Secret-Santa Cowboy: The Buckskin Brotherhood Read online

  “That would be helpful.”

  “Besides, he’ll have on the suit, the beard, and the padding around his waist. The kids who’ve been through this before will assume it’s me, or rather, Santa, depending on how young they are.”

  “Does he know the routine? The route?”

  “I’ve given him all the info he’ll need. He’ll pick you up in front of the shop at six on the dot. It’s on his bucket list to play Santa and pass out toys to needy children. He loves Christmas and this means a lot to him.”

  “What’s his last name?”

  “Smith.”

  “I don’t remember meeting anyone named Clark Smith.”

  “Well, he’s—”

  “I’ve only been here a little over a year, though. It’s not like I know everybody.”

  “You’ll like him. He and my wife Suzanne were good friends.”

  “An older gentleman, then?” She flushed. “Not that you’re old, Ben. I didn’t mean—”

  “I’m old enough to be your father, so that puts me in senior citizen territory. But Clark’s around your age.”

  “Huh. What does he do?”

  “Works with horses.”

  “A cowboy?”

  “You could call him that. Hey, does the elf outfit fit okay?”

  “It does. I’m glad it’s roomy enough for me to put on thermal underwear. I tried on everything last night and went outside. I wasn’t that cold.”

  “You can wear a coat except when you get out to help Santa.”

  “Oh, I will. But the snow they predicted is moving off to the north. I was kind of disappointed. Delivering toys while it’s snowing would add to the atmosphere.”

  “I’d rather you had a safe trip than atmosphere.”

  “Good point. Don’t want Santa stuck in a snowdrift.”

  “For sure. Listen, I need to take off and gas up the red truck, but I want to buy Henri a journal while I’m here. She’s been talking about starting one, now that she’s about to be a grandma. I thought it might make a good Christmas present.”

  “Great idea. Let’s look at what I have.” She walked over to a shelf dedicated to nothing but journals. They were arranged spines out because she had a large selection.

  “She’ll want it to have recycled paper.”

  “That’s all I carry.”

  “So that’s why you call the place Planet-Friendly Paper. I wondered.” He scanned the array and pulled out a leather-covered journal. “This looks like something Henri would like. What about leather? Is that recycled, too?”

  “Absolutely. The company that makes those uses discarded leather items like coats, chaps, boots…”

  “Henri will approve of that concept, too.” He opened the journal and leafed through the pages. “The paper has an antique look. Classy. I’ll take it.”

  “Do you need it gift-wrapped?”

  “No, ma’am. I’ll handle that. But you know what? I should warn you that I bought regular Christmas wrap and stick-on bows for Operation Santa.”

  “No worries. I understand.” She smiled. “I’m guessing the families preserve the paper and reuse the bows.”

  “That’s what I hear.”

  She stepped behind the counter and rang up the purchase. “Any word on how soon Isabel and CJ can expect that baby girl?”

  “The doc says any day, but then again, maybe not until after the first of the year. Henri’s so excited she can’t stand it. I may give this to her tonight instead of waiting. She can pour some of her excess energy into writing love notes to little Cleo Marie.” He handed her cash.

  “Do you need a receipt?”

  “No, ma’am, don’t need that, either.”

  She counted out his change. ‘The paper’s acid-free, so it will last a while.”

  “That’s great. She plans to give the journal to Cleo when she’s old enough to read cursive.”

  “Aww. What a sweet project. Does she need pens?”

  “I’ll check. If she does, I’ll be back.” Touching two fingers to the brim of his Stetson, he started for the door just as Beth came through it. “Hey, there! How’re things at Racy Lace?”

  “Busy! ’Tis the season to be sexy.” She unbuttoned her coat. “I keep expecting you to come in and buy something seductive for Henri.”

  He laughed. “That’s funny. The boys don’t want to hear a word about our sex life and here you are encouraging me to spice it up.”

  “Because I don’t think of her as my mom. Seriously, you should come by. I have something I know she’d love.”

