by Karen Booth
The Maxfields had never been a close family in the way people might think of a close family. It wasn’t like there had been intimate family dinners and game nights and things like that. But they had been in each other’s pockets for their entire lives. Working together, deciding which direction to take their business. Their father was a difficult bastard, that was true. But he had entrusted his daughters with an extreme amount of responsibility when it came to the winery. It was weird now, to have the shape of things be so different. To have everything be up to them.
“Everything will be fine,” Wren said. “It’s already better, even if it is a little difficult.”
Emerson nodded. “You’re right. It’s better. And things will only get even better from here.”
* * *
“You agreed to do what?”
Creed looked at his older brother, Jackson, who had an expression on his face that suggested Creed might’ve said he planned to get out of the wine business and start raising corgis, rather than just coordinating an event with the Maxfield family.
“You heard me the first time,” Creed said.
“What’s the point of that? They’re a bunch of assholes.”
Normally, Creed would not have argued. Or even felt the inclination to argue. But for some reason, he thought back to Wren’s determined face, and the way her body had looked in that dress, and he felt a bit defensive.
“You know the girls are running it now,” he said. “James Maxfield absolutely was an asshole. I agree with you. But things are different now, and they’re running things differently.”
“Right. So you suddenly kissed and made up with Wren Maxfield?”
The idea of kissing Wren sent a lightning bolt of pleasure straight down to his cock. And the idea of...making up with her made his gut turn.
“Not a damn chance,” Creed responded.
“So, the two of you are going to do this, while at each other’s throats the entire time?”
“The logistics aren’t exactly your concern. The logistics are my concern, as always. You just...be a silent partner.” Creed narrowed his eyes. “You’re awfully loud for a silent partner.”
“I’m not technically a full-on silent partner,” Jackson said. “It’s just that I would rather invest money than make decisions.”
“So then I’m letting you know what the plan is.” Creed thought back to the moment he had told Wren that he was going to barbecue. Now he had to barbecue. “We have to bring some grills.”
“I’m not even going to ask.”
“Fine with me.”
“I’m sorry, what are we planning?” Their younger sister, Honey, walked into the room. She was named by their mother, who had been so thrilled to have a daughter after having two sons that she had decided her daughter was sweet and needed a name that suggested so.
Honey had retaliated by growing into a snarky tomboy who had never seen the use for a dress and didn’t know which end of a tube of lipstick to use. He had always been particularly fond of his sister.
“An event. With the Maxfields,” Jackson said.
Her mouth dropped open. “Are you out of your mind?”
“I asked him that already,” Jackson grunted.
“Well, ask again. Then check him for brain damage.”
“No more brain damage than I had already,” Creed said.
“Then why are we doing this?” Honey asked.
“Because,” he said, taking a long moment to chew on the words that were about to come out next, because they hurt. “Wren had a point. She thinks we should join the wineries together. Make this area more of a tourist destination for wine. Wine trails, and things like that. There’s no point in being competitive when we can advertise for each other. People like to try all different kinds of wines, and experience all different atmospheres when they’re on vacation.”
“You sound like a brochure,” Jackson said.
He probably did. Mostly because Wren had sounded like one and he was basically repeating her. “Well. That’s a good thing,” Creed said. “Since we need some new brochures. And somebody has to write them. It isn’t going to be either of you.”
“True,” Honey said cheerfully.
“You do have to help me barbecue. And you have to help set up this party. I need you two there. If for no other reason than to be witnesses.”
“Witnesses to what?” Jackson asked.
“Just in case Wren decides to murder me.”
“You could take her,” Honey said.
Yeah. He could take her. That was for damn sure. But not in the way his sister meant. “You know I would never hurt a lady.”
“That’s far too gallant if the lady is willing to murder you,” Honey said pragmatically.
“You could try to be less annoying,” Jackson said.
“Look,” Creed said. “She came to me. So, it’s up to her to behave herself. I didn’t go to her, and I wouldn’t have.”
Though, truth be told, he would have to behave himself, too. The prospect of spending extra time with Wren Maxfield was definitely problematic. But he’d spent the last five years not touching her. A few weeks of working in close proximity shouldn’t be an issue.
Hell. They wouldn’t be.
Because when Creed Cooper decided something, he stuck to it. Control was what he was all about. He might be a rich cowboy who could have everything he wanted, but that didn’t mean he did have everything he wanted. Not anymore. Not after he had experienced the disastrous consequences of that kind of behavior.
He had learned his lesson.
And he would never again make the mistakes he’d made as a kid.
That was for damn sure.
Copyright © 2020 by Maisey Yates
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ISBN-13: 9781488063275
All He Wants for Christmas
Copyright © 2020 by Karen Booth
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
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