HOMEFORCHRISTMAS

STEWARTISLANDBOOK9

TRACEYALVAREZ

ICONPUBLISHING

HomeForChristmas—TraceyAlvarez

Allrightsreserved.Nopartofthispublicationmaybereproduced,distributedortransmittedinanyformorbyany

means,includingphotocopying,recording,orotherelectronicormechanicalmethods,withoutthepriorwritten

permissionofthepublisher,exceptinthecaseofbriefquotationsembodiedincriticalreviewsandcertainother

noncommercialusespermittedbycopyrightlaw.

Publisher’sNote:Thisisaworkoffiction.Names,characters,places,andincidentsareaproductoftheauthor’s

imagination.Localesandpublicnamesaresometimesusedforatmosphericpurposes.Anyresemblancetoactualpeople,

livingordead,ortobusinesses,companies,events,institutions,orlocalesiscompletelycoincidental.

CoverArtbyKellieDennisat

BookCoverbyDesign

HomeForChristmas-TraceyAlvarez—1sted.

ISBN978-0-473-41823-6

CreatedwithVellum

WELCOMETONEWZEALAND!

Land of Lord of the Rings and the All Blacks rugby team, breathtaking landscapes, and

laid-backfriendlypeoplewhorefertoourselvesas‘kiwis.’Ihopeyou’llenjoyyourvisit

with me as we travel Due South to Stewart Island—which lies 30km south of New

Zealand’sSouthIsland.Theunspoiledwildnessoftheplaceisaperfectbackdroptomy

characters’ struggles and triumphs. The Stewart Island series focuses on family,

community,andofcourse,eachbookcontainsascorchinghotromance.

Happyreading!

CHAPTER1

ith visions of icicles, snowmen, and powdery snowflakes whirling in her

head, Carly Gatlin awoke on the eve of Christmas Eve tangled with the

naked body of her fiancé, Kip Sullivan. Something which had nothing to do with candy

canesorSantaClauspressedagainstherbottominaseasonalgreeting.

Ho,ho,ho,hotindeed.

Sheslippedanarmoutfromthecoversandpickedupherphonefromthenightstand.

Sixfifty-five.Onlyfiveminutesuntilheralarmwasduetogooff.Sothatmeantnotime

for a day-early birthday present for the man currently stroking a hand down her ribs to

squeezeherhip.

But on the flip side, it meant they were only ninety minutes away from catching the

first of their four flights to Carly and Kip’s first white Christmas together in Aspen,

Colorado. Her teeth nipped into the smile curving up on her mouth, and a shiver raced

downtohertoasty-warmtoes.

Flight one—the first leg of their journey—departed from Oban’s tiny airport and

would transport them to the mainland and the small city of Invercargill. The Mainland,

Carlyhadlearnedinthetimeshe’dlivedonStewartIsland,wasaKiwi-ismfortheSouth

IslandofNewZealand,whichwasslightlybiggerthantheNorthIsland.FromInvercargill

they’d head north to the capital city of Wellington, and from there they’d fly across the

pacific to LA to their final connecting flight to Aspen and the cosy little holiday rental

chaletthey’dbookedclosetotheslopes.

Kip finger-walked his way over her hip bone and headed south. With a regretful

chucklesheflickedhiswanderingfingersawayandwriggledupright.

“Comeon,lazybones,”shesaidasthecoverspooledaroundherwaist.Twoseconds

later when her bare boobs caught up with the fact the temperature in the room possibly

explained her winter wonderland dreams, she added, “Wow, it’s like Frosty the

Snowman’sbuttholeinhere.”

Kip’seyecrackedopen,aslitofgas-flameblueinhistannedface.Howonearthhe

managed to look like such a golden god even though summer in New Zealand only

officiallystartedtwenty-threedaysago…notthatshewascomplaining.

Herolledhisheadtowardtheblackoutdrapescoveringtheirbedroomwindows.“Hear

that?”

She hadn’t noticed it on waking, but yeah, there was no mistaking the sound of

thousandsofrustlingleaves,theroarofthesurfpoundingupHalfmoonBay’sbeach,and

the keening of the wind whipping around the corners of their little home. Carly’s gaze

zipped back to Kip, who’d propped himself up onto his elbows, his gaze unerringly

lockingwithhers.

“Crap,”theysaidinunison.

Kip,whoforabigguycouldstillgetallhissix-hundred-plussexy-as-hellmusclesinto

motionquickerthanher,ninja-rolledoutofbedandrantothewindow.Hepulledapartthe

drapestoasilvertinselcoloredskyminusthesparkle,andplumesofseasprayrisingfrom

thewavesbythehowlingwind.

Carlypaddedtohisside,slippingherarmaroundhiswaist.Mostlyforcomfort,anda

little bit because he was built like a muscular furnace and she’d forgotten to slip on her

robe.“Areyoukiddingme?Thisissummer?”

“This is a Stewart Island summer.” Kip dipped his head and brushed a kiss on her

temple.“Unpredictable,likeyou.”

“Cute.”Sheslidherhandlowerandgavehisdisgustinglyperfectbubblebuttaslap.

“We’rejustluckywedidn’tbooktogoontheferrythismorning.”

His mouth twisted as he continued to stare outside. A flurry of raindrops hit the

window.“Yeah.I’maboutninetypercentsuretoday’scrossingswillbecanceled.”

“We’dbettergetdressed.Delispickingusupinlessthananhour.”

Hedippedhisheadagain,butthistimehismouthfoundhers.Hot,deliciouskissesthat

wereoverfartoosoon.

“Hey,”shekindamoanedwhenhepulledback.

“Don’t want your brother catching us in the buff.” Kip winked at her and crossed to

thechestofdrawersforapairofboxershorts.

Hedraggedoutapairofsilky,candycaneprintedoneswitharaisedeyebrow.“Really,

Carly?”

“It’sChristmas,”shesaid.“You’llgetyourregularboxersbackonNewYear’s.”

While he pulled on the boxer shorts, Carly returned to her phone and found the

weatherforecastforthelowerpartoftheSouthIsland.

StewartIsland:Strongwindsandscatteredbutheavyshowers.Invercargill:Fog.

Carly swallowed with a jagged click in her suddenly dry throat, quickly opening

anothertabtocheckoutInvercargillAirport.

Oh.God.

Kipzippeduphisjeansandcametostandatherside.“What’swrong?”

“InvercargillAirport’sclosedduetofog.Ourflight’sdelayeduntilfurthernotice.”

Shedidn’tmeanitto,butawobbleslippedintohervoice.They’dplannedthistripjust

forthetwoofthemformonths.

Kipcuppedherfaceinhishands.“It’llbefineoncewegetthere.We’llcatchalater

flight to Wellington and still be in time to catch the plane to LA tonight. Trust me, I

promised you a white Christmas this year, and a white Christmas is what you’re gonna

get.”

Because he knew how much she missed her dad at this time of year. The longing

residinginatinypartofherheartfortheChristmasesspentwithherAirForcedadasa

kidinthecolderUSstates.Heknewheryearningforsleighridesandroaringfiresinstead

ofbarbecuesandbeachcricketunderNewZealandsunshine.

“Iloveyou,”shesaid.

“Iloveyou,too,Zoomie.”

This time Carly got her ass slapped, and it was delivered with a grin that would’ve

meltedherpantiestoasheshadshebeenwearingany.

“Now,getdressed,”hesaid,“andlet’sgetthisyear’sChristmasmissionunderway.”

“

CHAPTER2

hisisnotgood.”Breesatatthekitchentable,spooningbreakfastintobabyTāne’s

mouth while simultaneously studying the weather forecast on her tablet.

“InvercargillAirportisclosedduetofog.”

Their son sneezed, spraying homemade apple puree all over his high chair and his

daddy’sT-shirt.

Harley laughed, not at all perturbed even though they were running twenty minutes

late and Carter had vanished outside again to triple-check on their rabbits, Queenie and

Sushi.HeleaneddownandTānegrabbedHarley’sfaceinhischubbyhands,oneofthem

hookingintohisdaddy’smouth.Harleymadegobblingnoisesaroundthetinyfingersand

Tāneletoutaninfectiousgiggle.ThesoundstillmeltedBreetothecore.

“Don’tencouragehim,”shesaid.“He’sashow-off,likehisdad.”

Harley turned his handsome, apple-smeared face toward her. “You didn’t mind me

showingoffforyouinbedthismorning,Mrs.Komeke.”

Yes, well, that was the reason they were now running late to catch their flight this

morning.

“Hush,”shesaid.“Whatarewegoingtodo?”

“Payourfirstborntwentybuckstobabysitandgobacktobedfortherestoftheday?”

Harley asked with an unrepentant grin. He took the bowl from her hands and spooned

anothermouthfulofappleintotheirson.

“Youwish.”Breeturnedhertablettowardhimsohecouldseethescreen.“Wemight

missourconnectingflightfromInvercargilltoChristchurch.”

“We’llwingit,babe.Don’tworryyourprettylittlehead.”Hewaggledhiseyebrows,

obviouslybaitingher.

Luckilyshelovedhimorhe’dbewearingTāne’sbreakfastinthenextbreath.

Breetossedadampwashclothacrossthetabletoherhusband,theoneusedtoclean

down the disaster area that was Tāne’s face after mealtimes. Their boy loved his kai

almostasmuchashisdadandbigbrother,Carter.

“IseemtorecallitwasyourideatohaveabeachholidayChristmaswithmysisterand

brother-in-lawthisyear,”shesaid.

