Santa Wears Spurs

by Kay Starr

“And your job, Dex, as this year’s Santa, is to convince Roxie Evans to be Santa’s helper,” stated the president of the Rocking Hills Ranchers Association.

A hardy round of “Oh yeahs!” followed, which managed to snare Dexter Malone’s attention. He had only been half-listening to the meeting. The only thing that saved him from being bored out of his mind at these monthly meetings was the fact that they were held at Curly’s Bar. It gave him an opportunity to relax away from the ranch, do a dab of drinking, flirt with the fine waitresses, and even pay a bit of notice to what happened at the meetings. He was on the board this year—although he’d never quite figured out HOW he’d gotten on it. He sure hadn’t volunteered. In fact, he was trying to come up with a way to ease off the board a month early, the end of November. Right in the middle of coming up with a brilliant plan to do just that, his hearing kicked in. Okay, his selective hearing kicked in.

The chair he’d been leaning back in, balanced on the rear legs, thudded down with his alarm. “SANTA? When the devil did I VOLUNTEER for that little chore?” He must have an invisible evil twin who kept signing him up was all he could figure.

“The vice-president has traditionally been Santa from day one of the organization. You know that. Or would know it, if you’d ever read the bylaws and job descriptions.” Franklin, the association’s president and the county’s biggest headache, glared down his bulbous nose at him.

“Been meaning to get around it,” Dex said, pretty sure he’d lost the papers somewhere and not really caring. Then he recalled the other comment Franklin had made. “Roxie? I get to have Roxie for my helper? Well, hot damn!”

Immediately his thoughts wandered to the redhead who had come to Sunflower, Kansas in the spring as the new librarian. Five foot seven or so, which would be the perfect height to drape his arm over her shoulders comfortably. Curly red hair that fell just past her shoulders, soft as silk no doubt. Hazel eyes surrounded by thick, dark eyelashes; eyes that smiled with gentleness and a hint of mischief, though he believed he was the only person in town who’d seemed to notice that. The list of her temptations for a man went on and on. Problem was every single man in the area wanted her, even some married men had their eye on her. As of yet, though, not a blessed one of them had made any headway with her. Dex knew, because he’d been sitting back watching and waiting, learning what they all did wrong. When he went after the sweet little filly, he aimed to get her. At least get her for romancing. He wasn’t interested in none of that settling down nonsense. But he wouldn’t hurt her; he never hurt women. They understood the rules going in and pert near every woman he’d ever dated for any length of time was still a friend of his. He was real proud of that fact.

“So you’ll talk to her next week and get her to the seamstress at the cleaners for a fitting for her costume? It’s important you get this matter settled right away,” Franklin interrupted Dex’s musings.

“We might want to come up with a backup woman,” Troy commented as a challenge, sitting next to Dex. “I can’t imagine that she’ll agree to doing it. Don’t seem the type to wear that skimpy little costume.” He grinned. “Not that she’d look bad in it.”

Dex glowered at his good buddy and foreman from his ranch. “She’ll agree to it. She just might need some sweet talking, and I can handle that.” He winked, feeling extremely confident. There wasn’t a better sweet talker in the county, hell, probably in the state. He really ought to be a politician. ‘Course he favored kissing pretty females over kissing babies and other people’s asses.

“I got twenty bucks says she refuses,” yelled out Sam, the town’s veterinarian who’d been hot after Roxie since she came to town. A pair of ranchers from the next county sitting at his table chuckled and casually teased him about his latest rebuff from her. He gave a shrug, appearing embarrassed. “She’s weakening. She almost said yes to going out the last time I asked her.”

His comment encouraged more laughs and appreciative comments about what a fine looking woman Roxie was. A discriminating one, too.

“Add my twenty to that,” Troy inserted with a nod to Dex. “I think she’s too ‘discriminating’ to let an old cowboy like Dex here sweet talk her into anything.”

“I don’t really think we should be talking like this, making bets—“ Franklin complained, clearly peeved that he’d lost control of the meeting.

