He cringed as she pressed the outfit into his arms.
Lana waited outside the bathroom door while Rick changed, using the moment to double-check her makeup and hair.
“I’m not sure this will fit,” he said, sounding dubious.
“You’re approximately the same build as my last human Santa sacrifice.”
“Ha ha.”
Unable to resist teasing him a little more, Lana added, “I’d recommend wearing your underthings, frilly or otherwise. They promise they dry-clean these in between uses, but you never really know what’s happening in a Santa suit.”
“You’re trying to make this worse, aren’t you?”
“Of course not. Now, let me see.”
“I don’t want to.”
“It can’t be too bad. Santa is iconic. If you’re dressed in velvet with a fluffy beard, you’re fine.”
“That could be any number of things.” Grumbling audibly, Rick stepped out of the bathroom. Face turning nearly as red as his outfit, he stood in front of Lana for her inspection.
“I can’t wear this.”
Lana stepped closer. “Actually, I think you wear it rather well.”
Her compliment was met with an audible curse. The Santa suit wasn’t just snug. It was skintight. This was no round-bellied Santa, no jolly old Saint Nick. This was rippling-muscles-beneath-crushed-red-velvet Santa. Broad shoulders and a flat stomach that would not shake when he laughed like a bowl full of jelly.
Maybe a bowl full of rocks or a washboard or two.
“Turn around,” she encouraged him. “I want to see what we’re working with.”
Giving her a distrustful look, Rick did as she asked. Not only was the Santa suit snug in the top, it was equally snug in the rear.
“Mrs. Claus is a very lucky woman.”
“I’m changing.” Rick stomped toward the bathroom.
Lana pulled him back. “I’m teasing you, dearest. It’s fine. Despite the sweets provided, I think a fit, healthy Santa is a good example for the town’s youth.”
It took some coaxing to get him down to the party room where the staff milled around. Their entrance pulled more than a few glances.
“Oh my.” Hannah eyed him in appreciation.
“That’s what I said,” Lana told Hannah, lowering her voice conspiratorially. “I think I accidentally ordered the stripper Santa.”
Rick groaned. “Please stop saying that. You’re making this worse.”
She turned to him and straightened his beard as if it were a crooked bow tie.
“Trust me, Rick. With you here, this party will be perfect.”
* * *
No one showed up.
Not only did the party flop, there wasn’t even a party to begin with.
Rick hadn’t expected many people, knowing what he knew about the town’s feelings on her construction plans. But even he wouldn’t have expected everyone to boycott the event. For the first time in his life, Rick found himself ashamed of the town he came from and the people in it. People he loved but who he could have throttled with every passing hour.
They passed the time rearranging tables and decorating their own cookies, although with every failure of a body to come through the door, Lana’s disappointment grew harder for her to hide. On one table, a gingerbread recreation of the town stretched out, bowls of candy and little miniaturized marzipan figures waiting for tiny hands to decorate it.
“I bet the staff went cross-eyed trying to make those,” Rick rumbled, watching her straighten a small container of crystalized candy moose.
“Special ordered from Sweden.” Plucking two of the moose out with her festively manicured fingertips, she popped one in her mouth and offered him the second. “In hindsight, I probably could have spared myself the shipping charges.”
“Do you want to open it to the hotel guests?”
“No, this was for the town. It was supposed to be something special just for them.”
Another woman might have been in tears at the obvious slight from so many. Lana kept her head high. The door opened, but instead of the rush of townsfolk that Rick kept hoping would show up, it was only one person—Zoey.
“Lana, I’m so sorry we’re late. Graham and Easton are parking the truck. I kept telling Graham we needed to get a move on, but you know how he gets when he’s carving—”
Zoey dropped off midsentence when she saw Lana sitting there. “No one came.”
“It’s fine.” With a dismissive wave of her fingers, Lana added, “More cookies for us, right?”
Settling in next to her friend, Zoey put her arm around Lana’s waist, leaning her head on Lana’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry,” she said, hugging Lana tight.
Graham strode into the room, a silent Easton at his heels. “Hey, L, sorry we’re late. I’m sure Zo blamed it on me, but it was totally her fault.” Pausing, he glanced around in confusion, then his eyes softened in sympathy. “Damn.”
“It really is fine,” she said.
Easton’s frown was directed at the room, then to Rick’s surprise, he went to Lana and hugged her. “Sorry, people suck sometimes. Ash is working right now, or she’d be here too.”
“What’s happening?” Lana asked from behind the bulk of Easton’s shoulders, voice muffled.
“You’re getting an Easton hug,” Zoey told her. “It’s kind of like being hugged by Jason Momoa, isn’t it?”
Now, Rick didn’t mind for one second that his friends were giving Lana the support she needed. But the Jason Momoa part was a little rough, especially considering his current attire. Rick tugged at his snowy white beard, wondering if he was at least half-Momoa-esque. Red was his color after all.
When Easton stepped away, Lana had the funniest expression on her face.
“This is where she dumps me, isn’t it?” Rick said to no one in particular, earning a giggle from Lana. Which was worth the smirks aimed his way by the other males in the room.