“Camping,barbecues,swimming,beachcricket—what’snottoloveabouttraditional

Kiwi festivities? Right, Tāne?” Harley handed their son the plastic spoon to play with

whilehetackledtheface-wipingdebaclewhichwasalotlikegrapplingwithapissed-off

octopus.

“Right.”Breerolledhereyesandstood.“Alongwithsandcoveringeverything,sand

fliesbitinganyexposedskin,andnosexytimesforaweek—soundslikeablast.”

“Oh, there’ll be sexy times,” Harley said with a wicked grin. “Why do you think I

pickedabeachcampsitenexttoagroveoftreestopitchatent?”

“HarleyKomeke,Iamnotdoingitina—”

TheinterruptionofCarterflingingopenthebackdoorcutoffherlastword.

“Auntie Bree! It’s real, real windy outside and, Harley, are you sure Zoe and Jade’ll

remembertofeedQueenieandSushiwhilewe’reaway?”

Their ten-year-old son, who Bree’d given up to her sister to raise after she’d fallen

pregnant as a teenager, was staying with them over part of the summer Christmas

holidays.Duringtheschoolyear,helivedwithBree’ssister,Amy,andherhusband,Paul,

whohecalled‘MumandDad.’AtleastonceeveryeightweekstheyflewuptoseeCarter

for a weekend, or he came to stay with them for a long weekend or during the school

holidays.

“They’ll remember,” Harley said reassuringly. “Zoe and Jade promised, and mates

don’tletothermatesdown,right?”HeheldoutafisttobumpandCartergrinned,tapping

hissmallerfisttoit.

Bree’sheartgavealittlesqueezeattheunmistakeableresemblanceoffatherandson,

even though Harley would never try and replace the close bond between Carter and his

adoptivefather,Paul.

Carterturnedtowardher.“Arewereadytogoyet?We’llmisstheplane.”

Harley’sgrayeyescrinkledwithhumor,hisgazefixedonTāne’scarryallbagtowhich

Breewasaddinglastminutedisposablenappiesandhisfavoritestuffedtoy,aplushkiwi

birddressedinanAllBlacksT-shirt—agiftfromHarleyandFord’sbirthfather.Yes,he

and his twin brother were also adopted. To say their family dynamics were complicated

wasanunderstatement.Itmadethefestiveseasoninteresting,atleast.

Harleystood,pattingdownhisjeansforhiskeys.“We’llgettotheairportquickerif

yougivemeahandloadingupthecar.”

“Sweetas,”Cartersaid.

Bree smiled and swooped on Tāne. She kissed the soft dark curls on his head and

duckedawaybeforehecouldusehisstickyfingerstograbahandfulofherhair.“Let’sget

youcleanedupandhittheroad.”

Twentyminuteslatertheyparkedbesidethesingleprefabbuildingnexttotheairport

—notreallyan‘airport’inanysenseoftheword,butwhatever.Therewereonlyacouple

ofothercarsinthetinyparkinglot,oneofthemthelittlehatchbackthatDelandShaye

Westlake had purchased not long after Dels’ scooter and Boris the sea lion had one too

manyencounters.

While Harley and Carter wrestled with their suitcases, Bree got Tāne out of his car

seatandhurriedtowardtheprefab.Windwhippedherhairintoafrenzyaroundherface,

andTānebegantohowl,hislittlefeetkickingintoherstomach.

She was spitting hair out of her mouth and wondering how the heck to get the door

withanarmfulofsquirming,screamingbaby,whenitopenedfromtheinside.Delrushed

outandpinnedthedooropenforher,thewindfightingagainsthim,threateningtoslamit

shutagain.

BreeshotinsidewhileDelcontinuedtoholdthedoorforHarleyandCarterbringing

uptherearwiththeluggage.Tāne’showlsquietenedtosnifflesashegazedaroundwide-

eyed—asifOban’sminiairportwasthemostfascinatingplaceintheworld.Shespotted

CarlyandKipatthepassengerdesk.KipwastalkingonhiscellphonewhileCarlywas

deep in conversation with Robert, one of only a handful of staff members manning the

airport.

Carly was gesticulating toward the windows that overlooked the runway, but due to

thewindscreechingandrattlingthecorrugatedironroofabovethem,Breecouldn’thear

what she was saying. But she didn’t need Carly to break out into interpretive dance to

haveadamngoodideaoftheconversationalgist.

Breecrossedovertothedesk,andasshedrewclosersheglimpsedtheshineoftearsin

herfriend’seyes.

“Everythingokay?”Breecametoahaltbesideher.

By the time Carly turned around, Tāne had already locked his chubby hands around

twolongstrandsofhershinyauburnhairwithajoyfulsquawk.

Carlydidafunkyduck-and-contortwithasquawkofherownuntilBreemanagedto

unhookherson’sfists.

“Sorry!Sorry!Youknowhowmuchhelovesyourhair,”Breesaid.

“Allthegirls’hair.”Carlyfoundherspecial-for-TānesmileandstolehimfromBree.

She rested his padded little rump on the countertop and bumped her nose gently to his.

“HongiwithAuntyCarly.Therenow,”shesaidwhenhelaughedandmadeanothergrab

for her hair. “How’s my little buddy this morning? Ready for Santa to bring you lots of

newtoys?”

“IthinkhisdaddyislookingforwardtoplayingwithanynewtoysmorethanTāneis,”

Breesaiddryly.SheswitchedhergazetoRobertwhowasspider-walkinghisfingersup

Tāne’sspine,makinghimgiggleevenmore.

“Morning,Robert.What’sgoingon?”sheasked.

“LikeIwastellingthem.”Robertrolledabonyshoulder.“We’reawfulsorry,butthis

morning’sflighthasbeencanceled,andthisafternoon’sislookingnonetoolikelyforus

gettingairborneeither.”Hetiltedhisheadtowardtherunway.“It’sthewind.”

“Theferry’sgroundedtoday,too,”Carlysaidglumly.“AndtheInvercargillflightsare

allonhold,evenifwecouldgetofftheisland.”

HarleyandDelappearedbesidethem,Harley’sdamn,whatcanyoudo?mouthtwist

indicatingDelhadalreadyfilledhiminonthesituation.WhilesheandHarleycouldcatch

a flight tomorrow morning or even tomorrow afternoon and still make their family

Christmas, the same couldn’t be said for Kip and Carly. Her friend had driven them all

nutssingingaboutsnowmenandroastingchestnutsandsleighridesforweeks,andnow

theywerestuckhereforChristmas.Which,toaddinsulttoinjury,notonlywouldn’tbea

whiteone,butlikelyinsteadawetandwindyone.

“We’vegotinsurance,”Kipsaid.“Don’tworryaboutit,babe.We’llonlylosealittle

bitbychangingthedates—wecanhaveNewYear’sinAspeninstead.”

IfBree’slefthandhadn’tbeenclutchingTāne’sbabybag,shewould’vebackhanded

thefoolupsidethehead.Carlydidn’tgivearoastedrat’schestnutsaboutlosingalittlebit

ofmoney,butshewouldcareaboutherfavoritetimeofyearbeingruined.

CarlywasallabouttheYule.

But her friend kissed Tāne again then passed him over to his daddy. She looped her

armthroughKip’sandlaidherheadonhisshoulder.“Looksasifwe’llbehavinganother

StewartIslandChristmasafterall.”

Lookedasiftheyallwouldbe.Bah,humbug.

CHAPTER3

etsyTaylorwasnomoreimmunetothesillyseasonthanshewastothecharms

ofhandsome,muchyoungermen.Unfortunately,whenyougottotheripeold

age of eighty-something but reliving your swinging sixties, you often found the years of

festivejoyanddelicioussurpriseswerebehindyou.

Shesatatherkitchentablewithherthirdcupofcoffee.Onetowakeup,twotogetthe

oldbonesmoving,andthethirdtogiveherenoughoomphtogetthroughtherestofthe

day.Thatwashermottoanyway,andpffffttothosedoomsayerarticlesthatsaidcaffeine

wasbadforyourhealth.Orthehealthnutswhowouldrathereatsugar-freecardboardthan

an unbeatable Betsy Taylor Christmas cake. She’d spent the last few days baking up a

storm, and her beautiful glazed fruit cakes were stacked in colorful festively themed

containersreadytobedelivered.

The doorbell rang, and Betsy eased to her feet. Her mouth twisted as she walked

towardthefrontdoor,andtherowofChristmascardsdisplayedonhersideboardsnagged

hereye.CardswishingdearAuntBetsyalovelyChristmas,butsorry,we’respendingthe

holidayswiththein-lawsthisyear.Orthee-cardshe’dgottenonthecomputerfromher

great-nieceinDunedinthatwhensheclickedthelinkplayedatinny-soundingcarolwith

dancing Santas. Alice had a big work project to complete over Christmas; she’d try to

comevisitearlynextyear.

Family was meant to have your back, as the young people would say. Apparently,

therewasanagelimitonthat.

SheopenedthedoortoPiperandRyanWestlake,thoughBetsy,alongwitheveryother

local,calledtheoldestWestlakeboy‘West.’West,who’dgrownfromaganglyteenager

intoafineman,heldtheirsweetlittlegirl,Michaela,inhisarms.

“Westlake delivery service reporting for duty,” Piper said. “And not just a pickup

either.” She held out her hand and a little gift bag dangled from her fingers. “We found

thisonyourdoorstep.”

Betsy eyed the reindeer-printed gift bag with suspicion. Oh, heaven’s above. Surely

notanotherone?

“Probably one of my ladies left it,” she said, snatching the bag from Piper’s fingers.

