Kissing Santa, A Clover Park Novella (Clover Park, Book 4) Contemporary Romance (The Clover Park Series) (2 page)

He left the wishbone hanging out there, unwilling to battle his mother over it. He had a feeling that wishbone was going to bring him some bad juju.

“Do not interrupt your mother,” his mother snapped.

“Sorry.”

His older sisters, Maria and Elena, giggled. They loved when he got the brunt of their mother’s opinionated attention. They always said he had it easy because he was the baby and the only boy. He’d been his parents’ surprise baby. His sister Elena was ten years older than him; Maria twelve years. He shot his sisters a dark look that made them giggle even more.

“It's time you settled down,” his mother said sharply. “Enough of these wild oats. My friend has the perfect woman for you. I told her you would take Samantha to dinner Saturday night. One dinner is all it will take for you to open your eyes to your future wife. It is
destino
.”

He jolted at the wife thing. How had they gone from dinner to marriage? And he wouldn’t exactly call it fate to have his mother set him up. He tried reason, though he knew that was a losing battle when his mother had her mind set on something. “I can find my own wife, er, date. I don’t need a setup.”

The wishbone lowered, and he relaxed.

“No one worth bringing home for your family to meet,” his mother huffed. “This girl is Catholic, and her mother brought her up the right way."

He stared at her. “What right way is that?"

"The traditional way."

He held up his palms. “What traditional way? This is America."

Elena and Maria roared with laughter.

“Ricky’s getting married,” Elena teased.

Even his father was chuckling.

His mother shook the wishbone at him. “If you get the bigger piece, you may do as you wish. If I do, you go on this date with the
right
kind of woman.”

Fine. He’d win the stupid wishbone break, and they’d be done with all this traditional woman crap. He couldn’t wait to drive back home to Clover Park, Connecticut, and pick up some beautiful woman at Garner’s Sports Bar & Grill looking to escape her family. He wanted that fast escape even more now.

He gripped the wishbone. It was really slippery from his nephews fighting over it so long. His mother braced her legs apart like they were about to do battle. Maybe they were. The family went quiet. Even his sisters finally shut their giggling traps.

He pulled and the wishbone snapped. He opened his hand. It was the short end.
Mierda
.

His mother held up the larger end in triumph.

“Finally!” she exclaimed. “Rico will marry and give me more wonderful grandchildren. She is thirty, not too old.”

“Finally, Rico!” Maria exclaimed. “Now we can all get on with our lives. You were really dragging your feet there.”

His mother shot Maria a quelling look. She immediately quieted.

Rico dropped the short end of the wishbone on the table.
Bad juju
. “I said I’d go on a date, not get married and have kids.”

His mother clasped her hands in prayer and looked toward the ceiling. “I pray I don’t die before I can meet Rico’s children.”

He rolled his eyes. His mother was sixty-eight and showed no signs of slowing down. She’d probably meet her great-great-grandchildren.

She gripped his hand. “
Mijo
, listen, this is very important. Use your best manners. Call her parents Mr. and Mrs. Dixon. None of that funny stuff joking. Be serious. Samantha Dixon does not want a clown.”

“Okay, Ma. I’ll do that, but I’m not making any promises. One date.”

She kissed him on both cheeks, and he flashed to
The Godfather
. It felt about as ominous.

“Now help your sisters clear,” she commanded. “Then put away the extra table and chairs.”

His father and brothers-in-law chuckled. He shot them a dirty look. “Lotta help you were.”

“We’re already married with kids,” his brother-in-law Steve said. “We did our part.”

He blew out a breath and started gathering the kids’ plates. His mother always made him help his sisters. Elena and Maria had been like having a second and third mother clucking over him as a kid. He’d liked it sometimes, found it overwhelming at others. But now they didn’t coddle him at all. Now they wanted payback—full work from him whenever they snapped their fingers. If he didn’t love them so much, he’d revolt.

His mother’s gaze fell on the other men. “You men can laugh all the way outside. Go rake all the leaves for Maria. She says they’ve been sitting there for a month. Kids, follow me!”

Everyone snapped to with a few moans and groans thrown in.

