“Whereas I get the full name treatment on a daily basis,” a younger, shorter version of Hank said, striding forward to shake her hand as well. “I’m Jason Bailey.” He gestured to a pretty blonde behind the counter. “That’s my wife, Angelica.”
“Circumstances aside, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” Viv said, charmed in spite of herself. She’d had to kiss her London vacation goodbye to serve her community service--her manager at the mall wouldn’t give her the week off and instead had immediately hired her replacement--so she’d been in a sour mood over the weekend which had positively reached maximum capacity by the time she’d gotten into her car to make the drive out here this morning. She’d been determined to hate every moment of this, but it was clear that spending a week with this family--her gaze slid to Hank--and him specifically might be more...tolerable than she anticipated.
Hank blinked as though he’d just remembered something, then stepped back and drew a young man forward. She pegged him as an early teen. He was in that gangly stage, where his skin hadn’t quite caught up with his body. He was tall and rather thin, but the promise of manhood lurked in the breadth of his shoulders and the strong line of his spottily shaved jaw.
“And this is Brody,” Hank said, slapping the kid on the back. “He’s my right hand man around here.”
The boy blushed at the praise, so much so that it gave the impression that he wasn’t used to receiving compliments. Her heart instantly ached and she instinctively wanted to comfort him. Furthermore, there was something vaguely familiar about him. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but she had the peculiar sensation that she’d seen him before. That she should know him. Probably at the mall, Viv decided. After all, it was one of the local hang outs for Jackson’s youth.
She smiled. “Sounds like you’ve got an important job about here.”
He nodded. “I try.”
“Brody’s a hard worker,” Hank said.
Viv took an expectant breath and rocked back slightly on her heels. “Speaking of work, I should probably get started, right?”
Hank rubbed the back of his neck, as though he was reluctant to assign her a task. No doubt when he’d volunteered to use his business for community service workers he’d expected to get strapping young guys who’d be able to chop down trees and do a bit of heavy lifting. Well, she might be small, but she was tough. Not that she particularly wanted to work outside and chop down a tree--she’d never dreamed of becoming a lumberjack. But if she had to, she could, if nothing else than to prove to this guy she wasn’t a total lightweight.
“How about I take you around the farm and show you how everything works first?”
She nodded. “Sure.”
His mother hurried around the counter and pressed a cup of hot apple cider into her hands. “You’re going to need this, dear. It’s cold out there this morning.”
Viv murmured a thanks, then followed Hank outside. The air had a bite to it that made her want to instantly retreat back into the cozy, sweet-smelling gift shop, but the idea of walking around with Hank warmed her from the inside so she fell into step beside him.
“I used to come here when I was a kid,” Viv said.
“Oh, really?”
“Yeah. My mother still visits every year and gets her tree. Leila Foster?”
Recognition flashed in those unique grey eyes and he smiled. “Seven and half foot Douglas Fir every time.” He nodded. “Picky, your mom, but she has a great eye.”
“She loves to decorate for Christmas and thinks it’s sacrilegious to use an artificial tree.”
He opened the door to his truck for her and she caught another tantalizing whiff of his scent. Her mouth actually watered. “Then we’re of the same mind then,” he said. He jerked his head, indicating the farm. “My living depends on people like your mom.”
Considering it was such a seasonal business, she could completely understand that. For the first time in her adult life she felt sort of bad for never buying a Christmas tree. Oh course, one would have to actually like Christmas to want a tree, and considering that the holiday had been forever tainted by her cheating bastard of a father, she’d never seen the need. Typically she just gritted her teeth and got through the season.
Thanksgiving was actually her holiday of choice and she had the decorations to prove it. Cornucopias, pumpkins, fall garlands and mums. It was an unsung, largely neglected and glossed over occasion, a speed bump, if you will, along the commercialized road to the Christmas season. She liked the message behind the Thanksgiving holiday, to be appreciative of what one has without having to donate a gift in the process.
Hank slipped into to the driver’s seat, quickly cranked the truck, then adjusted the heat. “Sorry,” he said. “It’ll take it a minute to warm up. I’ve been down here since five this morning.”
She felt her eyes round. “Five?” And as for the heat, she was warm enough already. He was making her quite...hot.
“We start early during the busy season. In addition to the local farm, we ship trees to a lot of the home improvement stores in the south east. We farm roughly three thousand acres and the majority of that land is used for our commercial business.”
“Wow,” she said, impressed. “I had no idea.”
He pointed to a medium sized log cabin with a long porch. Jason and Brody were busy trimming a tree and offered a wave as they drove past. She experienced a bit of déjà vu, looking at Brody again. She definitely knew him. But from where?
“That’s the trimming shed. Once they’ve gotten the tree into an acceptable shape, they’ll run it through the netting machine to make it easier for customers to transport home. We sell our own stands as well. They’re heavier, better weighted than any of those flimsy things you’ll get in a store.”
She felt a smile flirt with her lips. “Are you trying to sell me one?”
He negotiated a turn and trees of varying sizes laid out in neat rows all around them. In the distance a large barn, presumably with maintenance equipment, loomed in the distance along with various other little buildings.