She tugged on the cellophane sticking out from the top, and out popped a ribbon-tied

bundle of chocolate-coated almonds. Her favorite—even if she did have a not-so-nice

habitofsuckingoffthechocolateandspittingthenutintooneofherstrategicallyhidden

handkerchiefs.

Michaela squealed and wriggled her chubby legs until her dad lowered her to the

ground. The little girl toddled toward Betsy’s feet and crouched down on her haunches,

risingamomentlaterwithabeatificsmileonherface.

“Petty,”shesaid,holdingoutafingerforBetsytoexamine.

Onthatfingerwasashinyredsequin-ything.Aheart-shapedsequin-ything.Betsy’s

gazeslidtothedoorstepandtheshowerofheartshapesscatteredoverit,whileMichaela

onceagainbenttopressherstickylittlefingersontheconfetti.

“Kindaaromanticchoiceofgiftwrappingfromoneofyourladies,”Westsaid.“Sure

youhaven’tgotasecretadmirer,Mrs.T?”

Secretadmirer?TheheatclimbingupBetsy’sfacethreatenedtosethercurlsonfire.

Thiswasbecomingpreposterous.

Forthepastninedaysshe’ddiscoveredgiftbagsleftonherfrontporch.She’dyetto

spot the culprit, because whoever it was was as sneaky as all get-out. The bags never

arrivedatthesametimeofday—soshewasunabletoconsistentlyspyonherdoorstepto

catch someone in the act—and since her hearing wasn’t the best, neither had she heard

footstepsonherporch.

And the gifts, oh goodness. Little trinkets and bits ’n bobs that her mystery secret

Santa knew she’d enjoy. Like a delicate china teacup with a rose pattern, to replace the

one that’d been broken at a birthday lunch for a group of mature Stewart Islanders who

metforcardgamesandgossiptwiceamonth.AbookonBangladesh,whichtookherona

lovelynostalgicjourneybacktohernursingdays.Herfavoriteshadeoflipstickwhichhad

to be ordered online since Russell’s didn’t stock it. A New Zealand firefighters calendar

withhandsomebare-chestedhunks—thatonehadmadeherdoubleoverandgigglemadly

likeaschoolgirl.

Thebestdefensebeingagoodoffense,sheturneduphernoseandsaid,“Whataload

ofnonsense.I’mtoooldtohaveasecretadmirer.”

WestexchangedglanceswithPiperandtheygrinnedateachother.

“IfIwerefortyyearsolderandmywifewouldn’tmurdermeinmysleep,I’ddoyou,

Mrs.T.”

“You’dbesolucky,boy.”ShechuckledandgesturedhimandPiperinside.“Comeon

in,then.Thecakesareinthekitchen,andMichaela,honey,getMummytotakeyouinto

thefrontroom.There’sapresentforyouunderthetree.”

Piper took her daughter’s hand and led her down the hallway. West followed, and

Betsyhadagoodmindtoswathimonhisbehindwithherwalkingsticktoteachhima

lesson,butinsteadshewentafterhim.

“Youtwowouldn’thappentoknowwhothisbagisfrom,wouldyou?”sheaskedas

Westcrossedtothekitchencounterandpickeduptwoshoppingbagsofcontainers.

“Notaclue,”hesaid.

Smooth as silk the lad was. She tapped her way over to the counter to stand by his

side, briefly considering whether goosing him would scare the truth out of him. She did

love it when these big, strong, handsome young men dissolved into stuttering,

discombobulated panic at her outrageous flirting. Nothing was more fun than watching

them squirm, except, perhaps, watching them fall in love and become stuttering,

discombobulatedfoolsovertheirwomen.

She tapped her cane dangerously close to his toes. “If you know who this man—I

mean—who this person is, you’d better spill the beans. Don’t you lie to me, Ryan

Westlake.”

“I wouldn’t dare risk your wrath, Mrs. T.” He manhandled the third bag from the

counter, dodged around her, and escaped toward the door. He turned back with a wink.

“Thoughpayback’sabitch,isn’tit?”

Hrrrumph.Whileshecouldn’ttakedirectcreditforWestreunitingwiththeloveofhis

life,thereweremanyinOban she could, and did, congratulate herself on matchmaking.

Thoughtheonepersonshe’dneverevenconsideredmatchmakingwasherself.Lovewas

fortheyounggeneration,notforastubbornoldgallikeher.

Orsoshekepttellingherselfateverywedding,everyfuneral,everycommunityget-

together,andateveryChristmasspentwithasinglestockinghungfromthemantelpiece.

CHAPTER4

oeWhelancastaside-eyeathisnewbrother-in-law,AaronParata,andsized

him up. He didn’t look as bad as Joe’d secretly hoped after hiking Stewart

Island’s famous Rakiura Track in some pretty shite weather. In fact, Aaron

wasgrinningsomethingfierceintothewindandrainthatpummeledthemastheystrode

pastDueSouthontothehomestretch.

“Whathaveyougottosmileabout,man?”Joeaskedbetweengrittedteeth.“Youknow

Kerry’llbespittingmadthatwedidn’tbacktrackandcomehomeearly.”

Hah!LikelosingfaceinfrontofAarononthethree-dayhikewasanoption.Partof

their pre-Christmas plans were for him to take Aaron on this male-bonding experience,

accordingtoJoe’slittlesister,Kerry.

Kerry, who’d married the big lug next to him in Las Vegas earlier in the year, had

arrivedontheferrywithherhusbandfourdaysago.TheywerestayingatanearbyB&B

sinceJoe’slittledoctor’scottagewastoosmallforguests,andJoe’sandKerry’sparents

would be flying in tomorrow for Christmas Eve where they’d all have a rip-roaring

WhelanChristmastogether.

“Nah,” Aaron said, “she’ll just be happy that you didn’t murder me in my sleep and

leavemesomewhereinthebushforhunterstofind.”

Joesnorted.Notsolongago,ashallowgraveinStewartIsland’swilderness—inwhich

peoplehaddisappeared,nevertobeseenagain—wasadistinctpossibility.Now?Nowhe

andhisbrother-in-lawhadsomehowbecomemates.

“If I’d offed you on this hike, no one would have found the body, including sniffer

dogs.” Joe hitched his hiker’s backpack higher, his tired feet moving faster of their own

accordwiththeanticipationofseeinghisMacagain.

Callhimalovesickfool,butthreenightswithoutMacKennaJones—soontobeMrs.

MacKennaWhelan-Jones—andhewaslikeastarvingmananticipatingaChristmasfeast.

“LuckyKerryandMacwouldroastourchestnutsoveranopenfireifeitherofuscame

back solo,” Aaron said as they approached the little Oban medical center where Joe

workedastheisland’ssolegeneralpractitioner.

Both men paused in front of the single-story building that housed Joe’s practice.

BehinditwasthelittlecottageheandMacKennashared.Thewindowswereallshuttight

andnocheesyeightiesmusicpoundedthroughthewalls.Guessshewasn’thome.Itwas

scary how quickly he’d become dependent on the warmth and light and laughter that

followedMacandmadethecottagehome.

“Comingupforabeer?”Aaroncockedhisheadinthedirectionoftherentalhouse,

situatedfartheralongtheroad.“Thegirlsareprobablythere.Ifwe’relucky,theymight’ve

startedmakingdinneralready.”Herubbedhishandstogether.“VegetarianThai,Ireckon.”

“Yummo.” Joe pulled a face, but after freeze-dried rations for three nights in a row,

even vegetarian Thai sounded good. Especially if he could sit with a beer and ogle his

fiancée while she went all Nigella Lawson in the kitchen. “But I’d better hit the shower

first.”

Aaroncrinkledhisnose.“Yeah,mate.I’mstandingdownwindofyouandyou’reabit

rank.”

“Like your stinky feet couldn’t fell a man at ten paces.” Joe grinned at him. “We’d

bothbestcleanupbeforethegirlscatchawhiffofus.I’llseeyouupthereshortly.”

Joe strode down the driveway and across the medical center’s small parking lot. He

followedthegardenpatharoundthesideofthecottageandretrievedthesparekeyfrom

beneath a potted plant—one of Mac’s cherry tomato vines—and saved himself the

humiliationoftryingtojimmyopentheirbedroomwindow.Snickeringatthememoryof

catchingMac’sB&Eattemptthroughhiswindowafewmonthsago,Joelethimselfinto

thehouseandpeeledoffhismud-encrustedhikingboots.

Thirtyminuteslater,JoearrivedatAaron’sandKerry’saccommodation.Or,shouldhe

say,hewasblownuptheroadtotheiraccommodation.Thewindhadn’tdieddownsince

firstlightthatmorningwhenheandAaronlefttheNorthArmhutforthelastlegofthe

track.LookedasiftheywereinforawetandwildChristmas.

Helethimselfinsincethefrontdoorwasunlocked,andfollowedthedeliciousscents

oflemongrassandcorianderintothekitchen.MacKennastirredsomethinginawok,her

backtohim,herfaceinthree-quarterprofileasshechattedtoKerrywhostoodbesideher

at a counter, slicing vegetables. His gut gave a little jolt as it always did at the sight of

Mac’slushmouthturnedupinasmile,andthecurveofherarsebeneathherjeansasshe

angledherupperbodysidewaystoinspecthissister’swork.

“What’sthecraic,ladies?”hesaid.

Mac squawked and threw up her hands, the wooden spoon flying across the kitchen

andbouncingofftherefrigerator.Shewhirledtowardhimwithapalmflattenedbetween

herbreasts.He’dbarelytimetoappreciatethecleavageshowingintheV-neckclingytop

sheworewhenKerrymarchedaroundthekitchencounterandpunchedhisarm.

