“You think I don’t know that?” he challenged. Wade’s eyes
flashed with a touch of a temper she’d seen years before. “I’m not proud of it,
but I can fix it.”
Tori stood up from her seat. “You’re just going to have to find
another way to soothe your conscience. Send them on a cruise or something,
because you aren’t going to browbeat me into selling this land. And that’s
final. Please leave.”
Wade stood, bringing his head a hairbreadth away from scraping
the top of her camper. He took a step toward her, and his body loomed large and
intimidating in such close proximity.
Tori couldn’t help the surge of awareness that ran through her
body as he came near. Apparently it was far easier to despise him from a
distance. It had been a long time since she’d been in the same room as Wade, and
she’d certainly never been this close to him, but her body remembered him. With
him inches away, looking down at her with a focused, penetrating intensity, her
spine wanted to turn to jelly. His warm scent, a familiar mix of spicy cologne
and salty skin, swirled around her with every breath she drew into her
lungs.
She finally took a step back, pressing herself against the
kitchen counter. She didn’t like being this close to Wade. It messed with her
focus, and that just made her even more irritated. Tori couldn’t let him use his
size or sexuality to intimidate her.
“This isn’t over,” he said, pinning her with his dark green
eyes before grabbing his coat and walking out into the cold.
Two
W
ade remembered Victoria Sullivan as being
smart and beautiful. Apparently she was also the most infuriating and stubborn
woman he’d ever encountered.
Wade stomped back to his four-wheeler and stood there a moment,
letting the cold sink in and douse the aggravating mix of anger and attraction
surging through his veins. When he was back in control, he shrugged into his
coat, jumped on the ATV and peeled out of her yard in a doughnut as he used to
do as a teenager. The back tires sent a sheet of snow flying against the side of
her trailer. It was juvenile, but she seemed to bring out the worst in him.
He was fuming as he plowed through the snow. It should be
illegal for a woman that gorgeous to have a mouth that irritating. Honestly,
once she’d peeled out of her jacket and revealed a snug pair of jeans and a
fitted, long-sleeved T-shirt, he’d almost forgotten why he was there. It wasn’t
until she picked up her shotgun again that he realized he’d followed her inside
without her permission.
Victoria had been one of his best and brightest architects.
He’d hired her straight out of college when the company he and Alex had started
was still small and spending more than it earned. She’d contributed quite a bit
to making their first few big projects a success. He’d even considered asking
her out to dinner. But then his assistant had come to him with concerns about
seeing Victoria at a restaurant looking a little too cozy with one of their
potential suppliers. She had been quite vocal about giving the man an upcoming
contract, and the implication was clear. He fired her on the spot. Part of him
regretted that. And not just because she had knockout curves, flawless skin and
long, fiery red hair that made him warm under the collar.
He had wanted to believe her when she said she didn’t do it.
The thought of her with another man nearly made him crazy. But the logical part
of his brain was infuriated by her audacious attempt to influence corporate
contracts like that. Sleeping with a potential contractor was just as bad as
taking bribes from one. Both compromised a person’s objectivity and put the
ethics of his company in question.
He would not have it, so he terminated her. He never dreamed
the decision would come back to haunt him.
If she were any other woman, he would’ve asked her to dinner to
talk over his offer and kissed her to keep the inflammatory words from flying
out of her mouth. Her temper, as spicy as her hair, was a massive turn-on. He
had a weakness for redheads.
But she wasn’t another woman. She was holding on to seven years
of bitterness along with the key to something more important to him than
anything else. Protecting his family was his number one priority. Toying with
Victoria like a cat with a mouse could cost him dearly. He needed her to sell
him this land. He couldn’t fail. As much as he’d like to resolve their
differences between the sheets, it wasn’t the answer in this situation. He
doubted it would sway her, and she’d probably shoot him if he tried to kiss
her.
“Arrogant and pigheaded,” Wade grumbled, turning to steer the
four-wheeler down the center aisle of trees toward the entrance. She thought she
knew so much. Well, she forgot rich, powerful, ruthless and determined Wade
Mitchell came in the same package. He would secure that land and protect his
family one way or another.
Wade came to an abrupt stop as an old pickup truck, draped in
Christmas lights and garland, pulled in front of him. Piled into the trailer it
towed was a crowd of bundled-up people sitting on bales of hay and singing
Christmas carols. The driver, Owen, threw a hand up at Wade, then continued back
toward the house.
Hayrides, Santa visits, sugar cookies and hot chocolate.