Dex grinned easily at them all, even old sourpuss Franklin. “I’ll take on all your bets. Sweet little Roxie’s agreement will be signed, sealed, and delivered in two weeks time. Count on it. Dexter Malone ALWAYS gets his woman.”

Troy just shook his dark head in amusement. “It’s not going to be pretty seeing a big stud like you brought down by that bit of a gal.” He faced the others again. “I suggest Sally Ann at the Drop By and Go as a backup. Probably wouldn’t take much convincing at all to get her to agree.”

Now Dex was riled, and it took a lot to rile him. Belittling his expertise at womanizing was flat out going too far. He stood, picked up his Stetson and slapped it on his head. “I’d’ve thought you all, my FRIENDS, would have more confidence in my abilities at persuasion.”

“Prove us wrong. Ain’t another woman in town any of us would like to see more in that little outfit.” Troy looked at him in challenge, a wicked gleam in his eye, like he was seeing Roxie in that very short skirt that left a lot of leg exposed.

Dexter gave a curt nod and strode out of the bar, away from the skeptics. As he headed for his Dodge Ram truck, he felt an instant’s worth of doubt. Roxie Evans might be the prettiest female in these parts, but she could also be pretty dang stubborn. Just what would it take to convince her to do this job? Make her feel real guilty about disappointing the town and the kids if she refused? That would be kind of low. Maybe offer to take her to the Winter Dance? He could do that. Give her cute little bottom some incentive? Nothing like warming a woman’s bottom to get her to change her attitude. He wouldn’t mind smacking his palm down on her creamy bottom, pinkening it up a bit. What about offering to be her love slave? Now THAT was a mighty interesting idea! It certainly wouldn’t be a hardship on his part.

He climbed into the quad cab truck with a smile. He’d only be doing his civic duty to offer himself to her, and he was nothing if not civic minded.Roxie Evans really liked the teeny, tiny, miniscule house she’d rented. The only available house or apartment in Sunflower when she’d moved here in April. She really liked having to keep most of her treasured knick-knacks and photos boxed up, less dusting. In fact, she really liked having almost none of her personal belongings out of the packing boxes. WRONG!

She sat on the pumpkin orange loveseat that had come with the partially furnished house and felt miserable. Across the living room—okay, five feet away—the TV struggled to offer her one of the two poor-reception channels the town had. Good thing she wasn’t that much of a TV-watching person. She only had it on for the noise. Something to make even this small amount of emptiness seem not quite so lonely. She’d heard that small towns were friendly places. Of course she’d also heard that they could be slightly cool to outsiders who weren’t born and raised there. What she’d encountered in her seven months here had been a mixture of both: the women were polite enough but a little distant, and the men were very friendly—hot after her body, something she was all too familiar with. It wasn’t her fault she’d been born with good genes, a shapely figure that she didn’t have to work to keep, and pretty. Her mother had been a high fashion model, although not one of the anorexic ones; her father was still a strikingly handsome man. Each of her three siblings had also inherited these traits. But like all those women who wished they could have more of everything she seemed to have in abundance, she, in contrast, wished she had far less.

The phone rang on the end table beside her, blessedly interrupting her spell of depression. She grabbed the receiver sure the call was her usual Saturday morning call from one of her family members. Probably her oldest brother. It was his turn to check in on the baby sister who’d dared to move so far from the family’s home base in Sacramento. “Hello,” she greeted the caller, still going by the big city rule of not answering with her name.

“Roxie Evans?” came a honeyed drawl. Instantly she felt tingles of appreciation for a man’s sexy voice. The reaction surprised her. It had been a while since a man had interested her, particularly a man she hadn’t even seen.

“Have I got the right number?” the man drawled again.

She’d heard that voice somewhere, but couldn’t quite place it or the man it belonged to. “Yes,” she finally answered.

“Dexter Malone. Do you have a minute to talk? Or maybe we could meet for a cup of coffee? My treat.”