On the plus side, Easton could eat a lot of cookies. Zoey was a hard second, and Rick had to admit he wasn’t above face planting in some iced deliciousness. In support of Lana, of course. Between the group of them, they made a fair-sized dent in the treats table.
Eventually, Graham and Zoey left to do some last-minute Christmas shopping before tonight’s tournament, while Easton left to do those things that Easton did (like wander in the woods in all his overly masculine glory).
It was possible that Rick was starting to get a complex.
He wasn’t sure if he should stay or leave Lana in peace, staring out the window down the snow-covered mountainside below.
“We’re going to start cleaning up now,” Hannah told Lana quietly.
“Hmm? Oh. Yes, that’s fine. Would you be willing to gather up the food we didn’t use and see if any of the staff wants to take it home? If we have extra, please arrange to have it taken to a shelter in Anchorage. There are plenty of children who don’t have enough Christmas joy in their lives and could use a little more right now.”
Rick joined Lana at the window. “I know it’s early, but do you want to get a drink?”
Her glance down the mountain gave her away. “Why not?” Lana steeled her shoulders bravely.
“There’s a perfectly good bar several feet that way.” Rick tilted his head toward the restaurant on the far side of the lobby. “Let’s stay here for now. I don’t want to beat up every single person I meet for bailing on you today.”
He wasn’t lying. Maybe he sounded calm, but he really wasn’t. They found a place at the nearly empty bar. Apparently hiding in bars and drinking away their woes was something they liked to do together.
“So. That was a disaster.” Lana dropped her face in her hands.
He wrapped his arm around her green-velvet clad shoulders. “If it helps, I think they missed out. I took a picture of the g
ingerbread town. Never seen something like it.”
“We could go eat it if you want,” she offered.
“Nah, I’ve had my body weight in sugar cookies today.”
“You and me both. I’m sorry, Rick. You wasted a lot of time today for nothing.”
“I wouldn’t call it nothing,” Rick said.
He ordered her scotch and a beer for himself. The bartender raised an eyebrow at their outfits but otherwise stayed silent.
“You’d think he’d never seen a sexy Santa before,” Lana said.
Groaning, Rick unfastened the top button of his suit, a massive white shiny button that matched the fluffy white trim on the cuffs of his skintight sleeves.
“This is not sexy.”
Now, her elf number…that was sexy. Maybe it was her mile-long legs, but even the garishly bright red-and-green-striped tights and a pointy green hat with a bell on the end of it couldn’t hide how gorgeous she was.
He flicked the bell on her head to hear it jingle.
“That has been driving me nuts all day,” Lana said. “Is Christmas over yet?”
“No, but we’re making good progress.”
“Are you sure?” Lana tugged the fluffy white Santa beard he’d forgotten was still on his face.
Rick pulled off his beard, dropping it on the bar next to him. “That thing should be burned. It itched like crazy.”
“And yet you couldn’t take it off.” A sparkle in her eye as she teased him. “Beards look good on you.”
His own facial hair was a short stubble, and there wasn’t anything to pull when she reached over and touched his jaw with gentle fingertips. He didn’t know how to tell her that elf suits were an amazing look on her without sounding like a complete idiot. Instead, Rick allowed himself the pleasure of leaning into that smallest of touches.
The bartender returned with their drinks.
“We promise not to tip you in candy canes,” Lana told the bartender cheerfully. She twisted on her barstool and held up her glass in a toast. “To nice men who buy you a drink after an absolutely abysmal party.”
“To perverted women who make you wear spandex Santa suits against your will.”
Lana burst out laughing, a real one that made her eyes sparkle. There, that was worth whatever her scotch had cost and then some. He clinked his beer bottle to her scotch, then they took a drink in solidarity.
“I know you have the tournament to get ready for,” Lana told him. “I’ll help you set up.”
She was sweet to offer, especially when she’d had a tough day so far. Rick kissed her, a long slow kiss. “Relax. Take the rest of the afternoon off. If you don’t want to show later, I understand, but I hope you do.”
She leaned into him, nodding. “If you want me to be there, I will.”
“Always, sweetheart.” An idea suddenly occurred to him. “Hey. Do me a favor?”
“Since I did make you wear an indecent Santa suit all afternoon for only my own enjoyment, I suppose I owe you.”
“There are always kids at the pool tournament. Do you mind if I take the gingerbread town with me?”
“I’d rather someone get some use out of it than it ending up in the trash.”
So they loaded up the town as best they could in his car. The gingerbread town was large enough that he had to put half of it in his trunk. Then Rick turned to the Christmas elf at his side, drawing her into his arms.
“Lana?”
“Hmm?” She’d all but buried herself in the hug, so Rick made sure to squeeze her a little tighter.
“They’ll warm up to you.” Leaning in, he murmured into her ear, “You’re worth warming up for.”
For the first time that afternoon, her composure slipped. A brave, watery smile was the closest to tears she was going to let him see.
“Maybe not yet. But I will be.”
* * *
The Christmas party at Moose Springs Resort had been a flop. Rick’s pool tournament was anything but that.
