Kissing Santa, A Clover Park Novella (Clover Park, Book 4) Contemporary Romance (The Clover Park Series) (3 page)

“Thanks,” she said dryly. She had to let him know she was immune to all his false flattery. “I like your shirt too,” she added. “Nice buttons.”

He raised a brow and rolled up the sleeves, revealing muscular forearms.
Oh no, he didn’t
. Her mouth went dry. His moves were so obvious they really should have zero effect on her. Thankfully, the waiter showed up to tell them about the specials, giving her a reason to tear her gaze away from Rico’s muscles.

The waiter left, and Rico picked up right where he left off. “You look beautiful by candlelight.”

She pursed her lips and stared him down. “Everyone looks beautiful by candlelight. You can barely see me.”

“Something wrong?”

She was about to say,
Yes, something’s wrong! My mother set me up with a blind date who turns out to be the one kind of man I never want to be with again! Been there, done that, got the devastating heartbreak
. But his attention wasn’t on her. He waved to someone across the restaurant. She turned to see the hostess blowing him a kiss while she seated another couple.

“Would you like to get better acquainted with our hostess?” she asked sweetly.

He turned and gave her that slow, sexy smile again. This time she felt nothing but aggravation. Okay, a little tummy flutter, but whatever.

“I want to get better acquainted with you,” he said. “How did I get so lucky to be set up with a beauty like you?”

She was too mature to stick her finger down her throat in a gagging motion, but she wanted to. Badly.

“The usual way,” she said. “I had no choice in the matter.”

He barked out a laugh. Flustered, she stared at her menu, debated just walking out, and thought better of it with the fallout she was sure she’d get from her mother upon her early arrival home.

The waiter came to take their orders. She chose a salad so it would be a quick meal.

Things went downhill from there. He spent the entire evening giving her all these super fake compliments about her glossy hair, her deeply thoughtful eyes, her devastating smile, her dainty wrists, even her graceful fingers. Seriously, she knew she wasn’t model beautiful. Obviously these lines worked on some women, but to her they just sounded like the worst kind of phony talk.

They lapsed into awkward silence. He must’ve sensed his phony lines weren’t going to get him anywhere. Finally she couldn’t take the silence anymore.

“I need to use the ladies’ room,” she said, excusing herself.

She stood in the ladies’ room, wondering how she got to such a sucky place in her life. Single, living at home, letting her mother direct her love life. After she felt she’d waited long enough for him to finish his meal, she touched up her lipstick and returned to their table.

“You want dessert?” he asked.

“I want to go home.”

He signaled for the check and turned to her. “Let me ask you this, if you had met me any other way, would you be interested?”

She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “Interested in what?”

He gestured up and down his body.

Argh! Samantha threw down her napkin, grabbed her coat and purse, and stood. “Take me home. Now.”

He pulled out his wallet, left some bills on the table, and they headed out the door.

Samantha jammed her arms into the sleeves of her coat. She couldn’t spend one more minute sitting across from that big phony. As if that wasn’t enough, she had to endure uncomfortable silence followed by him propositioning her. He probably wanted to make out in his truck in front of her parents’ house.

They walked in silence to his truck.

“We’re not kissing good night,” she informed him.

He stopped walking. “You really don’t like me, do you?”

He actually looked hurt, and she was swamped with sympathy. “I’m sorry. I’m sure you’re a very nice person in some ways. I mean, you do love your mother or you wouldn’t be here with me, right? I’m just not liking this whole deal. Let’s leave it as friends and go on with our lives.”

They continued on in silence. He opened her door for her. That was nice. He
was
rather gallant.

“I don’t have women friends,” he said before shutting her door.

She waited for him to get in. “Why not?”

He put the truck into gear. “What’s the point?”

“What do you mean what’s the point?”

“Never mind,” he said quickly. They headed back toward her parents’ house.

“No, I really want to know. Why is there no point in having a woman friend?”

He kept his mouth shut.

I know your type all too well.

“You use women for sex and that’s it,” she said.

“I don’t use women. We use each other.” He looked over at her lecherously. “And everyone comes out happy, I assure you.”

“You’re a sexist pig.”

“How is that sexist? I said we use each other. Believe me, the women I sleep with are
very
satisfied. Haven’t heard any complaints.”