“Jaysus,Joe,yougreateejit.Creepingaround,scaringushalftodeath!”

Joerubbedhisarmbutcouldn’tcontainachuckleathisunintentionalscare-the-shite-

out-of-the-womengag.HisdaandAaron,hewassure,wouldappreciatethehumorofit,

even if Kerry and Mac didn’t. Had Joe’s mam been around, likely he would’ve gotten a

smackonthebackofthehead.

“Sorry,notsorry,”hesaid.“Guessyoudidn’thearmecomeinwiththewindhowling

outthere?”

“Youthink?”Macglaredathimfromacrosstheroom.

Joewaggledhiseyebrowsandsentherhisbestyouknowyouloveme smile. “Come

givemeakiss,then,darlin’.Letmemakeituptoyou.”

She continued to give him the stinkeye, yet her feet moved her quickly out of the

kitchenandintohisarms.Hescoopedherup.Shetwinedherarmsaroundhisneckand

hooked her legs around his hips, staring into his eyes the way she did that told him

everythingheneededtoknowabouthowmuchshe’dmissedhim.Hedippedhisheadand

brushedhislipsacrosshers—justatasteofthekissthey’dsharewhentheywerealone—

butshemadeasofthuminthebackofherthroatandfistedahankofhishair.

“Kerry,”shesaid.“YoumaywanttolookawaybecauseI’mgoingtokissyourbrother

intoanearcoma.”

Kerrysnickered.“Well,whileyoutwosnog,I’llgocheckifAaron’swokenupfrom

hisnap.”

AtanyothertimeJoewould’vebeenontomakingjokesaboutherhusband’sstamina,

but not while he had two perfect handfuls of Mac’s arse in his palms. He lowered his

mouthtoMac’sasecondtime,hisentirefocusonthefeelofherpressedagainsthim,the

perfectfitofherbodyagainsthis.Shesighed,mouthpartingashedottedkissesalongher

lowerlipthendelvedintoherwarmth,tastingsilkysmoothnesswithatinglyhintofchili

onhertongue.

God knew how long their hot, wet reunion lasted, but they finally broke apart at the

soundofamalethroatbeingclearedinthedoorway.

“Youtwoaboutdonemakingout?”Aaronasked.

Notevenclosetodone,JoehelpedMacsetherbarefeetonsolidground.“Fornow.”

“Good.”KerrybustledpastAaronintothekitchenandretrievedacleanwoodenspoon

to stir whatever was simmering in the wok. “Because it looks as if Mac got distracted

cleaning your tonsils and forgot to tell you Da called this morning.” She turned back to

themwithagrimace.“Mamisassickasadogwithfoodpoisoning.Shewashopingtobe

overtheworstofittoday,butDasaysshe’sstill,er,leakingfrombothends.”

JoedroppedhisgazetoMac.Hereyeswerealittleglazedfromhiskisses—whichhe

loved—buthermouthtwistedinasadlittlefrown.

“They’renotcoming?”Joeasked.

“Nope,”saidKerry.

Macslippedanarmaroundhiswaist.“She’sbetteroffathomewithyourdadlooking

afterher.”

Hebentandkissedhertemple.“Forsure.”

Asmuchashe’dmissspendingtimewithhismamandda,maybetherewasasilver

lininginthiscloud.Likemoretimeinbedwithhisnewfiancée.“We’lljusthavetomake

the best of it,” he added. “Maybe have a more casual meal for Christmas dinner, like a

barbecue.”

BothMacandKerrystaredathimasifreindeerantlershadpoppedoutofhisskull.

“And what are we meant to do with the bloody great turkey in the fridge? Plus the

vegetarian turkey alternative for my man,” Kerry asked, fists on hips. “And all the

trimmingsthatMainsistedwehavereadyforagrandfeast?”

Mac pinched his arse to get his attention. “I even bought Brussels sprouts because I

readonlinethattheyweretraditionalIrishfareatChristmastime.Doyouknowhowhard

it is to get Brussels sprouts this time of the year, let alone get them shipped to Stewart

Island?”

“Er,no?”Joehelduphispalms.“Mybad.We’llsticktotheturkeyandsprouts,then.”

“Yummo, eh, mate?” Aaron said and clapped him on the shoulder. “Now how ’bout

thatbeer?”

“Hellyeah,”Joesaid.

AndsweetbabyJaysus,heneededit.

CHAPTER5

nceagain,BenHarlandwasoutvotedbythefemalesinhislife.

“Cookies,”saidhisdaughter,Jade.

“Cookies,”saidhisstepdaughter,Zoe.

“Woof,” barked Sparky, their spoiled rotten rescue dog, momentarily pausing in the

groomingofherhindquarterstoagreethatcookieswerethewaytogo.

“Cookies,amoremio,” agreed Kezia, rising on her tiptoes to plant a kiss on his jaw.

“Very simple, idiota-proof iced cookies. Let’s not forget last year’s gingerbread house

disaster.”

Bengrinneddownathisgorgeouswife—whowasgonnaowehimanearlyChristmas

present after the girls were in bed, compensation for his damaged manhood taking point

onthefestivebakingthisafternoon.Notthathewascomplainingtoomuch.Tuckedinside

their warm house with his three favorite people in the world while the wind howled

outside,Bencouldn’taskformore.Evenifeverystrandoftinselinahundredmileradius

had found its way into their living room, and their Christmas tree with its abundance of

fairylightscouldprobablybeseenfromtheMainlandacrosstheFoveauxStrait.

“Who’reyoucallinganidiot?”Hebenthisheadand,addinganexaggeratedsmoochy

sound,kissedherfullonthemouth.

“Ew,getaroom,youguys.”

Benignoredhisdaughter’shigh-pitchedvoicefollowedbyZoe’sretchingsoundsand

slippedKezsometongue.Shehummedinamusement,brieflytanglinghertonguewithhis

beforesqueezinghisbicepsandpullingaway.

“You’reanidiotaforstartingsomethingyoucan’tfinish,”shewhispered.

Thatcommentearnedhiswifeasmilemeanttosendherrunningforthephonetosee

ifthegirlscouldspendanafternoonwithGranoroneofBen’ssisters.“Oh,Icanfinishit,

babe.”

Herhuskylaughterhadtinglesspeedingupanddownhisspine,thekindoftinglesthat

indifferentcircumstanceswould’vebeenacatalystforhimtoscoopuphispetitewifeand

goallcavemanonhersexyass.

“Behave,”shesaidandslappedhisbutt.“Let’smakeSantasomecookies.”

“Mama.”Zoerolledhereyes.“NooneinthisfamilybelievesinSantaanymore.That’s

forlittlekidsandbabies.”

Ben did his utmost to quash his smile and prevent his eyes from meeting Kezia’s. If

theyglancedateachothernow…

“Cookiesitis,then,”hesaid.“Justdon’tblamemeiftheycomeoutburnedtoacrisp.”

“You’reasbadasAuntiePiper,”saidJade.

She followed him into the kitchen and ducked under his arms when he opened the

pantrydoor,grabbingthecontainerofsugarofftheshelf.

“Last time she baked cookies, me and Zoe tried to feed them to Donny but even he

wouldn’t eat them,” Jade added, her little cherub mouth turning down and her eyes

growingshiny.“SparkyreallymissesDonny.”

ZoerushedtoJade’ssideandslippedanarmaroundhershoulder.“Don’tcry,Jadey.

We’ll make some extra cookies and give them to Auntie Piper and Uncle West and

Michaelaaftercarolingtonight.”

JadeshotBenaside-eye.“You’recomingcaroling,too,aren’tyou?”

“Ofcourseheis,”KezsaidbeforeBencouldobject.“Yourdadhasaveryfinesinging

voice.” Her teeth mashed down on her lower lip as if she were keeping a laugh from

escaping,butshecouldn’tconcealthesparkleinherdarkeyes.

“Yay,”Zoesaid,bouncingonhertoes.

“Yay,” Jade said, picking up Sparky and kissing the top of her head. “We can take

turnscarryingSparkyinhercostume.”

Themutt’slittleredSantadoggyoutfitcompletewithpom-pomSantahat.

Kill.Me.Now.

Somethingonhisfacemust’vealertedKezhewasabouttomakeabreakforthewild

outdoorsasshegrabbedhishand.“Thegirlsenjoydressingherup.Bethankfultheydon’t

wanttogiveyouamakeover.”

“Iamthankful,”hemuttered.

Hereyestwinkledagain.“It’sgoodfortheirfinemotorskillsgettingawriggly,licking

dogintoacostume.Onecouldlookatitasbankingtheseskillsforthefuture.”

A future which kept looking brighter and filled with joy each and every day. There

wereworsethingsthancarryingapuparoundthestreetsofObanwithhiswifeandtwo

kids.Whattheywere,hecouldn’tthinkofatthatpointintime,becauseKezsmiledathim

again.Yep,hewassimplytheluckiest,mostthankfulmanonStewartIsland.

CHAPTER6

haye Westlake was firmly ensconced in her happy place. Sous chef

extraordinaire, she had a job she loved, on the island she loved, in the hotel

kitchensheloved,besidethemansheloved,daily.Evenwhensaidmangothisheadchef

alphaonandbarkedoutorderslikeamafiadonwhentheywereslammedduringdinner

service.

Herlipscurvedintoasmirkasherchef’sknifeflew.WhileDelmightbethebossin

DueSouth’skitchen,hislovingwifeoftengotherownwayinthebedroom.

“Whatareyouthinkingabout?”

