I'm Your Santa

by Castell, Dianne

But, oh so delicious.

  She went inside the house and grabbed her purse. Once she was in the car, she hit the button that lowered the window as she drove to the shop that Kathy’s brother owned. Cold air swept inside sending a chilly shiver down her spine. It might’ve cooled her body but not her mind.

  Damn, she was lusting after a preacher. She was going to hell for sure. At the very least, Santa would be putting coal in her stocking this year.

  She turned the corner and pulled into the driveway. Albert must’ve been watching for her because he hurried out and climbed into the car.

  “Hi, kiddo. It’s getting colder out there.”

  Some of her anxiety was swept away by his comment. He was exactly two years and twenty-eight days younger, but he still treated her like a favored little sister.

  “Hi. Thanks for doing this,” she said.

  He looked at her as if she’d just lost her mind. “You’re joking right? I mean, this is a Harley we’re talking about.”

  She grinned as she headed for the burger joint. “Yeah, I know. I’d have loved to take it home but if Wade found out all hell would’ve broken loose.”

  “That, and the fact you’ve never driven a motorcycle.”

  She was silent. Lying didn’t sit well with her.

  “When?” he asked with more than a little speculation.

  “College,” she finally said, breaking her silence. “A boyfriend. It wasn’t a Harley but it was a pretty cool bike.” She shrugged. “Only 250cc but it was enough power to give me a buzz. Unfortunately, the boyfriend didn’t. We broke up, and Mathew and the motorcycle went their own way.” It’d been nice while it lasted—the bike, not the boyfriend.

  “If I’d known that’s all it would take to get a date I would’ve let you ride my bike a long time ago.” He frowned. “Course, then I’d have to put up with…” He lowered his voice. “The Wrath of Wade.”

  She chuckled at his dramatics.

  “Nah, you’re sexy and all, but not worth facing your brother. I have something against dying young, and I’m afraid Wade might just kill me.”

  She sighed when the truth of what he said hit her. “Unfortunately, that’s been the problem all my life. Everyone is afraid of my brother.”

  “He is the sheriff.”

  “So?”

  “Does he know you have a guy living with you?”

  She rolled her eyes. “He’s not living with me. He’s staying in my guesthouse. Besides, I’m sure Wade will check him out.”

  She pulled to a stop in front of the burger shop and let Albert out.

  “I’ll meet you at my house.”

  She made a U-turn and headed home. Just the thought of seeing Trey again sent goose bumps over her. That is, until she turned the corner that led to her house and saw the squad car parked in front.

  “Great.” She pulled in the driveway. As she got out of her car, Wade was leaving the guesthouse. “Excuse me? What exactly were you doing?”

  “Making sure my baby sister is safe.”

  “And?”

  “He checked out. He seems okay.”

  “And?”

  “I warned him if he hurt you in any way that I’d hunt him down and he’d wish he’d never heard the name Tanner.”

  She really loved her brother—most of the time. “If you ever want me to get married then you have to stop threatening the men in my life.”

  “Is he in your life?” He raised an eyebrow, studying her.

  “No, and I’m not a prisoner. You’re not allowed to give me the third degree.”

  “Yeah, I am, because I’m your brother. Besides, I saw his bum foot. You could outrun him.”

  She ignored her brother’s comments as Albert roared up on the Harley, pulling beside Bailey’s car.

  “Sweet.” Albert turned off the engine and climbed off, stroking one hand down the body of the bike.

  Wade stepped closer, nodding his head. “She’s beautiful.”

  “If you like motorcycles so much, then why didn’t you let me get one?”

  “Women don’t belong on a cycle,” Wade explained, his gaze still on the bike. “Too dangerous.”

  “Yeah, well don’t tell Cody that.” Cody was married to Wade’s best friend, Josh. Cody had an old Harley she’d actually helped restore. She was also a bounty hunter. No, Bailey had a feeling brother dear wouldn’t say a word to Cody. She might just kick his butt.

  “Cody is different,” he finally said.

