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

by Kylie Gilmore

  Santa’s voice went low and husky. "I'll see what I can do."

  Her eyes flew to his, and she took a good look at the guy she’d just spilled her guts to. He smiled, and her hand went to her throat. This man didn’t have wrinkles, pasty white skin, and blue eyes. This wasn't Harold! This was someone much younger with caramel skin and brown eyes behind those spectacles.

  Santa was coming on to her!

  She leaped off his lap and jabbed a finger at him. "You're Santa. You can't pick up women. You're married to Mrs. Claus."

  Dear Lord, what had she just told this complete stranger? Her cheeks burned.

  The Santa-Harold imposter stood and raised his palms. "I'm off duty. You want to get a cup of coffee?"

  She whirled and hurried over to her niece. "Come on, Gabriella, we're going."

  "Bye, Santa!" Gabriella called. "Merry Christmas!"

  "Ho-ho-ho, Merry Christmas, Gabriella! I'll make sure the elves know about your Christmas wish and yours too, Samantha!”

  She froze. Omigod. He knew her name. She’d never said her name. And that voice. Her mind quickly put the pieces together, that beautiful caramel skin, the brown eyes. It was her horrible blind date—Rico.

  She took Gabriella's hand and speedwalked to the parking lot. Samantha had never been so embarrassed in her life. She buckled her niece in, muttering to herself about the nerve of some guys.

  They drove home, and Samantha prayed she never, ever ran into that Harold imposter again.

  Chapter Four

  Rico went straight to the locker room and peeled off the Santa suit he'd taken a sauna in all morning. The experience had gone from okay to flat-out horny with the curvy, beautiful Samantha dropping into his lap and sharing her dreams with him. Women didn’t usually confide their dreams to him. Probably because he never spent much time talking to the ladies. He preferred physical action. But Samantha’s confession intrigued him.

  She was a romantic at heart. So was he. He’d written twenty ballads all about love on his guitar. That might be something she’d be interested in if he could convince her to see him again. He grabbed the Santa outfit and headed for his truck.

  A short drive later, he stopped at Harold’s apartment to drop off the Santa duds. His daughter answered the door.

  “You should take this to the dry cleaner,” Rico said. “I sweated off ten pounds in there.”

  She nodded. “How did it go?”

  “Not so bad,” he said, thinking of Samantha. “Actually, it turned out pretty good.”

  “We really appreciate you stepping in. Thank you so much. My dad will be very happy to hear it.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “Merry Christmas, Rico,” she said.

  He smiled, actually feeling in the Christmas spirit even though it was still three weeks away. “Merry Christmas.”

  He headed to his apartment. After a shower and a late lunch, he thought again of Samantha. He wanted to see her again. He wanted to make her Christmas wish come true. If Santa didn’t, who would? He thought for a minute. Should he call and ask her out or just show up?

  He grabbed his keys. Definitely show up. Prince Charming would ride up on his white horse and wow her in person. He got into his white Dodge Ram, at least the color was right. And it was a ram. Close enough. He stopped at a florist and bought a dozen roses.

  As he drove, he came up with a plan of action. This was his second chance, and he wasn’t gonna blow it. He had the flowers. Unfortunately, his only idea for a poem was: You’re beautiful, and I want you. That was probably too spot-on. He wasn’t so good with poetry. What else had she told him she wished for? Holding hands while doing stuff. He could do that. He’d take her ice skating, and they’d hold hands, then he’d take her to dinner and finish the night at his place with a serenade on his guitar. She did mention a serenade. Lucky for her, he was a singer-songwriter.

  A short while later, he pulled into the Dixons’ driveway and took a deep breath, hoping Samantha would be nicer after their little talk. He wouldn’t compliment her. He’d just do all that stuff she told him about. Now that he wasn’t wearing the big red suit, he could properly charm her. That suit had set him back a bit. What girl wanted a guy in a velvet suit with a huge belly full of jelly?

