Santa Wore Spurs

by Various

  The holidays were coming. Maybe he could just go home to visit for Thanksgiving and Christmas, and not come back to Dallas. Just ease back into his father's good graces. Not say anything about being done with modeling. After a while, his family would figure it out, and he wouldn't have to say or admit anything.

  Chickenshit, yes, but possibly effective.

  Reluctantly, Cord stomped his feet into the shiny black costume boots. If he didn't go back to Tyler, he was definitely getting a new agent. Surely the woman he had been with for three years could do better than this. He'd made her a shit load of money. She owed him better. Cord handed her the Laramie contract on a silver platter and hired her purely on Tonya's recommendation.

  Now that he wasn't serving up money that she didn't have to work for, she wasn't returning his phone calls. The last time he talked to her was when she gave him this Santa gig. Tomorrow, he was calling her and she could put on her big girl panties and negotiate a better deal somewhere else, or he was going to find someone who would.

  Cord sucked in a frustrated breath then went to the mirror to put on the beard that would complete his transformation into jolly old Saint Nick.

  He just wished he felt a little jollier.

  Hope Carlisle tugged her heavy equipment bag the last five feet to the back entrance of the mall. Breathing hard, she set it beside the door and pulled the metal door open. She needed to get a bag with wheels.

  Carrying that bag, in those shoes, from the back forty of the lot wasn't something she could do every day. Maybe she'd wear tennis shoes tomorrow and just change inside. She knew she'd have to do something because it was the holiday season and the mall would be packed until after Christmas. But a new bag would have to wait because Hope had higher priorities at the moment. Like eating and paying her rent.

  Cool air brushed Hope's rear end and she tugged down the hem of the skirt on her Sally Stripper Elf costume. Her feet throbbed in the matching green five-inch heels. The outfit wasn't something Hope wanted to wear. It was what the mall required. A man must've made the costuming decision is all Hope could come up with. If he had to wear these shoes for a day, Hope was sure she'd be wearing house slippers right now.

  The fact that the costume was so short it bordered on indecent pointed toward a man's decision too. A woman would never have picked it out knowing Hope was going to be photographing kids. At least the man had the good sense to add candy-striped tights, or her butt would be hanging out too. Hope didn't like it, but she'd worn it because she needed this job. To keep it, she needed to suck up her self-pity and get inside before she was late. The Santa she was working with was probably already there.

  She never realized what her underpaid assistant had gone through lugging around the cumbersome bag. If the woman still worked for her, Hope would definitely give her a raise. But her former assistant, like her ex-business partner, had gotten out while the getting was good. Before she lost everything she had to Bridezilla, Brittany Weston.

  Hope didn't blame them really, but her partner and former best friend could have at least left her a little money in their business account. Instead, she emptied out every penny to open her own photography studio. And took Hope's assistant with her.

  With a heavy sigh, Hope grabbed the bag again and held open the door with her hip. She tugged but quickly realized the bag wasn't going to fit through the doorway. Hope let the strap slip through her fingers then swiped her hand across her forehead. It was so cold out this morning. If she didn't get inside quickly, the sweat pouring from her hair would probably turn into icicle bangs in a minute.

  Hope bent over to grab the strap of the big duffle again. She shoved the door wider with her butt then jerked with all she had. Something inside the bag shifted. The bag came through the door and hit her in the chest. Hope gasped as she flew backwards, hitting something soft and fluffy. She heard a grunt then her bag clattered loudly as it hit the floor beside her. She landed on what felt like a pillowtop mattress.

  Large, warm hands gripped her waist, a delicious piney scent wafted to her nostrils, and hot breath tickled her ear as her landing pad chuckled. The rumble rolled through her body, carrying tingles along with the sound. Hope rolled onto her hands and knees then stood. She smoothed her costume, looking down at the portly man she had bowled over.

  "I'm so sorry. Are you okay?" What had cushioned her fall was Santa's stuffed belly.

