A CHRISTMAS COLLECTION

by Wilton, Patrice

  Ally returned to the hotel room, but slept little that night. She called her parents room in the morning and told them she was going out.

  At ten a.m. Ally strode into the police station. She smiled at Finn, and asked him if he’d mind giving her and Ian a few minutes alone.

  “Not at all, Ally. I’ll just go fill up with gas, and get us some takeout for lunch. We were just talking about Chinese food, weren’t we, Chief?”

  Ian glanced at Finn, and jerked his head. Finn took that as his clue to leave, and hurried off.

  “So what brings you here?” he asked.

  She smiled brightly and stepped over to his desk. “You had something you wanted to say yesterday and I wondered what it was.”

  “Nothing. Not important. At least not anymore.”

  “I still want to know.” She moved a pad of paper and hitched her bottom on the top of his desk. “Ian. If I leave without knowing, it might bother me for some time.”

  “Why would it? You’d be gone, starting over a brand new life. You wouldn’t give me two thoughts.”

  “I’d give you more than two.” Her eyes held his.

  “What do you want, Ally?”

  “Do you still have that ring?” She leaned back a little on the desk and crossed her legs. She was wearing a winter coat so she couldn’t hope for the sexy pose, but casual might work just as well.

  “Yeah. Haven’t had time to take it back.” He shrugged, “Will when I get around to it.”

  “Can I see it? Is it here?”

  “Why? You want to buy it?” He glared at her, but she didn’t back down. She was on a mission, and by damn she’d see it through.

  “Of course not. But it did occur to me that I was rude. Shocked by your proposal and didn’t handle it well.” She unbuttoned her coat, and slipped it off her shoulders.

  “It’s fine. You said what you felt and that’s good with me.” He tilted back his chair and folded his hands behind his head. Playing it cool, she noticed, determined to press on.

  “No, I didn’t. I said what I thought you wanted to hear. I was letting you off the hook. Like you—trying to send me away.” She licked her bottom lip. “You didn’t really want me to go, did you?” Her eyes roamed over his face, trying to identify every emotion she knew. Did he love her or not? “You were saying that because you only wanted the best for me. Right?”

  “That much is true,” he conceded, not looking at her.

  “Well, I happen to love it here. I don’t want to go home and live with my parents and see all the old places I used to know. I can always visit, but I don’t need or want to live there anymore.”

  “So why do you want to see the ring?” His voice thickened. “You think now you can just say, ‘hey, I decided to stay. Let’s get married’?” He got up off his chair. “Doesn’t work that way.”

  “How does it work?” She slid off the table and stood inches from him. Her heart was racing, her insides doing cartwheels. Her future depended very much on his answer.

  He glowered down at her. “It doesn’t.”

  “That’s your answer?” Her chin rose. “I need to know something and you have to tell me the truth. Please? It’s important.”

  “Sure.” His jaw was set. His face giving away nothing. “Whatever.”

  “Did you mean the proposal? Or was it your guilt talking?” She looked him in the eyes, and held her breath.

  “Ally…”

  “Yes?” She swallowed back tears. He didn’t want her. It was just him doing the gentlemanly thing—or so he’d thought. Obviously now he’d had time to reconsider.

  His mouth opened and she put a finger on his lips. “Don’t bother, Ian. I know you didn’t mean it, and it’s okay. I can’t blame you for that.”

  “But that’s where you’re wrong.” He put his two hands on her arms and his face was inches from hers. “I did mean it. Still do. But I know I’m too old. I have nothing to offer a smart girl like you.”

  “Be clear for once! You meant it? You wanted to marry me?”

  He nodded, and she could feel his heart pounding next to hers.

  “It’s ridiculous,” he said, looking away. “You can do so much better.”

  “Wait a darn minute. I’m so tired of hearing what you think I can or can’t do.” Her head snapped back and she grabbed his face so he’d have to look at her. “You told me I could do anything, be anything I want. And you’re right. I want to have a chance to know you better. Maybe someday, I could be the next Mrs. Brown.”

  His eyes lit within, and the sexy smile she loved slid over his face. He sidled up to her. “You do? So I should keep the ring? Hold on to it for awhile?”