“Because you’re already outta there. You’ve probably broken hearts without a backward glance.” Her throat got tight. “Just know that when two people sleep together, the woman’s heart is involved
big time
.”

He glanced at her curiously. “Is your heart broken?”

She’d said too much. “I’m just speaking in general.” She crossed her arms, hugging herself. “On behalf of my gender.”

“I really do like that dress,” he said with a leer at her now pushed-up cleavage.

She dropped her arms. “Shut up.”

He shook his head. “I have no idea why our mothers thought we’d make a good couple.”

A flash of hurt went through her, and she instantly tamped it down. He was right. They wouldn’t make a good couple. But she wanted him to think she was a catch, even if she thought he was a sexist pig.

She lifted her chin. “I have no idea either. They’re insane.”

He laughed, a deep, rolling laugh that warmed her and had her laughing too.

“You got that right,” he said.

When they got to her parents’ house, Rico turned off the truck, got out, and opened her door again. At least his mother had taught him some manners.

He walked her to the front door and extended his hand to shake. “I guess this is good-bye forever.”

A stab of regret went through her. Would things have gone differently if they hadn’t been forced together? No, he was a player, and she’d already had her share of those.

She shook Rico’s hand, and just like the first time, a hot tingle ran up her arm. She quickly dropped his hand. “Good-bye forever, Rico. Thank you for the salad.”

He grinned, flashing a perfect white toothy smile. The man could do commercials for whitening strips. “Thank you for the beautiful view.”

Before she could come up with some snappy reply, he turned and strutted down the front walk. She clenched her teeth. Major player. She was lucky she’d seen him for exactly what he was.

Chapter Three

One week later, Rico headed back to his apartment after work, looking forward to his usual Friday night hanging out at Garner’s Sports Bar & Grill. He almost always went home with a new phone number in his pocket or a woman on his arm. He was glad all that Samantha business was finished. He’d told his mother he’d been on his best behavior, but they just didn’t get along. His mother had been surprisingly sympathetic to him. Maybe Samantha’s mother had told her how difficult Samantha had been. All of his usual compliments and charm had seemed to irritate her. Hell, no one could’ve gotten through that major attitude.

He stopped short at his front door. A note was taped to it. Strange. The note asked him to stop by his downstairs neighbor’s apartment “for a quick visit.” The older man, Harold, had always been friendly and helpful, but they’d never hung out.

When he arrived at his neighbor's door, a middle-aged woman answered. "My dad is sick and can't do his gig as Santa at the pancake breakfast tomorrow. He’s so sorry to miss it. He loves playing Santa every year. He asked if you could take over."

Rico put both hands up and slowly backed away. "I'm no Santa.”

He was a young, fit, non-jolly man with a rep for being good with the ladies. Definitely not Santa material.

She thrust the red Santa suit and white curly wig and beard into his hands. He pushed it back.

"It's from nine to twelve at the high school,” she said. “Just go to the cafeteria. You'll get breakfast out of it."

"I can buy breakfast."

"Please, my dad doesn't have many friends. You were on his emergency contact list."

"I was?"

She thrust the red suit into his hands again. Then she handed him a glasses case. "Yes. And this is an emergency."

He pushed everything back. No way was he dressing up like a jolly old elf.

She gave him a pointed look. “Ficus.”

Rico groaned. He knew that would bite him in the ass one day. But, come on, Santa? His parents had given him a ficus tree to celebrate his new job at Trav’s landscape company ten years ago. He’d kept it alive all these years, liking the reminder of his family and how proud they’d been of him. He’d grown sort of attached to that tree and asked Harold to water it whenever Rico was away. Harold had done so for the past ten years, refusing payment or anything in return. Now Harold was calling in that favor. Argh.

“Give it to me,” Rico said, holding out his arms. “Then tell him we’re even.”

A guy like him playing Santa was much worse than ten years of looking in on a ficus tree.

She grinned, dropped the outfit in his arms, and shut the door. He looked down at the red velvet suit with the huge white beard.
Ay Dios mio
. And ho-ho-ho.

