Hot Christmas Nights

by Rachel Bailey

  “Yes, darling?”

  “We should probably talk about this… you know, the logistics.”

  He kissed her jaw. “You mean the fact that you live here and I live in Denary?”

  “Yes,” she said and sighed. “I know we talked about it before, but I’m not sure either of us are cut out for a long distance relationship.”

  “Agreed,” he said and nuzzled the sensitive skin below her earlobe. “Which is why I’m moving here.”

  “You are?” Her eyes widened. “But you hate the city.”

  He pulled back a little and grasped her chin. “Elyse, I’ll do whatever I have to do to make you happy. If that means moving to the city, then I will do it. You are all that matters to me.”

  “But the farm? That’s all you know and I –”

  “Rick’s moving into your dad’s place with Billy-Jean and the baby. It’ll be good for Frank to have the support and running the place will make a man out of my little brother. It’s a small enough operation that it won’t be too much for Rick to handle.”

  She was relieved to hear it, but it still didn’t solve the problem of the McCrane farm. “Can your mother handle the farm alone?”

  He shrugged. “My mother wants to travel and spend time with her grandson.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “I’m going to put the farm up for sale.”

  Elyse choked back a gasp. For sale? It was madness. “You can’t do that.”

  “Actually, I can.”

  She pulled away and swung her legs off the couch. She needed to think. The headache she’d had all afternoon knocked around in her head, begging to be let in. Elyse took a few deep breaths and walked toward the wide windows. She looked out toward the harbor and sighed. It was a million dollar view. One of the best in the city. And for years she’d believed she wanted nothing else. She turned back to Brett and saw that he was now sitting on the edge of the couch.

  And in that moment, everything she believed she’d always wanted shifted on its axis.

  She sucked in a breath, and spoke. “Let me get this straight in my head…you would sell your family farm…the place that has been part of your family for five generations? The place that is both your livelihood and your legacy. The place that you have always planned to raise your children on. You’d sell it and move to the city…to here,” she said and waved an arm. “You would do all that…for me?”

  He nodded. “In a heartbeat.”

  Emotion clogged her throat. “You love me that much?”

  “I love you more than anything,” he admitted rawly. “More than the farm. More than any legacy.”

  Tears burned her eyes. She’d never imagined anyone would make such a sacrifice for her. Never believed anyone would be that much in love with her. And to know that person was Brett McCrane filled her heart with such immense joy she could barely control the tears behind her eyes.

  She walked back to the couch and sat beside him, grabbing his hands and holding on. “I love you too, Brett. I love how you’re honorable and so incredibly kind. The truth is, I loved you when I was sixteen and I’ll love you when I’m one hundred. No one fills my heart like you do. And I’m so glad you came here to fight for me. I needed that. We needed that.” She drew in a shuddering breath. “But now it’s my turn to fight.”

  “Elyse, you don’t have to say–”

  “I do,” she said, cutting him off. “And I will. But what I will not do,” she said, all determination and strength. “Is allow the man I love to give up everything he has ever believed in…everything he has worked for…everything he’s earned through birthright and hard work, just because he thinks I need him to do it so I’ll be happy. I don’t need that,” she assured him and raised his hand to her lips. She kissed his knuckles gently. “All I need is you. You belong in Denary. And I belong with you. I’m going to marry you, Brett McCrane. And we’re going to live happily ever after on the farm with our children. You got that?”

  He chuckled and drew her close. “I got that. You’re very bossy, you know?”

  She smiled as their lips met. “I know. I’ll be a very bossy farmer’s wife. When I’m not having babies or maybe opening a small legal practice in Denary.”

  His brows shot up. “Really? And will that be enough?” he asked, grinning.

  “It’ll be enough,” she said and waited for his kiss. “It will be everything.”

