Her Christmas Cowboy

by Jessica Clare

  She was a lot less chesty tonight, and he wasn’t sure if he was disappointed or relieved. Relieved, he eventually decided. It would be a nightmare if Santa popped a boner.

  Even so, he couldn’t resist reaching for her. She was his wife in this little game, right? As she walked past, he noticed she hobbled a little, her feet hurting. So he reached out and boldly snagged his arm around her waist, drawing her into his lap.

  A few of the parents chuckled.

  Amy went stiff in his arms, her eyes wide with surprise behind Mrs. Claus’s wire-rimmed glasses. Their gazes met, and this was his moment. He wanted to ask her out. He wanted to confess that he’d been the one that gave her some of the gifts this week, and while they weren’t jewelry or endless vases of flowers, he hoped that she’d go out with him. Just once. Just a coffee.

  But as he stared into her eyes, no words came to mind. He just held on to her and gazed into her eyes.

  “You okay?” she whispered. “Do you need a break?”

  He nodded once, mentally cursing himself. It was all right. There was still plenty of evening. He could ask her out later, maybe, when all this was done. They could go for coffee afterward. There was a little coffeehouse about a half hour away and—

  She patted his shoulder and turned to the others, climbing off his lap. “Santa needs a fifteen-minute break, guys. We’ll be back.” When the child at the front of the line groaned, Amy picked up her clipboard and wrote with a candy-cane pen. “Don’t worry. We’ll keep your place so you won’t lose your spot in line, I promise.”

  Someone handed Caleb a bottle of water, and, damn, he was thirsty. He sucked it down, but it tasted like fake beard and dribbled everywhere. He watched Amy as he took his “break,” noticing that she didn’t take much of a break herself. She paused and talked to the woman running the camera and then got stopped by a parent who she recognized and started a conversation with. As she talked to the parent, he watched her and drank his water. Okay, he told himself. When she comes back, you ask her out. You tell her you can give her a ride home and did she want to get coffee afterward. It’s easy enough. It’s the perfect opportunity, and you’re not going to have many more.

  He could do this.

  He could.

  “Amy?”

  A man called her name out and pulled her aside. Caleb frowned as she disappeared down a hall, and long minutes passed as he waited for her to return.

  When she did, she was alone and had a single red rose in her hands. She looked flustered, too.

  He offered her his water bottle.

  She took it, shooting him a grateful look and then taking a sip. “I hope it’s okay that we’re sharing spit,” she whispered to him. “We’re supposed to be married, right?”

  “Married spit,” he agreed, and then mentally cussed himself up one side and down the other. Now’s your chance, idiot. Say it. “Want to get coffee after this?” The words blurted out of him before he could think twice, before he could mess them up.

  Before he could take them back.

  Amy gave him a look of surprise. Her gaze flicked to his chest and then she gave him an apologetic little grimace. “Coffee sounds great, but . . . it seems I have a date.” She waved the rose in front of him. “Secret Santa asked me out.”

  Caleb gritted his teeth.

  Some asshole had beat him to the punch.

  * * *

  * * *

  Amy had been having a wonderful time until Greg showed up. She’d been delighted with how Caleb was interacting with the children. For all that he was quiet and practically unpleasant to her at times, he was fantastic with the kids. He’d gone above and beyond as Santa, and every child and parent left smiling. Amy enjoyed herself, too, and she didn’t even mind the pinch of her boots because she was having too much fun. Then he’d pulled her into his lap.

  And she’d thought about his shirtless, gorgeous chest again. She’d gotten all flustered and breathless and climbed off him right away, mumbling something about the students. She wasn’t thinking of them at all, though. She was thinking of those long lashes and that hard chest, and, good lord, when had surly, silent Caleb Watson become so irresistible?

  When Caleb said he needed a break, Amy had thought that would be the perfect time to grab some hot cocoa for herself—the smell had been tempting her all night. It was also the perfect time to get her head on straight and stop thinking about the man playing Santa right now.