  Bright blue eyes burned their way slowly up her legs and stopped a minute at her breasts before sliding up to meet her eyes. They twinkled as he said, "Killing Santa isn't a great way to start your first day on the job, Tinkerbell." The man added a knee-melting grin before he rolled then sprang up to his feet.

  Hope had never met a sexy Santa before, in a mall, on television, or in a story book. But this guy, even with the big belly, wig, and beard, was sex in a Santa suit. He must've realized she was staring because his grin got wider. A dimple popped out above his fake beard and Hope's heart tripped in her chest.

  Guilt rushed through her as she wondered what the man looked like under that bulky suit. With the smooth, tanned skin at his neck, the firm line of his square jaw, those eyes, and that delicious dimple, she couldn't help herself. Sitting on his lap for hours, staring into those gorgeous eyes wouldn't be a hardship that was for sure. The mothers of the toddlers they'd be photographing would probably feel the same way.

  Hope shoved those thoughts away, reminding herself she was there to do a job and this man was her co-worker.

  "I guess you're my Santa?" she said, extending her hand to him.

  "Cord," he corrected, taking her hand. When their palms met, electricity shot up her arm to zap her in the chest. "And you must be my elf," he said. All Hope could do was stare into his eyes dumbly.

  I'll be anything you want me to be.

  Hope shook her head. "Hope," she said and the starch went out of her arm as he clasped her hand tighter.

  "Is that your name or are you about to ask me for a Wetty Betty?" he asked with a laugh. The sound traveled along Hope's nerve endings to settle south. His cap and wig slid sideways, and he pushed them back in place. "If so, I'm fresh out. That's all the little girls who sit in my lap ask for lately."

  In that flash of a second, she saw the dark hair at his temples and his left ear. Who had sexy ears and who noticed them? This man did. And Hope noticed. Thoughts of sitting on his lap and whispering the long list of things she wanted from him flitted through her mind. That list did not include a doll.

  But Hope had other things she needed to focus on right now. Like keeping her job. Lusting after Santa, her co-worker, would not help that cause. "I'm the new photographer," she said. Because she couldn't help herself, she let her eyes take one more pass over him, trying to imagine yet again what he looked like under the red felt. "I'm excited to be working with you."

  Santa's smile faded and he shrugged his broad shoulders. "Don't be too excited. As a veteran of a week, I have to warn you. This job isn't for the faint of heart. Keep your eyes open or you might get hurt. You also might want to renegotiate your contract and ask for combat pay." He didn't laugh. Hope became a little concerned until she saw those eyes of his twinkling.

  She tilted her head to the side and smiled. "You trying to scare me, Santa?"

  "You need to be scared, Tinkerbell. Really scared. I've been peed on, punched, and set on fire. Mall security only goes so far, so just stay on your toes."

  Santa shook his head and his beard shifted, but he jerked it back in place. His costume didn't seem to fit him very well at all. And neither did the job. He wasn't old enough, and was just too...manly. It was eight thirty in the morning, but she saw dark beard scruff on his jaw under the white beard too.

  "Well, as an elf, it's my job to protect you, so I've got your back," she said with a grin.

  "Thank God someone has it, because I need backup."

  Hope shook her head. "Sounds like you’ve had some bad times."

  "You have no idea. But I'm trying to keep a good
attitude and get through this. Plotting my agent's murder while I sit up there in that chair helps."

  Maybe this job wouldn't be so bad after all, Hope thought. This guy was nice. Funny. If she could keep her own sense of humor for the next month or so, maybe she would be okay too.

  "Lead the charge, Santa. I'm right behind you." Hope bent to grab the strap of her equipment bag again, but Sexy Santa nudged her aside and took the strap, hefting the bag easily up on his shoulder.

  "No, you lead the way, elf. If we get mobbed, I'm throwing the bag at them and you'll be the sacrificial lamb."

  She laughed. It felt good to laugh. "I should have known you had an ulterior motive for carrying that huge bag," she replied. A real smile curved her lips upward. Hope had someone on her team now too. She felt just a little less alone.