  “I refuse to argue the point.” She walked over and reached inside one of the saddlebags, didn’t find what she was looking for so dug around in the other one until she felt the Bible and pulled it out. She grabbed the suitcase strapped to the back. “Trey asked for his Bible. You should’ve trusted my instincts. I know a fraud when I meet one.”

  “Come on, Albert. I’ll give you a ride home.” Wade looked at Bailey, then walked over and dropped a kiss on top of her head. She was five seven but he still towered over her. “I don’t care that this guy checked out. If you need me, I can be here in less than five.”

  It was something that he didn’t boot Trey out on his butt. Wade was loosening his hold. She could probably thank Fallon for that. Wade had mellowed since he’d married.

  “You’re on speed dial. No worries.” She gave him a quick hug and stepped back.

  She clutched the worn Bible as she watched them drive away in the patrol car. A slow smile curved her lips. Her brother was sweet—when he wasn’t being an ass, that is.

  She turned and sauntered toward the guesthouse. When she reached it, she tapped softly on the door.

  “Come in.”

  Her pulse sped up as she opened the door and stepped inside, setting his suitcase just inside the door. You’d think she’d never been around a man before. But when she looked at him, she knew she’d never been around a man who made her feel like Trey made her feel.

  “Aw, you brought my Bible. Thanks.”

  Bible? Bible! She was squashing it against her chest. She quickly handed it to him.

  He stroked it lovingly. “We’ve been together for a long time,” he said softly.

  She pulled a chair close and sat. “What’s your favorite verse?”

  He looked startled. “Why, all of them,” he finally said.

  Of course. What a dumb question. He was a preacher. He wouldn’t have just one favorite. “How long have you been a preacher?” she asked.

  He hesitated. “I think some people are born to walk with God,” he said reverently.

  “And your parents? I bet they’re very proud of you.”

  His head lowered. Oh, hell, when would she learn not to ask personal questions? “I’m sorry…”

  He raised his head, meeting her gaze. His eyes sparkled with unshed tears. “They died when I was young—seven. A car wreck.” He drew in a shaky breath. “I was raised in an orphanage.”

  Her heart began to break for the poor little boy. “No one adopted…”

  He shook his head. “I had a speech problem. I stuttered. I was passed over. No one seemed to want a child who wasn’t perfect.”

  She bit her bottom lip, crying on the inside for the child he used to be.

  “It wasn’t so bad,” he told her. “The woman who ran the place told me there was a higher power who would always love me. To Him I was perfect.”

  She stood and knelt beside the bed, bringing his hand to her chest. “I’m so, so sorry.” She couldn’t help herself, she leaned forward and brushed her lips against his, but immediately felt the heat.

  She was momentarily blinded by what she was feeling and forgot that she’d initially set out to offer comfort as she lost herself in a kiss that deepened into more than just a brushing of her lips against his.

  The world around her ceased to exist. All she could think about was the way he tasted, the way it felt pressed against him, his arms pulling her closer—no wait, that wasn’t quite right. He wasn’t pulling her nearer to him, but gently moving her back.

  Her stoma
ch began to churn. She’d practically forced herself on him. What did that make her? She didn’t even want to think about it.

  “I’m so sorry,” she said as she stood and rushed from the guesthouse.

  She didn’t stop until she was inside her home, leaning against the backdoor. Her ragged breathing a testament to the riot he’d caused inside her. What had she done? But then, she knew. She’d thrown herself at a preacher.

  Oh great, he was probably a virgin.

  Five

  The next morning Trey still hadn’t shaken the guilt he’d felt last night. He eased to the side of the bed, careful of his sprained ankle.

  Shake it off, man. Guilt wasn’t part of his vocabulary.

  What the hell was he supposed to do when Bailey kissed him? When her lips had touched his, all rational thought fled. He’d gotten lost in the sweet taste of her mouth, and the kiss had quickly turned to heated passion.

  And his body had reacted. The last thing he’d wanted was her to see the condition she’d caused and get confused. Hell, she would’ve been mortified.

