Page 52 of Dragged Home for Christmas

Elliott’s money box had been greeted with smiles, followed by thechinkof coins, although sometimes the sound was muffled by the bills that had been added too. And as Mike walked along the lengths of tables, thanking people for joining them, it became obvious how many of the attendees were there because of their shared love and admiration for Nick.

Once everyone started on the desserts, Miss Dixx, Candy, and Cherry lip-synced to songs that had the whole room joining in, with the girls encouraging them, while Mike and Jim circulated, filling glasses and checking the guests were happy. Jim seemed to be taking special care of Kris Warren, and Mike couldn’t help but notice Jim’s manner as he served Kris. It was obvious who wore the trousers in their clearly blossoming relationship.

Mike smiled to himself.Or should that be, who cracks the whip?He didn’t know much about the leather community, but he knew enough to recognize a dominant personality when he saw one.What did Jim call him? A leather daddy?

It was the perfect description.

Candy joined Mike while Miss Dixx and Cherry lip-synced to “We Are Family”. Mike glanced at her and smiled. “I like it when you’re in costume. We’re the same height.” He also liked how the girls took on different personalities.

Candy chuckled. “Honey, I’ll wear heels around you any time you want.” She gazed at the sea of happy faces. “And tomorrow, when all this is cleared away, we can get on with the best part.” Her eyes sparkled. “Decorating for Christmas. Then, it will be all hands on deck. You havenoidea how many boxes of lights we have in the basement.” She nudged Mike’s arm. “And something else we need to think about—your part in the show. We won’t have long beforethen, and there’s so much to do. We need to decide on what song you’ll use, practice putting on your makeup, work out your routine—”

Mike covered Candy’s mouth with his hand. “Can you at least wait until this is all over before you give memorethings to worry about?” He withdrew his hand, smiling at the lipstick smeared on his palm. “Nice shade, by the way.”

Candy gave a satisfied smile. “Just keeping it real.” Then she leaned in and whispered, “You also get to spend as many nights as you want in my bed.”

Warmth rushed through him. “Sounds good to me.” He grinned. “But who will be in bed with me? Candy—or Sam?”

“That’s up to you, sugar. I’m easy.”

Mike laughed. “Yeah, I’d heard that about you.” What sent heat rocketing through him was the thought of Sam in lingerie and sheer stockings, legs spread for him, his dick caged behind lace.

I wonder if he’d do that for me?

His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he pulled it out and peered at the screen. His heart sank.

“What’s wrong?”

Mike showed her the email he’d just received. “That survey I had done on the hotel? The results are in.”

Before he could open it, Candy took the phone from him and dropped it down the front of her dress. He opened his mouth to protest, but she wagged a finger.

“Nope. Not gonna let you spoil Thanksgiving. This can wait until later, when all our guests have gone. We’ll deal with it then.” She leaned in and kissed him on the cheek.

Mike gave her a mock glare. “I’ve got lipstick on my face now, don’t I?”

She grinned. “You sure do, and it’s gonna stay rightthere. So everyone knows you belong to me.” Her eyes gleamed. “You got a problem with that?”

Her possessive tone only served to send more warmth flowing through him.

“None whatsoever.”

Chapter 17

Wednesday, December 4

Three Weeks Until Christmas

Lights twinkled everywhere, but they didn’t lift Mike’s spirits. He estimated it would take a truckload of lights to make a dent in his present mood. Even Jim pointing out the number of people who’d bought tickets for the Christmas shows failed to alleviate his concerns. The hope Thanksgiving had kindled was slipping through Mike’s fingers with every passing second.

We’ll never get this place ready to open again.

We just don’t have the money.

Not that he shared these morose thoughts. That wouldn’t have been right, not when everyone was pulling out all the stops to bring them closer to their increasingly impossible goal. Take the small army of teenagers who’d covered the walls—and themselves—with paint, for instance. Mike had been floored by how much they’d achieved in one weekend, and another such workday had been planned for Saturday.

Elliott said it wasn’t so much decorating as Paintball.

Mike stood by the door of the bar, gazing out at the drifts of snow covering the landscape, hiding the grey surface of the road.

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