  “Yes. That’s right. And a woman like me always gets what she wants.” She closed his office door. “Starting now.”

  She moved into his arms, and kissed him softly. He took it deeper, and kissed her breathless. She put a hand on his chest, sucking in air. “So, Ian Brown, you got anything else you’d like to say?”

  He looked at her, his eyes full of love. “I’m the luckiest man in Heaven. I love you, Ally. Not sure how it happened, but it did just the same.”

  “I love you too,” she whispered and snuggled against him. “I’m so glad we got that settled. I will never let you push me away again.” Her hands went around his neck. “I still have an hour before I need to go to work. You want to go back to your place and get naked with me?”

  He chuckled. “Now that’s a proposal that is hard to refuse.”

  Finn came in the front door, just as they were leaving, arm in arm.

  “Where are you both off to?”

  “Some place we intend to spend a lot of time together,” she answered. “A place we both can call home.”

  THE END

  KISS ME SANTA

  Patrice Wilton

  ACKNOWLEDGMENT

  I would like to thank Community Authors, and in particular my editor, Traci Hall for doing a wonderful editing job, and constantly brainstorming with me. A special thanks to my beloved, Ralph, for his patience when I’m constantly obsessing over my book, and lastly, love to all my family, and hugs and kisses to my darling grandchildren.

  CHAPTER ONE

  “Oh, look, Tyler. There’s Santa. See all the kids lined up? Wouldn’t you like your picture taken with him?”

  Cindy Harris held her five-year-old son’s hand, his chubby little fingers sticky from the candy cane set alongside his hot chocolate a few minutes ago. Tyler’s enjoyment of the sweet peppermint was worth a temporary sugar high, but between that and the chaos of the mall, his mood bordered on testy.

  Quaker Bridge Mall was crowded, as expected the first week of December. The beautifully decorated tree—and the winter wonderland that housed Santa and his helpers—had been up since Thanksgiving, but this was the first time she’d brought Tyler shopping.

  “Wow. Is that really Santa?” he asked. “How did he get here? Where are the reindeers? Can I feed them?” He looked up at her, excitement shining in his eyes.

  “I think he left the reindeers in the North Pole,” Cindy said, automatically playing along. “They’re resting up for the long journey ahead.”

  “But how did he get here?” Tyler questioned. “Can he fly like Superman?” He jumped up and down. “I want a Superman costume so I can fly around all over the place. I could fly up to Heaven and see Daddy.”

  Cindy swallowed a lump in her throat. “That’s a real long way to fly, honey. Even Superman would have trouble with that one.”

  “What about Santa? I bet he could zoom through the sky and get there in no time.” He yanked at her hand.

  She laughed. “Why don’t we get in line and then you can ask him?” Her plan was to get Tyler’s picture with Santa Claus, then grab dinner and finish shopping—home by eight, so they could unwind from a long week.

  “Okay.” He ran the extra few steps while she followed more slowly, wondering what this fascination with his daddy was all about. Only three-and-a-half when his father had b
een killed by a drunk driver fifteen months ago, she’d kept David alive for Tyler through pictures and stories. His grandparents also were happy to answer any questions that Tyler had about the father he’d lost—their much loved son.

  Still, it seemed lately that Tyler wouldn’t let the subject go.

  Although her grief had marginally lessoned, she still clearly remembered trying to make it through the holidays last year without her husband at her side. The pretense had been unbearable. Smiling, pretending everything was all right, when inside she was dying and knew that nothing would ever be the same again.

  Cindy put her hand on her son’s shoulder as they stood in line with the other thirty or forty excited children and their parents. She smiled at a few of the mothers and glanced with a touch of envy as fathers played with their kids and lifted them high upon their shoulders so they could see Santa and his little helpers.

  Elves happily chatted with the children in line, creating excitement and a make-believe-world.

  Cindy lived in a make-believe-world, a daily pretense that everything was fine. That bubble was the only protection she had from the heart-breaking reality that Tyler’s dad, her beloved husband would never see his child grow up, or marry, or become a father himself. Would the pain ever go away completely?