  Her house was decorated now with white icicle lights along the roofline, red bows on the lampposts, and a wreath on the door. He should get a tree or something for his place. He usually spent Christmas either with Trav’s family or, every other year, with his family at his sister Elena’s house. His family was all spread out. His parents had moved back to Puerto Rico, Maria was in Virginia, and Elena in Florida. They alternated getting together every other year, so his sisters could also spend Christmas with their husband’s families. This year he’d be in Connecticut.

  He rang the bell, holding the flowers behind his back. Samantha answered. He let out a breath of relief. He really didn’t want to explain what he was doing here to her parents. They’d be on the phone with his mother in a heartbeat, and he didn’t want to get into all that. He was here despite his mother, not because of her.

  Her eyes widened, and she looked around the yard behind him like he had his reindeer stashed somewhere. “What are you doing here?”

  “I want to make your romantic dreams come true,” he said in all sincerity.

  Her cheeks turned a pretty shade of pink. She covered her face with her hands and groaned. “I never should’ve told you all that stuff.”

  “I’m glad you did. No one’s ever told me their dreams before. I want to make yours come true.”

  She dropped her hands and narrowed her eyes. “Why?”

  “I find you intriguing.”

  “Intriguing,” she echoed.

  “Yes.” He produced the roses with a flourish. “For you.”

  “Oh!” She reached for them and buried her face in them, closing her eyes and breathing them in.

  He got hard just watching her. This Prince Charming stuff was really working on her. And to think if he hadn’t played Santa, he never would’ve known. He sent a silent thank you to Harold.

  “They’re wonderful!” She met his eyes and smiled softly. His heart did an uncomfortable flip-flop. “Let me put them in a vase, and I’ll be right back.”

  “I’ll be here.”

  ~ ~ ~

  Samantha went inside, the roses clutched in her hand, feeling an odd combination of excited and wary. She loved the flowers, she’d only been given roses a few times, but she was still wary of Rico. He was a total player. Never mind the fact she was still mortified over what she’d confessed to him earlier.

  She sighed. She should tell him thank you but she wasn’t interested. It just wasn’t worth falling for another player. The last thing she needed was to be one of a long line of women in Rico’s life.

  She pulled a vase out of the top kitchen cabinet and heard her mother gasp behind her.

  “What is this?” her mother exclaimed, rushing forward to where Samantha had left the roses on the counter. She scooped them up and breathed them in just like Samantha had.

  “Rico brought me roses. He’s out front.”

  “Where are your manners, Sam? Leaving a man out in the cold.”

  Her mother set the roses on the counter and turned to let him in, but Samantha grabbed her arm. “Ma, please. Just leave this to me.”

  She planted her hands on her hips. “What are you going to do?”

  Samantha filled the vase with water, unsure how to answer.

  “He must really like you. Of course you should go out with him again.” Her mother grabbed the roses. “Shoo. I’ll take care of this. Go to him.”

  Samantha didn’t move. “I think I’m going to tell him to leave. I don’t want to encourage him.”

  “Of course you do. You must encourage him, or he won’t return.” She arranged the flowers in the vase with a big smile. “I told you it’s all arranged. He’s doing his part, and now it’s time for you to do your part.”

  S
amantha gritted her teeth. Again with the arranged marriage stuff?

  “Ma, I have no idea what he’s doing here again.” Other than my mortifying confession that I wish my very own Prince Charming would bring me roses. “But I’m pretty sure he’s not here because his mother told him to do his part.”

  “Fine. Don’t see him.” She waved her hand toward the door. “Leave him out in the cold. Just don’t come crying to me when you’re single and alone at forty.”

  She winced. That hit her where it hurt. Forty was a good ten years away, but still. Ouch.

  Then her mother nailed her point home. “You and me, we will enjoy our old age together watching Dancing with the Stars.”

  “Okay, fine, I’ll give him another chance!” Samantha exclaimed.

