Page 13 of 40 and Flashing (the Scotsman)
Her cheeks turned pink at his proximity. “Yes, you did. You seem to do that a lot.”
“Good.” Laughter was the best aphrodisiac in the world in his opinion.
He dared to brush a kiss along that tempting cheek.
The door to the shop opened behind them, the little bell above it sending a sweet chime through the air. Gavin looked over his shoulder to see Scarlett’s friend Iris walking through. She was a lovely middle-aged woman with thick, light gray hair cut in a stylish sweep over her forehead, short on the sides and back to reveal an elegant neck. The glasses she wore were perfect for a librarian, a modern version of the old horn-rimmed style in a sexy red that did wonderful things for her fair complexion. Unfortunately right now, the eyes behind those glasses seemed worried.
“Iris!” Claire called happily before frowning. “Is everything all right? Aren’t you about to do the gift exchange at the library?”
“We are, but…” She hurried in their direction. “I was hoping Lincoln was here?”
“Unfortunately not,” Claire said. “He ran to Gatlinburg to pick up some supplies I needed for the wedding cake.”
Iris looked as if she was about to cry.
“What’s the matter?” Scarlett asked.
Iris was literally wringing her hands. He thought people only did that in books. “Ernesto was supposed to play Santa today for us to hand out the gifts to the children, but he called to say he was in a fender bender and can’t make it.” She gestured down her body. “I’m definitely not going to fit the Santa costume, even with my heels.”
“Not unless you roll up the arms and legs way more than is practical,” Claire agreed.
“I was hoping Lincoln would play Santa. The kids have so been looking forward to this, and I want to make everything special for them, but…”
Gavin cleared his throat. “If you need a gentleman…might I volunteer?”
Iris eyed him warily. “The library is hosting kids from a foundation that supports children in foster care. A lot of kids. They can get a bit…rowdy when so many of them are in one place. How are you with noisy kids?”
“None of my own,” he informed her. “But my stepsiblings have ten or eleven wee ones—I’ve lost count at this point—between the lot of them. I can handle a few mischief-makin’ bairns.”
Iris gave him what was probably her best librarian’s look. Twenty years ago that look would have cowed him. “More than a few.”
Gavin waved her concerns away. “I’ll do it. Lead me to the costume.”
Which was how he found himself with a fat pillow strapped to his lean belly and a thick red coat covering him. Scarlett adjusted the silky white beard fastened over his ears. “You do Santa well,” she told him with a wink. “Must be the mischief-maker in you. I don’t think you’re too far off from those kids out there, Mr. Karate Disaster Cookie.”
“You thought my cookie was hilarious.” He stroked the white hair hanging down over his chin. “I’ve always wondered about growin’ a beard.”
She plopped the red hat onto his head, then stepped back, taking in the picture he made from head to toe. “Somehow I don’t see it as a permanent fixture in your future.”
“I’ll stick to stubble then. Never had any complaints about that.”
Scarlett flushed that pretty pink. “Behave.”
“Me? Never!” He chuckled, then cast around for the cart Iris had pointed out. “Let’s get these presents delivered. The children are waitin’!”
The community room of the library was filled to overflowing with kids of all ages and the volunteers who hopelessly tried to wrangle them. When Santa appeared, screams of joy filled the room. A few of the babes began to cry at the sight of him, uncertain why a big man with a long beard calling out loud, “Ho ho ho’s,” was drawing near. Gavin stepped carefully around the fearful ones and made his way to the front of the room and the Christmas tree waiting there for him, sparkling with cheery colored lights and homemade ornaments.
“Hey, aren’t you supposed to have the presents in a bag?” one tough guy of about eight said as Gavin pulled the wagon full of toys to the front.
“Yeah, where’s Santa’s bag?” another frowning boy asked. The two were joined by a small pack of troublemakers jostling each other and stepping on too many of the younger ones as they jockeyed for attention.
Gavin waited for a lull in the action to speak.
Crouching near the boys’ level, he gestured them forward with a crooked finger. The boys’ approached hesitantly.
“Ya want ta see Santa’s bag, I take it?”
Confusion seemed to fill the small group as they took in his accent. Here was something foreign to them, unfamiliar, something they couldn’t proclaim proudly to know all about. It gave him an edge he hurried to take advantage of.