  And then she’d seen Greg, a rose in his hands. He was wearing a suit, and he called her name.

  She put a smile on her face and went to him, even though it felt—oddly—like her evening was about to be ruined.

  But that wasn’t fair to him. All he’d said was hello. So she tried to smile brighter. “Happy holidays, Greg.”

  “Nice outfit.”

  She did a mock curtsy that was hell on her cramping toes. “I’m helping out with the carnival.”

  “Obviously. Can you get away?” He held the rose out to her. “I think we should go on a date.”

  Amy suddenly wanted to snarl at him. She’d learned after years of being married to Blake that it was the little ways that words were said that told her what he was really thinking. Greg wasn’t asking her if she’d go out with him. He was more or less demanding it, and tossing in a charming smile to take the sting out of his bold words. He wasn’t asking what time she would be done, either. He was asking her to abandon the carnival so she could spend time with him.

  Blake would have done the same. Years ago, when she was young and wide-eyed and wanting to get away from her parents’ strict control, his utter confidence had been exactly what she was looking for. Now she knew better, and it just irked her.

  He must have noticed her hesitation. “We don’t have to, you know. I just thought I’d ask.” He gave her a sheepish smile. “It gets lonely being single during the holidays.”

  Some of her unease vanished and she gave him a more genuine smile. She wasn’t being fair. He wasn’t Blake, and she wasn’t the Amy she’d been a few years ago. It was just a date between two lonely people and he was right—the holidays were rough when you didn’t have anyone to spend them with.

  Weirdly enough, she thought of Caleb. She hadn’t felt so lonely with him around. Donner, either. But she knew what it was like to be alone, and Greg had said the right thing to make her heart squeeze with sympathy. She took the rose from him and tilted her head. “Were you my Secret Santa?”

  “Busted.” He winked. “A little birdie told me that you wanted to go out with whoever had sent the gifts, so I thought I’d come and ask in person.”

  She’d what?

  Amy was about to protest that she’d said no such thing when her conversation with Mrs. Lawrence yesterday came back to her. You should go out with whoever sent these gifts. He’s clearly in love.

  Oh. Amy had agreed awkwardly . . . and now she was being called on it. She licked her lips, thinking. Would it be the worst thing to go out with Greg? Greg, who was a little too overbearing and sales-y to suit her, but who’d also sent thoughtful gifts and was here even now with a flower and giving her puppy eyes? Could she let him down when he clearly had spent so much time and effort to get her to notice him?

  Had anyone ever put so much effort into getting Amy’s attention? She hesitated and then threw caution to the wind. “I guess I did say something like that.”

  “Great.” He beamed, thumbing an impatient gesture at the door. “My car’s just outside. Does that mean we can leave this place?”

  Immediately, Amy felt like she’d made a mistake. Her stomach sank, but she took a deep, steeling breath. Nothing to do but go through with it. Maybe he had a reason for being such a bad landlord and all she needed was the chance to get to know him. Maybe. “I can’t go until we’re done,” Amy told him. “All the teachers have to stay. But maybe we can do something afterward?”

&
nbsp; “That sounds great. I’ll be waiting. You want to text me and I’ll swing back and pick you up?”

  “Sure, that’d be wonderful.” She bit back the sly comment that sprung to mind about how he tended to ignore her texts when it was about her house and leaky faucets, but that was unfair. She wasn’t going to be unfair to him, darn it. She was going to give him a chance. He’d been so generous this week and he was just trying to be nice. Maybe he didn’t realize he’d gone overboard with the gifts.

  He leaned in to kiss her and she automatically tilted her face so he could kiss her cheek instead. “Children are watching,” she pointed out, though she didn’t think anyone was going to notice. They all knew she wasn’t Mrs. Claus. She was Miss Mckinney. But kissing Greg here in the hall didn’t feel right.

  None of this felt right, and she couldn’t put her finger on why.

