Total pages in book: 24
Estimated words: 22390 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 112(@200wpm)___ 90(@250wpm)___ 75(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 22390 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 112(@200wpm)___ 90(@250wpm)___ 75(@300wpm)
I pour West his coffee and pass it to him, careful not to touch his fingers. I’m always worried that my face will give me away. Mom says my eyes tell the truth and West is the one person I can’t afford to tell the truth to.
He takes a long sip of his coffee and I watch his throat work. “Mom wants Dad to sit out of everything this year, so it looks like I’ll be putting on the big red suit.”
An important part of the Christmas festivities every year is the Santa’s workshop event that Dad and Mom put on here. He dresses up as Santa and she’s Mrs. Claus. They hand out gifts to all the kids in town and donate groceries to needy parents. Their goal is to make sure every family in Courage County has a beautiful Christmas day and I love them for it. They aren’t just interested in Christmas as a business. It’s a way of life for them and that means giving back to those less fortunate.
Still, I can’t help the giggle that manages to escape when I imagine West in the big red suit, trying to smile down at the babies and take pictures with the sugar-hyped children who come to sit on his lap. “You’re going to pretend to be jolly this year?”
“Oh, it gets better,” he drawls. “You’re going to be Mrs. Claus.”
2
WEST
Cassie would have you believing that I’m the big green guy. The one who steals Christmas and disappoints children. But well, I’ve always thought they had him a little bit wrong in the movies. Maybe the fellow with the shoes too tight is just lonely. Maybe he’s always been a little bit in love with someone who doesn’t return his feelings.
I grew up hearing my parents talk about how they met one Christmas, and it was love at first sight. The same thing happened to me too. Only she was my best friend’s little sister. She was fifteen and standing there in a pair of red tights and a short dress looking like a dream straight out of my fantasies.
I was eighteen and even if my parents hadn’t warned me away, I wouldn’t have pursued her. I was best friends with Micah and besides, my folks adopted both of them. We spent every day mucking out horse stalls together and every night sharing a dinner table.
Now Christmas is a reminder that she doesn’t see me as anything but her adopted brother. I can’t think too much about that or my gut gets all twisted up. Mainly, I just try to avoid her and everyone else. Hell, maybe I am the green guy.
She puts a hand on her curvy hip. “I’m not playing Mrs. Claus to your Santa.”
When my folks told me they wouldn’t be putting on the usual Santa and Mrs. Claus costumes this year, I did the logical thing. I suggested my brother don the red suit. Ledger is the real crowd-pleaser. He already does the tours around the farm, keeping tourists and locals alike entertained as they’re driven around the grounds.
But he can’t do that and manage to be Santa at the same time. The next less logical solution was my brother, Micah. But he drives the tractor that attaches to the wagons. Each wagon is decorated to look like a train car. It’s a Christmas train that delights our visitors year after year.
That only left yours truly for the part. I would have balked, but I knew that would make my mom sad. If there’s one thing a Southern man won’t stand for, it’s disappointing his mama. So, I agreed to do this for my parents and for the kids that still believe Christmas is magical.
My only problem was finding a Mrs. Claus. Until I walked by Cassie’s workshop, and I realized I could get her to fill the part. She’s the only one I could think of that would be available on short notice and besides, she loves the Kringle Christmas Tree Ranch.
She’d do anything for my parents as it is. Maybe not for me. But then again, that part is my fault. I’ve been a jack ass since the day I met her. Knew she’d never be mine so I’ve kept as much distance between us as I can.
“Yeah, you’ll be Mrs. Claus this year,” I insist. It wasn’t my plan to blackmail her when I set foot in here. But now that I’ve entertained the possibility of her being Mrs. Claus, I can’t let it go. “Otherwise, I’m telling mom what happened to her prized Mustang.”
The same Mustang that sixteen-year-old Cassie borrowed at midnight and wrecked. Took it for a joyride and called her brother crying when she drove it into the ditch. By some miracle, she wasn’t injured. But the same couldn’t be said of the car.