If Santa Were a Cowboy Read online

  It was time to rewrite that script and take the chance she’d never been bold enough to before. To make up for that embarrassing Seven Minutes in Heaven disaster in the tenth grade and the abominable way she’d treated him in front of all their friends at prom, not to mention all the other little moments of push-and-pull over the years, including that final push of letting him walk out of her life after high school because he didn’t match up with the kind of guy she was supposed to be with. Perhaps Karma wasn’t so much of a bitch as the pressure she’d always felt to conform to some perfect, stylized version of herself that had never quite fit when she was young—and sure as hell hadn’t fit her during this awful Year of Yes.

  And so it was time to give Paul Savage what both of them had wanted for so long. To be on the safe side, she’d brought two suitcases: one naughty and stuffed with everything she’d need for a proper seduction, and the other nice. The nice suitcase was her insurance policy, in case Paul wasn’t single or interested in what she had to offer. But that was a distant possibility. Their mutual friend Shawn had told her he was single, and she knew with all her heart that Paul would be interested in what she had to offer because he’d always wanted her. Surely the years hadn’t changed that. Naughty or Nice . . . the choice would be his.

  And so here she was, standing before a stunned Paul who looked equal parts horrified and bewildered by her surprise arrival. She nearly lost her nerve. But, then, it wasn’t as if she had anything more to lose or anything to go home to, or any money to get back home, for that matter. Rock, meet bottom.

  She was nearly convinced that she had the wrong guy. He looked taller and broader than she remembered. The Paul she’d known had been as thin as a string bean and had barely sprouted a thin layer of fuzz above his upper lip by senior year. But no one said her name quite like Paul Savage did, in that reverent, deep vibrato that filled her belly with butterflies and lit her nerves on fire. That had to be why she was so nervous. Paul had that effect on her, always had. And just like always, she never quite knew what to do with the attraction thrumming between them.

  You know what to do now, Kel.

  She hitched her photography bag higher on her shoulder and mustered a smile to counter his wide-eyed, blank look of shock. Could he see her pulse pounding in her throat? Could he sense her sweat or the way her ribs had tightened painfully around her lungs?

  She didn’t have time to find out before the exuberant tan mid-size dog by his side broke out in a run at Kelly, its leash dragging behind her and barking gleefully in a way that reminded Kelly of those videos of servicemen and women being reunited with their dogs after a long deployment.

  Kelly loved dogs, but she also didn’t have much experience with them. She stumbled back, bumping against one of the suitcases and snagging the hem of her coat in the latching hardware. She’d only just regained her balance when the dog rose onto its back legs and jumped up on her. Its front paws caught Kelly’s ribs and they both went tumbling backward, over the suitcase. Kelly landed on her bum, the dog’s front paws and a wide-open suitcase on top of her. Sex toys, condoms, and lingerie exploded onto the marble floor. She wormed away from the dog’s sloppy kisses in time to watch a tube of lubricant roll to the feet of one of the families who’d gathered for a glimpse of Santa.

  Paul snapped out of his trance, his whole body jumping as though zapped with an electric shock. He dove for the lubricant, but not before Kelly heard a shriek of horror and realized it’d come from her.

  Scrambling to her knees, she scooped the X-rated gear back into the suitcase before it had the chance to scar the children in the lobby for life while muttering, “Of course, it had to be the naughty suitcase. Of course.”

  She had a hand wrapped around her favorite leather riding crop when she realized the other end of the crop was in the dog’s mouth like a stick.

  Kelly tugged. “That is so not a toy for you, sweetie!”

  The dog whined and pinned its ears back, then jerked its head hard enough to loosen Kelly’s grip. Then it took off running through the crowd, the riding crop still in her jaw.

  Paul didn’t seem to notice the exchange. His arms were spread as he and a few other resort workers corralled the kids and their parents away from the scene. “Ho ho ho, come on, kids! Follow me to the fountain. I’ve got lots of candy canes to hand out to all the good boys and girls.”

  For the most part, the crowd turned away from Kelly’s disaster. One dad’s gaze lingered for a moment on the bounty of naughty riches, muttering, “Lucky guy, whoever he is.”