  Turning, she walked out the dressing room door ahead of him. When they reached the kiosk at the far side of the wide corridor, kids were already lining up like a mini-mob gang near the Candy Canes on either side of the stand. From the eager, but calculating, looks on their faces, Hope thought Santa might not have been joking after all.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Two hours into their twelve hour shift, Cord felt like little men with jackhammers had taken up residence inside his skull. He was bored to tears and needed a break. Hope, the beautiful elf photographer, looked as haggard as he felt. Her hat hung on the side of her red head, and the candy-striped leggings on her long, long legs had developed a big hole at her inner thigh near the edge of her skirt.

  That hole had saved her camera. If she’d been a little slower grabbing the tripod when the runaway three-year-old barreled into it, the camera would have been smashed.

  Her tights and his peace of mind had been the only casualties. Cord almost wanted to thank the kid. At least now he had a distraction. Fantasizing about putting his finger in that hole at her inner thigh and ripping those tights off her. Pressing his lips to the pale skin he saw there, and moving up her long legs to see what she tasted like. The velcro closure on his Santa pants was barely strong enough right now.

  He took a deep breath to get a hold on his arousal because Santa with a hard-on would be hard to explain. To take his mind off his hot elf photographer, Cord listed the wishes he'd heard in his mind. Bicycles, dolls that wet, train sets, and little brothers. God, that's just what the world needed—more brats.

  Cord forced a smile for the harried-looking mother of the next kid in line. Once the kid's sneakers reached the top stair, he put on the brakes. His face scrunched up, terror filled his eyes and Cord knew what was coming. He put his hands over his ears.

  The kid shoved back into his mother's legs and latched onto them like a tree trunk. His wail echoed throughout the mall corridor and sent the little men in Cord's head scrambling for their hammers. Ignoring the kid, the mother jerked him by the arm and then lifted him onto Cord's lap.

  Hope looked up from her camera to give him a sympathetic shake of her head.

  Cord clamped his hands onto the kid’s waist to keep him from hurting himself. The boy stiffened and screamed louder. His legs flailed then his foot came down hard in Cord's crotch. Cord's breath rushed out in a whimper. The boy tried to stand and ground Cord's balls right down into the chair. Pain shot through him, the likes of which he'd never felt before, even in his bull riding days. Cord held back the scream building in his chest. His eyes watered with the effort as he shoved the kid off his lap. He gritted his teeth and tried to catch a breath, but couldn't.

  "I'm so sorry," the mother said with embarrassment as she scooped the boy into her arms. He was still wailing. Cord wanted in on some of that action, but he just nodded because there wasn't a chance in hell he would be able to speak. If he opened his mouth, he was definitely going to scream.

  Gingerly, he pushed up from the chair and hobbled down the steps. Hope met him there. Black spots danced before his eyes, and he wasn't sure if they were from all the camera flashes this morning or because he was about to pass out. He hurt that bad.

  "I need a break," he said, his voice barely a whisper.

  Hope jerked the Be Back Soon sign from behind the back drop and shoved it into the holder. "Let's go," she said as she slipped her arm through his to support him. Cord needed it. It was all he could do not to drop to his knees and roll around on the floor.

  As they walked off, the people at the front of the line started complaining loudly, but Hope, bless her, ignored them and hustled him toward the door to the locker room.

  Once they were inside, Cord held his balls as he tore off the hat and wig in one angry motion then threw them across the room. Stomping over to his locker, he used the hand not on his balls to dial the combination on his locker. He dug inside his duffle bag to find his cell phone. Sitting down on the bench by the locker, because if he didn't he was going to fall down, he dialed his agent's phone number. She didn't answer, so he hung up, punched the code to block his number then redialed.

  She finally answered. "Get me the fuck out of here!" he shouted before she even mumbled hello.

  "Cord?" she asked with just a little fear in her voice.

  "Yes, Arlene, this is Cord," he hissed. "Find me something else. This isn't working for me. I'll apologize to Tonya Laramie, I'll even kiss her ass if I have to, just get me out of here!" Cord was desperate. There was no way he was working there another minute.

