What Happens at Christmas…

by Yvonne Lindsay

  She would not be a virgin.

  If her father didn’t think that she needed a winery, then she didn’t need to be around them.

  That made her heart clench tight. She wasn’t… She wasn’t going to fall out with her family. Not entirely. Her mother had died when she was so young, and her father had taken good care of her. But he just didn’t understand having a daughter. He loved her. She knew that—no matter how difficult things had been around the time of her mother’s death, she did know that. But it didn’t occur to him that she might want a piece of this place. Even though she had worked it most of her life.

  And her brothers… They were pains in the butt. They really were. But they loved her. She needed distance though.

  She so badly needed distance.

  And she had a plan to get it.

  She picked up her phone and looked at the message.

  What’s your estimated date of arrival?

  I was thinking the week of Christmas.

  She was actually thinking she’d leave tomorrow. That was what she was thinking. Leaving tomorrow. Getting out. Getting gone. Pulling off the Band-Aid.

  She had never missed Christmas with her family before. But this was part of her defiance. She wasn’t going to consult them on her leaving. She was going to just… She was going to go. She was going to do whatever she wanted.

  She didn’t need to ask their permission, and she hadn’t. She hadn’t told them any of what she was thinking, or let them know how furious she was, because why would she?

  Her dad didn’t want to deal with her emotions anyway.

  Plus he was rarely around anymore. She had no idea what was going on with him, but he was never home. Her brothers were married now—and to the Maxfields at that. Which meant they would be off doing things at their fancy winery. Or worse. Expecting her to join them.

  It wasn’t that she didn’t like her sisters-in-law. They were just…a lot. A whole lot. Cricket was her age—she supposed they ought to be friends. It was just… She had a difficult time thinking about how she was going to cozy up to a girl who was sleeping with her brother. Ew.

  That would work just fine. I’ll have a room ready for you.

  She hoped that it would be a room with him.

  She had to do something. To erase this place, her pain, her stupid, pointless attraction to Jericho, the man who had stolen her whole future from her. The man who owned way too much space in her head.

  Her stomach twisted in defiance of that thought.

  She did hope there was a room ready for the two of them to share. She did. She was ready. She was ready for this. For a change. For something new. For a chance to be different.

  She was going to make her way in the world. And she did not need Cowboy Wines to do it.

  Jericho was tired. Down to his bones. And he only had a day or so before he had to leave for the Dalton family Christmas.

  He would love to resist it. Hell, he would love to be an asshole and just stay away entirely no matter how many times the Daltons reached out. But two months ago, he was contacted by West Caldwell, who was apparently his half brother, telling him about his connection to the Dalton family.

  Apparently Hank had expected Jericho would be too mad to speak to him, considering it had come out that his various half children were under the impression he’d known about them and denied them, even though that wasn’t true.

  West had been the voluntary envoy, meeting him down at the Gold Valley Saloon, explaining the situation and how he himself had come to be in Gold Valley and come to be part of the Dalton clan.

  The thing was, Jericho had already known about his connection to the Daltons. He’d known about it from the time he was old enough to understand that everyone had a father—it was just that his own didn’t give a fuck.

  But it turned out he’d gotten that wrong.

  Hank Dalton hadn’t known. The infamous retired rodeo cowboy was apparently the father to a whole passel of kids he didn’t know he had. Owing to his wild years, when he had been philandering and cheating on his wife—and apparently not understanding condom usage—he had a spread of kids in their thirties. Some of whom were with his wife, Tammy, others of whom were not.

  Apparently, he was the last one who hadn’t been tracked down, owed to the fact that Hank hadn’t known his first name, and his last name was so common.

  Hank was infamous in Gold Valley, and his mother had made no secret of the fact that he was his father.

  But then, his mother had died when Jericho was only sixteen, and it had been the Cooper family that had taken him in. Finished raising him. Made sure that he never wanted for much of anything.

  Cancer was a bitch and it had taken his strong, caring mother from him far too soon. A pain he had in common with the Coopers. They didn’t talk about it—feelings weren’t high on their list of things to deal with—but they all just…knew. That was enough.

  They’d been enough.

  And he had just never… Hank had rejected her as far as she was concerned, and Jericho had never wanted to take a damn thing from Hank.

  But the story was more complicated than that. It turned out it was Hank’s wife, Tammy, who had dealt with the former mistresses who’d all had his children. Hank himself had never really known.

  And so he was… He was doing this. He was heading up to this family Christmas thing. And he didn’t know what the hell was in store for him. But he’d spent his life without any real family. He was curious, frankly. To see this whole big family that was his.

  Thankfully, Honey would be around to see to the running of the winery. Plus, Jackson and Creed could get their asses in gear to give them some help. They were like brothers to him.

  And Honey was…

  Under his skin in ways he didn’t like to acknowledge. He’d known her since she was a scrappy, spiky kid, and now she was a scrappy, spiky woman who ignited his blood and made him question if hell was really all that hot, or if it was something he should risk.

