Dreaming of Her Secret Santa's Kiss (Cowboy Mountain Christmas, Small Town Sweet Romance, Book 3) by Jessie Gussman

Author:Jessie Gussman [Gussman, Jessie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Jessie Gussman
Published: 2020-10-19T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 12

Crew knocked on the door while Burgundy stood beside him. This had become something he enjoyed. Not just enjoyed, but looked forward to. He hadn’t been joking when he said he’d do it for free. But he didn’t want to do it by himself. And he didn’t want to do it with just anyone.

He wanted to do it with Burgundy.

He couldn’t imagine doing it with anyone else.

Of course it would work out. Things always did.

Still, he could have preferences. His preference was Burgundy.

He raised his hand and knocked again, exchanging a look with Burgundy.

Usually people came to the door and were shocked to see Santa. But no one was coming. He rapped again, then said, “She had surgery, hip replacement maybe? I don’t remember.”

“Yes. That’s what they said. Hip replacement. But Mr. Foote should be there.”

“Maybe he’s taking a shower or something.”

A voice hollered weakly through the door, “Door’s open. Come on in.”

They exchanged another glance, with raised brows and uneasy smiles. This was different. For sure.

Somehow, having Burgundy beside him made different okay.

He opened the door and smirked at her. “Ladies first.”

She smirked right back. “That’s kind of overrated. How about I get the door for you?” She was just goofing off, though, because she walked by him and into the house.

He couldn’t wipe the silly grin off his face. Thankfully, the Santa Claus beard that he had was very full and very curly, and she’d never even suspected, as far as he knew, that he was Crew.

His face fell, though, as they walked in. Mrs. Foote sat on a recliner, her face sallow and pinched.

Burgundy had gone straight toward her, setting the casserole she carried on the coffee table as she passed it.

Crew shut the door behind him and gimped over, frowning in concern.

Mrs. Foote did not look good.

Still, her smile was sincere. “It’s so nice of you guys to come. Santa Claus and it’s not even Christmas. That’s nice.” Mrs. Foote’s voice was weak and thready, but her kindly eyes crinkled with genuine gratefulness.

“Ho ho ho, Merry Christmas,” Crew said, as he always did when they walked in. But his voice just wasn’t as jolly as it had been previous times. She obviously was not doing well, and he wasn’t sure what to do about it.

Thankfully, Burgundy was already beside her, kneeling.

“Is there something I can do for you, Mrs. Foote?” Burgundy asked, setting her hand on top of Mrs. Foote’s hand and squeezing.

“Clarence is around, and he’s...helping...me.”

At her hesitation, Burgundy’s eyes slipped to his, questions in them.

He wasn’t sure whether his eyes held questions or anger.

Obviously, Mr. Foote—Clarence—wasn’t doing a very good job of looking after his wife, who seemed like a really sweet lady.

Of course, appearances could be deceiving.

He took up the casserole dishes, and balancing them in one hand so he could use his cane with the other, he carried them out to the kitchen, listening as Burgundy gently asked Mrs. Foote some questions about her medications and her pain levels.

Mrs. Foote had replied that she’d like a glass of sweet tea, so Crew called out that he’d get it.

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