  “I promise I’ll be in. Gotta run—truck needs gas.”

  “Have fun tonight.”

  “I won’t—on second thought, I’ll let Fiona tell you about that. See you ladies later.” Tipping his hat, he hurried out the door.

  Beth walked toward the register. “Tell me what?”

  “He gave the Santa job to someone named Clark Smith.”

  “He’s not doing it? That’s disappointing. I wanted you to have the same experience I had last year.”

  “Me, too.”

  “Who’s Clark Smith?”

  “No clue. Never heard of the guy. Evidently he desperately wants to take this on and Ben says I’ll like him. I’m a little bummed about it, but what can I do? Ben’s in charge of this venture, so if he wants to give his spot to someone else, that’s his privilege.”

  “I saw he bought a journal.”

  “For Henri. She wants to record this first grandma experience.”

  “It’s a thoughtful gift, but I’m pretty sure she’s also expecting saucy nightwear.”

  “Nightwear he can’t let the Brotherhood know he purchased. What a riot. Those guys are doing the deed with their chosen sweethearts, but they don’t want to think of Henri having a good time.”

  “I know. But she’s the mom figure. I get it.”

  “And the grandma figure. CJ and Isabel will be tickled that she’s journaling about their kid. Which reminds me, I finished reading the risqué diary Eva found in her attic this summer.”

  “Stimulating reading, isn’t it?”

  “No kidding. Miss Barton and her secret lover certainly enjoyed themselves in that Victorian.”

  “Have you had time to look through the Gazette archives to see if you can figure out who he was?”

  “Got a start on it. I have some likely candidates. I’d love to solve the mystery, especially if he’s still around.”

  “But you wouldn’t unmask him.”

  “God, no. That wouldn’t be right. I’ll just tell you and Eva. So what are you up to tonight?”

  “I’m spending the night out at Jared’s. We’re building a fire and watching Christmas movies.”

  “I’ll bet you build a fire.” She made air quotes.

  Beth laughed. “We literally build a fire. That’s not to say we don’t get frisky on the couch while we’re watching the movie.”

  “You could just stay out there, you know. He has to come in to Logan’s Leathers every day and you could ride in with him and then go back every evening.”

  “It’s been discussed. But I love my little apartment over the shop. I love Jared, too, and I’m thrilled that we got past our misunderstandings, but…I don’t want to give up—” She threw her hands in the air. “It’s hard to explain.”

  “I see what you mean, though. Your shops are connected. Living at his ranch would mean being accessible to each other twenty-four-seven. No matter how much you love each other, that’s a lot of together time.”

  “And maybe someday I’ll want that. Not yet.”

  “Then listen to your gut.”

  “Aren’t you supposed to listen to your heart?”

  “Hell, no. Your heart will screw you up every time. Your gut tells the truth.”

  “Wise words.” Beth came over and gave her a hug. “Good luck with Clark Smith.” She paused. “Does that sound like an alias to you?”

  “The Smith part does, but not Clark. Joe Smith or Bill Smith would ha
ve been suspicious. Not Clark.”

  “Clark Kent would have been suspicious.”

  Fiona laughed. “You think? Or Clark Griswold. Even more suspicious, since we’re doing a Christmas thing. But Clark Smith is just some nice guy who wants the Santa experience.”

  “Do you know anything about him?

  “Ben said he works with horses, so I’m picturing a cowboy. I’m sure he’ll be fine.”

  “Can’t wait to hear about it tomorrow.” She buttoned her coat.

  “Bottom line, some kids who wouldn’t get much for Christmas will have toys to play with on Christmas Day.”

  “That’s the important thing.” Beth turned as the shop door jingled. “You have customers. See you in the morning!” She skirted around the group of teenage girls who came in and slipped outside.

  The girls needed art supplies for a school project they’d be working on during the Christmas break. They were in high spirits as they looked forward to two weeks with no classes and their bouncy mood carried Fiona through to five o’clock.

