Page 17 of Razor (Road Reapers MC #4)

“Can I help you?” One of the bikers stood from the bar and crossed the room to where she stood frozen by the door.

“Um, I’m not sure if you can or not,” she admitted. She sounded like a timid mouse instead of the confident woman her mother had raised, and she was pretty sure that if she didn’t get herself together, she was going to lose her interview.

“You’re the reporter from the Sun?” he asked.

She scrunched up her nose and nodded, “Well, kind of. I’m an editor from the Sun who’s writing the story because all the other available reporters have the flu.”

“I see, so you are here out of necessity. I’m Mace, by the way,” he said, holding out his hand to her.

She shook it and quickly looked around the bar.

It was decorated for Christmas with a tree in every corner and way too many Christmas lights strewn across the walls.

Honestly, it looked kind of gaudy, but she loved it for some reason.

Maybe it reminded her of the childhood Christmases where her mom overdid everything to make the holiday special for her.

“Hi, Mace,” she said, “I’m Sandy Cove.” He smiled and released her hand. She knew that he was going to give her shit about her name—everyone did.

“For real?” Mace asked.

“Yep—my mother had a sense of humor, and we lived on the coast. So, is Santa around or should I come back another time?” Her boss had told her that the Christmas party, being thrown by the club, was happening in just three days, and that she had better haul ass to get the story in before it happened.

“Yep, he’s back in my office, trying on his suit.” Mace pointed to the back corner of the bar and nodded. “Just go down that hallway, and it’s the first door on your left.”

“Thanks,” she said, not sure that any of this was a good idea.

She had never been in a biker bar before, but this place didn’t seem that bad.

Sandy decided to put on her big girl panties and go to find Santa before her good judgment won, and she ran out of that bar with her tail tucked between her legs.

She found the first door on the left, as Mace had instructed, and gently knocked.

When no one answered, she knocked again, with a little more force.

Still, no one answered, and she decided to pop her head in to see if Santa was still there, trying on his suit.

Maybe the jolly old guy was taking a break or even left the building, but she hoped like hell that wasn’t the case.

She needed to get this interview over, and talking to the big guy himself was the only way to do that.

She turned the knob and stumbled into the office when the door stuck, giving it an extra push. Sandy practically fell on the floor when a half-naked man grabbed her by the waist and hoisted her into his arms. “You okay?” he asked.

She looked him up and down, noticing the red pants, black boots, and hat on his head with the little white fluff ball on the end.

“Santa,” she whispered. He didn’t look like any Santa that she’d ever seen before.

In fact, this Santa was hot as hell. She ran her hands over his tattooed chest, not seeming able to stop herself from doing so.

“Um, no,” he said, “I’m Nick. I’m just playing Santa.”

Sandy rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I know that you’re not the real Santa,” she said.

“He’s probably busy up in the North Pole getting ready for his big night.

You’re one of Santa’s helpers.” She realized that she was still in his arms and started to squirm uncomfortably.

“Would you mind putting me down?” she asked.

“If you’re sure that you’re done fondling my chest, I think that can be arranged,” he teased.

“I wasn’t fondling your chest,” she almost shouted. “Put me down,” she ordered.

He let her slowly slide down his big body, so that she could feel every inch of him.

Santa was packing, and she had a feeling that it wasn’t a gift he had hidden in his red velvet pants.

He smiled at her, and she couldn’t help but shake her head at him.

Santa seemed to have a naughty side, and getting wrapped up in that might be her downfall.

Sandy had a type—bad boys were her go-to type for dating. Her relationships usually ended in heartbreak and disappointment—mainly in herself. “Not going to happen, Santa,” she said under her breath. She had a feeling that Nick heard her, judging by the sexy smirk on his handsome face.

“What’s not going to happen?” he asked. She could tell that he knew exactly what she was saying. Sandy shook her head, trying to clear all the dirty thoughts that were currently running through her mind.

“I’m Sandy Cove,” she said, ignoring his question. She held out her hand to him, and he looked it over as though he wasn’t sure that he was going to shake it. “It’s just a handshake, Santa,” she said.

He took her hand into his and smiled down at her. “It’s not the handshake that has me baffled—it’s your name. Is that your real name?”

She pulled her hand from his, trying to ignore that little jolt of electricity that ran up her arm as soon as he touched her.

“Yeah, my mother had a sense of humor.” That was always what she told people who questioned her name, and the bikers at the club seemed fixated on her mother’s play on words.