So it was that Rico found himself putting on the big red suit early Saturday morning. He told no one and prayed no one recognized him. It would just be a bunch of kids, he reassured himself. He stuffed a pillow down the front to look more like ol’ St. Nick. He went to the bathroom mirror and put on the beard, wig, and Santa hat and burst out laughing. There was no way he could pass for the pasty, white-skinned Harold. He put on the round spectacles. Nope. Still looked like Santa Stud. Couldn’t be helped. Ah, well. It was just a few hours. He didn’t want to disappoint all the kids.

He got in his truck and drove to Clover Park High. He was sweating already. He should’ve waited to change when he got there. He always ran hot, even in the winter. The wig was itching like crazy over his short-cropped hair, but he was afraid if he showed up half dressed, he’d ruin the magic for the little ones, so he suffered through it.

When he walked into the cafeteria, he was greeted by the joyous sound of The Boss, Bruce Springsteen, belting out “Santa Claus is Coming to Town” over the loudspeakers. He bobbed his head in time to the music. If you had to play Santa, no one better to have sing about it. Rico was from Jersey, and in Jersey The Boss was king. None of the kids had shown up yet. He checked the big clock on the wall. Fifteen minutes until they officially opened.

He breathed in the scent of brewing coffee and pancakes and took a moment to appreciate how Christmasy it looked in here for the kids. His nieces and nephews would love this. There was a large wooden throne with dark green velvet cushions at the far end of the cafeteria, sitting on a frayed red rug. That must be for Santa. Near the throne was a Christmas tree twinkling with multicolored lights, silver garland, and red ball ornaments. An angel perched on top of the tree. Taped to the wall nearby was a painted fireplace. All the long cafeteria tables alternated red and green tablecloths, with a bowl in the center filled with round peppermints with candy canes hanging off the edges. He grabbed a mint. Might as well have fresh breath for the kiddies.

He spotted Shane O’Hare, Trav’s younger brother, and his fiancée, Rachel Miller, getting breakfast started in the back. He debated braving the ridicule for a cup of what he knew would be awesome coffee. The pair owned Something’s Brewing Café in town and brewed the best coffee he’d ever had. A few volunteers he didn’t know were running around setting out plates, utensils, cups, and assorted condiments.

“Oh, look, Santa’s here! Hi, Santa!” Rachel waved.

He walked over. “What’s up?”

“Rico?” Shane asked. Then he cracked up.

Rachel peered at him. “You’re Santa?” Then she cracked up too.

“Very funny,” Rico said. “I’m helping out my neighbor Harold. He was too sick to do it. Can I get some of that coffee?”

“Wouldn’t you prefer hot cocoa?” Shane asked.

“And cookies?” Rachel asked.

They dissolved into laughter.

“Forget it,” Rico huffed. “Geez, try to do the right thing. I’ll be over here on my throne.” He headed over to the large velvet throne, ignoring their peals of laughter.

Barry Furnukle from The Dancing Cow, a frozen yogurt shop in town, showed up in a green elf costume complete with pointy shoes with bells on them and a pointy hat. Rico felt a little better about the Santa duds.

“Merry Christmas, Santa,” Barry said. He peered closer. “Rico?”

Rico sighed. “Yeah, it’s me.”

His brows scrunched together. “I never expected you—”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.”

Barry stood straight as a soldier. “I’ll be your helper and photographer.”

“Great,” Rico said. “Nice costume.”

Barry preened and did a little jig that had the bells on his pointy shoes jingling. “Thank you. So I thought I’d let each kid tell you what they want; then I’ll take the picture and bring them over here.” He gestured to the side where he had set a large basket. “I’ll give them a coloring book, crayons, and a coupon to The Dancing Cow.”

“Awesome.” Rico shoved a hand under the wig and scratched. “How many kids show up for this thing anyway?”

“This is my first rodeo, so I don’t know. We’ll be ready for anything, right, Santa?”

“Right. Do we get a break? You know, to feed the reindeer or something?”

“Let’s do a fifteen-minute break halfway through.”

He wiped some sweat off his brow and readjusted the Santa hat. “Yeah, okay. Oh, I see some kids. Get ready.”

He settled himself on the throne and tried to look jolly. Should he smile? Nah, he’d better save it for the cameras, or he’d be smiling for three hours straight. He waited. The kids came running in all at once, followed by parents pushing strollers with little ones dressed in red dresses and little suits for their holiday pictures.