  Her mother nodded. “You will thank me for this.”

  Samantha turned, rolled her eyes when she knew her mother couldn’t see it, and went to the door.

  ~ ~ ~

  Rico rocked back and forth on his heels on the front porch and reminded himself not to compliment Samantha, even though she was so, so beautiful. Of course he thought all the women he slept with were beautiful. He loved women, period. Nothing was more beautiful than the female body with all its soft curves.

  She popped back on the porch and smiled. It dazzled him, that smile. She was even more beautiful when she smiled. His mouth went dry, and his heart did another weird flip-flop. Maybe he was dehydrated from all that sweating. His heart had never felt so weird before.

  “What do you want to do?” she asked.

  He cleared his throat. “I thought we’d go ice skating, then dinner, then back to my place for some music. I play the guitar.”

  “Sounds wonderful,” she said in a dreamy voice.

  He kinda knew how she felt. Now that she was smiling at him, his brain was a little fuzzy and his heart kept doing these weird palpitations. He hoped he wasn’t getting a heart attack for Christmas.

  He extended his arm and gallantly walked her to his white ram.

  ~ ~ ~

  All of Samantha’s embarrassment over confessing her romantic dreams to Rico vanished that afternoon when he made them come true. She should’ve confessed what she really wanted to the guys in her past. He was positively princely, and she was loving it. When they got on the ice at the outdoor rink in town, he took her hand. And she felt it, even through their gloved hands, a zing that shot up her arm and made her warm all over despite the cold winter air. They skated past other couples and families while cheerful Christmas music played in the background. Just outside of the rink stood a large pine tree wrapped in multicolored lights. It was the perfect holiday scene. One time she took a turn too fast and fell, and Rico scooped her up and made sure she was steady. And when he returned their rented skates, he came back holding a candy cane he’d bought for her. Swoon!

  It was just like being in her very own rom-com, minus the embarrassing comedy stuff. Now he was taking her to her favorite Chinese restaurant. They settled at a table covered in a white tablecloth and snacked on fried noodles while they waited for their food to arrive.

  “So how does Prince Charming act romantic at dinner?” he asked with a smile. “I’m new to all this.”

  That smile was amazing. She forgave him for being too good-looking because she was enjoying his transformation into Prince Charming so much.

  She smiled back. “We hold hands and have quiet, intimate conversation.”

  He reached across the table and held her hand. His hand was rough and calloused and warm. Her insides melted thinking of those rough, calloused hands on her body.

  “What kind of work do you do?” she asked.

  “Your mother didn’t hand you my résumé?”

  She laughed. “I tuned her out.”

  He grinned. “I’m crew chief at a landscape design company. I make sure the crew gets their work done, and I help with the work too. Mowing, excavation, planting, sometimes we’ll do some hardscaping. You know, sidewalks, patios, retaining walls. Stuff like that.”

  She turned his palm and rubbed her thumb across it. “I could tell you work with your hands.”

  He raised a brow. “You like that.”

  She smiled. “Maybe.”

  Their food arrived, and she released his hand. As they ate, she told him about her work as a graphic designer and found him to be extremely attentive. She told him about her hobby painting with acrylics and how she wished she could make a living at it. She marveled over the changes in him. The first time they’d gone out, she hadn’t found him to be all that attentive. Now she felt like everything she said was gold. Was this all a dream? She couldn’t believe the change in him just because she’d spilled her guts when he was Santa. She felt flushed and giddy as they talked easily about their families and their crazy mothers.

  They finished their dinner, and Rico paid, leaving a generous tip. He was even a good tipper. She’d worked as a waitress through college and knew how wonderful that really was. He took her hand and walked her to his truck, where he did that whole gallant gentleman thing again, opening her door and shutting it behind her.

  He turned the ignition, blasting the heat, and turned to her. “My place?”

  Her heart started pounding. It was a little early to sleep with him. On the other hand, it was technically a second date. And she wanted him. “Um…”

  He tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “I want to serenade you.”