  It was just a date.

  It was a date with someone who’d thought about her enough to get her multiple Secret Santa gifts this week. And while some of them were thoughtless, like the bouquet with lily of the valley, some of them, like the coffee maker, were downright genius. She could go out with him one night and see where it led.

  Distracted, she headed back toward the chair Caleb sat in as Santa. He offered her his water bottle. He asked her out for coffee, just being polite as he always was.

  And for a stupid, wistful moment, she wished it was Caleb who had showered her with gifts this week. If Caleb had been her Secret Santa, she’d have thought very differently about her upcoming date. Well, no, she wouldn’t even be going out with Greg if Caleb was her Secret Santa. She’d have taken him up on that coffee and tried to peel back a few layers of his silence to see what was underneath.

  But this was real life, not fantasy, and she had to be practical. She handed Caleb back his water bottle, took up her clipboard of children waiting to see Santa, and beamed at the first one back in line. “Are we ready to get started again?”

  CHAPTER TEN

  By the time the last child finished his visit with Santa, Amy’s feet were throbbing nightmares. The thought of another hour in the boots made her murderous, so when one of the teachers saw her hobbling, she gave Amy a sympathetic look. “Why don’t you call it a night?”

  This time, she didn’t argue. “Thank you, I will.”

  Amy looked over at Caleb, who got to his feet. He still wore the beard and suit and hadn’t issued a word of complaint. He’d been a perfect jolly Saint Nick and she felt overwhelmed with appreciation for him. He hadn’t fussed or griped as kids sneezed in his face or dripped their hot cocoa down his front. He’d listened calmly and stayed in character all the while, and every child left happy. He didn’t have to do this, either. He wasn’t a parent, just a volunteer with a good heart, and it made her appreciate him so, so much. “I can’t thank you enough for what you did tonight,” Amy told him. “You were an absolute rock star.”

  He said nothing again, just shrugged, and she wondered if it was she that he was utterly silent around, as if he had absolutely nothing at all to say to her. For some reason, that was vaguely hurtful to think about, and so she gave him a tight smile and gestured at her phone. “I don’t need a ride home, just FYI. Greg’s picking me up.”

  Caleb responded with a derisive little snort.

  That irked her. It was her decision to go on a date with Greg, and it was a good one, damn it. She deserved to give such a devoted, generous guy a chance, didn’t she? So she ignored Caleb’s response and hobbled away with her phone, texting Greg.

  AMY: I’m done here. We still on?

  GREG: Be there in 5.

  Amy shrugged on her light jacket over her Mrs. Claus outfit and went outside to wait for her date. There was a large plaque in front of the school, dedicating it to the first principal in the area, and she sat on the edge of it to take the weight off her feet. They throbbed and ached, and she wanted to rip the boots off and get a good look at the variety of blisters that were surely forming. Also, the tape wrapped around her boobs itched like mad and she wanted to take it off, too. Maybe she should have suggested that they go out another night. Tonight, she felt pretty done.

  She looked at the array of streets in front of her. She was only a few blocks away from her house, and while it was cold and slushy, she could be home shortly. Maybe she should cancel on Greg.

  Her feet said otherwise. They told her she wasn’t walking five feet, much less five blocks.

  Okay, date it was. She held her purse and jacket in front of her and waited. Greg had said five minutes, hadn’t he? She checked her phone as the minutes ticked past. Ten. Fifteen. Twenty.

  At twenty-three minutes, a sports car pulled up to the school, blaring rock music and nearly drowning out the endless Christmas carols still playing in the auditorium. He parked and then grinned at her, sticking his head out the window. “You ready?”

  Amy supposed she was. She got to her feet—tried to hide the wince of pain with a smile—and walked slowly forward. He didn’t get out and get the door for her. That was fine, really. Not every guy had to do that, she told herself. It was just that Caleb had been doing it all week and so she was used to it. She got into his car, breathed a sigh of relief when she got off her feet, and looked over at him. “Hi there. Where are we headed?”