Picking out a tree at the Garden of Eden wasn’t just a shopping trip. It was an
experience. On the weekends in December, the farm was a madhouse. And it had to
be. A good portion of their income came from just this one month. Sure, they did
other things throughout the year, but Christmas tree farms depended on a good
Christmas to stay afloat.
And lately, it hadn’t been enough.
Wade blamed himself for that. When the boys grew up and moved
away, the Edens had to hire in help. Owen had always worked on the farm, but as
each year went by, more staff was added and their expenses went up. Throw in a
mountain of hospital bills and competition from increasingly more realistic fake
trees, and the Edens were lucky they’d survived this long.
Wade followed the truck to the house and then veered off to
park the ATV back under the awning where they kept it. The farm would be closing
soon, so he skipped the house and headed around to the tree-processing area.
Heart attack be damned, he found his dad out there with a couple of teenage
boys. They were leveling, drilling, shaking and net-bagging all the trees
selected by the last round of customers.
As though he’d never left, Wade grabbed a tree and put it on
the shaker to remove any loose needles. When it was done, Ken laid the tree out
to drill. They carried special stands in the gift shop that ensured a perfectly
straight tree.
Wade held it still while Ken drilled.
“You haven’t lost your touch, kid. Need a job?”
Wade smiled. “I could work for about a week. Then I’ve got to
get back to town.”
“That’s fine, fine. We’ll be closed by then, anyway.” Ken
lifted the tree and gave it to one of the boys to run through the netter. When
he turned back, he gave Wade a big welcome hug. “Good to see you, son.”
“Good to see you, too, Dad. Is that the last of the trees for
tonight?”
“Yep. With perfect timing, you’ve shown up just when all the
hard work is finished. Come help me haul these trees out to the parking lot and
we’ll go see your mother.”
Wade grasped a tree in each hand and followed his father
through the snow to the parking lot where the last few cars waited for their
trees. He watched his father carefully for signs of ill health as he hauled
around the trees and helped families tie them into trunks and onto roofs. The
man wasn’t quite sixty yet and had always appeared to be at the peak of health.
His brown hair was mostly gray now, but his blue eyes were still bright and
alert, and he didn’t hesitate in his physical work. Ken had always been a lean
man, but a strong man. If nothing else, he looked a little leaner than
usual.
“There’s nothing wrong with me, so quit looking for it.” Ken
snatched the last tree from Wade and hauled it down to the pickup truck waiting
for it.
Wade followed him, then stood quietly until the truck pulled
away. “I wasn’t looking for anything.”
“Liar. Everyone has been doing it since your mother told
Julianne about that damned attack I had. It was no big deal. I’m fine. They gave
me a pill to take. End of story. Don’t be sitting around waiting for me to drop
dead so you can inherit this place.”
Both men chuckled, knowing Wade could buy and sell the farm ten
times over and had no interest in getting his claws on any inheritance. “You’re
looking good to me, Dad.”
“Yeah.” He slapped Wade on the back and started walking toward
the gift shop. “Most days I feel okay. I’m slowing down a little. Feeling my
age. But that’s just reality. The attack threw me for a loop—just came out of
the blue. But between the pills and your mother’s dogged determination to feed
me oatmeal and vegetables, I should be fine. What are you doing up here so
early, Wade? You kids don’t usually show up until Christmas Eve.”
“I had some time in my schedule, so I thought I’d spend it with
you guys. Help out. I know I don’t visit enough.”
“Well, that’s a nice lie. Be sure to tell your mother that.
She’ll eat it up. All of you boys are in a panic since you found out we sold
that land.”
“I wouldn’t call it a panic.”
“Wouldn’t you, now? Four out of the five of you kids have been
here in the past month, just randomly checking in. I’m sure Xander would’ve
come, too, if congress wasn’t in session fighting over the stupid budget.”
Wade shrugged. “Well, what do you expect, Dad? You kept your
heart attack a secret. You’re having financial trouble and you don’t tell any of
us. You know we all make good money. There was no need to start selling off the
farm.”
“I didn’t sell off the farm. I sold off some useless rocks and
dirt that were costing more money than they earned. And yes, you make a good
living. I haven’t made a good living in quite a few years. One doesn’t make up
for the other.”
“Dad—”
Ken stopped in front of the gift shop, his hand on the
doorknob. “I don’t want any of your money, Wade. I don’t want a dime from any of
you kids. The unexpected medical bills just sucked up our savings. The past few
years had been lean and we’d cut back on things, including our insurance, to
weather the rough patch. Selling off the extra land let us pay off all the
bills, buy a new insurance plan and stick some money away. Less land means less
taxes and less for me to worry about. Everything will be just fine.”