  A NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR

  Dear Reader

  Welcome to Denary – a small country town in Queensland, where both Elyse Prescott and Brett McCrane were born and raised. Elyse left town the day Brett proposed and hasn’t been back since. That was ten years ago. But now she’s back to see her wayward sister settled and spend time with her father. Only…seeing Brett again makes her remember why she left. And makes her wonder if she should stay.

  I hope you enjoy Elyse and Brett’s story and love hearing from readers. I can be contacted via my website at www.helenlacey.com of follow me on Facebook.

  And I’m delighted to be a part of the Hot Christmas Nights, A LoveCats DownUnder Box Set, with so many wonderful authors and friends.

  Warm Wishes

  Helen Lacey

  Helen Lacey grew up reading Black Beauty, Anne of Green Gables and Little House on The Prairie. These childhood classics inspired her to write her first book when she was seven years old, a story about a girl and her horse. She loves writing about tortured heroes, both cowboys and CEO’s, and heroines who finally get the love of the man of their dreams. From Welsh parents and a large family, she lives on the east coast of Australia in a small seaside town at the southern most point of The Great Barrier Reef, with her wonderfully supportive husband, many horses and three spoiled dogs.

  SLEIGH BELLS IN THE SAND

  A KITE HARBOR HOLIDAY NOVELLA

  ~

  STEFANIE LONDON

  A huge thank you to Wanda Ottewell, Rachel Bailey, Jennifer St. George, Talia Hunter and Kandy Shepherd for all your input, guidance and kind words.

  Copyright © 2015 Stefanie London

  All rights reserved.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Neve Ritter turned her face up to the sun and breathed in deep. She was finally here, in the picturesque coastal town of Sorrento, way down at the bottom of Australia. Miles and miles away from home—a whole hemisphere, in fact.

  Ready to spend Christmas all by herself.

  It was more than a little daunting. She’d never spent Christmas alone, ever. Even last year when she’d packed her bags and left her family, she’d spent the holidays in an English hostel surrounded by people and warmth and cheer. But now she needed to think, to reflect. And that wasn’t exactly a group activity.

  Her muscles protested as she stretched her arms above her head and forced her blood to get moving. The nine-and-a-half-hour flight from Thailand followed by a two-hour drive from Tullamarine airport had made her as stiff as over starched sheets. And the air had been hot and dry like the blast from an open oven when she’d stepped out of her rental car.

  It was weird to think that so many people celebrated the Christmas in the summer. Did their greeting cards have snow on them? Did they still drink mulled cider and have turkey for lunch? It was hard to believe anyone would want to roast a bird in this heat. Maybe that’s why all those Aussies were always throwing shrimps on the barbie.

  No, not shrimps. Prawns. Better get the lingo right while she was here.

  The scent of ocean salt and eucalyptus danced along the warm breeze as she took in her surroundings. The tourist beach wasn’t far from the house she’d been told, but here—among the looming trees and shrubbery in every shade of green and brown—she felt far away from everything, especially civilization.

  Popping the trunk on her rental car, she set her bag on the gravel driveway. The wheelie bag—which converted into a backpack—contained the not-so-worldly possessions she’d left home with twelve months ago, her sights set on adventure and truth. And she’d gotten both of those things,
but the truth hadn’t set her free as the old saying suggested.

  Maybe skeletons were kept in closets for a reason. More fool her, she’d not only let them out but she’d chased them around the world…and for what?

  A lump lodged in her throat but she swallowed it down. She wasn’t going to feel sorry for herself. Pity was for chumps. Besides, she had a beautiful beach house all to herself. She could laze around for the next week doing nothing but swimming in the ocean, catching some sun and reading. Who wouldn’t want that?

  A voice niggled in the back of her mind, telling her she’d be lonely. It had been a long time since Neve had chosen to be alone. But this was different. Peace and quiet would help her figure out how to come clean with her family. Regardless, she had a flight booked for New Year’s Day. Her return to her hometown of Kite Harbor was inevitable, and while it wasn’t set in stone it was set in non-refundable plane tickets. And that was kind of the same thing.