  Probably, Paul didn’t feel so lucky at the moment.

  A whistle cut through the jazzy piano and voices. From out of nowhere, the dog who’d caused all the trouble burst through the lobby bounding at full speed toward Paul, its teeth still clamped around the riding crop.

  “Damn it, that was one of my favorite toys.”

  A petite, black-haired staff member who’d been helping pass out candy canes dropped to her knees next to Kelly and helped gather the rest of the loose items. “That’s Sadie, and don’t worry, she never strays too far from Paul.”

  “Sadie’s his own personal dog, and not just one hired by the resort for Santa appearances?”

  “Let me put it this way. You know those bumper stickers that say ‘Dog is my copilot’? Well, if Paul ever got a tattoo, which maybe he has—I’ve never seen him naked. Imagined it, but—never mind. The point is, if Paul had a tattoo, that’s what it would say.”

  Noted. Which meant task number one for Kelly if she hoped to seduce Paul was to get in good with his copilot—even if said copilot had absconded with her beloved riding crop.

  “So . . . Did I hear Paul call you Kelly? As in Kelly Sawyer?” the woman said.

  Kelly blinked. How did this lady know her last name? “Paul’s mentioned me?”

  The woman averted her eyes. “Something like that.”

  “And you are?”

  The woman extended her hand. “Rikki, a seamstress in the bridal boutique here. Paul and I work together. Well, not together. I mean, I sewed some extra room in his pants today.” Her whole face flushed pink.

  Kelly wasn’t sure what to say to that. Then again, she was the one stuffing a pair of fuzzy red handcuffs into her luggage that she hoped to use on Paul, so who was she to judge?

  Together, she and Rikki finished closing and latching the suitcase. “Let me take you to one of our courtesy suites to wait for Paul to be done. He shouldn’t be that long.”

  Kelly looked over her shoulder at Paul, who was smiling and focused on the adoring children surrounding him. My God, how he’s changed.

  The realization made her heart squeeze painfully. That’s what her nerves came down to, if she was being honest. She’d trapped her memory of Paul Savage in amber, but all this time, he’d been living his life, growing, changing. Just as she had. But unlike him, none of her changes had been for the better. What had she gotten herself into, coming here?

  The urge to turn-tail and run was strong, but not as strong as the unknown future that yawned like a black hole in front of her. She was jobless, deep in debt, and with the eviction notice she’d been served a few weeks earlier, on the cusp of being homeless if she didn’t get her shit together. The truth was, there was no going back. She’d come to Briscoe Ranch for more than just a Karmic reboot, and the sooner she owned that fact, the sooner she could get her life back on track.

  She returned her attention to Rikki and held her head high. “Thank you. That would be great.”

  The courtesy suite was located down a hallway on the far side of the lobby’s grand staircase. It was the sort of day-use room hotels sometimes provided for guests in transition from checking in or checking out to rest in while they waited for their taxi to the airport or after using the hotel pool after checking out of their rooms, complete with a lounge area clustered around a television, a desk, and a full bathroom.

  Rikki held the door for her to pass, then lingered at the threshold. “Help yourself to th
e minibar. I’ll bring Paul in when he’s done.”

  “Thanks.”

  Alone in the quiet room, Kelly navigated the suitcases to a shadowy corner near the television, wanting them out of her sight. And if that helped Paul to forget the embarrassing incident, too, then so much the better. Then she cracked open a water bottle, sank into a chair, and closed her eyes, rehearsing her pitch as her stomach churned with dread.

  When a knock on the door came a few minutes later, she leapt to her feet and answered it. Despite that she’d already seen Paul in costume, it was still a shock to open the door and see Santa Claus. And right next to him was Sadie the copilot.

  She stood aside and let them in, blurting, “I’m sorry about what happened. I tripped over your dog and my suitcase exploded.”

  Paul let out a breath with a huff. “Yeah, I’d say explosion is the right term.” From his red jacket, he pulled the riding crop. Sadie crouched, her eyes like lasers on her new favorite toy and her tail wagging at hyper speed. “A riding crop, Kelly? Really?”