  "They've already signed someone else, Cord."

  "What the hell do you mean they signed someone else? I have a contract!" Cord shouted, causing his head to throb in time with his balls.

  "You had a contract. I got the cancellation papers from their attorney this morning."

  Those words bounced around in his head as dead silence settled between them.

  "Fine. Get me something else then," he said gruffly.

  "Tonya's connected, Cord. I've called everyone I can think of to get you another job. Give it some time. Something will shake loose." The only thing that was going to shake loose was the woman's teeth if she kept trying to pacify him with empty promises. The final straw broke when she added, "Maybe I can find something in L.A. or New York."

  "I don't fucking want to go to L.A. or New York. I'm from Texas, my family is in Texas, and I'm staying in Texas!" he grated then shoved a hand through his hair. "You're fired," he told her bluntly.

  She laughed then asked with disbelief, "What?"

  "You're fired, Arlene," he repeated succinctly then hung up the phone. Cord's fist was so tight around his phone, he thought it would crumble in his hand. He wished it was Arlene's neck. Arlene knew what had happened at Laramie, but she also knew which side her bread was buttered on. She would not cross Tonya Laramie.

  Hope walked up to him and put her hand on his arm. "Hey, are you okay?" she asked softly. He looked into her sympathetic green eyes, and anger shot through him. That was a stupid question. How the hell could she think he was okay? She had seen that kid stomp his nuts into pancakes.

  "No, I'm not okay," he growled and pulled his arm out of her grasp.

  What he needed was for his balls to drop back into place so he could get out of there before he took his frustration out on the most convenient person around. Hope Carlisle. The beautiful elf didn't deserve it. She hadn't created this situation. This was all his doing.

  Cord stood then started to pace, hoping it would help.

  Her soft voice floated over to him. "I'm sorry I eavesdropped, but I knew you looked familiar. You're the Laramie Jeans guy, right?"

  "Was the Laramie Jeans guy," he corrected gruffly then shoved a hand through his hair. "I'm a broke, castrated Santa now."

  "You are Laramie Jeans," Hope corrected. "People wouldn't know Laramie Jeans if your face wasn't all over their marketing material. Even the hang tags on the jeans have your face on them." At least that's what her friend, Tina, the assistant marketing director at Texas Tomboy western apparel, said. She had been in awe of Cord Dixon and his popularity. "What the heck happened?"

  "I wouldn't sleep wi
th the boss's daughter so she decided to tell him I hit on her."

  "And Cecil Laramie believed her?"

  His eyes flew to hers and narrowed. He stopped pacing. "You know him?"

  "By association. He and my daddy golf together at the country club." And he had hit on her once when she went to the club to find her father.

  Cord's eyes narrowed more as he scanned her, from head to toe, before he stalked to his locker and began stuffing his things into a duffle bag. "Nice friends you have there, Tinkerbell," he grumbled from inside the locker.

  "Not friends. Acquaintances," Hope corrected as she walked over to stand beside him. "You're leaving?"

  "Yep," he said shortly. She heard a long zipping noise then he stood and tossed a duffle on the ground before slamming the locker shut and turning to face her. "Going back to Tyler where I belong."

  His blue eyes weren't twinkling anymore. They were as hard as flint. As hard as his beard-shadowed jaw. His pictures definitely hadn't done him justice. On the pages of the magazines where she'd seen him, he had been incredibly handsome, but two-dimensional. Here, in the flesh, she could see what Laramie's photographer had missed. She almost wished he'd put the fake beard back on because it was slightly overwhelming.

  Cord reached under the Santa coat to pull out a pillow and toss it aside. His hand went to the now sagging black belt cinching the coat at the waist, and her heart skipped a beat. This man was undressing in front of her.

  "Um, I'm still here," she squeaked as her hand flew to her throat and heat rushed up to her face. She should turn around, but Hope couldn't make herself do it. Anticipation had her frozen to the spot. All day long, she had been trying to picture what he looked like under that bulky costume. The chance to find out was too good to pass up.