He shot her a grin. “Only if you need one. But I’m partial to ours because I designed it.”
Impressed, she nodded. “I’ll definitely have to check it out then.”
He followed several little gravel roads, pointing out various structures on the property and explaining their purpose, then drove her through each section of farm, showcasing the variety of trees they grew and sold on the property.
“Blue Spruce, Scotch Pine, Douglas Fir, a few Cedar,” he said. “Despite the fact that it’s not as pretty a green as the Scotch Pine, I’m a Blue Spruce fan. They’re easy to shape and have good, sturdy limbs.”
Clearly he was passionate about what he did, Viv noted, charmed. He knew his business and seemed genuinely taken with his profession. In her experience that was an increasingly rare thing. Most men of her acquaintance were simply working to get paid and took little notice, much less pride in how they made their living.
They crested a hill and several houses came into view. He drew to a stop, then nodded toward an old two-story antebellum house. “That was my great-grandfather’s place. He was the one who started it all. My parent’s live there now. Both my brother and I have built out here as well.”
She could see that. There were two other houses, both of them large and roomy, not exactly what one would have pictured for either a newly married couple or a bachelor like Hank--she’d covertly checked his ring finger after he’d finished shaking her hand. Clearly these homes had been built with future families in mind. For reasons she couldn’t explain, a small lump formed in her throat. These men didn’t think in the short term, Viv realized, another increasingly rare trait.
“The dark green cedar with the white trim is mine,” Hank told her. “And see those little orange flags out there in the middle of that field.”
Viv nodded. “That’s our future community playhouse. We’re putting in a big recreation room with a kitchen to accommodate holidays and
get-togethers and the like, as well as a pool.”
She chuckled softly and inclined her head. “Building your own family subdivision, eh?”
He returned her grin. “We like to think of it as a compound,” he said. “You know, sort of like the Kennedy’s, just on a smaller scale.”
“It’s lovely,” she told him, meaning it.
The radio Hank had stashed in the cup holder suddenly sounded. “Hank, are you going to dawdle around all day flirting with our new worker or are you going to get back here and log in some true time?” Jason wanted to know.
Unbelievably, he blushed, and that little bit of pink in his cheeks delighted her beyond reason. “Excuse me,” he said, shooting her a sheepish smile. “We’re on our way back now,” he told him. “Keep your skirt on.” He glanced at her. “Sorry about that. My brother fancies himself a comedian.”
“No problem. I’ve got a sister who has a similar tendency.”
His eyes twinkled. “I’ve got to tell you, you’ve been quite a little celebrity around here for the past week.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. It’s not every day we get a woman who’s doing community service out here for h-hitting Santa C-claus,” he said, chuckling under his breath. “Jase has been calling you the Santa Slugger.”
Viv rolled her eyes, slightly mortified. “Excellent. A nickname. I’ll have you know that until this incident, my record was clean and this is my first ever stint in community service.”
“Well, you’re not sporting any gang tattoos and don’t seem to be pierced in any of the unusual places. You look pretty even-tempered,” he said, his gaze skimming over her. That casual perusal made her skin prickle and her neck go warm. “So...what happened? Why did you feel the need to deck old Saint Nick?”
She frowned. “You mean you don’t know?”
“No. That wasn’t included in any of the paperwork the court sent over.”
She rolled her eyes. “Of course, not. Leave it to that joke of a judge to leave out anything that would have painted me in a better light.”
“Are you saying you weren’t guilty?”
“No,” she admitted, expelling a disgusted breath. “I did hit him. And I’d do it again in the heartbeat under the same circumstances.”
A puzzled line emerged between his brows.
Oh, for pity’s sake. “You really want to know why I did it?”
He poked his tongue in his cheek. “I’ll admit I’m intrigued.”
Viv released another prolonged breath. “Fine. I’ll tell you why. I did it because Santa Claus grabbed my ass.”
CHAPTER 4
Hank blinked. “Come again?”
“He grabbed my ass,” she repeated, a trace of outrage in her voice. “The guy was a mall Santa and he’d been following me around for a couple of weeks, leering at me and making suggestive comments. Then he decided to cop a feel and I rounded on him.” She smiled unrepentantly. “Like I said, I’d do it again.”
“And the judge found you guilty?”
Her lips slid into a hard smile. “I’m relatively certain that the judge who sentenced me was the same guy I cold-cocked.”
Shocked, Hank shook his head. “You’re kidding me.”
“I wish.”
Hank didn’t know what he’d expected her to say, but getting felt up by Santa Claus certainly wasn’t in any scenario he’d imagined. Stunned, he simply shook his head. “But what about your attorney? Couldn’t he do anything?”
“She did the best she could.” Viv let go a sigh and gestured wearily. “And the truth is I did hit him. I was guilty of assault.”
Hank drummed his fingers against the steering wheel. “Yeah, but there were extenuating circumstances. You shouldn’t have to do this.” And he certainly didn’t like the part he was playing in her punishment. On the other hand, she was the most exciting thing that had happened to him in recent memory, so selfishly he was glad to have her here. He’d never had such a visceral reaction to a woman before and, while he certainly no genius, he had sense enough to know that this was important.
