Bring Me a Maverick for Christmas! Read online

  LASSOING SANTA!

  Rust Creek Ramblings

  With Christmas right around the corner, grumpy cowboy Bailey Stockton is getting grumpier by the minute, even though he’s wearing a Santa suit. We here at the Gazette think adorable veterinary technician Serena Langley could be the one to rescue Bailey from his holiday funk. Trouble is, they’ve each got more baggage than Kris Kringle lugs on his sleigh. So deck the halls, dear readers, and see if Santa can deliver a happy ending!

  “I think I’m developing a serious crush,” Serena confided to her pet.

  Marvin opened one eye, as if to assure her that he was listening.

  She smiled as she continued to stroke his short, glossy fur.

  “I know it’s crazy,” she admitted. “I barely know the guy. And yet...there’s just something about him.

  “Or maybe it’s just been so long since I’ve spent any time with a man that I’m making this into more than it is. But it was so nice to talk to a guy who actually seemed to listen to what I was saying.

  “Of course, you’re a good listener, too, but sometimes it’s nice to actually talk to someone who talks back.”

  Marvin tilted his head to lick her hand.

  “I know you love me,” she said. “And I love you. But as sweet as your doggy kisses are, they don’t compare to real kisses. At least, I don’t think they do, but it’s been so long since I’ve been kissed by a man, I can’t be sure.”

  But there had been that almost-kiss moment, during which she’d experienced so much joyful anticipation she was certain that sharing a real kiss with Bailey Stockton would make her toes curl inside her shoes.

  * * *

  MONTANA MAVERICKS:

  THE LONELYHEARTS RANCH:

  You come there alone,

  but you sure don’t leave that way!

  Dear Reader,

  The holiday season means different things to different people, but for most kids, it’s all about the big guy in the red suit.

  I have so many fond memories of going to the local mall with my boys for their annual visit (and photo) with the jolly elf. In fact, I probably looked forward to those trips as much as—or maybe even more than—they did. The local Santa was fabulous with kids of all ages and even had a real beard and moustache!

  But not everyone can “ho, ho, ho” with conviction, and not everyone loves the holidays. So what happens when a man who’s more Ebenezer Scrooge than Kris Kringle is forced to don the red suit?

  The residents of Rust Creek Falls will find out when Bailey Stockton swaps his Stetson for a red-and-white cap. Serena Langley believes in Christmas miracles, but she decides to take a more proactive approach with the reluctant Santa. Assisted by an enthusiastic bulldog, a protective calico and a shy bunny, she’s determined to help him appreciate the joys of the season.

  As the days count down toward Christmas Eve, Bailey realizes that he is looking forward to the holiday—and maybe even spending it with Serena, the woman who has illuminated his darkness with her twinkling light.

  I hope you enjoy Bailey and Serena’s story and that Santa makes your fondest wishes come true this Christmas!

  Happy Holidays,

  Brenda Harlen

  PS: If you want to know about my upcoming releases, check out my website at brendaharlen.com or follow my Facebook page.

  Bring Me a Maverick for Christmas!

  Brenda Harlen

  Brenda Harlen is a former attorney who once had the privilege of appearing before the Supreme Court of Canada. The practice of law taught her a lot about the world and reinforced her determination to become a writer—because in fiction, she could promise a happy ending! Now she is an award-winning, RITA® Award–nominated national bestselling author of more than thirty titles for Harlequin. You can keep up-to-date with Brenda on Facebook and Twitter or through her website, brendaharlen.com.

  Books by Brenda Harlen

  Harlequin Special Edition

  Match Made in Haven

  Six Weeks to Catch a Cowboy

  Her Seven-Day Fiancé

  The Sheriff’s Nine-Month Surprise

  Those Engaging Garretts!

  The Last Single Garrett

  Baby Talk & Wedding Bells

  Building the Perfect Daddy

  Two Doctors & a Baby

  The Bachelor Takes a Bride

  A Forever Kind of Family

  Montana Mavericks: The Great Family Roundup

  The Maverick’s Midnight Proposal

  Montana Mavericks: The Baby Bonanza

  The More Mavericks, the Merrier!

  Visit the Author Profile page at www.Harlequin.com for more titles.

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  This book is dedicated to Ryan. I know you stopped

  writing letters to Santa a lot of years ago, but

  as you finish up your first term at university,

  I’m making three wishes for you this season:

  1. that you eternally believe in the magic of Christmas;

  2. that you always know how proud I am of you; and

  3. that you forever remember how much I love you. XO

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Epilogue

  Excerpt from Same Time, Next Christmas by Christine Rimmer

  Chapter One

  “No way in ho-ho-hell,” Bailey Stockton said, his response to his brother’s request firm and definitive.

  “Hear me out,” Dan urged.