Rico headed for the kitchen, glad he wasn’t outside with the men. He spent most days doing the hard labor of landscape maintenance and cleanup as crew chief at his best friend Trav O’Hare’s company Elegant Land Designs. He set the dishes in the sink and ran the water. So he’d lost a stupid wishbone break. Big deal. He’d go on one date with what was most likely a very homely, lonely woman who depended on a network of parents to find her dates, and move on. He could survive one dinner.

Chapter Two

Rico rang the bell at the Dixons’ house in nearby Eastman right on time on Saturday night. God forbid they report back to his mother that he showed up late. He still couldn't believe he was going out with someone his mother had set him up with sight unseen, but he knew if he didn't go, he'd never hear the end of it.

The door swung open, and he goggled. Standing in front of him was a beautiful, sexy woman. She wore a black dress that hugged her curves, ending mid-thigh with black fuck-me heels. Her hair was dark brown and fell in soft waves to her shoulders. Her skin was smooth like cream. And her mouth—full pouty lips meant for sin. He couldn’t believe his luck. This was who his mother picked out for him? He should’ve let her set him up years ago.

He met her dark brown eyes and saw the same surprise he felt reflected there. He gave her his I’m-very-happy-to-see-you smile that always got a return smile from the ladies. She smiled back, and their gazes locked. Some powerful chemistry sizzled between them, keeping him rooted to the spot. Her gaze dropped to his mouth, and he instantly got hard.

A woman’s voice rang out from the house. “Who is it?”

The spell was broken. Samantha stiffened, muttering, “Who do you think it is, Ma?” She stepped onto the porch, shut the door behind her, and pursed her sexy lips. “So you’re my date.”

The vibe coming off her went from
yeah, baby
to aggravated in seconds. Probably her mother had killed the moment. That was okay. Once he got her to dinner, he’d charm the panties off her.

"Hi, I’m Rico," he said, holding out his hand to shake.

She shook his hand and quickly dropped it. “Samantha.”

He nodded. “Nice dress. You look good in black.”

She regarded him somberly. “I’m wearing black because I’m in mourning.”

“Oh, you are? Who died?”

“My dreams.”

He stared at her, confused. “Your—”

“One dinner,” she said. “That’s it.”

Her mother’s voice hollered from inside the house, “Bring him in!”

Samantha looked to the sky, and then in the exact same tone of aggravation that he always used when he said the word, she groaned, "Ma-aaa-aaa!"

She looked at him. He gestured inside. She huffed, stepped inside, and slammed the door in his face.

He heard some loud female voices arguing behind the door, and then Samantha stepped outside, holding a black coat and purse, and slammed the door behind her.

He raised a brow. “I take it I’m not gonna meet your mother.”

Her eyes flashed at him. “If my mother can sing your praises for three days straight, then she doesn’t need to meet you.” She marched down the sidewalk and ticked his virtues off on her fingers, only they came out sounding like the worst sins. “You come from a good family. You’re Catholic. You have sisters, so you know how to treat a lady. You’re respectful to your mother. You have a good job.” She pinned him with a sharp gaze. “Did I miss anything?”

He bit back the joking remark that immediately came to mind:
I’m good in the sack
. She was royally pissed at her mother, and he didn’t want that falling on him.

“That about covers it,” he said.

They arrived at his truck, and he opened the passenger-side door for her. “You have a beautiful name.”

She heaved a sigh. “My mother has the crazy idea that she and your mother have agreed on an arranged marriage between us.”

She got in the truck, and his eyes trailed down to her curvy ass. Her words suddenly sank in. “Wait, say what?”

She smirked. “News to you, huh? The groom is always the last to know.”

He shut the door and walked slowly to the driver’s seat. Every alarm bell was ringing in his head over that arranged marriage deal. He considered opening her door and setting her free. They didn’t have to go along with what their mothers said. He thought his mother with her married-and-kids talk was just doing her usual wishful thinking. Their mothers actually thought they’d arranged a marriage?

He slid into the driver’s seat and glanced at her. Her jaw was clenched tight as she stared out the front window. A woman with that much fury could be channeled into passion. Her dress rode up higher now that she was sitting down, exposing even more shapely leg. Nope, he wouldn’t mind that passion directed at him at all.

He pulled out of the driveway. “Look, as long as we agree our mothers are meddling busybodies that we can ignore, it’s okay for us to go out.”