  Lord knew, if he ever touched her, Jackson and Creed would have his head on a pike. And if he were the kind of man who could offer something extra, it might be different.

  But in his mind, love was a sacrifice. And he’d bled out all that he could on that score.

  So he kept his fly up and his hands to himself. Around her anyway.

  Unwanted attraction aside, she was a good worker, and she would be more than up to the task of seeing to the place around the holidays. In fact, since he’d bought the place, he swore she’d been working two times as hard.

  Being here without him wouldn’t be that difficult either, especially because it wasn’t exactly prime wine tasting time. They had a couple of private parties, but otherwise, people were getting together and sitting outdoors and watching music every week during this time of the year. Maybe his success in life was part of the reason he’d agreed to meet with the Daltons.

  Because hell, he’d gotten pretty far in life without Hank.

  He pulled himself up from nothing with bloody knuckles. Bought his first ranch after years of working it. Bought another one. Expanded. Made profits. Got to the point where he could buy the winery. And now he had several different business ventures relating to ranching and agriculture.

  And he was successful. No matter how you looked at it.

  He didn’t need the Daltons’ pity or their money. There had been a time when his mother really could’ve used it. They had gotten a single settlement from Hank, but her cancer had bankrupted them.

  He’d been a kid left with nothing in the end. And yeah, he’d spent some time being bitter about it. Until he’d decided the best revenge could only ever be living well, and he’d done whatever the hell he could to make sure he was living as well as any man could be.

  He worked hard, he played harder. Family, marriage… That shit wasn’t in the cards for him.

>   He walked into the winery tasting room, to see Honey leaning over the table on her phone. She was wearing a pair of blue jeans that seemed on a mission to hug her ass as tightly as possible.

  No. Honey was not his sister. She was also barely over the age of twenty-two, too damned young, too damned earnest and more likely to bite him on the wrist than kiss him. She was like a wild mink.

  And damn if it didn’t appeal.

  He knew exactly when the switch had flipped, and he did his best to never think about it. It had been back last November when Creed had announced he was marrying his rival—because she was pregnant.

  Honey had been incensed, a furious little ball of rage.

  “You don’t marry somebody just because you lust after them. That’s silly.”

  “Fine. The pregnancy.”

  “I still don’t understand how you could be so stupid. You’re not a kid.”

  “Honey, I pray that you always keep your head when it comes to situations of physical desire.”

  “I would never get that stupid over a man.”

  She’d said that with total and certain confidence and something had broken inside him. Shattered. She was a woman.

  And he wondered what sort of man could make her that stupid.

  His immediate, gut response had been…

  Him.

  He’d wanted to run out of there like his pants were on fire and his ass was catching. Instead he’d stayed—like it was nothing—and tamped it all down to a manageable burn.

  It was what he’d been doing ever since.

  “Afternoon.”

  She lifted her head slowly, then turned to look at him, her expression cool. “Jericho.”

  “Did you practice that face in the mirror?”

  “What face?” she said, the coolness evaporating immediately, her eyebrows locking together.

  “There you go. Now you look like you. I’m going to need you to oversee things while I’m gone over Christmas.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You heard me.”

  She blinked wide, whiskey eyes. “Do you think that you’re my… Do you think you’re my boss, Jericho?”

  “Honey,” he said, realizing that he was tempting fate. And her temper. “I own the winery now. You do work for me.” He was the one that would be signing the checks once that first pay cycle ended. So maybe she hadn’t realized it. But it was true.

  “I…I quit,” she said.

  “Excuse me?”

  “I quit. I’m leaving, actually. I’m leaving.”

  “You’re leaving?”

  “Jericho, do you always just repeat what women say? Because if so, I find it hard to believe that you have such good luck with them.”

  “Women don’t gravitate to me for my conversational skills,” he said.

  A streak of color flooded her cheeks. And he would be a fool to read anything into that.

  “I don’t really care why women seek out your…company. I’m not seeking your company out. I’m leaving. I got a job.”

  “You…” He realized he was about to say you got a job. “Where?”

  “Up near Portland.”

  “What are you going to do? Work at one of those assy coffee shops that only serves drinks in one size? And sells more macho than coffee?”

  “It’s not in the city. It’s a ranch on the outskirts. An equine facility. I got a job there as a trainer.”

  “Sight unseen?”

  “Yes.”

  “What the hell is this place called?”

  “None of your business.”

  “Does your father know?”

  “My father is too busy with… Well, he seems to have taken to my brothers marrying into the Maxfield family with a lot of enthusiasm.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  He knew what it was supposed to mean. Cash Cooper had carried on a youthful affair with Lucinda Maxfield years ago. Time and misunderstandings had separated them. But since her marriage to James had fallen apart, and Cash’s wife had passed, he suspected the two of them had rekindled things.

  And it seemed Honey suspected it too.