“And for a guy named Nick, who is playing Santa, you have no room to talk. I’m here to interview you for the Sun,” she said.

“I’m sorry, what?” he asked.

“I’m interviewing you for the local paper.

Everyone in town will be at the Christmas party that your club is throwing, and my boss thought it would make a good story.

” Nothing about her boss’s idea seemed like a good one, but she liked getting her weekly paycheck, and maybe he was right.

Maybe the locals in town had nothing better to do than attend a local children’s Christmas party at a bar.

It was a small town, and she knew from experience that there wasn’t much to do.

“I’m not doing an interview. It’s bad enough that I have to play Santa for a holiday that I fucking hate, but now, I’m supposed to talk about it?”

Sandy pulled out her pad of paper and pen. “Do you mind if I quote you?” she asked, starting to write down what he had just said.

He took the pad and pen from her and tossed them on the desk behind him. “Yes, I fucking mind. Didn’t you hear me just say that I won’t give you an interview?” She had heard him, but going back to the office empty-handed wasn’t going to happen. Her boss would have a fit.

“Listen,” she sighed, “I’m new in town, and I’m not really even a reporter. All the reporters are sick with the flu, and now I’m stuck interviewing you.”

“Gee, thanks for that,” he drawled.

“Not what I meant. I’m actually the editor for the paper, and when everyone called in sick, my boss stuck me with this story,” she grumbled.

“Yeah, that isn’t any better,” he teased.

“I just need a few quotes, and I can be on my way,” she promised. “I’d prefer that they not be about Santa hating Christmas, though. Who hates Christmas?”

He shrugged, “Someone who never really had one growing up.” Sandy couldn’t imagine not having Christmas as a kid. Her mother had always gone out of her way to celebrate the holiday season.

“Were your parents Jewish?” she asked.

He took the Santa hat off his head and leaned back against the desk.

“No clue. I never knew my parents. I grew up in the foster care system, and Christmas was just another day for kids like me.” She felt his sadness in the pit of her stomach and wanted to change the topic, but also knew that his admission might be the start of a very interesting news story.

“See, that could be the headline,” she said. “Santa is Getting His Christmas Spirit Back After Spending His Early Years in Foster Care. It’s a working title.”

“It’s not a working title because there won’t be a news story,” Nick shouted.

There was a knock at the door, and Sandy was thankful for the reprieve. “Everything okay in here?” Mace asked, ducking his head into the office.

“I’m not doing a news story,” Nick insisted.

“Come on, man,” Mace griped. “It will be good for the club, and as the treasurer, you should be all about bringing in more people to make a few extra dollars. Do it for me, and I promise that I won’t ask you any favors for the rest of the year.

” Sandy couldn’t help her giggle, wondering if Nick would pick up on the fact that the end of the year was in two short weeks.

“You’re so generous,” Nick grumbled. “I really don’t have a say in this, do I?” he asked.

“Nope,” Mace said, “just do the damn interview, Nick. Take Ms. Cove to dinner and lie your ass off. I don’t care what you come up with as long as you don’t lead with the fact that you hate Christmas.

” Mace didn’t wait for Nick to respond. He turned and walked out of his office, not giving poor Santa a chance to resist.

“I take it he’s the boss of you?” Sandy whispered when Mace shut the door.

“Yeah, he’s the club’s Prez and he’s bossy as hell.” He pulled the red velvet pants down his muscular thighs, revealing more tattoos, and Sandy nearly swallowed her tongue.

“What are you doing?” she squeaked.

“Changing back into my clothes so that I can take you to dinner and lie my ass off,” he explained.

Her eyes had settled on the bulge in his boxer briefs, and he chuckled.

“That is, if you can take your eyes off my cock. If you have other plans in mind, let’s hear them.

” Sandy had so many ideas running through her head at the moment, but none of them would end up with her getting the story that she needed.

“Nope,” she lied, “dinner sounds good to me.” She turned to leave the office, giving Nick some privacy to finish changing because if she stayed in the small room with him, she’d forfeit dinner and most likely lose her job—and she couldn’t let any of that happen over one hot Santa.

Saint Nick (Road Reapers MC Book 5-A Christmas Novella) Universal Link- https://books2read.com/u/3LM2KX

What’s releasing next from K.L. Ramsey? You won’t want to miss this all-women MC club! Ember is the first book in the Royal Harlot’s (Yonkers, NY Chapter). Guaranteed to spice up your Kindle!