  Kelly opened and closed her mouth a few times until she could persuade her voice to sound carefree and sexy. “It’s actually a fun toy, if you’re into that kind of thing.” She tried out a saucy smile to emphasize the point, but had the feeling she looked more like someone who’d just swallowed their gum.

  Behind his round spectacles, his dark, intense eyes softened. He lowered the riding crop to his side, right at Sadie’s eye level. She didn’t waste any time snatching it in her jaws, then trotting to the marble floor beneath a long vanity table outside of the bathroom door so she could concentrate on chewing it to bits.

  Then again, it was already ruined, so what was the harm? Kelly gave him a self-deprecating grin, which felt far more natural than her seductress smile. “Oh, it’s okay. Let your dog eat my sex toy. I don’t mind. At least someone’s having fun with it.”

  Paul raised his eyebrows. On a snort, he doubled over and braced his hands on his knees, then gave in to the wheezy bubble of manic chuckles that must have been welling in his chest. From that angle, he was back to looking like Santa Claus, laughing merrily, his bowl full of jelly quivering, and those ruddy cheeks round like apples. “Sorry. Just a sec.”

  “I will say one thing,” Kelly said. “You make a great Santa. I barely recognized you as the Paul I know.”

  That seemed to snap him out of his reverie. He rose to his full height again and walked to the vanity near where Sadie lay gnawing on the riding crop and looked at himself in the mirror. “I’m not that Paul anymore.”

  As though to prove the point, he pulled off his Santa cowboy hat and wig and set them on the counter. The white beard was next, revealing a short, thick chocolate brown beard beneath. Then, with a clang of metal, he unlatched the heavy black belt around his waist and let it drop to the floor.

  “I know I should have called,” Kelly said into the tense silence.

  With a grunt in reply, he peeled the red velvet jacket from his torso, stripping off the rotund belly with it and leaving him in a white undershirt. The wide-legged velvet pants dropped next, revealing black nylon workout pants beneath. He wrangled the Santa pants over the black boots he wore, then added them to the pile with his jacket and belt.

  “I was afraid you’d tell me not to come, and I couldn’t take that chance,” she said, fully aware that her nerves were turning her into a blabbermouth.

  Without a word or glance her way, he bent over the sink, washing his face.

  All the thoughts in Kelly’s mind cleared. Words died on her tongue as she gawked at the wide, muscular V of his shoulders and back, clearly outlined in the clingy, perspiration-damp T-shirt and the equally revealing pants that hugged a trim waist and a tight, perfect ass. His arms were thick, biceps and triceps flexing as he scrubbed his face.

  When he turned back toward her, her focus dipped to the beard that gave him a dangerous, outlaw edge, and then lower. The definition of his chest made it seem like he rolled from bed each morning and straight to the ground for a rousing session of pushups. Jolly Old St. Nick, he was not. Where was that gangly boy, all arms and legs and awkwardness? Though the shadow of her old friend remained, this was Paul 2.0—grown-up and sexy as hell.

  She swallowed hard. “You’re right. You’ve changed.”

  His expression as he studied her from head to toe was a complicated blend of melancholy, longing, and—unless she was imagining it—hostility. Not that she blamed him for that. “You haven’t.”

  And then it was her turn to let out a laugh because nothing could be further from the truth.

  “What are you doing here?” he said.

  Ouch. Guess she’d read that hostility in his expression correctly.

  I came to seduce you.

  That had been the start of her pitch, but there was no way she could say that to the man standing before her today. She’d made a gross miscalculation, coming to Briscoe Ranch Resort. Paul Savage wasn’t going to be the easy yes she’d banked on.

  “I’m your elf,” she said, feeling like the lamest person on the planet, even if it was the truth.

  When she’d been scrolling through a photography message board and had seen a posting for photographer to work the Santa Claus Meet & Greets at the very resort where Paul was employed, she’d decided it must be a sign. The universe was telling her it was time to stop pretending she was someone she wasn’t and make amends to one of the people she’d hurt most in the process. But now that she was here, facing the thinly veiled anger playing on his features, she wished she’d thought better of that plan.