  They inched closer to Santa. “So what do you want this year?” she asked her son, knowing that he had every toy a child could imagine, and then some. His grandparents and aunts loved nothing better than buying him stuff. It was as if filling up his bedroom with hundreds of “things” could distract him from the hundreds of nights without his daddy’s hugs and kisses.

  “I want uh…uh…a pony. And riding lessons. And boots.”

  She’d taken him for some riding lessons this past summer, and though he’d enjoyed it the cost was too prohibitive to do on a regular basis. “We’ve talked about that, sweetheart. It’s something we can do as a special treat. Like hot chocolate and a candy cane, it’s fine in small doses.” And better suited to her tight budget.

  “I want a pony.” He kicked at the ground, scuffing his new sneakers.

  “Honey, don’t do that.” She frowned. As a teacher, she expected good behavior, with or without reward, and discipline hadn’t been necessary until lately. Tyler’s disposition used to be sweet as they come. “We’ll be seeing Santa in a few minutes. Won’t that be fun?”

  “I’m telling him I want a pony for Christmas,” he stated, glancing at her before turning back to Santa. “He’ll get me one. Just wait and see.”

  “We don’t have room for a pony. How about a new hockey stick?” Cindy kept her tone light. Even if she wasn’t squeezing pennies, a horse—big or little, wouldn’t be on her shopping list. They were going to sell their family home. Downsize to a townhouse, not a farmyard.

  His jaw set. “I want Daddy to come back. He can be my present.”

  Cindy bit her lip and fought back a sting of tears. She knew Tyler was upset because some mean kids had teased him at school. He was angry and frustrated, not understanding why he had to be different. Why had his father been taken away? he’d asked her more than once. She wished she had had answers, instead of only empty words of comfort.

  “Tyler, I wish it were that simple.” She hadn’t even dated anybody in the year and a half since David passed away. It felt too soon, and she had yet to meet a guy that held a candle to the one she’d lost.

  The line grew smaller and they could now see Santa. Cindy thought he was a pathetic looking Santa, to be sure. He was too thin, for one thing. Couldn’t he have stuffed himself with a pillow or something? His hat was askew, and his face, even behind the big white beard, looked far too youthful. Guy was probably only in his thirties or so. Although small compared to some, surely this New Jersey mall could afford the picture-perfect Santa for all the youngsters that climbed in his lap each day. This one didn’t fit the bill. Not at all.

  She pinched her nose, feeling a slight headache coming on. The shopping, the pretense, and the whole holiday spirit was suddenly too hard to handle and Cindy felt as grumpy as Tyler. Hum-bug with the whole holiday thing! If she had her way, Christmas would be cancelled this year and for many more to come.

  Carols played merrily throughout the mall, and the window shops were decorated festively. Fake snow was heaped around Santa’s chair, as well as big, pretty presents under the giant tree. Yet, all the Santas and all the glitter in the world couldn’t make hers, or her son’s, holiday bright.

  “Merry Christmas,” Santa boomed, beckoning Tyler. “Come tell Santa what you want for Christmas.”

  Tyler held on to her hand a little tighter. “Do I have to go, Mommy? Do I?”

  “Well, we did wait twenty minutes. Just speak to him for a second. I’ll be right beside you.” One good picture for the mantle and they could hit the food court.

  “Okay, Mom.” His eyes brightened. “Maybe he can bring me what I want most in the world!”

  Sadly, she smiled. “Ask for a toboggan sled. Wouldn’t that be a nice thing for the two of us? We have several big hills right behind our place.”

  Tyler stepped forward and when he got in front of Santa, he spoke in a quiet, hesitant voice. “I want a new daddy. Can you get me one? Please?”

  Santa glanced from her son’s face to Cindy’s, and she felt her cheeks grow warm. He gave a big false laugh, and patted his bony knee. “Come. Sit. Think about a great new toy. I came all the way from the North Pole to give you something special.”

  “I don’t want a toy. Just a daddy.” Tyler lifted his eyes and looked at Santa. “He’s in Heaven. Is that near the North Pole?”

