Mountain Man Santa (Naughty and Spice)

Chapter 4

Chapter

Four

JERRY

S ervers bob in and out of the Silver Fork kitchen, their arms piled high with trays of appetizers. What I wouldn’t give to have this kind of help during regular business hours. But Stacey and I are working on it with our new crop of young employees.

Fortunately, for tonight’s Community Chest Christmas event, all of the local food establishments and a few of my old employees came together to assist. They include the fiery redhead, Lily, and sweet Roxy, with her round face and long black braids swinging as she bustles past. Both girls give me enthusiastic smiles as they head through the door into the dining room. Having them help out makes me miss the good old days when I had enough workers to make the restaurant business fun.

“So, Cricket couldn’t make it after all?” Stacey asks, raising an eyebrow. These are the first words that have come out of her mouth directed at me all evening. Finally, I let my eyes rove lovingly over her caramel-colored hair, curvy hips, and round ass. She’s my dream girl in every possible way…if she can forgive me for not disclosing my past to her sooner.

“Not while juggling three babies,” I answer.

She shakes her head. “I thought I’d never live to see the day Christian and Cricket got together, let alone started a family.”

“That’s a lot of domestic bliss for anyone,” I grumble, referring to Cricket and Christian’s triplets.

“Couldn’t agree more,” Delilah says in a sing-song voice, bustling past with a whoosh of her art jewelry and flowing skirts. She runs The Human Being Cafe. Like me, she’s a big city person. In her case, San Francisco. Two scarlet-haired servers in one restaurant could be a lot, especially considering Lily’s quick temper and sharp tongue. But Delilah couldn’t be more different—laid-back, hippie-dippie, and bothered by very little.

I have a soft spot in my heart for the eclectic cafe owner because she’s stuck by her man, Holden, despite him being in prison for years on manslaughter charges. She represents what I’ve always wanted but never found—a woman to stick by my side through thick and thin. Despite the road bump this morning, I want Stacey to be that woman for me. As for Delilah, she’s not judgmental or gossipy, and she understands the food industry, which has made her a valued confidant since I moved here.

“Christian seems to have settled into domestic bliss wholeheartedly,” Stacey observes with those baby blues that represent the fucking death of me. I have to work hard to keep my pulse under control.

“There’s nothing a good man wouldn’t do to make the right woman happy.” I stare at her point blank, watching with satisfaction as her cheeks flush, like wine staining white table linen.

Despite the romantic thought, my cock betrays me a moment later. Stacey wears an adorable little elf outfit inspiring images of me bending her over the fucking kitchen sink. What I wouldn’t give to sink my thick cock into her luscious warm wetness. We’ve never done more than kissing, but I have a painfully good imagination. One that likes to intrude even when I’m trying my hardest to be a decent guy.

Attempting to stay cool, I add grumpily, “I wish Christian well, and Cricket’s a unique catch. But most women are the same...”

Anger flashes across her face.

“Hypergamous,” I say firmly.

“Hyper— what?” she asks, scrunching her nose and looking so damn adorable my cock strains against the tight-fitting Santa costume I wear. Great. I’m trying to create a sense of community and bring school-aged kids from all over the county together to celebrate in style. The last thing I need is a hard-on.

“Hypergamous. It means you’re always looking to marry up into the next financial bracket. Kinda like super-sizing but in the dating world.”

Her mouth hangs open, and she stares at me cluelessly.

“Ah, don’t give me that innocent act, Shortie. Most gals are looking for richer, smarter, tougher, better-looking…whatever. Without any goddamn loyalty.” Anger from my past speaks now, mixed with present frustration about Stacey’s distance from me. We’re disconnected in a way I haven’t felt since before our first mistletoe kiss, and I hate it.

My words may challenge her, but I desperately want her to say: I’m loyal, Jerry. I’m not like those other women, and I swear I’ll never leave you…no matter what.

“Who hurt you?” she asks, shaking her head.

Beata Nowak . But I keep this tidbit of information to myself. My girlfriend started banging my best friend, Aleksy, while I was in the state pen. Yet, she let me go for six damn years, thinking I was coming home to propose to her. I had the ring in my pocket as I walked through the door to our apartment two months early, thanks to “good time credit.”

Only instead of surprising my blissfully happy almost-fiancée, I caught Aleksy balls deep in my woman…on my favorite couch. Under the circumstances, I let them keep the couch. Biggest mistake of my life. After all, finding comfortable furniture when you’re six foot-five is no simple task. I should’ve beaten the shit out of him, too, but seventy months in a cage convinced me to keep my fists under wraps.

Stonie stands in the kitchen cooking while I sweat like a stuck hog in my undersized, over-insulated red and white fur-trimmed costume. He owns the only bar in the city, Stonie’s, which serves local beers on tap, Happy Hour appetizers, and messy, mouthwatering burgers. More than one town drunk’s pissed off tonight because he’s not open. But the affable pub owner makes a point of giving back to the local community, especially its kids. Like me.

“I asked you a question,” the sexy server says, coming to stand directly in front of me. “Who hurt you?”

“Do I look like the kinda brute who could get hurt by anybody?” I question with a scowl.

She nods.

The gesture puts a dangerous warmth in my heart. Gruffly, I remark, “I’m a tough guy. Isn’t that what you want to hear?”