  She jabbed the passcode into the house’s pin pad a little harder than she needed to. When a soft click confirmed her access, she entered. The air was surprisingly cool considering the house had been apparently unoccupied for some months.

  All the shades were drawn, and the house was clean and tidy. A puffy green sofa sat in the middle of the open living area, flanked by two small side tables. There was a flat screen TV, shelves heaving with well-loved books and board games, and a rug that looked soft and cozy as though it had been designed for bare feet.

  Tempting as it was to start with the grand tour, Neve was desperate for a coffee. Leaving her bag in the main room, she wandered over to the kitchen and within minutes the air was filled with a delicious aroma. Cradling the coffee cup between her hands, she leaned back against the kitchen counter and sighed.

  Guilt was already winding its suffocating arms around her. It would take a while to come to terms with what had happened this past year. Of what it meant to close the door on a relationship she’d always hoped to rekindle. But the words ‘I don’t want anything to do with you’ were forever etched into her brain.

  And then there was her family, aka the people she’d ditched after promising she’d be home for the holidays. She hadn’t even been able to break the news via Skype or over the phone. A quick email—barely two lines—had informed them she wouldn’t be returning home as planned.

  You’re a freaking coward. They deserve better than that.

  Perhaps her inner critic was right. She was a coward, but the thought of facing them—of coming home a failure—seemed even harder to bear at such a special time of year. The New Year would give her a fresh start. An opportunity to make things right, she just had to work up the courage to tell the truth.

  The sound of something clicking against the floorboards startled her. The hairs on her arm stood on end. She wasn’t alone in the house.

  “Hello?”

  A low rumbling growl sent a tremor through her as a hulking, black dog blocked the entrance to the kitchen. Its fur was dark as ink and the beast stood almost to waist-height. As it bared its teeth, another low growl rumbled from the back of its throat.

  Holy hell, its teeth looked sharp as knives. Long and pointed and perfectly shaped to pierce through flesh.

  Shit, shit, shit!

  “Easy,” she said, flattening her back to the counter and setting her coffee down. Her stomach clenched as she forced herself to breath slow and steady. She’d be fine against anything—bugs, spiders, snakes…but not a dog.

  Don’t just stand there, do something!

  Her eyes darted around the kitchen. The counters were bare, but a frying pan sat on the stovetop just out of reach. She didn’t like the idea of hitting an animal but if it tried to bite her she was going to need something to defend herself with. She reached out but the dog took a step forward and let out a sharp, warning bark.

  Neve flinched, her heart hammering against her ribcage. How the hell had it gotten inside the house? She was sure she’d closed the front door behind her.

  “Be calm,” she muttered under her breath. “Don’t let it know you’re scared.”

  Terrified was a more accurate descriptor. All she could focus on was the way the dog’s eyes were locked onto her. Like it was hungry and she was a big, tasty bag of bones.

  Think, dammit. What would The Dog Whisperer do?

  Damian Alessio blinked, wincing as the harsh sunlight blinded his sleep-sensitive eyes. Throwing an arm over his face, he groped for his sunglasses with his free hand. It took him a moment to realize they were still perched on his head.

  “Tilly?” There was no movement in the yard. Only the barest hint of leaves rustling as a breeze swept through.

  He stretched, relishing in the delicious pull on his muscles. It was ironic that the best sleep he’d had in weeks had come while he was stretched out on a banana lounge that had seen better days. But he wasn’t about to complain. At this point, sleep was sleep. And he felt far more comfortable out in the yard than he did in the house.

  Why did you come here? You’re only going to cause yourself more grief.

  He shut the thought down immediately. The reason he’d come to his childhood holiday home was simple; he needed to remember why he’d chosen to follow in his father’s footsteps.

  And he couldn’t do that at home, not with his recent loss haunting him at every turn.

  “Tilly!” He sat up and looked around, but the dog was nowhere to be seen. Probably off re-discovering the house since it’d been a while since she’d last been here.