Handssettledeithersideofherapron-coveredwaist,tuggingherlowerbodybackward

untilherbottombumpedagainstahardmalewall.Shepridedherselfonprofessionalism

in the kitchen, but it was nearly Christmas. So she slowly rotated her hips and was

rewardedwithalow,sexygrowlbesideherear.

“IthinkIcanguess,”Delsaid.

Fingersskimmedunderthehemofherchef’sjacketandfoundskin,strokingsensuous

little circles on her hip bones until she was the one growling. He nipped a spot on her

exposedneckthensootheditwithasoftkiss.“FinishupthatprepandIthinkyourboss

will give you a fifteen minute taste of the good stuff in the pantry before dinner service

starts.”

Shaye’ssmirkexpandedtoagrinandshereachedbetweenthemtograbhisgoodstuff.

Luckyhim,he’dchosentowearhisloosechefpantstodaysoshegotadecenthandfulof

thepartofhisanatomythatfunctionedasherfavoritetoy.

Hesuckedinaraggedbreath.“Holyguacamole,woman—”

The kitchen’s back door swung open with a gust of chilly air and Shaye’s in-laws

blunderedinside.Shaye’shandsprangopen—fortunately,orelsetheycould’vebeendown

acheftonight—andDeltookagiantstepsideways,wherehestoodfacingthecounterand

pretendingtoexaminetheprepworkshe’dalreadycompleted.

“Ah,thenewlywedshavedraggedthemselvesoutoftheirmaritalbedtograceuswith

theirpresence,”ShayeblurtedoutasBillfoughtthewindandslammedthedoorshut.

Her former boss and mentor grinned at her, his Westlake-blue eyes twinkling below

the striped beanie pulled low over his head. “We’re headed back there for round two as

soonasthecarolershavegonehometonight.”

Besideher,Delgaveanexaggeratedshudder.“Myparentsdoingitisamentalpicture

Idon’tbloodyneedinmyhead.”

Once again a Westlake, Claire leaned against her husband and glanced up at him.

“Bill, you’re embarrassing our youngest child. Couples over sixty don’t have sex,

remember?”

Billsnorted,tuckinganarmaroundherwaist.“Forhisandourdaughter-in-law’ssake,

they’dbetterhopethatisn’ttrue.”

“Did you want something, old man?” Del asked. “Other than to embarrass us with

TMIaboutyourpost-weddingactivities?”

Divorcedformanyyears,BillandClairehadremarriedthreeweeksagoinasimple,

fuss-free ceremony with only a few friends and family attending. Del’s older brother,

West, had stood as Bill’s best man, their stepsister, Carly, took pride of place as solo

bridesmaid, while Del had walked his mother down the aisle. There’d been plenty of

laughter,morethanafewtears,andloudboastsfromMrs.Taylorthathermatchmaking

prowesscouldn’tbebested.

“Nah,”Billsaid.“We’reofftoGlenna’sfordinnerandjustwantedtorubyournoses

inourmaritalbliss.”

“Niceofyou,”saidDel.“Nowyoucanleave.”

Clairenarrowedhereyesatherson.“I’msorry,wereweinterruptingsomething?”

“Notatall,”Shayesaidsmoothly.“WewerejustdiscussingChristmasdinnerthisyear,

andwhetheryou’dbemakingyourwonderfulsweetpotatocasserole.”

“Oh.”Claire’smockglareswitchedtoasmile.“Wouldyoulikemeto?Solongasit

doesn’tsteponGlenna’stoes.”

“Whydon’tyoudiscussitwithheroverdinner,Mom?”Delsidesteppedtohismother

andbenttokisshercheek,subtlyslippinghisarmaroundhershouldersandanglingher

backtowardthedoor.

DelWestlake—hehadallthesmoothmoves.

“We get the hint. We’re off.” Bill winked at Shaye. “Just keep it in your pants, eh,

son?”

Delfollowedhisparentstothebackdoorandlockeditbehindthem.

“Wherewerewe?”hesaid,leaninghisbackagainstthedoor.

Withagrinhotenoughtoflash-fryeveryinchofherexposedskin,hefoldedhisarms

acrosshiswhitechef’sjacketandgaveherthesexyouupeyeball.

“Keep it in your pants, Westlake.” She pointed the tip of her chef’s knife at him,

determined not to outwardly react to the happy swarm of butterflies dancing around her

lowerstomach.

“Neverhadmuchluckwiththat,havewe?”

Hetookasteptowardher,andshesetdowntheknifeandsnatchedupabowlofsliced

redonions.Shechosethelargestonionringandbrandishedit,ninjathrowingstarstyle.

“I’marmedanddangerous.”

He shot her another dirty grin and cupped himself, then took two more steps in her

direction.“SoamI,cupcake.”

“Count yourself lucky I don’t have any frosting on me,” she said, refusing to glance

downatwhatsheknewwoulddefinitelybearmedanddangerousonceshefreeditfrom

hisloosechefpants.Shewassuchabadchef…adirty,bad,unprofessional,hornychef.

Anditwasallherhusband’sfault.

“Kindawishyoudid,”hesaid.“Wecouldtakeawalkdownmemorylane.”

Withoutbreakingeyecontactsheloweredthebowlbacktothecounterinslo-mo,then

hurled the onion. She didn’t pause to watch if it hit the bridge of his nose, which she’d

aimed for, but spun on her comfortable kitchen clogs and made a run for the walk-in

pantry.

Knowingherfellowdirty,bad,andhotashellheadchefwouldfollow.

The pantry door slammed shut and Del caught her by the huge chest freezer. One

minuteshewaslaughinguntilhersidesached,thenextshewasgroaningasherhusband

madeshortworkofremovingherchefpantsandSanta-printpanties,thenliftedheronto

thefreezer’slid.

“Pleasetellmeyou’venotgotamatchingSanta-printbraon,”Delmurmuredagainst

theflushedskinofherthroat.“That’sjustabitweird,evenforyou.”

Heslidhishandsunderhershirtandruckeditupuntilhisfingersreachedbare,braless

skin.

Hisgazejerkedtohers.“AndIsayagain,holyguacamole.”

Shaye leaned back and peeled off her chef’s top. “Happy early Christmas,

Hollywood.”

CHAPTER7

estsatathisdeskinthemanager’sofficeatDueSouthandwonderedhow

thehellhewouldgiftwraphiswife’sChristmasgiftthisyear.Hedrummed

his fingers and pulled a face at the office window, the darkening skies behind them

providingaperfectreflectionofamanindireneedofapersonalassistant.Preferablyone

whohadbetterwrappingskillsthanhe’deverpossess.

MaybeheshouldcallitquitsthisafternoonandgohaveachatwithKipstillworking

behindthebarforsometips.AccordingtoCarly,Kipwasthebossatgiftwrapping.

Hecrinkledhisnoseagain.PoorCarly.SheandKiphadbeenplanningthisUStripfor

months, with Carly’s Christmas-loving nature hitting overdrive at the idea of sharing a

traditionalwhiteChristmaswithherfiancée.Westshotanotherglanceoutsideattherain-

lashed waves rolling into Halfmoon Bay. Nope, Christmas this year was looking to be

moregraythanwhite.

A knock sounded on his door, and he swung around in his chair to Piper slipping

inside his office. His heart muscles still gave a little heel click at the sight of her—her

onceshortchestnuthairnowgrownoutinsoftlayerstohershoulders,herlong,slender

limbsclothedinblackjeans,herfavoritepurplecombatboots,athickwoolsweater—his

thickwoolsweaterthatshe’dstolen—andafluffypurplescarftwistedaroundherneck.

“Likeit?”sheaskedbywayofgreeting,pullingthescarfalittlewayfromaroundher

neck.“Afteryouleftthismorning,Mrs.TsaidIcouldopenmyChristmaspresentfrom

herearly.Michaelaputyoursunderthetreeathome.”

“Anotherscarf?”heasked.

“Oooh, no. Something knitted, but bigger than a scarf. Probably another one of her

eye-watering patterned sweaters.” Piper grinned at him and sashayed over to his desk,

bracingherpalmsonitassheleanedover.

Giving him a perfect view down the V-neck of her sweater to the lacy black bra

underneath. West couldn’t drag his gaze away from her breasts long enough to check if

Piperhadlockedthedoor.Sosuehim—theringonhisfingergavehimpermissiontoogle

hisgorgeouswifeandimaginedoingheronhisofficedesk.Imagine,sinceunfortunately

he was pretty sure the sounds she’d make would draw the attention of the patrons still

drinkinginthepuboutthefrontofthehotel.

“You’restaringatmyboobs,”hisgorgeouswifesaid.

“Yep.”

“Thinkingaboutmespreadoutonyourofficedesk,too,arewe?”

HelovedthatPiperknewhimsowell.“Hellyeah,weare.”

West slid his gaze upward from her chest. “Where’s our girl?” Please say with your

mum.

“Withmum.We’repickingherupaftershe’shaddinner.”

Thatgavethemacoupleofhours.Oneandahalfhourstogetfestiveintheirchild-

freehome,theotherthirtyminutesforhimtoslipoutandgrabhiswife’sgift.Westleaned

overthedesk,stoppinginchesawayfromPiper’sslightlyred-with-the-coldlips.

“Wannagetmerrywithme,Mrs.Westlake?”

“Ho,ho,ho,”shewhispered.

Sheclosedthedistanceuntilherbreathpuffedagainsthismouth.Thensheswooped

in, cold fingers cupping either side of his jaw, and kissed him until he saw dancing

reindeers.

Whentheyfinallycameupforairandpulledapart,sheduckedoutofreachwhenhe

made a grab for her. Waggling a finger, she laughed. “We’ve got a stop to make on the

wayhome.”