  “Apparently the Maxfield women are universally irresistible to the men in my family.” She shook her head. “But I don’t want to spend my Christmas at Maxfield Vineyards. I don’t want to be part of their fancy ass…whatever. I don’t want you to own Cowboy Wines. I want everything to go back to the way it was. But it isn’t going to. Which means I’m going to take myself off. I got a place. And I really like… I really like Donovan.”

  “Who’s Donovan?” he asked, eyes narrowing. Jackson and Creed weren’t currently in residence, which meant that it was up to him to make sure she wasn’t doing anything dumbass.

  Honey was open; she was honest to a near fault. If the thought was in her head, it was out of her mouth just as quick.

  The fact that she’d been keeping secrets set off big loud alarm bells.

  “He owns the equine facility that I’m going to,” she said, sniffing loudly. “And I’ve been talking with him on an app.”

  His stomach went tight. “Explain.”

  “Well, if you must know, I met him on a dating app.”

  “You met a guy that you’re going to go work for on a dating app?”

  “Yes.”

  “This is an HR violation waiting to happen.”

  “I think he might be HR.”

  “All the more reason for you to turn tail and run. This doesn’t sound like a safe situation at all.”

  “I’m not a child, Jericho. And anyway, I’m going up there with the express intention of violating HR mandates.”

  “Hell no.” Anger burned in his gut. Honey might not be for him. He knew she wasn’t. But even so, he was not going to let Honey Cooper run off up north to shack up with some guy who owned an equine facility—that was the most pretentious little bullshit he’d ever heard—and…start sleeping with him immediately. The very idea made him see red.

  “No,” he said. “You are not doing that. You are staying here.”

  “It may shock you to learn, Jericho, that you don’t get to control my life. You don’t get to tell me what to do. You don’t even get the tiniest say in what I do with my time. Because it isn’t your business.”

  “You are my business, Honey Cooper, whether you like it or not.”

  She rounded on him, her expression a fury. “You’re not my brother, asshole. You’re not my boss, and it isn’t your decision. I’m leaving. I’m leaving tomorrow. I’ve got everything packed up.”

  “That’s a problem, because I’m also leaving tomorrow.”

  “Sounds like a you problem.”

  “Honey…”

  “No,” she said. “I’m out. I should’ve been the first in line to buy the winery. My father never consulted me. You never considered it. You never considered my feelings at all. Acting concerned for me now, when you bought out my family’s winery without thinking that I might want to…”

  “I didn’t realize Cash didn’t consult you.” He felt slightly guilty about saying that, because Jackson had basically told him that Honey wouldn’t be happy about the decision. And he’d chosen to ignore that. He’d chosen to go ahead with it, because it was what he wanted. There wasn’t a whole lot in this world that he could claim as a legacy. His mother was dead; his father had never wanted much of anything to do with him—so he’d thought. Cowboy Wines was the closest thing he had to a family anything. The Coopers were the closest thing he had to a family.

  Which meant that getting a piece of it had mattered to him. And when Cash had wanted out…

  He never mentioned the possibility of selling it to Honey. It wasn’t like he had taken it out from under her deliberately. And she hadn’t said anything, not a damn thing, in the time since.

 
But Honey’s happiness meant something to him. The Coopers meant something to him. Which was why, no matter how nice Honey’s ass looked in a pair of jeans, he’d never do anything about it. There were plenty of women out there. More than willing to warm his bed for a few hours. He wasn’t going to mess with his friends’ sister. He also wasn’t going to let her go off half-cocked to warm some other dude’s bed just because she was mad.

  Not that he didn’t figure she’d be warming beds, or that she hadn’t. It was just that this was a bad idea. Clearly, up front from the start. And there was no point doing something that was so clearly this dumbass right from step one.

  “It doesn’t matter whether you knew or not. You should talk to me. You all should talk to me.”

  “The thing is, I wanted it.” He figured honesty was the best policy here. “Whatever was going to get it. Whether you’re happy about it or not.”

  “Well, I’m not happy. But it doesn’t matter, because I won’t be around to be unhappy anymore. Fuck you.”

  She turned around and stalked out of the room, and he resisted the urge to go after her. Honey and her tantrums weren’t his problem. He had bigger issues. Like making sure everything was covered before he went up to deal with the Daltons. Of course, if he called Creed and Jackson about it, he would blow Honey’s operation. Which was probably for the best.

  He took his phone out of his pocket and dialed Jackson. “Hey. I’m going to need your help with the winery for the next week.”

  “All right.”

  “I’m going to meet my family.”

  “Your family?”

  “Yeah. My father. Hank Dalton.”

  “Well, hell.”

  “Don’t say it like that. It’s not that big of a deal.”

  “It is a big deal,” Jackson insisted. “He finally acknowledged your existence?”

  He didn’t particularly want to talk about this. But it was reality right now, so he supposed there was no avoiding it. “He didn’t know about my existence. Apparently.”

  “Hell.”

  “I don’t see it as that big of a deal. So I don’t see why you should.”

  “Because it’s a big fucking deal.”