  After closing out the register and straightening the displays, she quickly vacuumed the floor before hurrying up to her apartment. Dinner was a PB&J sandwich and a cup of tea. Then she stripped down, tugged on her thermal underwear and put on the fleece elf suit that Beth had worn a year earlier.

  Green pants cuffed in red were paired with a red tunic. Its green collar and cuffs matched the pants and the saw-tooth hem gave it an elfin look. Red elf boots, more like slipper socks than shoes, had turned-up toes and a little bell. A red and green fleece stocking cap completed the outfit.

  She left her hair loose and pulled the stocking cap over her ears. Beth had worn the cap on the back of her head and glued on pointy ears, but she’d skipped that embellishment.

  Yikes, almost six. Grabbing her wool coat and gloves, which luckily were a matching red, she hurried to the front window and peered out.

  The guy was early. Ben’s red truck, the back mounded with bags of toys, was diagonally parked in front of her shop with the engine running. Clouds of condensed moisture poured from the tailpipe.

  What was his name again? Chuck Smith? No, Clark. Clark Smith. Did she need her purse? No, it would just get in the way. Snatching her key from a hook by the stairs, she tucked it in her coat pocket, picked up her phone and made for the stairs. The map function on her phone might come in handy.

  Whoa, better not take the stairs fast in elf boots. Tumbling to the bottom wouldn’t help the situation. She descended carefully.

  When she walked out the door, Santa climbed down from the truck. Terrific suit. Looked like red velvet trimmed with faux ermine.

  His belt was black and shiny with a big brass buckle. His black boots were shiny, too. Even his beard looked real.

  He wore wire-rimmed glasses, which might be his, but if they were, they fit the costume perfectly. He had on gloves instead of mittens, but that was the only departure from tradition. Made sense from a dexterity standpoint.

  “Fabulous outfit, Santa.”

  “Thanks, Fiona. Is it okay if I call you that?”

  “As opposed to what?”

  “Miss Hildebrand.”

  “Good grief. Please call me Fiona, or Fi.”

  “Alrighty, then, Fi. I’m Clark.” He took off his glove and held out his hand. “And thanks for putting up with the change in plans.”

  She peered at him as they shook hands. Light reflected off his glasses and she couldn’t see his eyes very well. “You do sound like Ben. He said you were a good mimic.”

  “Did some acting when I was younger. I’m glad you brought a coat, but you won’t need it in the truck. I’ve turned up the heat.”

  “Then let’s go.” She started toward the passenger side. “I bought super good thermal underwear when I decided to move to Montana. And my costume is polyester, so it’s warm.”

  “So is mine, and I have padding. I might have to turn the heat down before the night’s over.” He opened the passenger door and warm air spilled out. “Yeah, might need to do it now.”

  She accepted his help getting in. “I appreciate the hand up. These elf shoes will take some getting used to. I almost fell down the stairs.”

  “Then please watch your step.” He closed the door and rounded the truck. When he got behind the wheel, he glanced at her. “Too hot?”

  “It’s pretty warm.”

  “Then let’s back it off a bit.” He adjusted the heater before pulling the door closed. “That should be better.”

  “Wow, I would swear that was Ben talking just now.”

  “I practiced some today, getting into character. I asked him to record his voice for me and that helped a lot.”

  “You’re taking this seriously, aren’t you?”

  “Absolutely. He’s doing me a big favor by letting me impersonate him this year. Don’t want to screw it up.”

  “I wouldn’t worry about that. Clearly you’re a detail-oriented person. You’ll be fine.”

  “Nice of you to say. Want some music?”

  “Seems like we should have music, right? I brought my phone.”

  “So did I.” He picked it up from the cup holder. “Got any favorites?”

  “Anything by Mannheim Steamroller works for me.”

  “Good, we agree.” He tapped on the screen and Deck the Halls flowed from the truck’s speakers.

  “Well done! This isn’t even your truck and you synced your phone to the speakers. I’m impressed.”