  Greg just gave her a slow grin. “You’ll see.”

  Well, wherever he took her—and they were limited in options after nine at night—would be fine. She didn’t care as long as it was a seated sort of date.

  He pulled away from the curb . . . and then drove around to the back of the school and parked.

  Amy’s brows furrowed. “We’re staying here?”

  He turned the radio off, and the only thing she could hear was the distant sound of “Carol of the Bells” leaking out from the school. They must have left the music on as they cleaned up the mess, and for a moment, she wanted to be in there helping them, blistered feet or not.

  Greg put his arm over the back of her seat. “Thought we could get to know each other a little better. Besides, you’re not exactly dressed to go out much of anywhere.”

  “Oh.” What could she say to that? No, I don’t want to get to know you better? It seemed rude, and if he tried anything, she was fine with rude, but maybe she was just overreacting. Maybe he just didn’t want to be seen with Mrs. Claus. “Thank you for the gifts. I didn’t know who they were from.”

  “It was the least I could do, since you’ve had so much trouble with the rental.” He beamed at her, then toyed with a curl of her white wig. “Does this come off?”

  “It’s just a wig,” she said, and tugged it off her head and into her lap. Her hair was smooshed into a flat bun and slicked down, and she was pretty sure it wasn’t a hot look for her, but at the moment, she didn’t care. The wig itched. “As for the rental, your guy never showed up. He hasn’t fixed a thing. Not one.”

  “Mmm. I’ll have to give him a call and see what’s going on.” He slid a bit closer to her.

  This was cartoonishly bad. It seriously reminded her of one of those horrible dates in the 1980s films where the overbearing boyfriend forces himself on his girlfriend. She didn’t think real people acted like this, but Amy supposed there was a first time for everything. She slid a little further away. “I didn’t know who was sending the gifts,” she said again. “I can’t wait to use the coffee maker. It—”

  “Coffee maker?” His brows drew together and he chuckled. “What are you talking about?”

  “The coffee maker you sent yesterday? The single-cup percolator? With the hot-water fixture?” She tilted her head, studying him. “Did you not send that?”

  “I sent roses a few times,” Greg said. “Flowers for a beautiful flower.”

  Oh, barf. “You really should be careful what flowers you send to a kindergarten teacher,” she began. “Some of the flowers you sent were poisonous, and some little on
es still like to put things in their mouths and—” She broke off in a shrill little cry as he lurched in and planted his mouth on hers.

  Greg smelled like breath mints, and his lips were hard on hers. A second later, he shotgunned his tongue into her mouth, working it like a piston as his hands went all over her torso. Dear lord. This was not her idea of getting to know each other. She should have known better the moment he parked behind the school. Amy pushed at his chest, leaning back against her car door, but Greg was impossible to push away. His hands were everywhere, his mouth surging against hers, and—

  The car door opened and Amy tumbled backward.

  She let out a yelp of surprise, expecting to hit the icy pavement. Instead, strong hands caught her and hauled her out of the car, setting her on her feet. Dazed, she stared at the man in the overstuffed Santa suit. He’d taken off the beard and hat and had switched to his wide-brimmed Stetson. There was a look of pure fury on Caleb’s handsome face as he set her gently onto her feet. He checked her over, then turned toward Greg.

  “What the hell, man?” Greg stared up at him in disbelief.

  “That’s my wife.”

  Both Amy and Greg stopped in surprise. “She’s what?” Greg asked.

  “She’s Mrs. Claus.” Caleb stabbed a finger at her. “I’m Mister. That means you don’t get to touch her unless she wants it.” He turned and looked back at Amy, a question in his eyes. “Looked to me like she didn’t want it.”

  Amy shook her head. “I just want to get out of here.”

  Caleb nodded once. Before she could say anything else, he moved to her side and put an arm behind her knees. Within the space of a breath, he hefted her into his arms and stormed away, back toward the school.