Rabbit Creek Santa (2 page)

"It's okay," Travis interrupted. "I don't mind. What do you need me to do?"

"You can say no," Marshall told him.

Sure, like any pack member would say no to the Alpha's Mate.

"Marshall," Elizabeth said firmly, "Either he goes
, or you do. That poor pup needs to have a Christmas."

Marshall looked at Travis
and shrugged. "Sorry pal, you're going," he said with a smirk. "I owe you."

"I owe you," Travis muttered to himself as he maneuvered
his truck down a slope and around a curve. He thanked God for four wheel drive and continued his muttering. "You bet your ass, Alpha. You owe me big time."

He used his tongue to dislodge the fake hair that kept getting in his mouth. It only made things worse. He tried the dry spit technique
, but that only freed the hair to tickle his nose. The hat slid forward. The white ball at the end of it dangled in front of his nose. He flipped his chin up to send the ball back where it belonged, but the toss went straight up and the ball hit the roof of the cab. When it came back down, it batted him in the eye. The pillow strapped around his middle was shoved up against the steering wheel making steering awkward.

Once Marshall decided
Travis was going, it took the Mate all of sixty seconds to transform him into Santa Fucking Claus, or at least it felt that way.

"Here," she said to her mate and threw him the pillow along with a roll of duct tape.
She pulled off Travis' flannel shirt while Marshall went to work.

The next thing Travis knew, she was saying, "Step, step," and tapping his calves to lift his feet and then she was pulling the red pants up over his hips.
He thanked God she left him his jeans. "The coat," she ordered and while Marshall was fastening the suspenders, she was shoving his arms into the sleeves. Beard, wig and hat were in place before he had a chance to protest. He did manage to draw the line at the white gloves.

"I need
a good grip on the wheel."

"Okay, but don't forget to put them on before
you go in." She tucked the gloves into the shiny black belt and patted his chest. "There. No one would know it was you."

"Right," he muttered to the wipers ineffectively sweepi
ng the snow from the windshield, "because everyone up here drives a brand new, bright blue pickup."

He passed the narrow drive that led to the four room bungalow he rented and
carefully slowed to take the next curve. That's all he'd need, to wind up in a ditch wearing a Santa suit. Even with four wheel drive, he was crawling by the time he found the turnoff. Weeds stuck up through the six inches of snow covering the drive and his wheels dipped and bumped over the uneven surface. Small spruces growing in crooked rows defined the sides of the lane, some planted so close they scraped against the sides of the truck threatening the glossy finish.

As soon as
the headlights illuminated the house, Travis shut them off. No sense advertising his bright blue truck. He parked behind the compact whatever-it-was that was covered with snow.

After
straightening the silly hat as best he could, he tugged on his white gloves and, feeling like an ass, trudged to the front porch. Foot on the first step, he remembered the bag and trudged back to the truck. Damn it!

Clamping his mouth shut on all the other words he was about to say, he
reminded himself that this was for a widow and her pup though he still didn't see why he had to wear the damned getup. Knock on the door, hand her the bag and say Merry Christmas. That's all there was to it. He could do that wearing jeans and a parka. He yanked open the door.

The breeze that entered the cab
with him was enough to set the wooden Christmas tree that hung from his rearview mirror spinning lazily from its fishing line hanger. It was his first attempt at carving and it wasn't very good. A carver at the woodworks had showed him how and loaned him the tools. The branches were nicked and the star was crooked, but at least he had a tree to remind him of home.

The twirling tree
made him think of his sister's pups and how excited they were on Christmas morning, shouting "Santa came! Santa came!" in surprise, as if the old elf hadn't shown up every other year of their lives. It was easy to forget that for some pups, Santa didn't come every year and a pup without a father, well… Maybe the Mate knew what she was about.

Determined to give the pup a good show, Travis bounded up the steps and banged on the door.
Only a few seconds had passed before the curtain was pushed back and he was confronted with a pair of the prettiest brown eyes he'd ever seen. They were big and round and framed with thick, dark, lashes. Those eyes would have been perfect if they weren't rimmed with red, and the lashes weren't clumped with tears. Travis felt something squeeze inside his chest.

He
tried to smile though she probably couldn't see it through the damned beard.

"
Merry Christmas," he said weakly.

The
eyes blinked; once, twice, and then they disappeared, and the curtain fell into place. The door opened a crack and a face peered out.

"Do I know you?" she asked.

Travis' mother always bought Christmas cards with angels on the front. The angels always had round, girlish faces with round, rosy cheeks and big round sparkling eyes. He remembered him and his sisters teasing her about it and asking why she never chose cards with angels who looked like them.

"Because you're no angels,"
his mother laughed. "These…" She tapped the cards. "…were what I asked for. You, were what I got."

"No one gets angels who look like that
," they'd laughed back. "They aren't real."

This creature was living proof that
he and his sisters were wrong. Someone else had gotten the angel his mother asked for. She was standing right in front of him, raising her eyebrows and waiting for him to speak.

"Oh, um, the A
l…"he began in his normal voice until he saw the pup sitting in the middle of the floor with his thumb in his mouth. He deepened his tone to Santa level.

"No ma'am, I don't think you do, but the Mate said there was a little fella up here who didn't have a chimney
, so I thought it best to knock."

"Oh." She opened the door fully and stepped back to allow him to enter which he did
with a hearty "Ho, ho, ho!" and bent to smile at the little boy with a baby's version of his mother's face.