He pushed open the door to the gift store, ending the
conversation. Wade had no choice but to let the subject drop and follow him in.
They were instantly bombarded with lights and sounds straight from Santa’s
workshop. Jingling bells chimed from the door; Christmas music played from
overhead speakers. A television in the back was showing holiday cartoons on a
constant loop near the area where children could write letters to Santa and play
with toys while Mommy shopped and Daddy loaded the tree.
Multicolored lights draped from the ceiling. The scent of pine
and mulling spices permeated the room. The fireplace crackled on one wall,
inviting customers to sit in rocking chairs and drink the hot chocolate Molly
provided free.
“Wade!” The tiny and pleasantly plump woman behind the counter
came rushing out to wrap her arms around her oldest boy.
He leaned down to hug her as he’d always had to do, accepting
the fussing as she straightened his hair and inspected him for signs of stress
or fatigue. She always accused him of working too much. She was probably right,
but he’d learned his work ethic from them. “Hey, Mama.”
“What a surprise to have you here so soon. Is this just a visit
or are you here for the holiday?”
“For the duration.”
“That’s wonderful,” she said, her eyes twinkling with happiness
and Christmas lights. “But wait.” She paused. “I thought Heath told me you were
in Jamaica this week.”
“Plans changed. I’m here instead.”
“He’s checking up on us,” Ken called from the counter where he
was pouring himself a cup of cider.
“I don’t care,” she called back. “I’ll take him however I can
get him.” Molly hugged him again, then frowned at her son. “I don’t have
anything prepared for dinner,” she said, aghast at the idea. “I wish I’d known
you were coming. I was just going to feed your father a sandwich.”
“Whole wheat, fat-free turkey, no mayo, no flavor,” Ken
grumbled.
“Don’t worry about feeding me, Mama. I was going to run into
Cornwall to meet a couple of the guys at the Wet Hen and grab a few things from
the store. I’ll get something to eat at the diner when I’m done.”
“All right. But I’m going to the store first thing in the
morning, and I’ll get stocked up on everything I need to feed a household of
boys for the holiday!”
Wade smiled. His mother looked absolutely giddy at the idea of
slaving over a stove for five hungry men. He recalled times from his youth when
he and the other boys were hitting growth spurts all at once. They couldn’t get
enough food into their stomachs. Hopefully now they would be easier to take care
of.
“Why don’t you just give me a list and I’ll pick it up while
I’m out.”
“We don’t need your money,” Ken called from the rocking chair
by the fire, though he didn’t turn to face them.
Molly frowned at her husband, and Wade could see she was torn.
They did need the money, but Ken was being stubborn. “That would be very nice of
you, Wade. I’ll write up a few things.” She returned to the counter and made out
a short list. “This should get us through a few days. I’ll go into town for a
fresh turkey on Monday morning.”
“Okay,” he said, leaning down to kiss her cheek. “I’ll be back
soon. Maybe I’ll bring home one of those coconut cream pies from Daisy’s.”
“That would be lovely. Drive safely in the snow.”
Wade stepped through the jingling door and headed out into the
newly darkened night in search of pie, a dozen eggs, a sack of potatoes and some
information on Victoria Sullivan.
* * *
When Tori got into her truck, she had every intention of
going to Daisy’s to get something to eat. Maybe swing by the store for some
quick and easy-to-prepare food to get her through the holidays when the diner
was closed. And yet before she could help herself, her truck pulled into the
parking lot of the Wet Hen, the local bar.
“Let’s face it,” she lamented to her dashboard. “I need a
drink.”
Just one. Just enough to take the edge off the nerves Wade had
agitated. And if it helped suppress the attraction that was buzzing through her
veins, all the better.
Tori slid from the cab of her truck, slammed the heavy door
behind her and slipped through the door of the Wet Hen. The sign outside claimed
the bar had been in business since 1897. Truthfully, it looked as if it had. A
renovation wouldn’t hurt, but she supposed that was part of its charm. The bar
was dark, with old, worn wood on the walls, the floors and the tables. The
photos on the walls of various local heroes and the sports memorabilia from the
high school seemed to be there more to camouflage cracks in the plaster than
anything else. The amber lights did little to illuminate the place, but she
supposed a bright light would not only ruin the atmosphere but force the local
fire department to condemn it.