He grinned at her, grabbing his jacket from the back of his chair and slipping it on.

“Russell’sgroceryisgoingtohavetoexpandtheirpersonalcareshelvestokeepupwith

theislanders’demandsforcondomsandlube.”

Piperrolledhereyes.“Feelfreetodropthatintotheirsuggestionboxsometime.But

rest assured, we have enough condoms. I bought three big boxes with the shopping this

week,justtowatchtheexpressiononCarolyn’sfaceasshebaggedthem.”

“That’smygirl.”Westcamearoundhisdeskandhookedanarmaroundhershoulder.

“Now she’ll never suspect that I’m trying to knock you up with Westlake baby number

two.”

“Devious is my middle name.” Piper one-arm hugged his waist. “Now come on, we

haven’tgotmuchtime.”

Ten minutes later, he and Piper followed a chuckling Jim Munro out to his garage.

Jim’seyesgaveaSanta-ishtwinkleashelookedfromPipertoWestwhileheunlockedthe

door.Atthefirstscrapeofthekeyinthelock,barksbothhigh-andlow-pitchedexploded

behindthedoor.

JimflickedonthegaragelightsandsteppedasidesoPiperandWestcouldenter.The

garagewastoastywarmandfragrantwiththesmelloffreshstrawanddampdog.Acorner

of the garage had been sectioned off with a low barrier, and peeping over it were four

furry black ears, four alert brown eyes, two white and black faces with a white ruff of

shaggyfur,andfourpawsbracedontopofthebarrier.

Bordercollies.

Behind them, sitting at attention and keeping an eye on her babies, was the proud—

andprobablyexhausted—mother.

“Thesearethelasttwo,”Jimsaid.“Thebiggerone’sthegirl,butshe’salreadybeen

spokenfor.Thesmallerone’saboyandtheruntofthelitter.”

Asiftheboyknewhissizeandstrengthwerebeingcalledintoquestion,thepupon

therightgavetwoexplosivebarks,hislittletailawaggingblur.

“He’safighterthatone,”Jimadded.“Didn’tthinkhe’dmakeit,buthe’sastubborn

littlebugger.He’sallgoodnow,andreadytogohomewithhisnewowner.”

PiperroseontiptoeandkissedWest’scheek.“IknowhowmuchyoumissDonny,and

Iknowyousaidyouwantedtowaitawhilelonger,butwhenJimtoldmeaboutthislittle

guy,Iknewhewasmeanttobeyours.He’smyChristmaspresenttoyou,ifyou’llhave

him.”

Thepupcockedhisheadandwhined,headstrainingforwardasifdesperateforahand

tostrokethosesilkyearsofhis.Donny,thecrazymutt,onlyhadonetatteredear.Arguably

theugliest dog inOban, but onewith the gentlest soul.West had nearlylost his shit the

dayafterDonnydiedandhe’dcometoworktofindDonny’sbedatthehotel’sbackdoor

wasfullofflowersandlittlecondolencecardsfromthelocalswho’dlovedhim,too.

West drew Piper into a hug, squeezing her tightly and burying his face in her hair.

“Thankyou,babe.”

“Yousureit’sokay?”sheasked,asliverofdoubtstillinhervoice.“Iknowapuppyis

alotofwork.”

“It’seasierifyouhavetwoof’emtokeeptheothercompany,”Jimsaid.“AsIsaid,

pityhissister’salreadybeenspokenfor.”

Hebentoverthebarrierandpluckedthegirlpupup,passinghimovertoPiper.“Here

yougo,mydear.”

“Oh, but—” Piper’s objections disappeared under a frantic face-licking from the

femalepuppy.

Jim scooped the boy up and set him on the floor by West with a wink. “And your

Christmaspresent,courtesyofyourbetterhalf.”

WestcroucheddownandthepupimmediatelyplantedhisfrontpawsonWest’schest,

licking his chin with unrestrained delight. Piper set the wriggling female down and she

danced over to sniff West’s legs, as if checking him out to see if he were worthy to

becomepartofherpack.Hiswife’sgazewentjustalittlemistyasitlingeredonthetwo

pupsbothscramblingtoclimbontoWest.

“Whatdoyouthink,Pipe?”Westasked.“DoyouneedmetogiftwrapyourChristmas

present?Orshallweleaveheralfresco?”

Piper’seyeswidened.“Mypresent?Youmeanyougotmeapuppy,too?”

“Idid.”Helaughedastheboymadealastditchattempttopushpasthissister,andin

thetussle,knockedWestoffbalancesothathetoppledbackwardontohisass.

Fistsonhips,Pipergrinneddownathimsprawledonthefloor.“AndyouhadnoideaI

wasgettingyouapuppy?”

“Nope.”

“That happens when you’ve been married awhile,” Jim said. “You start thinking the

samethoughts,finishingeachother’ssentences.Kindofamindmeldtypeofthing.”He

cluckedhistongue.“Anyway,I’llgogetmyboytogiveusahandwithloadingalltheir

doggearintoyourcarwhileyoufourcontinuegettingacquainted.”

JimleftthegarageandPiperofferedWestahandtohaulhimupright—ahandthatwas

immediatelysetuponbybothpuppies.Westclamberedtohisfeetandwrappedhisarms

aroundhiswifeagain.Heraisedasuggestiveeyebrowandsheplacedapalmacrosshis

mouth.

“Don’teventhinkaboutkissingmewiththatmouthwhenyou’vebeenFrenchkissing

thosepuppies.”

“HowdoyouknowIwasthinkingaboutkissingyou?”heasked.

“Mind meld, remember? I know exactly what you’re thinking.” She reached around

himandgavehisassasqueeze.

“Youdo,huh?”Yeah,they’dbeenmarriedawhile,buthewasevenmoreinlovewith

Piper today than he had been yesterday and all the days that stretched backward to the

momentshe’dreturnedtoStewartIslandandturnedhislifeupsidedown.

Piper slanted him a smile that convinced him he was still the luckiest man in Oban.

“You’rethinkingthatifwecantirethesebabiesoutinthenextfifteenminutes,theymay

bereadyforanaponcewegetthemhome?”

“Greatmindsthinkalike.”

Then West kissed his like-minded wife even though she giggled and slapped at the

arms that held her tight. What was a little dog spit among friends? It was the season of

givingafterall.

CHAPTER8

sfarasChristmaseswent,thisonesucked.

FordKomekerolledoveronthecouchandgrabbedthepenandnotepadfrom

thecoffeetable.Heflippedoveranotherpage—theonepreviouswasarequestforahot

lemonandhoneydrink—andcomposedashortmemo.

DearNurseWifey.Hecrackedasmile,knowinghowthecurrentnicknameforhisnew

bride would earn him a filthy look. Worth it, though—a pissed-off Holly was a sexy-as-

hellHolly.

Looks like you’ll have to lead the carol singing tonight. I’ve got your back with the

guitar,though.

“Holly?”hisvoicecameoutahoarsecroak,theeffortofwhichcausedatickleinthe

backofhisrawthroatandtriggeredanotherboutofcoughing.Shit.

Thedoorbangedopen,andHollyandablastofcoolairfromthehallwaysweptinside

thesauna-liketemperatureoftheirlivingroom.

“Whydidn’tyouringyourbell?”shedemanded.

FordmadeagallantefforttoreininthecoughingwhileHollylungedforthebottleof

coughsyrup.Hisattemptswould’vebeenmoresuccessfulifhisbreathhadn’tlockedupin

hisphlegm-filledlungsatthesightofhiswifeinnothingbutaskimpypairofpantiesand

lacebra—thecrimsoncolorofherlingeriematchingthefestivestripeinherlongbrown

hair.

Givenhiscurrentcondition,thetwitchbeneathhistrackpantswasunavoidablebutill-

timed.

Holly hovered beside the couch with a measured dose of syrup, her gaze skimming

downhisbody,lipscurvingintoasinfulsmile.“Youhavegottobekiddingme.”

“Sick, not dead,” he managed in a death-rattle whisper and took the tiny plastic vial

fromherhand.

While he sipped, she picked up the fallen notepad and read his message. “Finally

givenupthenotionofsingingtonight,huh?”

Henoddedandcrinkledhisnoseinresignation.

“All right,” she said. “Harley will pick you up and bring you to the pub in about an

hour.I’llheadouttoMumandDad’snowandhaveabitofapractice.”

Maybeitwasthealcoholinthecoughsyrupwarminghischest,buthelovedthesound

of Holly calling his parents ‘Mum and Dad.’ His little whanau—and he could quietly

admit to himself that he was kinda glad Harley, Bree, and the kids would be home for

Christmasthisyearafterall.

Hepuckereduphislipsforakiss.Hollyblewhimone,soheliftedhislefthandand

tappedthegoldbandthatHollyhadslidonhisfingeronlyafewmonthsago.

“Yeah,yeah.Iknowwepromisedinsicknessandinhealth,butIdon’twantyourman

flu, Sweets.” She giggled and backed away. “You have a power nap until your brother

arrives.Begood,andmaybeyou’llgetalittlepre-Christmaspresentlater.”

That, he liked the sound of. Especially if it involved stripping off that pretty red

underwearofhers.Hegaveherathumbs-upandshuthiseyes—he’dneedthatpowernap

tokick-starthisimmunesystemsohecouldfinally,afterthreedays,kisshiswifeagain.

