
Bring Me a Maverick for Christmas!
Author
Brenda Harlen
Reads
16.2K
Chapters
15
Chapter One
âNo way in ho-ho-hell,â Bailey Stockton said, his response to his brotherâs request firm and definitive.
âHear me out,â Dan urged.
âNo,â he said again. Heâd 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 hadnât been much of a hardshipâthe cookies, like everything she made, were delicious). His youngest brother, Jamie, had even asked him to babysitâyes, babysit!âso 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, heâd begun to suspect that his siblings had collectively made it their personal mission to revive his holiday spirit. Because he couldnât seem to make them understand that his holiday spirit was too far gone to be resurrected. Theyâd have better luck planning the burial and just letting him pretend the holidays didnât exist.
âBut itâs for Janieâs scout troop,â Dan implored.
Janie was Dan and Annieâs daughterâthe 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 didnât want to be conscripted toward the effort.
âThen you do it,â he said.
âI was planning to do it,â Dan told him. âAnd I was looking forward to it, but Iâm in bed now with some kind of bug.â
âIs that a pet name for Annie?â
âHa ha,â his brother said, not sounding amused.
âWell, you donât sound very sick to me,â Bailey noted.
âThatâs because you havenât heard me puking.â
âAnd I donât mind missing out on that,â he assured his brother.
âI need your help,â Dan said again.
âIâm sorry youâre not up to putting on the red suit, but thereâs got to be someone else who can do it.â
âYou donât think I tried to find someone else?â Dan asked. âI mean, no offense, big brother, but when I think of Christmas spirit, yours is not the first name that springs to mind.â
Bailey took no offense to his brother speaking the truth. But he was curious: âWho else did you ask?â
âLuke, Jamie, Dallas Traub, Russ Campbell, Anderson Dalton, even Old Gene. No one else is available. Youâre my last resort, Bailey, and if you donât come throughââ
âDonât worry,â Annie interrupted, obviously having taken the phone from her husband. âHeâll come through. Wonât you, Bailey?â
He hated to let them down, but what they were asking was beyond his abilities. And way outside his comfort zone. âI wish I could, butââ
That was as far as he got in formulating a response before his sister-in-law interjected again.
âYou can,â she said. âYou just need to stop being such a Grooge.â
âA what?â
âA Grooge,â she said again. âSince you have even less Christmas spirit than either the Grinch or Scrooge, Iâve decided youâre a Grooge.â
âDefinitely not Santa Claus material,â he felt compelled to point out.
âUnder normal circumstances, Iâd agree,â Annie said. âBut these arenât normal circumstances and your brother needs you to step up and help out, because thatâs what families do. And thatâs why I know youâre going to do this.â
Chastened by his sister-in-lawâs brief but pointed lecture, how could he do anything else?
But he had no intention of giving in graciously. âBah, humbug.â
âIâll take that as a yes,â Annie said.
Bailey could only sigh. âWhat time and where?â
âIâll meet you at the Grace Traub Community Center in an hour.â
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.
âIs this really necessary?â he asked, as she secured the padded belly.
âOf course, itâs necessary. Santaâs not a lean mean rancherâheâs a toy maker with a milk-and-cookies belly.â
He slid his arms into the big red coat and fastened the wide belt around his expanded middle.
âNow sit so that I can put on your beard and wig and fix your face,â Annie said.
He sat. Then scowled. âWhat do you meanâfix my face?â
âRelax and let me do my thing.â
ââDo my thingâ are not words that inspire me to relax,â he told her.
But he clenched his jaw and didnât 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.
âI canât believe I let you talk me into this,â he grumbled.
âI know this isnât your idea of fun, but it means a lot to Dan that you stepped up.â
âI didnât step,â he reminded her. âI was pushed.â
Her lips curved as she recapped the pot and put it back in the bag. âNow the beard,â she said, and hooked the elastic over his ears.
âNo oneâs going to thank me for this when I screw it up,â he warned her.
âYouâre not going to screw it up.â
âBeyond ho ho ho, I donât have a clue what to say.â
âThis might be a first for you, but itâs not for the kids,â she told him. âAnd if you really get stuck, I have no doubt that your wife will be able to help you out.â
Wife? âWho? What?â
âMrs. Claus,â she clarified.
âYou didnât say anything about a Mrs. Claus.â
And he didnât know if the revelation now made things better or worse. On the one hand, he was relieved that he wouldnât 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?