  She smiled dreamily. “I would love that.”

  He smiled. “Good.”

  He pulled out of the parking lot. She breathed deep of his musky scent and looked her fill while his attention was on the road. She wanted to run her hand over the stubble on his jaw, feel it rough against her when they kissed. And they would kiss good night this time.

  They drove back to his place while Samantha marveled over this new side of him—sweet, attentive, romantic. Maybe this was why her mother thought they would be a good match. She immediately forgave her mother for her matchmaking. She felt giddy. She couldn’t wait to hear her first ever serenade.

  Chapter Five

  Rico was really digging how well all this Prince Charming stuff was working out for him. He wished someone had clued him in earlier. Here he was with the beautiful Samantha, about to get lucky on their second date. Not that he hadn’t done that before. Hell, most of his first dates ended up in his bed, but he suspected Samantha normally took a few more dates than that. She couldn’t resist his newly romantic ways.

  He poured them both a glass of wine—he had a cabinet full of white wine for just such an occasion—and joined her on the sofa.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  “You’re welcome.” He didn’t touch her. That was part of his seduction routine. He waited until they were loosened up from the wine before making his move—a kiss that started at the neck and ended against the wall. He took a sip of wine and got his acoustic guitar from its case where it sat in the corner of the living room.

  He returned to her and tuned it. Women loved his guitar. It was why he’d learned to play in high school. No need to chase the ladies once he pulled this bad boy out. They flocked to him. He strummed a few notes and looked over at her. “I write all my own songs.”

  Her eyes widened. “You do? Wow! I can’t wait to hear them.” She tucked her leg under her and settled back to listen.

  Already loosening up. Excellent. He wouldn’t have to play his full repertoire. Maybe three songs and he’d make his move.

  He launched into the first ballad, “Mi Corazon Roto.” In English, “My Broken Heart.” He sang in Spanish because he felt in Spanish. Also, it impressed the hell out of women. They found the foreign language sexy. He let his voice rise and fall tenderly over the words that built into the achingly beautiful chorus. He glanced half-hooded eyes over to see how much his serenade was rocking Samantha’s world.

  She blinked rapidly like she was fighting back tears. Was she that moved by the music? Cool. He kept going.

  He�
��d nearly finished the song when she held up her hand. “Callate la boca.”

  He stopped playing. Que? Did she just tell him to shut his mouth?

  “What did you just say?” he asked.

  She set her wine down and pointed at him. “You stop right there, you-you player!”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Mi corazon roto,” she spat. “Oh, boo-hoo-hoo. I don’t want to hear one more word about your beautiful blond sweetheart that got away.”

  His jaw dropped. “You speak Spanish?”

  That set her off. She let him have it in Spanish. Didn’t he know anything about her? Didn’t he know her mother was from Mexico through the Latina grapevine that got them together in the first place? How dare he bring her here and try to seduce her with songs about another woman!

  He set his guitar aside and crossed to her, ready to apologize, but she was still coming at him, jabbing him in the chest. Somehow the Spanish made it worse. Like she was under his skin speaking his language. She didn’t look Mexican. Sure, she had dark brown hair and dark brown eyes, but her skin was so light. She must take after her father.

  She finally finished.

  They stared at each other.

  “Samantha,” he started.

  She blew out a breath. “Just take me home.”

  He wished he could start over with a different song, but truthfully, all his songs were about Jamie. It was his one true heartbreak. But that was fifteen years ago. He’d seen Jamie at their ten-year high school reunion, and she was married with three kids. And hadn’t that backfired on him, going into that reunion all hopeful and shit, thinking after all this time they might pick up where they’d left off. He pushed thoughts of Jamie away. That part of his life was done. And Samantha was the first woman he’d thought of as more than a quick lay in a very long time.

  “Samantha, I’m sorry. It was just a song. Jamie doesn’t mean anything to me anymore.”