  Cindy blinked back tears, and put a hand to her mouth. Her poor, poor son. She was tempted to pick Tyler up, and run away from Santa and the crowds. Instead, she stood frozen. Desperate for Santa to say something, and make everything right.

  He shifted his weight, and looked from one unhappy face to the other. “It’s a thousand miles away, at least.”

  Tyler seemed to consider this. “That’s far, but if you’re really Santa and I’m a good boy, can’t I have anything I want? Anything at all?”

  “That’s what I do best. Deliver presents to kids all over the world. Not the bad ones though. Only good children get presents, right? So, what’s it going to be? I bet you have a big list. Trucks, a Wie game, an I-Pad?”

  “I want my daddy to leave Heaven and come back home.”

  Santa shot Cindy another glance from beneath bushy white eyebrows. “Well, you see, I don’t exactly bring daddies back. That’s out of my jurisdiction. I make toys. That’s my business. So you tell me what kind of toy you want, and I’ll make sure you get it. Deal?”

  “No deal.” Tyler’s body stiffened. “I have ’nuf toys. All I want is a real live pony, or my daddy.”

  Cindy stepped in, hoping to avoid a melt-down. “Tyler. What about that sled we talked about?”

  “A sled is a great present. Or how about an electric car? Very cool.” Santa shook his head. “No ponies or daddies, I’m afraid.”

  Tyler reached out and pulled hard on Santa’s beard. It came off in his hand, surprising Cindy, Santa and Tyler. Her son’s cheeks turned red. “You’re not Santa. You’re a fake. I hate you!”

  Santa grabbed his beard and stuck it back on. “And you’re a little…a little…”

  “Boy,” Cindy finished for him. Had he just about cussed at her son? This Santa needed to grow some real whiskers and get some training. Temples pounding, she took Tyler by the arm. “Let’s go, honey.”

  Tyler started to sob, liquid drops of sadness running down his flushed cheeks. “I want a daddy. And you won’t give me one,” he shouted at Santa. “I hate you, I hate you. You’re a big meanie.”

  “Listen kid,” Santa said, leaning forward. “You just can’t pull on Santa’s beard and expect presents. Especially ones they can’t deliver. Doesn’t happen.”

  Tyler’s tears broke Cindy’s heart, and his temper the last of her patience. It was easier to blame San
ta than the sugar high, or the cruel fate that had robbed them of their family.

  Cindy shot Santa a withering look. “He’s right. You are a big meanie. The boy wants his father, and he should have him.” With that, she grabbed Tyler’s hand and stomped off.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Brad Williams watched the pretty mother with the unhappy kid storm away, and gave a long weary sigh. He hadn’t handled the situation very well, and had come close to cursing the small boy.

  The female photographer caught his eye and shrugged. He had no excuse, except that he was tired, grumpy, up-to-his-ears with this Santa gig, and furious with his brother for putting him here.

  Everything these days was Regan’s fault. If his brother hadn’t enlisted in the Army and gone off to join the Freedom fight in Iraq, he’d be working somewhere, maybe in law enforcement or at a nice white-collar job, and have a home of his own. Maybe a wife and kids too. Instead Regan was holed up with him in his modest two-bedroom apartment, taking jobs here and there that only lasted a few weeks at most.

  Regan wouldn’t even be a store Santa for a three-week gig, if Brad hadn’t gotten him this job. But had his brother shown some appreciation by keeping himself under control? Hell no. He’d gone and got wasted again last night and refused to wake up this morning. Brad, in an effort to save Regan’s ass, called his client’s and cancelled the real estate appointments set up for the day.

  Hell’s bells. Now he was wearing a Santa suit, and a scraggly old beard that scratched his freshly shaved jaw, and his joints were killing him from sitting too long. He didn’t have war wounds like his brother, but he’d been a marathon runner for years and his knees were now telling him what a mistake that had been. Heck, he was only thirty-five, yet today felt ninety.

  The fifty or sixty kids jumping up in his lap all day hadn’t done them any favors either, but that didn’t excuse the fact he’d lost it with the kid. And now he was sorry, but what’s a sorry Santa to do?