âI didnât think any kind of warning was necessary,â Annie said now. âIt was supposed to be meâI was going to be the missus to Danâs Santa, but when he got sick, well, I couldnât leave him to suffer at home alone, so I asked a friend to fill in. But you donât have to worry. Mrs. Claus will be here to hand out candy canes and keep the line movingâno romantic overtures are required.â
âThanks, I feel so much better now,â he said dryly.
âGood,â she said, ignoring his sarcasm. âAnd speaking of spousesâI should get home to my husband, who isnât feeling better but is feeling grateful.â
âDo you want me to drop off this costume later?â
âNo, Iâll come back and get it,â she said.
When sheâd gone, Bailey chanced a hesitant glance in the mirror. He was afraid heâd look as stupid as he feltâlike a kid playing dress-upâand was surprised to realize that he looked like Santa.
There was a brisk knock at the door. âAre you just about ready, Santa?â The scout leader poked his head in the doorway. âWow, you look great.â
âHo ho ho,â Bailey said, testing it out.
The scout leader grinned and gave him two thumbs-up. âThe kids are getting restless.â
âMrs. Claus isnât here yet,â he said. Although he hadnât originally known there was supposed to be a Mrs. Claus, he now felt at a loss on his own.
âMaybe she got caught up baking cookies at the North Pole,â 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 spouseâeven a fictional one.
âOkay, then.â 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 Santaâand 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 didnât 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.
âGood, Iâm not late.â 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 chestâand the rise and fall of nicely rounded breasts.
âAre you ready to do this?â 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.
âWell, we ran into a little bit of rough weather on our way from the North Pole, but we finally made it,â 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 didnât know who she wasâhe hadnât thought to ask his sister-in-lawâbut it was immediately apparent to Bailey that Annie had cast a better Mrs. Claus than her husband had a Santa.
âI know youâve 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 doesnât matter if youâre first or last or somewhere in the middle, everyone will have a turn.â
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.
âWhile Santa finishes settling the reindeer,â she said, offering another explanation for the delay of his appearance, âwhy donât we sing his favorite Christmas song?â She looked out at the audience. âWho knows what Santaâs favorite Christmas song is?â
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 âJingle Bells,â âLet It Snowâ and âAll I Want for Christmas,â shaking her head after each response.
âOkay, Iâm going to give you a clue,â she said. Then, in a singing voice, she asked, âWhoâs got a beard thatâs long and white?â
The children responded as a chorus: âSantaâs got a beard thatâs long and white.â
It was an upbeat and catchy tune with call-and-response lyrics that made it easy for the kids who didnât 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, âWho very soon will come our way?â it seemed like an appropriate time to step out from behind the curtain.
âSanta very soon will...â
The response of the chorus faded away as the singers noticed that Santa was, in fact, here now. Several clapped, others pointed and many whispered excitedly to their neighbors.
âAnd here he is,â Mrs. Claus said, then smiled warmly at him and gestured for him to take a seat.
Bailey nodded as he made his way to the chair. He was too nervous to smile back, although she probably couldnât tell if he was or wasnât smiling behind the bushy mustache that hung over his mouth anyway.
He settled into his seat as the leader announced that the young Tiger Scouts would get to visit with Santa first. There were craft tables at the far end of the room for groups waiting to be called and refreshments available.
Bailey felt his palms grow clammy again as the kids lined up, but it didnât take him long to realize that his sister-in-law had been right: the kids knew what they were doing. In fact, most of them didnât expect much from him beyond listening to their wishes and offering them a âMerry Christmas.â
There were a lot of requests for specific toys and new video games. A couple of requests for puppies and kittens, building blocks and board games, hockey skates or ballerina slippers. Some of the kids asked questions, wanting to know such random facts as âwhoâs your favorite reindeer?â or âhow old is Rudolph?â
He gave vague responses, so as not to contradict anything else they might have been told by their parents, and he was careful not to make any promises, assuring each child only that he would do his best to make their wishes come true.
And if he was a little stiff and unnatural, his supposed wife was the complete oppositeâwarm and kind and totally believable. She did more than move the line along and hand out candy canes. She seemed to instinctively know what to say and do to put the little ones at ease.
He was about halfway through the Bear Scouts and finally starting to relax into his role when a scowling boy climbed into his lap.