Alittleoveranhourandahalflater,FordfoundhishappyplaceinsideDueSouth’s

pub.Hisguitarrestedagainsthisstomach,hisdad,Rob,athissidewithhisguitar,andthe

onlydifferencefromtheirusualjamsessionswasthetwomicrophoneswerepositionedin

frontofHollyandhisdad.Thepubwaspacked,thebigwindowsoverlookingHalfmoon

Bayharbormistedupfromthewarmthofsomanybodiesinside.CarlyandKiphadbeen

busyearlierintheweekdecoratingtheheckoutofthepub.Tinselandfairylightswere

strungaboveandalongthebar,andCarlyhadevenmanagedtoconvinceherstepbrothers

to carve out enough space for a small pine tree covered in glittering decorations. Both

CarlyandKipworkedthebartonight.LikeHarleyandBree,theyhadn’tbeenabletoget

offtheisland.Carlyhadahugesmileonherface,butFordnoticedherreceivingtheodd

concernedlookfromKipatherpreternaturalcheerfulness.

FromFord’spositiononthetinyplatformwhereheandafewotherswouldplaylive

music—pluswheretheinfamousquizmasterRhondaMcCullumranthequiznightsatthe

pub—hehadaperfectviewofallthefamiliarfacesofhisfriendsandfamily.

PiperandWestsharedatablewithBenandKezia,Keziaholdingherniece,Michaela,

in her lap and whispering in her ear. Ford waved to Zoe and Jade, who wore reindeer

antlerheadbandsandofferedplatesofnibblestothetables.

Mrs.TheldcourtnexttotheHarland-Westlaketablewithacoupleofhercroniesand

Ford’s mum, who was cuddling her grandson, Tāne, but looked as if she were about to

losehimatanymomenttothecluckingbroodofelderly‘aunts’eyeinghimup.Couldn’t

blamethem;Ford’syoungestnephewwasprettydamncute.

Harley—theoldertwinbysixminutes,afacthe’dlordoverFordforalleternity—sat

with one arm draped around Bree and the other resting on the back of Carter’s chair.

CarterlookedupatthatmomentandcaughtFord’seye.Asrequiredbytheuncle-nephew

code,Cartercrossedhiseyesandpulledaface.Fordreturnedthegesturewithapūkana—

afearsomeMaorifacialexpressionshowingthewhitesofhiseyesandadramaticpoking

outofhistongue.

AcrossfromCartersatJoeandhislady,MacKenna,andacouplehedidn’trecognise

but who must have been Joe’s sister by the family resemblance. Also at their table was

Tarryn, the local Department of Conservation worker, and Erin, who made a mean

espresso.

Hollyleanedintothemic.“Well,thathastobethemostenthusiasticcoverof‘Santa

ClausisComingtoTown’DueSouthhaseverheard!”

Whoopsfromtheaudience.Oncethenoisehaddieddownandanothergustofwind

had rattled the windows, Holly spoke again. “Everyone give a round of applause for

Glennawho’sgoingtotakeoverforabit.”

LotsofclappingwhilePiper,Ben,andShaye’smumwovethroughthecrowdtothe

front. Ford frowned but kept his mouth zipped. This swap hadn’t been on the night’s

agendasofarasheknew.Hollydidn’tmeethisgazeasshevacatedherspotnexttohim

andletGlennatakecenterstage.

Curiouserandcuriouser,Hollywasn’ttheonlyoneintheroomtoheadtowardtheexit

thatopenedintothehotelpartofDueSouth.Bree,Piper,Carly,Kezia,MacKenna,Erin,

andTarrynallmadeabeelineinthesamedirection.Amassexodustotheladies’roomto

powdertheirnoses?Morelikeaconspiracywasafoot.

“Shallwesingsomethingalittlemoretraditionalnow?”Glennasettledherselfinfront

ofthemicandsweptahandflamboyantlytoherheart,archingherchin.“Pleaseturnto

pagethreeofyourcarolbookletsandwe’llsing‘SilentNight.’”

Fordstrummedtheopeningchords,anddozensofvoicesliftedthesimplelyricstothe

rafters—most in tune, some not so much, but all with Oban community spirit. They

plowedthrough“SilentNight,”“AwayinaManger,”and“OComeAllYeFaithful.”

“Andnowforourfinalsongoftheevening.Ourwonderfulmusicians”—shetouched

Fordandhisdad’sarms—“youcansitthisoneout.”

FordslippedoffhisguitarandheadedtoHarley’stable,histwingivinghimawhatthe

hell’sgoingon?eyebrowlift.Fordshrugged,sinceheplannedtosavewhatremainedof

hisvoicetoraspsweetnothingsinHolly’searslater.

“We have a special treat in store for you all,” Glenna continued once Ford and Rob

hadsatdown.“DirectfromtheNorthPole,pleasewelcomeSanta’slittlehelpers!”

DueSouth’ssoundsystempoppedtolifeandthefamiliarintrotoMariahCarey’s“All

I Want For Christmas” tinkled out. The connecting door opened and Holly and the girls

sweptintothepub,allofthembutHollydressedaselveswithshortgreendresses,knee-

high striped stockings, and green pointy hats. Holly took pride of place in a Mrs. Claus

outfit,completewithafur-trimmedskirt,afloppySantahat,thigh-highblackboots,anda

laced-upredcorsetthingthatnearlystoppedhisheart.

Thecrowderuptedintocheersandlaughterasthegirlslip-synchedthelyrics,dancing

and moving among the tables, making everyone stand up and dance and sing to the one

ChristmassongHollyknewFordcouldn’tstand.

Butafterthis?

Fordknewhewasgrinninglikeanidiotashisgorgeouswifesashayedover,wrapped

anarmaroundhisneck,andperchedonhislap.Hell,maybethisChristmaswasn’tgoing

tobesobadafterall.Andmaybe“AllIWantforChristmas”hadjustbecomehisfavorite

sillyseasonanthem.

CHAPTER9

fanyonehadtoldKipSullivanafewyearsagothathe’dbeupatthecrackof

dawn on Christmas Eve, lugging a fresh-cut pine tree up to his front door, he

would’veconfiscatedtheirkeysandtoldthemtosleepitoff.

Butthatwaspre-Carly.

Thatwaswhenhe’dstillbeenaChristmasgrinch.

Thegrinch’shearthadindeedgrownacoupleofsizesbiggersincehe’dfoundthelove

ofhislife,andnowtherehewas,fightingbothwindandpineneedlesinordertosurprise

hisstillsleepingfiancée.

Kipmuscledthesix-footpineintoastandingpositionandreachedforthedoorhandle.

Before he could grasp it, the door flew open. Red hair sexily tousled, and looking as if

she’djuststeppedoutofalingeriecatalogwearingaskimpycamisoleandsilkypajama

shorts,Carlygapedathim.Ormaybeatthetreewhichwasprettymuchhidinghiminits

pine-needle-sheddingbranches.

“Hey,”Kipsaid.“Iwasgoingtosurpriseyou.”

Carlysteppedasidesohecouldmaneuverthetreeindoors.

“Trustme,”shesaid,followinghimintothelivingroomashepositionedthepineinto

thestandhe’dpreparedearlier.“I’msurprised.”

With the tree secured in place, Kip took a step back to check that it was straight.

Perfect.Hisgazeskippedaroundtheroom,overtheframedphotosoffamilyandfriends

andthetwoofthemcheektocheeklaughingintothecamera.PasttheblanketsCarlyhad

knitted last winter, the stack of to-be-read paperback novels on the coffee table which

Carlysworewouldn’tgrowanytaller,tothetwoemptysuitcasesagainstthewall,waiting

forKiptoreturnthemtothebackoftheirgarage.Thistimelastyeartheirlivingroomhad

lookedlikeaChristmaspop-upstore,fullofbaublesandglitterandPinterestprojectsrun

amok. To say his fiancée adored everything with a Christmas sparkle was an

understatement.Andthisyearwassupposedtobetheultimatevacation…forCarly.

InsteadtheyweretemporarilygroundedandCarly’sdreamofawhiteChristmaswas

nowjustthat:adream.Therealitywasanotherwet,wild,andmiserablycoldChristmas

Eve,whichwouldinalllikelihoodleadtoawet,wild,andmiserableChristmasDay.

SoKipwoulddohisdamnedesttobethegrinchthatsavedChristmasforhiswoman.

Hecrossedtooneofthecardboardboxesfilledwithdecorationsandpoppedthetop

open.Insidecoiledneatlytwistedstrandsoftinselandaboxoftreelights.Hepulledouta

lengthofsparklysilvertinselandturnedtoCarly,crookinghisfingerather.Herbottom

lipgaveaquickwobblethenkickedupinthecorner.

“Kip,youdidn’thavetodothis,”shesaid.

Shedidn’tcomeanycloser,sohewenttoher,drinkinginthewarm,delicioussmellof

her.Sugarandspiceandallthingsnaughtyandnice.Hebenthisheadtobrushakisson

herforeheadbeforedrapingthetinselaroundhershoulderslikeafeatherboa.

“Iwantto,”hesaid.“Thismorningwe’reindecoratingmodeandwe’llhaveourown

whiteChristmas,righthereathome.”

Shetiltedherchin.“Uh-huh.Ican’tseesnowfallinginthemiddleofsummer,evenif

StewartIslandisthemosttemperamentalplaceinthesouthernhemisphere.”

“Don’tyoubelieveinmagicanymore?”

“Ibelieveinus.”

Carlyroseontiptoeandtwinedherarmsaroundhisneck,leaningintotempthimwith

her deliciously soft mouth. They were pretty damn magical together. One kiss, two, but

sheslidhermouthtothesideandscrapedherlipsalonghisjaw,archingbackwithacute-

as-a-kitten pout. “And I was going to surprise you with breakfast in bed this morning,

birthdayboy.”