That was a pretty round about way of trying to finagle a date of sorts with her. Ever since she’d developed far too well at sixteen she’d been dealing with come-ons and all manner of men eager to go out with her, or eager to do far more than that. She felt rather disappointed to face yet another of such calls. “I don’t date men I’ve barely met. And I’m not really interested in dating right now, anyway. But thanks for calling.”

She was about to hang up when he said, “Don’t believe I said anything about a date. Just talking to you. About a matter having to do with the Ranchers Association.”

He’d actually sounded annoyed that she’d thought he was calling for a date. Her face flamed and she was glad he couldn’t see it. “Sorry. I just assumed. Again, sorry.”

“Sorry enough to meet me at Moe’s Diner? In an hour or so?”

Roxie hesitated. She hadn’t yet dated anyone from Sunflower or the surrounding area, although she’d certainly had plenty of offers. After the mess she’d gone through with her ex-fiancé, she was being more careful this time. El Jerko hadn’t hurt her enough to make her stop wanting a happily-ever-after with the right man someday, but she wasn’t in a hurry to find him. Actually, she was still forming that inner picture of Mr. Perfect. It was silly even thinking about such a thing. This wouldn’t be a REAL date, he’d made that clear enough. A little conversation, some coffee, maybe some flirting. Her heart would be safe, and she just might have some fun for the first time here in town. She wanted some fun.

“Ma’am?” he asked, sounding concerned. “Hope I haven’t offended you in some way.”

She found that endearing, and she really liked the way he said “ma’am.” It made her tingle in places that were seriously out of practice in tingling. “An hour. Yes, I’ll be there.” Her heart pounded as she hung up. What was she getting into by agreeing to meet the hottest, most womanizing man in the area? Dexter Malone’s exploits were legendary around here. They’d even made it to the tender ears of the town’s meek little librarian.

Shy, innocent little librarian. She smiled at the comment she’d overheard in reference to herself a few times from various men asking for dates that she’d rebuffed. She hurried off to the closet-sized bedroom to find her baggiest jeans and an old t-shirt. Her disguise, as she thought of it. What the men in the area—particularly the county’s biggest stud—didn’t know was that little Miss Innocent Librarian wasn’t quite so innocent. Oh, she wasn’t a woman who went from one man’s bed to another easily, but she was far from INNOCENT when it came to making love and having a good time. She might even know a few tricks that would curl the big blond cowboy’s toes.Cowboy Hot Stuff sat at the counter flirting with two waitresses—two—when Roxie walked into the diner an hour later. If his dick was half as big as his ego, it had to be enormous. Still, the man could definitely make a woman’s heart flutter. Actually, with that lean but muscled frame and that oh-so-taut butt encased so nicely in well worn jeans, he could make a woman quiver in some very intimate places. She ought to know, since it was happening to her right that second. Her clit was so excited by him that it might as well be waving to him and saying “Come here, cowboy. Come play a while.”

The waitresses barely even looked her direction. It didn’t bother her. They’d found a boy toy to enjoy and they didn’t want to share. Too bad. Roxie was attracted to the Boy Toy as well. She walked to the end of the counter and said in her meek librarian’s voice, “Mister Malone?”

He gave a final smile to the two fawning ladies in their late twenties, tipped his hat to them as he ambled her direction, smiling. My, oh my, the man had some serious dimples. And his eyes. Now those were something to truly enjoy. Sky blue and sparkling with sinfully sensual promise.

He stopped next to her. “Miss Evans, glad you could meet me.” He nodded toward a booth at the far end of the nearly empty diner. “That okay with you?”

In answer, she headed for the booth, slid her coat off, and quickly took a seat on one of the red vinyl bench seats. The diner was retro 1950s, complete with jukebox in the far corner and an old-fashioned soda bar. Or maybe it wasn’t retro, but these were original fixtures from the 1950s. Whatever. She liked it. She pulled one of the laminated menus from behind the oversized sugar container.

“They’ve got the best cinnamon rolls in the state here. As big as a dinner plate, thick with cinnamon, and icing so sweet you’ll be thinking about it for a week,” he said as he eased his six-foot-something body into the seat opposite her. “Coffee’s good, too.”