  Oh, he’d done exactly what he was supposed to do and played the part of Trey Jones, preacher. He knew the role well and exactly what had happened to the character as a child. He’d studied the script—every line. Including the fact that the character had been raised in an orphanage, never chosen for adoption.

  Apparently, he’d given her his best performance because Bailey had bought every lie that fell from his lips. He hadn’t expected the tears of pity to well in her eyes. For just a second, he might have felt a little remorse, but only for a second. Why should he feel any at all?

  It’s a role. A character in a movie for Pete’s sake.

  But he hadn’t expected her to kiss him. That had taken him by surprise and he’d responded.

  If she knew the truth, that he wasn’t a preacher, she’d kill him. He wasn’t even a poor orphan—not by a long shot. His acting had given him more money than one man could possibly spend in a lifetime.

  He ran a hand through his hair.

  His father was still alive and living in California. Orphanage—no. He’d been an only child; his mother had died when he was eight. His stomach knotted. No, he wouldn’t feel guilt about that, either. It had been her choice.

  He drew in a deep breath, staring out the window. There was a light on in one of the rooms. Bedroom? Was she just getting up? They were from two different worlds. She could never understand his.

  Growing up hadn’t been easy. His dad had worked hard to scrape by. A hard man who’d taught his son hard lessons, but it made him who he was. So his father had knocked him around a few times. It toughened him up. Made him realize nothing came easy in life. You had to claw your way to the top. Trey had proven it could be done. This role would measure his worth and he wouldn’t let it slip through his fingers.

  He stretched until he reached his suitcase, then dragged it to where he sat. A shower and clean clothes had never sounded so good. He needed to wash away the past.

  He hobbled his way to the closet-size bathroom. As long as he didn’t put weight on his foot, he was pretty much pain free…and bored. There was no way he would be able to stay holed up in the guesthouse for a week.

  Not that he planned to. Interacting with people would give his acting more depth. That and the fact that Bailey intrigued him despite his knowing he was walking in dangerous territory when she was around.

  Her brother was another matter. A cop. The sheriff of Two Creeks. He really knew how to pick them. It was a good thing Monty arranged for him to have everything he needed to pass himself off as Trey Jones, preacher. Made him wonder what his agent did before he became an agent. Shady past? He wouldn’t doubt it. Everyone had their secrets.

  Trey carefully removed the fake scar that ran down the side of his face and laid it to the side. Except for the darker hair, Jeremy Hunter stared back at him. He was surprised that he’d pulled off the transformation with only a couple of changes: fake scar, green contacts, and hair dyed black.

  Why wouldn’t he succeed? These people were honest. They didn’t expect him to be anything less than what he told them. Correction, Bailey didn’t. And he was a damn good actor.

  He shaved first, then tested the water in the shower stall before stepping inside, leaving his wrapped foot on the outside of the plastic curtain so that it would stay marginally dry.

  He was finished and drying off when he heard a knock. Bailey? Heat swept over him. He couldn’t have stopped it even if he’d wanted to…and he didn’t. He liked the way she made him feel.

  “Come in,” he called, and then when he heard the door open and close, continued. “I’ll only be a few more minutes. I was taking a shower.”

  “Take your time. I thought you might want some breakfast.”

  “You shouldn’t have gone to any trouble.”

  Her laughter was a little nervous. Probably because of last night.

  “I didn’t go to any trouble,” she told him. “I hate cooking. If I can’t microwave it or use a toaster oven then I don’t buy it.”

  He’d pictured her in a frilly apron cooking up a storm. So, he was wrong on that account.

  “For your dining pleasure I have microwaved sausage and biscuits. Name brand. Nothing but the best.”

  He chuckled as he finished dressing. Before he left the bathroom, he made sure his scar was in place as well as his contacts. He opened the door before adjusting the crutches and stepping out. Maneuvering in the small area was a feat in itself but he managed.

  And then he was looking at her. His gaze slowly drifting over her. She’d pulled her hair away from her face and wore a red turtleneck, jeans, and tennis shoes. She was beautiful, sexy, and the very essence of purity. And all she saw was a preacher. A shame.