  He grinned. “Ben insists it doesn’t have that function. I figured it must have since it’s only two years old and its loaded with options, so I drove over here early and set it up while I waited for you.”

  “Which means if I had done this with Ben instead of you, the music option would have been…”

  “Holiday tunes on the radio.”

  “I prefer this option.”

  “Me, too.” He turned on the dome light and popped open the console. “Here’s our list of deliveries.” He handed it to her. “The one at the top, the Emerson place, is the farthest away. I know where that one is, but after that, I’ll need some guidance as we work our way back.”

  “Aha! Exactly why I brought this.” She held up her phone.

  “Excellent. You’re in charge of navigation.”

  “I assume the bags are labeled.”

  “Yep, and the last delivery was loaded first. Ready to deliver toys to excited kids?”

  “I sure am.”

  “Let’s do it.” He shut off the dome light and backed out of the parking space as the tune switched to We Three Kings. “Ben said he always takes a turn around the square before heading out. Sets the mood.”

  “Good idea.” She gazed out the window as he slowly drove past storefronts dressed for the season, streetlamps decorated with wreaths and red bows, and the jewel in the middle—a gazebo festooned with greenery, bows and a glittering Christmas tree in the center.

  She had a view of the square from her shop and her apartment, but it sparkled a little brighter tonight. Her disappointment at not having the Ben Malone experience had vanished. Instead she’d have the Clark Smith experience, and it was shaping up to be just as good and maybe a teensy bit better.

  Chapter Three

  Like night and day. Leo couldn’t get over the difference between this Fiona and the nervous, mostly silent woman he’d taken to dinner at the Moose four months ago. Evidently a disguise changed everything.

  Bottom line, he had one evening to convince her the man behind the face was someone she might like to know. As he left the square, he turned the music down slightly. “How much did Ben tell you about how this goes?”

  “Not much, but my friend Beth—do you know Beth?”

  “I know who she is.”

  “She was Santa’s elf last year. She had a blast. She was excited that I’d get to do it. I’m wearing the same outfit she did.”

  “Looks good on you.” Adorable, in fact, but saying that would sound weird at this point.


  “Thanks. The pants are a little short, but since the boots come up past my ankles, it doesn’t matter. The kids will be paying more attention to you, anyway.”

  “Maybe, although those pointy shoes with a jingle bell look like crowd pleasers to me.”

  “They’re stylin’, all right.” She raised one foot and wiggled it so the bell would ring. “They’re my favorite part of the costume.”

  “I can see why. By the way, Ben reminded me to greet the kids by name if possible. Their ages are on the list so that should help me identify who’s who. If you’ll prompt me with that info as we pull up, that’ll help enormously.”

  “You bet.”

  “Ben treats his helper to pumpkin pie and warm cider at the Moose afterward, but he’ll be out at Henri’s when we get back. Would you let me buy you dessert when we get back?”

  “Sounds lovely. I accept.”

  It was all so easy, now that he was in disguise. The woman who had put him off indefinitely when he’d asked for a second date had immediately agreed to a nightcap. “Doesn’t have to be pie and cider.”

  “Oh, yes, it does. Beth told me that finished off the evening perfectly.”

  “Alrighty, then. What else did she say? I don’t want to leave out anything significant.”

  “She mentioned they drove through a light snow, which made the night even more magical, but that’s pretty much out of your control.”

  “You never know. I’m Santa Claus. I’ll work on it. What else?”

  “Ben, I mean Santa, gave her some history on the apple orchards Orville Dubois planted and his decision to name the town Apple Grove, but I’ve researched Orville on my own, so that part isn’t necessary.”

  “That’s a relief. I know some of that, but I’ve never heard Orville’s last name. To me, he’s just Orville, the nice old guy who hangs out by the pot-bellied stove at the Apple Barrel and can tell you more about growing apples than anybody in Montana. Is he French?”

  “His parents were French immigrants, so he can probably speak the language. He married a local schoolteacher but she died young. He never remarried, so I think she was the love of his life.”

  “Where did you learn all this?”