“I agree,” she said. “But this is just the way it is. Honestly, I just want to do my time, so to speak, and move on.”
A thought struck. “So you work at the mall, then?”
Another smile that didn’t quite ring true shaped her distractingly pretty mouth. “I did.”
Damn, he didn’t like the sound of that. A bad feeling formed in his gut. “Did?” Past tense. Not good.
“They wouldn’t let me off for a week, so they’ve hired a replacement.”
Though this was in no way his fault, Hank couldn’t help feeling guilty all the same. His shoulders rounded as he let out a breath. “I’m sorry, Viv,” he said, for lack of anything better.
She waved off his concern with one of her tiny hands. He loved those dainty little fingers and was suddenly struck with a vision of them sliding over his naked skin, kneading his shoulders and drifting over his chest. He sucked a slow breath through his teeth and tried to focus.
“Don’t worry about it,” she told him. “It was just a part- time gig to cover Christmas and take myself on a little vacation. I’m actually in Web site design, so it’s not like I lost my only means of income.”
Maybe so, Hank thought, but from the hauntingly sad look around her eyes, she’d lost something equally, if not more so, important, and he was hit with the sudden urge to fix things for her. How? Why? Who the hell knew? He just wanted to be her hero.
And as it happened, the family had been planning to build a Web site for their business. It was past time, really, and if he hired her to do the work, then she’d be able to recoup the lost wages. He pulled back up in front of the gift shop and shifted into park, but didn’t readily kill the engine.
“It’s slow right now. Always is around Christmas,” she explained. A smile tugged at her lips. “People are buying Christmas trees and presents and traveling to see their families. They’re not interested in building a new site or getting a redesign.”
“I am,” Hank told her, making an executive decision. His father, who was currently away at the moment courting new business, had long ago put Hank in charge.
Those purple eyes widened. “What?”
He gestured toward the farm. “We’ve been talking about putting a site up for over a year now, but haven’t taken the time to get it done. Would you be interested?”
The look she gave him made his chest swell with masculine pleasure. “Certainly. Do you have time to tell me what you’d want?”
Hank winced. “Not at the moment, but maybe we could discuss it over dinner?”
She smiled hesitantly. “I don’t have any plans.”
Inwardly he gave a little cheer. “Good. Why don’t you come up to my house this evening when we finish for the day and I’ll throw something together for us.”
“You’re going to cook?”
Hank chewed the inside of his cheek. “It’s how I usually feed myself.”
She laughed. “I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t be shocked, but...”
“But I’m a guy and I’m supposed to be helpless in the kitchen and incapable of picking out coordinating fabrics?”
She laughed again, a delighted chuckle that made stomach flutter and his dick stir beneath his boxers. He wanted to hear that laugh in bed, naked.
“The fact that you know that fabrics can coordinate sets you apart from the average male.”
His gaze tangled purposely with hers. “Good. I don’t like being average.”
A small breath stuttered out of her lungs and the climate instantly changed in the cab of his truck. “An over-achiever, are you?”
“I pride myself on doing things well.”
She swallowed, seemed to lean toward him a bit, though that could only be wishful thinking on his part. “It’s a g-good trait.”
He shrugged as though it was difficult to be this perfect, purposely trying to make her laugh again. “I’ve been told I’ve got a few.”
A burst of laughter rumbled up his throat. “Too true,” he conceded, enjoying himself more than he had in years.
A knock sounded at his window, startling him. Hank swore, then turned to see his brother standing there. “You want to get out the truck, your majesty, and help around here, or do you want us peasants to do all the work?”
Hank sighed. “Do you see what I have to deal with?”
She nodded once, her lips twitching. “I do.”
“I suppose I should get back to work.” He didn’t want to, though. He’d rather enjoy her company, fall into those deep purple eyes and coax a kiss from that unapologetically sexy mouth. He knew instinctively that she’d be a good kisser, that she would welcome his hands on her face, that she would fit perfectly against him. Another bolt of heat landed in his loins, making him shift in his seat. This was ridiculous. He was ready to detonate right now and hadn’t officially even initiated the launch sequence.
“What do you want me to do?”
Aside crawl into my lap? Hank thought. “Work with my mother in the gift shop. We’ll count the tour as your day in the field.”
She frowned. “What?”
“Judge Moroz specifically asked that you work in the field and on the lot.”
Her eyes sparked with irritation. “Really? Is that normal?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean do judges usually make those kinds of requests?”
Hank shrugged. “I wouldn’t know. You’re the first person who’s ever served their community service here.”
“The first?”
“Yeah. I work with several guidance counselors at the local junior high and high schools, bringing unruly kids out here to work in lieu of detention--give them something to do besides get into more trouble--but you’re the first community service worker we’ve had.” He smiled. “Frankly, it was a little strange. Judge Moroz’s clerk called last week and set this up.”
“Oh.” She chewed her bottom lip thoughtfully. “Do you remember what day she called?”
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