  “No,” he said again. He’d been conscripted to help with far too much Christmas stuff already. Such as helping Luke decorate Sunshine Farm for the holidays and sampling a new Christmas cookie recipe that Eva was trying out (okay, that one hadn’t been much of a hardship—the cookies, like everything she made, were delicious). His youngest brother, Jamie, had even asked him to babysit—yes, babysit!—so that he could take his wife into Kalispell to do some shopping for their triplets and enjoy a holiday show.

  In fact, Bailey had been enlisted for so many tasks, he’d begun to suspect that his siblings had collectively made it their personal mission to revive his holiday spirit. Because he couldn’t seem to make them understand that his holiday spirit was too far gone to be resurrected. They’d have better luck planning the burial and just letting him pretend the holidays didn’t exist.

  “But it’s for Janie’s scout troop,” Dan implored.

  Janie was Dan and Annie’s daughter—the child his brother had only found out about when he returned to Rust Creek Falls not quite eighteen months earlier. Since then, his brother had been doing everything he could to make up for lost time. Which Bailey absolutely understood and respected; he just didn’t want to be conscripted toward the effort.

  “Then you do it,” he said.

  “I was planning to do it,” Dan told him. “And I was looking forward to it, but I’m in bed now with some kind of bug.”

  “Is that a pet name for Annie?”

 
“Ha ha,” his brother said, not sounding amused.

  “Well, you don’t sound very sick to me,” Bailey noted.

  “That’s because you haven’t heard me puking.”

  “And I don’t mind missing out on that,” he assured his brother.

  “I need your help,” Dan said again.

  “I’m sorry you’re not up to putting on the red suit, but there’s got to be someone else who can do it.”

  “You don’t think I tried to find someone else?” Dan asked. “I mean, no offense, big brother, but when I think of Christmas spirit, yours is not the first name that springs to mind.”

  Bailey took no offense to his brother speaking the truth. But he was curious: “Who else did you ask?”

  “Luke, Jamie, Dallas Traub, Russ Campbell, Anderson Dalton, even Old Gene. No one else is available. You’re my last resort, Bailey, and if you don’t come through—”

  “Don’t worry,” Annie interrupted, obviously having taken the phone from her husband. “He’ll come through. Won’t you, Bailey?”

  He hated to let them down, but what they were asking was beyond his abilities. And way outside his comfort zone. “I wish I could, but—”

  That was as far as he got in formulating a response before his sister-in-law interjected again.

  “You can,” she said. “You just need to stop being such a Grooge.”

  “A what?”

  “A Grooge,” she said again. “Since you have even less Christmas spirit than either the Grinch or Scrooge, I’ve decided you’re a Grooge.”

  “Definitely not Santa Claus material,” he felt compelled to point out.

  “Under normal circumstances, I’d agree,” Annie said. “But these aren’t normal circumstances and your brother needs you to step up and help out, because that’s what families do. And that’s why I know you’re going to do this.”

  Chastened by his sister-in-law’s brief but pointed lecture, how could he do anything else?

  But he had no intention of giving in graciously. “Bah, humbug.”

  “I’ll take that as a yes,” Annie said.

  Bailey could only sigh. “What time and where?”

  “I’ll meet you at the Grace Traub Community Center in an hour.”

  And so, an hour later, Bailey found himself at the community center, in one of the small activity rooms that had been repurposed as a dressing room for the event. Annie bustled around, helping him dress.

  “Is this really necessary?” he asked, as she secured the padded belly.

  “Of course, it’s necessary. Santa’s not a lean mean rancher—he’s a toy maker with a milk-and-cookies belly.”

  He slid his arms into the big red coat and fastened the wide belt around his expanded middle.

  “Now sit so that I can put on your beard and wig and fix your face,” Annie said.

  He sat. Then scowled. “What do you mean—fix my face?”

  “Relax and let me do my thing.”

  “‘Do my thing’ are not words that inspire me to relax,” he told her.

  But he clenched his jaw and didn’t say anything else as she unzipped a pouch and pulled out a tube that looked suspiciously like makeup. She brushed whatever it was onto his eyebrows, then took out a pot and another brush that she used on his cheeks.

  “I can’t believe I let you talk me into this,” he grumbled.

  “I know this isn’t your idea of fun, but it means a lot to Dan that you stepped up.”

  “I didn’t step,” he reminded her. “I was pushed.”

  Her lips curved as she recapped the pot and put it back in the bag. “Now the beard,” she said, and hooked the elastic over his ears.

  “No one’s going to thank me for this when I screw it up,” he warned her.

  “You’re not going to screw it up.”

  “Beyond ho ho ho, I don’t have a clue what to say.”

  “This might be a first for you, but it’s not for the kids,” she told him. “And if you really get stuck, I have no doubt that your wife will be able to help you out.”

  Wife? “Who? What?”

  “Mrs. Claus,” she clarified.

  “You didn’t say anything about a Mrs. Claus.”

  And he didn’t know if the revelation now made things better or worse. On the one hand, he was relieved that he wouldn’t have to face a group of kids on his own. On the other, he was skeptical enough about his ability to play a jolly elf, but a jolly elf with a wife?

