Page 42 of 5 Golden Flings

“The job lured me here. The real estate prices tempted me to buy a house and it keeps me here. I’m no flight risk and Otto knows it. I like my job. I need the money. I just could use a few more hours away from the job than I get.” Her cell phone rang in her bag again and she rolled her eyes. “Like this. Excuse me, it’s Otto.” She pulled out the phone and took the brief call. “Sorry about that,” she said, setting the phone aside when she was finished.

“Life seemed simpler when we could leave the house and no one could find us until we came home. I have a cell phone, but most of the time the ringer is turned off. It’s mainly for emergencies.”

“Like late night calls about your father being arrested?”

Foster sighed. “Yes, like those.”

“I am really sorry about everything that happened with your dad. He is an excellent Santa. Under the circumstances, though, I just couldn’t...”

“Don’t apologize,” he interrupted. “He brought that on himself. It’s probably time he retired the suit anyway and let someone else take on the job.”

He watched as Alice nervously fingered the rim of her coffee lid for a moment before she spoke. “Is there any chance I could get you to reconsider being our Santa Claus? It’s just for a day, and then I’d find a permanent replacement for next year when I have more than a few days to do it.”

Foster chuckled and shook his head. He had been expecting that topic to come back up eventually and there it was. “There are a lot of things I would do for a beautiful woman in distress,but dressing up like the fat man isn’t one of them. I’m sorry, I just don’t do Christmas.” Foster pushed back his chair and stood, hoping to end that line of discussion.

Alice nodded, trying to hide her disappointment and failing. “I understand.” And then, halfway between sitting and standing, she hesitated and looked up at him. “Did you mean that?”

“I always mean what I say. No Santa for me.”

“No, I mean...” she stopped, gathering her things along with her thoughts. “When you called me a beautiful woman in distress... You really think that I’m beautiful?”

Foster didn’t know whether to smile because he’d flattered her, or hunt down and punch the men that made her feel otherwise in the past. She was an absolutely stunning woman, in his opinion. Flawless, creamy skin, dark auburn hair, a curvy figure, and large, dark eyes. The men of Rosewood had been fools to let her sit on a shelf all this time, doubting herself.

He chose a serious expression, looking into those same dark eyes so she couldn’t doubt what he was about to say. “Like I said before, I always mean what I say.”

Alice’s mouth fell open, the words not seeming to form the way she intended them to. Her eyebrows were drawn together in a mix of confusion and surprise. This was most definitely not one of her official Mayor’s Office expressions.

A bit of sparkle overhead caught Foster’s attention and he realized they were standing under a glitter dipped cluster of plastic mistletoe. It wasn’t exactly the way Charles Dickens would’ve pictured it, but he decided to take the opportunity as it came.

Stepping close to her, he took the cell phone from her hand and sat it down on the table. Looking into her eyes, he leaned down and pressed his lips to hers. He kissed her until the shock of his words seemed to wear off. He kissed her until she really, truly believed him.

Her lips were soft and tasted of peppermint coffee. Normally, he shied away from those types of seasonal flavors, but in the moment, he was a convert. He wanted more of it, more of her. But he pulled away before they were the talk of Rosewood for causing a scene.

She looked at him, her eyes glassy and dazed for a moment before she noticed the same mistletoe dangling overhead. “I thought you didn’t do Christmas stuff?”

“It was a convenient excuse to prove to you the sincerity of my words in the most pleasurable way possible. Was I successful?”

“Yes,” she mouthed the words without speaking, just nodding her head.

“Good.”

Her phone rang again and he took a step back out of her space. She glanced at the phone and sighed. “Thank you for the coffee, Mr. Robinson.”

Foster smiled. “I think at this point you can go ahead and call me Foster.”

CHAPTER 3

Alice couldn’t believe it.She’d heard bells ring when Foster kissed her. Literal bells.

She’d kissed her share of men in her time and not once had a choir of angels sang or romantic music swelled in the background like in the movies. But this time... she actually heard bells.Jinglebells to be exact. Just like the kind she’d hung on her Christmas tree Sunday afternoon. The magical wishing ornament.

She’d almost put the ornament and its enigmatic peddler out of her mind. Alice was too busy to dwell on what was likely a sales tactic when there were so many other things going on. But now, the little golden bell was front and center in her mind. Was the sound of bells a sign? Was the magical music telling her that despite his protests, Foster Robinson was the Santa Claus she’d wished for?

“Miss Jordan?”

Alice pulled her tablet to her chest and snapped out of her thoughts. “Yes?”

The crowd of men standing around the lawn out front of the courthouse were all looking at her expectantly. The one closestto her pointed to the twenty-foot Christmas tree they’d just put up. “How’s it look, ma’am?”

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