  Bailey could barely swallow. Her throat had gone dry the minute he’d stepped from the bathroom. When she’d gotten up this morning, she’d almost convinced herself that she’d only imagined how great Trey had looked.

  Nope, he looked even better today.

  “How’s your foot?” she finally asked, breaking the silence.

  “Still attached.” He grinned. Her heart flip-flopped. “I’ll live.”

  “Good. I mean, who wants a dead body in their guesthouse?” Open mouth, insert foot. She was doing that a lot. Maybe she should just change the subject. “Would you like to see some of the town? It’s not much but if you want to get out, I’ll be happy to chauffeur you around.”

  When he turned the full power of his gorgeous green eyes on her, it was all her legs could do to hold her up.

  “You read my mind.”

  She only prayed he couldn’t read hers. Mind out of gutter, she silently ordered. “You might need your jacket. It’s not that bad today but a little chilly. But food first.”

  “Keep me company,” he said, as he eased to the side of the bed.

  Not a hardship at all. She sat in a nearby chair and looked pointedly at his bandaged foot. “I hope you didn’t have to be somewhere.”

  He shook his head and bit into the biscuit. “I travel to the people. I like it that way.” He raised the biscuit. “The best I’ve ever tasted. Better than a five-star restaurant.”

  “Have you eaten in a lot of five-star restaurants?” Her smile wobbled when she saw his startled expression. There went her other foot. Of course he probably hadn’t eaten in a five-star restaurant. He’d grown up in an orphanage, and he was a traveling preacher and probably as poor as a church mouse.

  “I’ve never eaten in a five-star restaurant, either, if it makes you feel any better.” She laughed. “I’d be scared I wouldn’t know which fork to use.”

  Rather than answer her, he drained the glass of milk and was left with a milk mustache. “Ready.”

  She laughed and grabbed a paper towel from the roll on the counter. When she went to dab the mustache away, his gaze met hers. She trembled from the heat of that one look. He reached up, his hand encircling hers. She drew in a shaky breath. He gave new
meaning to the “got milk” phrase.

  “Do I have a milk mustache?” he asked, breaking the spell.

  She stepped back trying to think of something clever to say so he wouldn’t guess what he did to her. “Yes, you do.” Oh, yeah, she’d really outdone herself with that one.

  “Ready?”

  She nodded as she stood.

  He slipped on his coat, then reached for his crutches. At the last minute, he turned and scooped up his bible. “Never leave home without it.” He smiled.

  He was so godly, and she was such a sinner. And a liar to boot. She’d wanted to be in his company. Who wouldn’t? The guy could be a centerfold for Playgirl.

  And he was an orphan. Poor man. Her heart had nearly broken when he told his story last night.

  Then she’d thrown herself at him. How pathetic. How could she have kissed him? “About last night…”

  “I’ve been meaning to mention that.”

  Here it comes. He was going to have her do penance or something. Pray for forgiveness. Go without chocolate for a month…No, surely he wouldn’t go to that extreme. It was just a kiss. A very heated kiss. Her body tingled to awareness.

  “I just wanted to say thank you,” he said.

  Thank you? She’d been told she was a good kisser. Somehow coming from Trey it meant more. Then again, how much experience could he have?

  “I listen to a lot of people in my profession,” he said, breaking into her thoughts. “It was nice having someone listen to me.”

  Oh, not the kiss after all. Her ego quickly deflated. So much for getting a compliment about her kissing abilities. She had to keep remembering he was a preacher. If he were embarrassed to talk about it then she wouldn’t mention it, either.

  At least he’d saved her embarrassment by not bringing up the kiss. She wasn’t about to push her luck and hurried out the door, holding it open for him as he slowly made his way down the steps, then a little faster to her car.

  She opened the passenger door for him and waited while he eased inside before she shut the door, then hurried to her side and got in. He didn’t say anything as she turned the key, then backed out of the driveway, and headed toward town.