  “I didn’t think any kind of warning was necessary,” Annie said now. “It was supposed to be me—I was going to be the missus to Dan’s Santa, but when he got sick, well, I couldn’t leave him to suffer at home alone, so I asked a friend to fill in. But you don’t have to worry. Mrs. Claus will be here to hand out candy canes and keep the line moving—no romantic overtures are required.”

  “Thanks, I feel so much better now,” he said dryly.

  “Good,” she said, ignoring his sarcasm. “And speaking of spouses—I should get home to my husband, who isn’t feeling better but is feeling grateful.”

  “Do you want me to drop off this costume later?”

  “No, I’ll come back and get it,” she said.

  When she’d gone, Bailey chanced a hesitant glance in the mirror. He was afraid he’d look as stupid as he felt—like a kid playing dress-up—and was surprised to realize that he looked like Santa.

  There was a brisk knock at the door. “Are you just about ready, Santa?” The scout leader poked his head in the doorway. “Wow, you look great.”

  “Ho ho ho,” Bailey said, testing it out.

  The scout leader grinned and gave him two thumbs-up. “The kids are getting restless.”

  “Mrs. Claus isn’t here yet,” he said. Although he hadn’t originally known there was supposed to be a Mrs. Claus, he now felt at a loss on his own.

  “Maybe she got caught up baking cookies at the North Pole,” the other man joked.

  Whatever she was doing, wherever she was, his missus was nowhere to be found, reminding Bailey of the foolishness of depending on a spouse—even a fictional one.

  “Okay, then.” He exited the makeshift dressing room and followed the scout leader backstage. Though the curtains were closed, he could hear the excited chatter of what sounded like hundreds, maybe thousands, of children. All of them there to see Santa—and getting stuck with a poor imitation instead.

  He felt perspiration bead on his brow and his hands were clammy inside his white cotton gloves. The leader handed him a big sack filled with candy canes and nodded encouragingly.

  It was now or never, and although Bailey would have preferred to go with the never option, he suspected his brother would never forgive him if he chickened out.

  Just as he was reaching for the curtain, he heard footsteps rushing up the stage stairs behind him.

  Mrs. Claus had arrived.

  He didn’t have time to give her much more than a cursory glance, noting the floor-length red dress with faux fur trim at the collar and cuffs, and a white apron tied around her waist. Despite the white wig and granny glasses, he could tell that she was young. Her skin was smooth and unwrinkled, her lips plump and exquisitely shaped, and her eyes were as bright and blue as the Montana sky.

  “Good, I’m not late.” She was breathless, obviously having run some distance, and paused now with her hand on her heart as she drew air into her lungs.

  Of course, the action succeeded in drawing his attention to her chest—and the rise and fall of nicely rounded breasts.

  “Are you ready to do this?” she asked.

  He nodded. Yes. Please.

  She sent him a conspiratorial wink, and suddenly he felt warm all over. Or maybe it was the bulky costume and the overhead lights that were responsible for the sudden increase in his body temperature.

  Then
she stepped through the break in the curtains and began to speak to the children.

  “Well, we ran into a little bit of rough weather on our way from the North Pole, but we finally made it,” she said.

  The crowd of children cheered.

  Bailey listened to her talk, enjoying the melodic tone of her voice as she set the scene for their audience. He didn’t know who she was—he hadn’t thought to ask his sister-in-law—but it was immediately apparent to Bailey that Annie had cast a better Mrs. Claus than her husband had a Santa.

  “I know you’ve all been incredibly patient waiting for Santa to arrive and everyone wants to be first in line to whisper Christmas wishes in his ear, but I promise you, it doesn’t matter if you’re first or last or somewhere in the middle, everyone will have a turn.”

  They had a wide armchair set up on the stage, beside a decorated Christmas tree surrounded by a pile of fake presents. All he had to do was walk through the curtain and settle into the chair. But his feet were suddenly glued to the floor.

  “While Santa finishes settling the reindeer,” she said, offering another explanation for the delay of his appearance, “why don’t we sing his favorite Christmas song?” She looked out at the audience. “Who knows what Santa’s favorite Christmas song is?”

  Through the narrow gap between the curtains, he could see hands immediately thrust into the air.

  Mrs. Claus listened to several random guesses as the children called for “Jingle Bells,” “Let It Snow” and “All I Want for Christmas,” shaking her head after each response.

  “Okay, I’m going to give you a clue,” she said. Then, in a singing voice, she asked, “Who’s got a beard that’s long and white?”

  The children responded as a chorus: “Santa’s got a beard that’s long and white.”

  It was an upbeat and catchy tune with call-and-response lyrics that made it easy for the kids who didn’t know the words to sing along anyway, and Bailey found his booted foot tapping against the floor along with the music.

  The young audience was completely caught up in the song, and he was reluctant to interrupt. But when Mrs. Claus asked, “Who very soon will come our way?” it seemed like an appropriate time to step out from behind the curtain.