“You think it’s that easy?”

“Yeah.”

“You don’t know my mother.”

He paused. He knew his mother, and if hers was anything like his, that meant a lot of follow-up. If the date went well, his mother would want to know when the wedding was. If the date went badly, his mother would want to know what he did wrong. Damned if you do…

“Well, we gotta eat,” he said. “You like Italian?”

“Let’s just get some fast food and call it a night.”

“No can do. I’ve got reservations.” He headed over to Lombardi’s, a nice restaurant that he’d been to a few times when he wanted to impress a date. He hadn’t wanted word getting back to his mother that he was cheap. Though usually all he had to do was buy a girl a drink.

“Okay, fine,” she said. “Here’s the deal. I’m telling my mother that you’re in love with someone else. You tell your mother the same. Then we’ll pretend we have someone on the side that we’ll break up with just before anyone can meet them. Okay?”

“I’m not pretending I have someone on the side,” he said. “She’ll be all over that.”

“Just do it! There’s no better way.” She frowned. “I’ve been over all the angles,” she added grimly.

He stopped at a red light. “Can’t we just say we didn’t get along?”

Her eyes lit up. “Perfect! That way it’s nobody’s fault. We’ll just say we didn’t click.”

“You have beautiful brown eyes.”

“Thank you, Rico, but you don’t have to keep giving me compliments. This is a onetime deal to get our mothers off our backs. One dinner, back home again, and done.”

Rico held his tongue. He wasn’t going to argue for more than one dinner. One date was usually all it took for a very successful evening. He had a lot more compliments stored up that worked very well for him, but he’d wait until she was more agreeable after some wine. He just needed to loosen her up a bit.

~ ~ ~

Samantha forced herself not to look at Rico’s handsome profile as he drove to the restaurant. It was bad enough his musky cologne wrapped itself around her in the confines of the truck, making her want to reach over and taste…No. Absolutely not. This guy had player written all over him. And while her body had reacted to meeting him with a resounding
Hello, let’s fuck like rabbits!
(a natural biological instinct any woman would’ve had upon meeting him), her brain knew better. She had him pegged the minute he showed up on her doorstep, all confidence and swagger and good looks. He knew he was good-looking, too, with that caramel skin, deep brown eyes, and stubble along his jaw. Not to mention a voice that could’ve been on the radio it was so smooth and melodic. Oh, and the fact that he hadn’t even zipped his leather jacket so she’d notice right away the way he filled out the dress shirt.

Nice touch, play-uh.

Rico parked, opened her truck door, and walked her into the restaurant. She relaxed as she stepped inside. The place was festive and cheerful, decked out for the holidays with greenery and twinkling white lights along the ceiling, archway, and windows.

The hostess, a gorgeous brunette with cleavage on prominent display in her barely buttoned shirt, practically purred at Rico.

“Long time no see.” The woman walked around the hostess stand to kiss him on the cheek while letting her breasts rub against his arm.

Rico slung an arm around the hussy. “Miss me, darling?”

“Like an itch that needs a scratch…” She leaned in and whispered something in his ear, then bit his earlobe.

Rico chuckled. “You’re so bad. I’ve got reservations for two. This is Samantha.”

The brunette glanced at Samantha dismissively. “Right this way.”

After she showed them to their table, the woman had the nerve to lean down to Rico, showing off a clear view down her shirt, and whisper, “Call me.”

Rico winked, and the woman strutted away, hips swaying.

Samantha stifled a groan.

“Nice place, huh?” Rico asked, all innocent and clueless.

“Yeah, nice,” she muttered.

She took a deep breath. She just had to get through one dinner. Be polite. Pretend it didn’t matter that her date was a complete man-slut. That only mattered if they were a couple. Which they never would be. She focused on the warm and cozy atmosphere of the restaurant. A pianist on a baby grand in the corner played gentle Christmas music. Each round table held a glowing candle.

Rico opened up the menu. “Should we order some wine?”

“No, thank you,” she said.

The last thing she needed was to let her defenses down and fall prey to his womanizing ways. She’d get through this dinner stone-cold sober if it killed her.

He gave her a slow, sexy smile that she steeled herself against even as her insides turned to mush. “That really is a pretty dress.”