  Years, in fact. For them both.

  He reached for his phone. Despite needing time away from work, the impulse to check his email never fully disappeared. Perhaps he was a glutton for punishment…at the very least he was a control freak.

  Grunting in annoyance at his inability to disconnect, he pressed the power button and waited while the device came to life. Then it started. Beeping, vibrating, alerts flying up thick and fast like some kind of digital battle cry. Ten voice mails. A couple dozen text messages. Emails well into triple figures.

  Bloody hell.

  How was it possible his life had gone from being completely on track to a category five shit storm in the blink of an eye?

  So much for thinking he’d have time to lay low over Christmas. How naive. Unless Santa had a time machine he was out of luck. The best he could hope for was that the break passed without incident. He wasn’t usually one to aim the bar so low, but the holiday season didn’t fill him with cheer…even on years when he wasn’t having an existential crisis.

  He reached down to where he’d dropped his T-shirt on the ground but his fingertips only felt soft blades of grass. The T-shirt bandit had struck again.

  “God dammit, Tilly,” he muttered as got up and strode into the house.

  He found his T-shirt in a crumpled heap just inside the door. She hadn’t torn this one to shreds, thankfully, but there was dog drool all over it. Not to mention a coating of black fur.

  He loved that dog, he really did. But sometimes—

  “Stay back!” A high-pitched feminine voice cut through the air as a warning growl sounded.

  What the hell?

  “Tilly?” he called out, his gaze landing on a black tail hanging out of the entrance to the kitchen.

  “Is someone there?” The voice called out again, tight with fear.

  He found Tilly hunkered down, hackles raised, facing off with a woman. Her eyes were wide, her mouth drawn into a thin line as her breath came short and fast, forcing her chest to heave beneath a tight, strappy top.

  “Tilly, heel!” he commanded.

  The dog sat, turning her head over one shoulder to look at him proudly as if to say ‘look how well I’m protecting you.’ He shooed her out of the way and she reluctantly made way for him to enter the kitchen. The woman sagged back against the counter.

  “Who the hell are you?” he asked.

  “Who are you?” she retorted, planting her hands on her trim hips. He noticed a mug on the counter b
eside her, with steam still curling up from its depths. “Other than someone with a well-trained attack dog, that is.”

  He was surprised to hear her American accent. “She didn’t attack you.”

  “If you’d given her a few more minutes you’d be sweeping up little chewed-up pieces of human right now.”

  Despite their situation, he stifled a laugh. The woman was a spitfire. But they appeared to be in somewhat of an impasse. She’d broken into his house and was rather unrepentant about it.

  Also, what kind of burglar broke into someone’s house to have a cup of coffee?

  “I’ll ask you again, who are you?” He folded his arms across his chest.

  “I’m the person currently occupying this house,” she said. “And you are?”

  “The person who currently owns this house.”

  She arched a brow. He’d met quite a few criminals in his time and she sure didn’t look like one.

  Nor was she dressed for breaking and entering. A pair of denim shorts barely touched the tops of her thighs, leaving miles of lightly tanned skin free. A pink tank top hugged her curves, covering her but failing to hide the sweet swell of her breasts and gentle dip at her waist.

  Then there were her piercingly blue eyes. They were the kind of blue you’d find staring over the side of a boat in the middle of the ocean. Endless, deep and filled with mystery. The kind of eyes he wanted to have looking up at him, wide and open and willing. Attraction flared deep inside him, taking him by surprise. It’d been a long time since he’d felt anything but the barest spark of temptation.

  Totally not appropriate to be checking out the intruder.

  “I know the owner of this house and it’s not you,” she said eventually, tilting her face up to his.

  She couldn’t have been more than five foot one…maybe two, if she was lucky. But her small stature seemed to be a ruse, she was no shrinking violet. “And if you don’t leave now I’m going to call the police.”

  Was she seriously calling his bluff?

  “Go for it.” He handed her his phone. “I’ll even let you call on my dime.”