The boy's eyes got wide. The sucking mouth released the thumb and he raised his arms to his mother and
… screamed.

"Well that was a bust," Travis mumbled to himself as he stepped aside to make room for Mama to bend and pick her baby up.

"It's all right, honey. That's Santa," she soothed, but it did no good.

The pup sobbed into his mother's shoulder and when
she encouraged him to take a second look, he screamed again.

"Maybe it's the hair," the woman said, "It does look
a little scary."

Travis yanked the hat from his head and the hair came with it.
The pup screamed louder.

"Oh, shit!" he hissed and then covered his mouth. "Sorry."

His curse brought a tiny smile to her lips, but the tip of her tongue came out and licked it away. Damn, but that tiny tip of tongue was enticing. If he was smart, he would have dropped the bag and run for the door. He knew right then this woman was going to be trouble, but he wanted to see that smile again. He lifted his finger.

"I'll be right back."

Out on the porch, he stripped off the Santa suit, cursing a few time as he tried to extricate his foot from the pants. He rolled coat and trousers into a ball with hat, hair, and beard tucked in the middle and dropped it beside the door. The pillow, he could do nothing about. Marshall had used enough duct tape to make it all but indestructible. He stuck his head back in the door.

"I've got a problem," he said.

She stared at him for a moment as if she didn't know who he was and then she closed her eyes before she took a deep breath and spoke.

"You do have clothes on, right?"

"Oh. Oh, yeah, fully dressed, but I've got this extra around my middle." He stuck his arm through the crack in the door and pointed down and back. "I don't want to scare the pup again."

She leaned back to see where he was pointing and there was that ghost of a smile again and the tip of the tongue wi
ping it away.

"Come in, you're letting the heat out."

"Are you sure?"

She nodded and when he came back in she handed him the baby. "Say hello. I'll be right back."

She left him there holding the child that a moment before had been screaming at the sight of him.

Tr
avis held the boy under the armpits a foot in front of him, feet dangling.

"Uh, hey
, pal."

The boy looked at him solemnly and then looked down.

"Piyo," he said.

Piyo?

"Piyo," the boy said again and reached for the pillow strapped to his waist.

"Oh, yeah, pillow." He brought him closer and balanced his diapered rear end on the pillow.

"Piyo." This time when the pup said it, he smiled.

"Pillow." Travis said it slowly and clearly as the Mate had done. That was how his sisters did it, too.

"Piyo!" The child laughed. He thought it was a game.

"Pillow," Travis said, laughing himself.

By the time the woman came back with a pair of scissors in her hand, he was hoisting the giggling child high in the air and bringing him down to land on the pillow.

"Piyo
!" the pup squealed every time he landed.

"I see you made friends," she said and
this time the ghost of a smile became real.

Travis thought his heart stopped and for the first time
ever; he felt his wolf react to a woman, too. The damn thing was wagging his tail.

"As long as I
keep tossing, he keeps laughing." He grinned at her and then tossed the pup again, "Right pal?"

"Piyo!"

He held out his hand. "Travis Pike."

"Ah," she said, nodding her head in recognition. "The new guy at the Mill. You're the guy who's going to keep the place running now that old Gus is gone."

"Yeah," he said, surprised. "How'd you know?"

The machinery at the Rabbit Creek Mill and Wood
works was old, some still run by foot power and there weren't many men around anymore who could keep them running. Travis' grandfather had a thing for old machinery and taught Travis everything he knew.

"
I write your checks," she said, "but I don't sign them. I'm payroll. Lindy." She held out her hand to shake and blushed when she realized the scissors were still in it. She turned her attention to the tape. "Your partner there is Joey."

Travis looked around the room to take his mind off the pretty woman
fiddling with the tape at his waist.

It was a nice room
, not fancy, but comfy looking. Bookcases formed one corner, but only one shelf held books; the kind you read to babies and toddlers. The rest of the shelves held toys. There was a small wood stove in the other corner and a stand under the windows held an older model television. In addition to the sofa an upholstered rocking chair and a couple of end tables filled in the rest. Replace the old TV, and it was the kind of room where a guy could put his feet up, relax, and have a beer.

"Where's your tree?" he asked casually
, thinking it must be in another room though the house was small and couldn't have that many rooms.

She stood with the pillow in her hand and straightened her shoulders. "I didn't think we needed one this year," she said
quietly, but she didn't look at him.

There was somethi
ng odd about the way she said it. Maybe there was no one to cut one for her. He thought about the bag of toys by the door. There ought to be a tree to put them under.

"You got any decorations?
From other years, I mean."

"In the closet in th
e spare room," she answered just as quietly as before.

"Good. Go get them. I'll go get the tree."

"B-but you can't. It's, it's snowing and it's cold. You don't have a coat. Where are you going to find a tree at this hour?"

"I'm from New Hampshire. This isn't cold. You let me worry about the tree. You get the decorations."

"But…"

"Joey should have a tree,"
Travis said decisively, "Isn't that right, Joey?"

"Piyo!"

"See?" Travis kissed the boy's nose before setting him back on the rug in front of the sofa. He handed the freed pillow to the pup. "Joey agrees with me."

"But…"

Travis didn't give her a chance to disagree. "Be right back," he said on his way out the door.

He pulled his
shirt and parka from the cab and found his saw and hatchet in the big toolbox fastened in the bed. He knew exactly where he'd find a tree.

*****

"You got any decorations? From other years, I mean."

No, she didn't have decorations from other years.
They were from one year, her first Christmas with Joe.