan, what’s going on with your search for the next spokesmodel?”

  Now was not the time to discuss work. Donovan heaved a heavy sigh and tugged British closer to him. “I had a great idea. Didn’t I?”

  “Not on your life, buddy,” said British.

  Zoe squealed and clapped her hands. “That would be so perfect. British, with your pageant background, you’d be perfect.”

  “I am a professional STEM teacher,” British declared.

  “I majored in chemistry—” Zoe shrugged “—and it’s time to show the world that girls can dominate the science lab and the runway at the same time.”

  For a breath of a second, British bit her bottom lip, giving Donovan a sliver of hope that Zoe’s motivational point of view might work. “As I told Donovan before, I can’t very well sell makeup to impressionable girls.”

  Will snorted as if offended.

  A protective surge electrocuted Donovan’s veins. “She is an awesome teacher,” he said. “She could teach you a thing or two.”

  “Can she teach me how to find the perfect cover girl?” Will asked and shrugged. “You know what? I’ll just go with the original plan and hire—”

  Thankfully a group of teenagers playing tag ran past them, shutting Will up before Donovan did so with his fist. He didn’t want Tracy’s name mentioned and ruining this great day. Parents moved from store to store with packages in their hands. Children ran around unsupervised. What a difference between raising kids in a metropolis city and a small town like this one. Or living in a warm environment like the Woodburys’ home.

  An elementary-aged child skipped by, licking the chocolate frosting right off the top of a cupcake. The dollop fell to the ground and his tears began to flow. While Donovan looked around for the boy’s mother, British knelt to soothe him. “Let’s get you another one,” British said and looked up at Zoe. “Want to come with me? We can go say hi to Maggie.”

  “And get this kiddo another scoop of frosting for his cupcake, huh?” Zoe bent over and tweaked the little boy’s nose.