“Sounds fine to me. Both.” She drew in a deep breath, inhaled his very male scent that was a nice mix of leather, musky cologne, and working man. Really nice.

He motioned to the waitresses and called out, “Two coffees, one cinnamon roll and two forks please.” He faced her again and winked. “Figured we could share the roll. A little bit of a thing like you could never eat all of it.”

Roxie nodded graciously, not bothering to tell him that she could probably eat two of them. She had a healthy appetite and, with her metabolism, she wouldn’t gain an ounce. “I’m okay with sharing. Now, about this ranchers association matter,” she prodded, curious to what they could possibly want from her. Maybe a special order on a book?

He took off his wide-brimmed hat and placed it crown side up on the table. Then he smiled at her as he skimmed a tanned hand through his thick, collar-length blond hair. “Don’t know if you’ve heard anything about it, but the association puts on a big holiday party the weekend before Christmas. Most everyone in the area shows up. Lots of fun. And we hand out presents to all the kids.”

“One of the mothers who came in for story hour last Wednesday mentioned it.” She pulled a napkin from the container and replaced the menu. That husky country drawl of his was playing havoc with her libido, and her imagination. Obviously she’d gone way too long without dating.

“’Course we always have a Santa and a Santa’s helper. Don’t quite know how it happened, but it appears that I’m Santa this year.”

She had to smile at that. “You’ll need a lot of padding.”

He chuckled and patted his firm abdomen. “Not if I eat very many of these cinnamon rolls,” he countered as the waitress walked over with their order and set it between them.

The cinnamon roll was huge, bigger than she’d imagined. Maybe he’d been right to request two forks. She stuck her fork in the side closest to her. “I have trouble seeing you as Santa, even without considering the padding issue.”

“Well, you can see it for yourself, up close and personal. Especially if you’re Santa’s helper.”

Roxie gaped at him. “Me? You’re kidding, right?”

“Dead serious, ma’am. As a representative of the association, I’m asking you to help us out this year.”

Secretly, she thought the idea sounded like great fun. She hadn’t gotten involved with anything in the community yet, but would this be a good place to start? Particularly when she noted the flirtatious gleam in Dexter’s eyes. He was definitely up to something. “I don’t think…”

“You wouldn’t want to disappoint the town’s kids, would you? Santa has to have a helper to pass out the gifts and candy.” He reached over to gently pat her arm as she slowly cut off a piece of the cinnamon roll. “What would it take to convince you, sweet thing?”

SWEET THING? Boy, this cowboy would be in serious trouble with someone like her extremely feminist older sister. Roxie kind of thought his attitude was cute, although he needed taking down a peg or two. He was clearly used to all women falling at his feet, doing whatever he wanted, his way. Not THIS time, she thought with an inner smile

She looked down at where his hand touched her arm, trying to look timid and worried about such a forward act. It was hard to do because his touch had sent a whole wave of warm sensations flooding through her. He was such a choice hunk. The problem was he clearly knew that and played on that fact. This time, he’d be playing by somebody else’s rules. HER rules.

“Why me?” she finally asked. “Why can’t you have the same woman who did it last year do it again?”

He pulled his hand away, leaned back in his chair, and chuckled. “Annabelle is pert near as a big as house at the moment, expecting twins in December. She’s not real interested in waddling around in a little helper’s outfit.” He slammed his mouth shut, and immediately she knew he hadn’t intended on telling her the costume would be precisely as she’d first envisioned: something with a short skirt and a lot of leg showing.

“I just don’t think…” Roxie wondered just how far he’d go to convince her to help the association. She would do it, of course, but she wanted to play with him a bit first. The cocky cowboy deserved it.

“You’d look real nice in the costume, ma’am. And just think about how good you’ll feel helping with such a worthy event. The kids’ll be ever so grateful.”

