Christmas in Texas. Rebecca Winters
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been talked into the Christmas shenanigans by the authoritative Mrs. Mathilda Penny. “I’m sure Santa has better things to do than pose for the Courier, Kelly,” Capri said, trying to encourage her friend to hurry it up a bit. Truthfully, she felt very shy about her weight (okay, she hadn’t put on that much baby weight, but she felt misshapen and awkward), and something told her it was time to leave Father Christmas’s well-muscled lap.
“He doesn’t mind, do you?” Kelly beamed. “I bet Santa likes having his picture taken.” She clicked a few more photos, enough, Capri thought, for a full spread in a national magazine.
“That’s got to be plenty,” Capri said, trying to get up from the man’s warm lap. She couldn’t quite make it to her feet, and Santa gallantly gave her a little push from behind. “Thank you,” she said, determined to be polite, though she was well aware he wouldn’t have had to give a starter push to a more svelte female.
He blinked at her over the festive snowy beard but didn’t reply. Capri decided they’d taken up enough of his time. “Thank you for participating in Christmastown. We really appreciate it.”
“There. That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Kelly asked as they stepped away.
Capri glanced back at Santa, whose gaze remained fixed on her as he sat, completely unmoving, on his white Christmastown throne. “That is no harmless elderly Santa.”
“I know.” Kelly giggled. “He’s an undercover cop.”
“Kelly!” Capri gasped, astonished. “I know security is tight this year, but I don’t think Mrs. Penny would hire an undercover cop to listen to the children’s wish lists.”
“That’s exactly what she did,” Kelly said, inspecting her camera with some approbation. “That’s Mrs. Penny’s nephew. She said that with all the weird stuff going on in Bridesmaids Creek in the past year, she wasn’t taking any chances on the safety of the kids. Mrs. Penny loves a good whodunit more than anyone, but I can’t disagree with her desire to keep this event safe.”
Capri took a fast peek at Santa. His gaze was no longer on her, but trained on some men near the ice sculptures that would greet visitors when the event opened in two hours. The twinkling lights would be on, and Christmastown would be in full swing, overrun by eager tots desiring a turn at Santa’s ear.
“Rats,” Kelly said. “Sorry, Santa. You’ll have to put up with Capri for a couple more seconds. I didn’t have the camera set properly.” She gave Capri a gentle shove back toward Santa, and it seemed to Capri that Santa reached out for her a bit more enthusiastically than he should have.
Trust Mrs. Penny’s nephew to be a diligent St. Nick. Capri once again pasted a smile on her face as Kelly struggled with her camera. Santa seemed happy to have her back on his lap, though he kept his hands off her, which Capri appreciated. The last cop she’d known—her almost-ex-husband—had never been able to keep his hands off her.
It was something she badly missed about Seagal.
“Okay, I fixed it,” Kelly said. “Smile!”
Capri smiled—then yelped with surprise as Santa shoved her out of his lap, chivalrously making certain she didn’t hit the floor. He sprinted toward the ice sculptures and the exit, clearly in excellent physical shape.
Kelly’s mouth dropped open. She lowered the camera for a moment, hastily bringing it back up to her eyes to capture the excitement. Santa leaped onto a snow mound complete with festive village snowmen, rolled to the ground and, just as four uniformed police officers converged on the scene, Santa disappeared under a virtual dogpile of bodies.
“I knew he was trouble!” Capri dusted the fake snow from her designer pregnancy jeans and red fuzzy sweater. “Although I’m surprised Mrs. Penny’s nephew would be knee-deep in some kind of issue with the law.”
“Let’s go see what’s happening.” Kelly pulled Capri with her.
“What happened is that Mrs. Penny’s nephew is a bad cop. I’m going to talk to Mrs. Penny and tell her that next year I want her to double-check all the Santas and workers’ records for possible felons. And fake cops.”
“I don’t know,” Kelly said. “Looks like he’s leading someone off in handcuffs.”
Capri watched as Santa and the police escorted what looked to be a very unsavory individual toward a squad car. The police high-fived Santa, and male laughter floated over to her and Kelly.
“At long last Mrs. Penny has a whodunit happen right here in Bridesmaids Creek,” Capri said with some disgust. “I’m going home.”
“Aren’t you going over there to find out what that was about? You’re one of the co-chairs of the festival!”
“Mrs. Penny will do the honors more effectively than I ever could. Besides, I’ve had quite enough of Christmastown for one year, thanks.” To be honest, she had a bit of a tummy ache, probably from all the excitement. If she mentioned that to Kelly, her friend would make a federal case of it and send up the alarm that the newest resident of Bridesmaids Creek was about to make its appearance just in time for Christmas. “See you later. Remember, early cleanup tomorrow morning at 8:00 a.m.”
“Scrooge!” Kelly accused, but Capri kept walking toward her car. Her stomach was somersaulting like mad. She figured they’d had enough excitement for one night. She got into her small car and drove away.
The police had expected something to happen tonight or else there wouldn’t have been an undercover cop dressed as Santa. But they hadn’t bothered to tell her, one of the event’s organizers.
Something was not good in Christmastown.
* * *
TWO HOURS LATER Capri was in her worn flannel pajamas—red and decorated with yellow smiley faces wearing Santa caps—and in no mood to do anything but sit in front of her fireplace and read the cozy mystery Mrs. Penny had lent her when her doorbell rang. Most likely it was her mother, who by now had every bit of news about Christmastown’s big night.
“Who is it?”
“Santa!”
The hunky Santa with the bedroom eyes? “Go away,” she said, her pride still slightly damaged that he’d shoved her out of his lap so dismissively. “If you’re here to discuss future Christmastown employment, you’ll have to make an appointment with the event organizer, Mrs. Penny. She hired you.”
“Is that any way to talk to one of history’s most revered figures? I’ve heard good Santas are hard to find. And the kids love me.”
“Revered indeed.” Mrs. Penny lived in the gingerbread-styled house next door and at this hour would have her nose pressed to the glass wondering why a car was parked in front of her neighbor’s house. Capri was twenty-seven, but that didn’t mean that every single thing she did wasn’t dutifully reported to her mother and anyone else with the slightest bit of hearing left.
His voice was familiar; he sounded astonishingly like her almost-ex, Seagal West. But that was impossible. Seagal was with the Texas Rangers, and she wasn’t sure exactly where he was working these days. Besides which, Seagal wore Stetsons—she’d bet her last cup of Christmas cheer he wouldn’t be caught dead in a festive red Santa cap.
Complete coincidence.
“Go away before you wake my neighbor!” Capri said, though she was dying to know what had happened tonight. Something told her that if she opened the door, she’d be face-to-face with more than a handsome cop. Sexy Santas were not on her Christmas list.
“I’ve been assigned to you. So open up, doll, before we scandalize the entire neighborhood, and not just the mystery-scribbling Mrs. Penny.”
Assigned to her? Capri jerked open the door. He was dressed in regular street wear: casual jeans, loose shirt not tucked in, boots. Standard Stetson, for him.
It was the Bridesmaids Creek Santa.
And