Page 49 of 5 Golden Flings

CHAPTER 5

Even though Fosterhad delivered on his promise not to keep her up past midnight, the alarm on Alice’s phone rang far too early. Rolling over, she silenced it and glanced at the half dozen pop up messages on her screen. She’d silenced it at dinner the night before, but the minute she read the first text, she wished she hadn’t. She needed every hour she’d lost.

“Oh no,” she said aloud as she flipped through the rest of the message. “No, no, no, no. Damn it!”

Foster grumbled and pushed himself up in bed. “What is it?” he said with a loud yawn.

“Red has the flu.”

“Red who?” He ran his fingers through his wild hair, but it didn’t help. The sheets pooled around his waist, displaying the broad shoulders and hard, hair-covered chest she’d clung to only hours ago. It was a shame she didn’t have more time to appreciate it. But it was all-go emergency mode right now.

“Red Everett—my volunteer Santa. He got the diagnosis from Doc Owens last night after going in with a 102-degree fever. He has to isolate himself for 72 hours, so that means the sleigh is empty once again.”

“I’m sure you can find someone.”

Alice dropped her phone into her lap and buried her face in her hands. “It’s Friday morning, Foster. I have just over twenty-four hours before I have to have someone in the suit, at the high school, and ready to ride in the parade. This is a disaster.”

“Come here.” Foster wrapped his arm around her waist and coaxed her back down into the bed.

She let herself sink into the comfort of the pillows and the warmth of his arms, if just for a moment. She took a deep breath and turned onto her side, burying her face in his chest. “What am I going to do?”

“I’m sure there’s someone out there that owes you a favor or would want to help out. You’ve just got to find him.”

She wasn’t so sure about that. Alice pulled dozens of strings and called in favors pretty regularly to keep events in town rolling. Leo had been an ideal Santa because he was one of the few men in town that didn’t already have a role to play in the parade. The same could be said for his son.

He’d said no. He’d said no more than once. But that was before. Maybe now, seeing her in a bind... She might regret it, but she had to ask one last time. “Foster?”

“Yeah?” He brushed the hair from her face and kissed her forehead.

“Would you please, please fill in for Santa this one time? I know you don’t like Christmas but I’m truly desperate.” She looked up at him, hoping her coy glance through her lashes would work some kind of magic.

“You don’t need me,” he said dismissively. “You’re the Amazing Alice Jordan. You can find someone else.”

In that moment, his optimistic tone—meant to be supportive—landed wrong because it was just glazing over the truth. Romantic dates didn’t change it. Sex didn’t change it. Emotional talks where they bonded over their pasts didn’t change it. Whenshe was in a bind, he refused to budge one inch to help her when it came to Christmas.

“You know what? Just forget it.”

Alice flung back the blankets and leapt out of bed. She furiously went around the room, collecting her bits of clothing and tugging them on.

Foster sat back up, his face visibly surprised by the sudden turn of events. “Come on, Alice, don’t be that way. You know I?—”

“Please, don’t,” she interrupted. Alice stepped into her dress and pulled it up over her hips. “Don’t give me the same sad song and dance about how you can’t help me because you don’t do Christmas.”

“Well, I don’t. And you know why.”

Alice shook her head and slipped on a high heel. “It’s just an excuse.”

“An excuse?” Foster bolted upright, his own anger seemingly catching up with hers.

“Yes!” She shouted, turning to face him. “It’s been over twenty years since your mother left. If you wanted to move past it and enjoy the holidays like everyone else, you would. And I’m not even asking you to do that. I just want you to spend one afternoon wearing a costume and pretending not to be a miserable sad sack. But you can’t—no—you won’t. If you gave a damn about me and the mess I’m in, you would help me.”

He didn’t respond. She expected him to shout back, but apparently, her words had cut too deeply. She didn’t have time to worry about his hurt feelings right now. She finished dressing, grabbed her overnight bag and her purse, and turned to go.

“Let me at least zip up your dress for you,” Foster said at last.

“No thank you.”

“You can’t walk home half-dressed, Alice.”

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