  “My elf? What does that mean?”

  She swallowed and tried again. Paul 2.0 wasn’t nearly as easy to talk to as her old friend Paul had been. “I was hired by the temp agency that the resort uses to be Santa’s photographer and assistant. Kind of an all-purpose elf, I guess.” She raised her chin again and forced herself to breathe evenly. There was nothing to fear, and she had nothing to be ashamed of. She’d handled so much worse that year than a disgruntled former friend. Mostly, she couldn’t afford to lose this job, even if Paul didn’t want her there. “So you see, you and I will be working together for the next four weeks.”

  His eyebrows lifted, and his lips parted.

  Forcing her smile wider, she decided to go all in and own her terrible decision. She spread her arms and did a little hip shimmy. “I guess all that’s left to say is . . . surprise!”

  Chapter Three

  Try as he might, Paul couldn’t wrap his brain around this one. Kelly Sawyer here in his space, his life. For the whole holiday season. He was usually a man of few words, but with Kelly standing before him in a hospitality suite of Briscoe Ranch, looking expectantly at him, awaiting a response, his mind was utterly blank.

  He’d told her she hadn’t changed, but that wasn’t true. Not at all. For starters, she was prettier than ever, and in an entirely new way. No longer the fresh-faced All-American girl he’d fallen in love with, she had wisdom in her bronze eyes, an intensity that made it impossible for him to stop staring into them, trying to parse her secrets. Her body was rounder and softer, and more womanly—spectacularly so—than the lithe cheerleader body of her youth.

  She flounced back into the chair he’d found her in. Her fingers fidgeted, a tell that this wasn’t easy for her. As further proof, her gaze turned pleading. “Can you say something? Please? Anything?”

  Paul was working on that, and he fully planned to speak—just as soon as he could figure out what to say.

  Kelly Sawyer was single again, Shawn’s text had said. Which meant she was fresh from a breakup. In the wake of that, for some reason, she’d decided to pack up and head off to work with someone she hadn’t seen in, oh, eight years—along with a suitcase full of sex gear. Which . . . he didn’t even know what to do with that nugget of information. Was this some sort of misguided attempt at a rebound fling?

  Her pleading eyes shifted down to stare at her hands. “Say that it’s okay I’m here, Paul. After the year I�
��ve had, I need a yes.”

  The armor around his heart cracked wide open. She’d already said something like that, about not giving him a heads-up that she’d been hired as his assistant because she didn’t want to take the chance that he’d tell her not to come. There was a lot more going on here than Kelly seeking out a temp job close to an old friend or a potential rebound fling.

  He forced himself to look at her through new eyes, to take in her fingers, twisting themselves into knots. The damage in her eyes. At the timing of her visit. He was still pissed that she’d shown up without warning, mucking up a perfect jump start to his favorite season, but being pissed didn’t mean shit with Kelly sitting there looking as small and anxious as a wounded bird.

  While he was considering his words and his next move, Sadie trotted to Kelly’s side and laid the gnarled, chewed up riding crop on her lap.

  Kelly smiled and stroked Sadie’s head, much to her delight. She curved her long tongue up to lick Kelly’s wrist and whined her approval of the attention. Leave it to Sadie to cue Paul into what his next move should be. What Kelly needed most right now was a friend to lean on.

  He dragged a chair across from Kelly and sat. “Kelly, meet my main girl, Sadie.”

  Kelly turned her cautious smile to Paul. “Your copilot.”

  “Exactly. And if you hold out your hand and tell her to shake it, she’ll gladly oblige.”

  Kelly did as he suggested, holding her hand palm-up. “Shake, Sadie.”

  Sure enough, Sadie slapped her paw into Kelly’s waiting hand, her tail wagging like crazy.

  Following Sadie’s lead, and with a pounding heart, Paul did what would have been unthinkable only an hour ago. As soon as the paw shake with Sadie had ended, he reached out and took Kelly’s hand. “Shawn texted me today that you’re fresh from a breakup. Are you all right?”

  “He did?”