Bailey, anticipating one of the usual requests, was taken aback when the boy said, âChristmas sucks.â
âYeah,â Bailey agreed. âSometimes it does.â
Mrs. Claus gasped and the boyâs eyes immediately filled with tears.
âYouâre not sâposed to agree,â the child protested. âYouâre sâposed to tell me that itâs gonna be okay.â
Since Bailey didnât know what it was, he didnât feel he should make any such promises. But he belatedly acknowledged that he shouldnât have responded the way he did, either. Being called out by the child was only further proof that taking his brotherâs place as Santa had been a bad idea.
âNow, Santa,â Mrs. Claus chided. âI told you not to take your grumpy mood out on the children or Iâll have to put you on the naughty list.â
This threat served to both distract and intrigue the little boy, who eyed her with rapt fascination.
âIâm sorry, Owen,â she continued, speaking directly to the child now. âSantaâs a little out of sorts today because I warned him that he has to cut down on the cookies if he wants to fit down the chimneys on Christmas Eve.â
Then she sent Bailey a pointed look that had him nodding in acknowledgment of her claim as he rubbed his padded belly. âI really like gingerbread,â he said, in a conspiratorial whisper to the boy his âwifeâ had called Owen. âBut I definitely donât want to end up on the naughty list.â
âCan she do that?â Owen asked.
He nodded again, almost afraid to do otherwise. âSo tell me, Owen, is there anything Santa can do to help make the holidays happier for you?â
âCan you make Riley not move to Bozeman?â he asked hopefully.
This time Bailey did shake his head. âIâm sorry.â
The childâs gaze shifted toward Mrs. Claus again. âCan she do it?â Because apparently the boy believed Mrs. Claus not only had authority over her husband but greater magical powers, too.
âIâm sorry,â he said again.
Owen sighed. âThen maybe you could leave a PKT-79 under my tree at Christmas and I can give it to Riley, so that heâll have something to remember me by.â
It wasnât the first request for a PKT-79, and though Bailey still had no idea what it was, he was touched by the childâs request for the gift to give to someone else.
âIâll see what I can do,â Santa told him. âMerry Christmas.â
âYeah,â Owen said, his tone slightly less glum. âMerry Christmas.â
Mrs. Claus held out a candy cane to the boy.
Owen paused to ask her, âYouâll make sure Santa can get down my chimney, wonât you?â
âYou bet I will,â she promised, with a wink and a smile for the boy.
Bailey paid more attention after that, to avoid another slipup. When all the children had expressed their wishes to Santa, he and his wife wished everyone a Merry Christmas and headed backstage again.
By the time he made it to the dressing room, Bailey was more than ready to shed the red coat and everything it represented, but Mrs. Claus walked into the room right behind him.
Closing the door firmly at her back, she faced him with her hands on her hips. âI donât know why anyone would ask someone with such an obviously lousy disposition to play Santa, but you have no right to ruin Christmas for the kids who actually look forward to celebrating the holiday.â
Bailey already felt guilty enough for his unthinking response to Owen, but he didnât appreciate being taken to taskâagainâby a stranger, and instinctively lashed out. âA lecture from my loving wife? Now I really do feel like weâre married.â
âIâd pity any woman who married you,â she shot back.
His ready retort stuck in his throat when she took off the granny glasses and removed the wig, causing her long blond hair to tumble over her shoulders, effecting an instant and stunning transformation.
Mrs. Claus was a definite hottie.
Too bad she was also bossy and annoying. And...vaguely familiar looking, he realized.
She twisted her arm up behind her back, trying to reach the top of the zipper, but her fingertips fell short of their target.
While she struggled, Bailey removed his own hat, wig and beard.
She brought her arm around to her front again and tried to reach the back of the dress from over her shoulder, still without success.
He should offer to help. That would be the polite and gentlemanly thing to do. But as his sister-in-law had noted, he was a Grooge and, still stinging from Mrs. Clausâs sharp rebuke, not in a very charitable or helpful mood. Instead, he unbuckled his wide belt, removed the heavy jacket and padded belly, eager to shed the external trappings of his own role.
Finally, she huffed out a breath. âYou could offer to help, you know?â
âIf you need help, you could ask,â he countered.
âWould you please help me unzip my dress?â she finally said.
âUsually I buy a woman dinner before I try to get her out of her clothes.â He couldnât resist teasing. âBut since you asked...â














