“Wow, this place is packed.” From her shorter height, Zoey had to go up on her tiptoes, craning her head as she looked for Graham. “His truck’s outside, but I don’t see him.”
“He’s talking with Rick by the bar.”
Linking her arm through Lana’s, Zoey adjusted the glasses on her nose and led the way through the crowd. Warm greetings met her, including many chin nods and cheerful hellos. Even though Zoey had only been living there since July, she was already one of them.
Not for the first time, Lana checked the rising smudge of jealousy she felt for her friend. Zoey was able to fit into her environment in a relaxed, easy way Lana never could. Her time in Moose Springs had only made Zoey shine.
Today, Lana was feeling the lack of polish on herself keenly.
“Hey.” Rick’s solemn expression shifted into a small smile when he saw her. “Look.”
When he nodded his head to the side, Lana followed Rick’s gaze to a single pool table that wasn’t being used for the tournament. Instead, a large piece of plywood had been laid on top of the table, draped in a piece of white cloth, with her gingerbread town set in the middle. He’d put a miniature train track around the town, complete with the most adorable miniature train chugging along.
Children gathered on benches set around the table, leaning over the track and giggling when the train bumped their arms as they decorated the parts they could easily reach. One father held his son over the table so he could add a candy cane to the front of the gingerbread police building.
“You did good,” Rick told her quietly, coming up behind her. “They might not have realized it earlier, but they know who did this for their kids.”
Moved beyond the ability to speak, Lana nodded. A warm hand rested on her shoulder, squeezing it gently.
“Are you playing?” she asked him, turning.
“Naw. It’s too much to run the bar and run the tables.”
“Do you want some help?”
Rick had all the help he needed in Diego, but Lana decided to keep him company at the bar. Designating herself the pizza mistress, Lana contentedly kept the oven full and the slices coming for those who needed a snack as they played. More than once, Rick stole a moment he didn’t have to snug an arm around her, pressing a kiss to her neck.
Lana didn’t know the person who ended up winning the tournament, but she bet Rick could have beaten them. Then, because a gingerbread town was meant to be eaten, she helped Diego put the different buildings on paper plates to send them home with anyone interested, wrapped carefully in plastic wrap.
A few appreciative smiles were sent her way and even a murmured thank you or two.
“See? We’re not so bad,” Rick told her as the last of the people left.
“Just half-bad?” Lana said as she helped clean up. She and Diego had already closed the kitchen and wiped down the bar, freeing Rick to get the floors swept and mopped.
She’d never noticed Diego leaving, but she did notice that once Rick’s nephew was gone, Rick’s attention had turned a lot more to her than to the floor he was mopping.
Never had Lana wanted to grab someone by the collar and push them onto a pool table this badly. But it had been a long day, and she knew Rick had to be exhausted.
“I should probably take off,” she told him.
Rick nodded, dipping his head to press a soft kiss to her cheek. “You okay to drive in this?”
“A little snow never hurt me,” Lana said. “See you tomorrow?”
“Definitely.”
So she took her raging sex drive and tucked it into her back pocket, heading for the door, her hotel room, and a very cold shower.
“Lana, wait.”
She turned around. Even though he was leaning back like he was relaxed, Rick’s hands were gripping the edges of the pool table, his gaze locked on her as the muscles
of his arms flexed beneath his waffle shirt.
“You want to stay awhile?” His voice was quiet, huskier than normal. “Play a game?”
“Absolutely,” Lana told him. She didn’t try to hide the way her eyes were drinking him in. “But no games.”
He tilted his head. “You think I’ve been playing with you?”
“I hope not, because this is feeling dangerously real on my side of things.”
Abruptly, he pushed off from the table, straightening and striding right for her, hazel eyes flashing with desire. Instinct had her taking a step back, not from fear but to give them both more room for whatever was coming. But Rick must not have wanted room. Another step had her chest-to-chest with him. He wrapped his hands around her waist, pulling her tight to his body.
“I figured you knew by now,” Rick said. “Whatever this is…definitely isn’t a game to me.”
“Most holiday flings end with the holidays.” And then she would leave town and he would stay. Who knew when she’d be able to return? Lana ran her fingers down the side of his face, his stubble tickling her palm.
“Then maybe we’re defining this wrong,” he said in a low rumbling voice.
“Rick, I want you.” Those words were the easiest thing to admit and the absolute hardest to feel. Wanting him was killing her.
Hazel eyes grew greener in the low light of the pool hall. “The feeling is definitely mutual.”
“Yeah?” Her words came out soft, her breath a cloud of mist in the space between them. A strong hand rested carefully on her hip.
A shudder rolled through him, his hands sliding down to squeeze her backside, pulling her tight to his body.
This time, his breath tickled along Lana’s throat, warm in her ear.
“Trust me, sweetheart, I want you so much, it’s making my head spin.”
Unable to wait anymore, she pulled his face down to hers.
The moment his lips were against hers, it was like inhaling oxygen for the first time. But like oxygen rushing toward too much heat, it burst into flame. Her very skin burned beneath his hands.
This was what she’d never felt before, this instant all-consuming desire. All she could do was swallow the flames, letting them burn her from the inside out.
Mistletoe and Mr. Right Page 25