The kids. Right. They weren’t the ones who’d like to see her in a skimpy outfit. They wouldn’t care if a grizzled old woman gave them their candy and presents. She scooped up her bite of roll and watched him follow the progress of the fork to her mouth. She slipped the tip of her tongue out to lick at some icing running over the side of the fork. For added affect, she gave a tiny purr of delight, something on the order of a woman’s moan while in the first throes of ecstasy. His eyes widened, darkened. Men could be such fun to play with. But you had to be careful.

“I don’t normally like to show off my body,” she stated, glancing down at her frumpy attire. Then she took the forkful into her mouth, drawing the empty fork ever so slowly back out, sighing in pleasure again.

He couldn’t stop watching her, and she could tell his breathing had quickened. “It’s not like everyone will be focused on your costume. It’s a party. There’ll be so much going on that most people won’t even notice you. And the kids will just be after the gifts.”

She supposed that was partly true. But she also knew that this here Santa would be watching her every movement, as would most of the single men there. She wasn’t overly concerned with that; she just didn’t flaunt her figure around on a daily basis. If she were going to strut around half-dressed and get the evil eye from the other women, she wanted compensation. Up front. From this cowboy.

Deciding to get down to wheeling and dealing like her father had taught her, she leaned toward him and said quietly, “If I agree to do this, what are you offering as incentive? Because, Dexter Malone, I know you didn’t invite me here to talk about this without having a plan of persuasion.”

“Well, I…” He looked knocked off-kilter by her boldness. Then he grinned and all that cockiness of his came back. “Okay, I’ll admit I’d been toying with a couple of ideas.”

“Like?” She sat back and scooped up a dollop of icing with a finger, put it in her mouth and slowly sucked it off.

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he paid apt attention. “Like maybe escorting you to the Winter Dance,” he said huskily.

That would be okay, but she felt certain he had a more intriguing offer. “Or?” she pressed.

He was still watching her finger, mesmerized, not really paying a whole lot of attention to the conversation. “I could take you over my knee and warm your backside. Sort of an alternative way of persuasion.”

She blinked, heart immediately racing. “What?” She couldn’t have heard him right. He couldn’t have been talking about spanking her!

He seemed to come out of his stupor at her sharp question, and evidently forgot what he’d just said. Instead he said, “Like offering to be your love slave. ‘Course that was just some crazy notion that popped into my head.” He went back to being fascinated by the fingertip she still held in front of her lips, tapping her mouth in thought.

Hmmm. Love slave. Now THAT was a much better idea. Certainly better than spanking her, if he’d actually even said such a thing. Still, that crazy idea had sounded interesting. No! Well, yes. “I’ll take the second offer,” Roxie stated boldly and forced away the thought of spanking. She slid out of the booth, grabbing her coat. “I’ve got to go. Sorry. I’m expecting a phone call.”

She hurried away, hoping to get out to her car before he managed to get over his shock and come after her. “Well, hell,” she heard him mumble and then scramble her direction.

“Hey!” one of the waitresses called out. “What about your bill?”

He must have slammed some money on the counter by the register because he snapped, “Keep the change.”

Roxie decided to have mercy on him and slowed down as she approached her shiny red, vintage Mustang. He caught up with her seconds later, planted himself between her and the driver’s door. “Mind repeating your answer? Sometimes I have a bit of trouble with my hearing. Don’t think I caught the answer quite right.”

With a quick glance around to be sure they were alone, she stepped right up to him. He seemed to flatten against the car. Before he could say anything else, she went up on tiptoe and whispered in his ear, “The love slave thing. I’m accepting THAT offer.” She nipped at his earlobe before stepping back with a serene expression.

“I-I…” he fumbled around, a blush creeping up his neck in a most charming manner. “I-I…”

She took his arm and gently tugged him out of her way. Oddly, disappointment threaded through her, although she’d known he couldn’t have been serious. It had only been a man’s idiotic attempt at kidding around. What a shame. She’d liked the daring idea, even if she hadn’t really been serious with her answer either. She’d planned to make him sweat about the problem and ask her nicely a few more times before she agreed to be Santa’s helper.

“So when do we start?” his question jolted her out of her musings and her mouth fell open. Close this window [X]