Hewinced.“Don’tremindme.”

“Hap-pybirrrth-dayto—”

Kip cut her off mid warble by dipping her over his arm and kissing the Christmas

stuffingoutofher.Bythetimetheycameupforair,theywerebothbreathingheavilyand

—oops—Carly’s skimpy camisole had gone AWOL. He cupped her warm breasts in his

palms,lightlytracinghisfingersoverhersilkyskin.

Shequiveredunderhistouch,digginghernailsintohisbiceps.“Isupposeyouwant

breakfastservedtoyoutopless?”

Hedippedhisheadandgaveherkiss-damplowerlipalittletugwithhisteeth.Carly

letoutamoanthathadhislowerbodystrainingagainstdenim.

“Nope,”hesaid.“Iwantyouinlastnight’ssexyelfcostume.”

“It’shanginginourclosetreadytogo.”Carlyslippedbothhandsintothebackpockets

of his jeans and pulled their lower bodies tight together. “Got a thing for Santa’s elves,

huh?”

“Justoneofthem.”Hegroundhimselfagainsther.

Anothersexylittlemoan,herlonglashessweepingdownovereyeshazywithdesire.

“Tellme,isthatacandycaneinyourpocketorareyoujustpleasedtoseeme?”

He laughed and hauled her onto his shoulder in a fireman’s carry as he had the first

timethey’drockedeachother’sworld.

“Sweetheart,you’reabouttofindout.”

CHAPTER10

etsyTaylorcrackedopenherfrontdooronthemorningofChristmasEvewith

the same degree of suspicion one would have if an encyclopedia salesperson

were ringing the doorbell. If such a person still existed in the internet age since

encyclopediashadgonethewayofthedodo.

But it wasn’t a salesperson on her doorstep; it was half of her newest matchmade

couple,MacKennaJones.Theweethinglookedlikeastrongpuffofwindcouldblowher

acrossthestrait,soBetsyopenedthedoorwider.

“Comein,girl,beforeyoufreeze.”

MacKennashookherhead.“Grabyourcoat,Mrs.Taylor.Holly’swaitingatthesalon

foryou.”

Betsyfrowned.“Butmyappointment’snotuntilnextweek.”

“This is a special Christmas treat,” MacKenna said and, ducking inside, unhooked

Betsy’scoatandhelditoutforher.“Onthehouse.”

“Oh,inthatcase.”BetsyedgedaroundandletMacKennahelpherslipherarmsinto

thesleeves.

Withonlyachatwithherfriendsonthephonetopassthetime,thethoughtofsalon

gossip with Holly sent happy bubbles rising in Betsy’s chest, buoying her heart in its

wake. At least this morning she’d have light and sound and laughter instead of the

indifferentflickeroftheTVscreen.

MacKennabundledBetsyupinhercoatanddroveherdowntoHolly’ssalon.Wind

buffeted the car, the splatter of rain on the windshield replaced with sea spray as they

made their way along the foreshore. No ferry crossings again today and she’d just bet

flightswouldbecanceled,too.Shecluckedhertongue.“Luckyyourguestsmadeitbefore

theweatherpackedin.”

“Theycertainlywere,”MacKennasaidassheparkedrightoutsidethesalon’sdoors,

completelyignoringtheNoParkingsign.

Betsygrinned.Iftheprettyblondweddingdressdesignerhadn’tworkedoutwith Dr.

Joe,gettingaparkingticketfromOban’sPoliceOfficerSexy-Britches,akaNoahDaniels,

could’vebeenplanB.She’dhavetoremembertheparkingticketideainthefuture.One

neverknewwhenCupidcouldusealittlehelp.

MacKennahustledherfromcartosalon,whereHolly’sassistant,Rutna,guidedherto

an empty chair and offered to make her a cup of tea. Betsy smiled and nodded, secretly

hopingitwouldn’tbethatdreadfulbittergreenstuffshewasservedlasttime.

“Bewithyouinamoment,Mrs.T,”Hollysaidfromthecashregister.

Holly was ringing up Denise Komeke, who, bless her heart, still refused to consider

howanicepermwoulddowondersforherflat-as-a-pancakehair.

“You’restaying?”BetsyaskedMacKenna,who’ddrapedherselfinthesecondstyling

chairandpagedthroughamagazine.

“Joe’s checking on a couple of patients this morning, and besides”—MacKenna

slantedheragrinthatwaspuremischief—“Iwouldn’tmissthisfortheworld.”

Up to no good, that girl. Betsy narrowed her eyes. “If you and your cousin think

you’regoingtodyemyhairorangeorsomesuchthing,you’resadlymistaken.”

DenisewavedgoodbyeandHollycameover,eyessparklingwithhumor.“Mrs.T,we

knowyou’reallaboutthepurple.Wewouldn’tdare.”

Betsyharrumphed.“It’sTrueSteelnotpurple,younglady.”

“Right,”saidMacKenna.“Steelnotpurple.”

HollylaidareassuringhandonBetsy’sshoulder.“Norinsetoday,justarelaxingwash

andsetwithascalpmassage.ThenRutnawillgiveyouanicemanicureafterward.”

“And this is all on the house, you say?” Betsy asked. Being an old age pensioner

meantshehadtowatchherpennies.

“Notexactly,”MacKennasaid.“Tellher,Hols.”

SheandHollyexchangedbothknowingglancesandbarelyconcealedsmirks.

HollyflickedastylingcapearoundBetsy’sshoulders.“Thisiscourtesyofyoursecret

admirer.”

“Nonsense.I’mtoooldtohaveasecretadmirer.”

Holly dug into the pocket of her apron, pulled out a small envelope, and handed it

over.“Apparently,you’renot.”

Betsy opened the envelope to a Christmas card featuring a kitten in a Santa hat and

readthenowfamiliarneatscriptinside.

Betsy,

You are beautiful inside and out, but I thought after all the effort you’ve gone to

spoilingothersthisyear,youdeservetobespoiledyourself.

Yoursecretadmirer.

InsideBetsy’sribcage,hereighty-somethingheartdidalittlepirouette.Thesamekind

ofleaphertwenty-somethinghearthaddonewhenherfuturehusbandhadcaughthereye

acrossacrowdeddancehall.

“Whatdoesitsay?”MacKennaasked.

“Neveryoumind.”Betsysnappedthecardshutandstuffeditbackintotheenvelope.

“Mrs.T,Idobelieveyou’reblushing,”saidHolly.

“C’mon,Betsy.Spillthebeans,”saidMacKenna.“Whodoyouthinkitis?”

Holly’scousinhadaglintofwickednessinhereyesasshesetdownthemagazineand

leaned forward in her chair, hands clasped in front of her. The classic gossip-receiving

position—oneBetsyknewwellsinceshe’dalmostpatentedthemove.

She tucked the envelope into her purse for further study later. “I haven’t the faintest

idea.”

Thereweresuspicions,though,becausehermamadidn’tbirthafoolandeveneighty-

somethingyearslater,shestillhadmostofhermarbles.

“Comeonovertothewashstation,”Hollysaid.

Betsyfollowedherandgotsettledinthechair,orderingheroldmusclestorelaxatthe

sound of running water as Holly adjusted the temperature. Holly’s hands smoothed the

warm water over her head. The coconutty scent of the shampoo curled into her nose,

taking her back briefly to her younger days. Once, she and her husband had saved their

pennies and gone to Fiji on a second honeymoon since they’d never really had a first.

Palm trees and sand and coconut drinks—everything they’d dreamed of when planning

their tropical island escape. The only thing missing had been the phone calls home to

checkonthekids,sincechildrenweretheonethingshehadn’tbeenabletogiveherdear

man.

“Doyou know who’s behind this?” Betsy gave Holly her most imperial stare, which

wastrickyfromhertiltedbackpositionatthesink.

MacKennacametostandontheothersideofBetsy’schairandgrinneddownather.

“Tellingyouwouldruinthefun.”

“Agreed,”saidHollyabovemoresoundsofrunningwater.“It’sabouttimeCupidgot

youinthecrosshairs.”

“Cupid, my wrinkled behind,” Betsy muttered. “I haven’t got room for a man in my

life.”

Both Holly and MacKenna burst into whoops of laughter, Holly’s doubling over

causingasprayofwatertoarcoutofthesinkandsplatteronthefloor.

Rutnacamerunningoutofthetinystaffroom,drawnbythehyena-likecacklesofthe

twootherwomen.“Whatsofunny?”shedemanded.

HollygotcontrolofthesprayattachmentandgesturedtoRutnatotakeoverwhileshe

moppedup,stillgigglingthewholetime.

“Betsy was just telling us how she doesn’t want a man in her life,” MacKenna said

from somewhere off to the side of the salon. “Like that stopped her from playing

matchmakerwithHollyandmewhenwedidn’twantamaninourlives.”

“Andlookhowthatturnedout.”HollyhandedRutnaatowel.

RutnadriedBetsy’shairgentlyandhelpedhersitupright.

“Oldcowliketoeatyounggrass.IsThaisaying.”RutnapattedBetsy’sshoulderand

shotheraslysmile.“Meanmanythings,butmaybeniceyoungmanmakeyouhappy.”

ThatsetHollyandMacKennalaughingagain,andBetsyfoundherselfchucklingwith

them.Herdaysofromanceandbeingwooedwerewellandtrulyover.Weren’tthey?

“

CHAPTER11

o, Chef? You better come look at this,” Vince yelled from the bowels of Due

South’spantry.

DellookedupfromwherehewasleaningagainstoneofkitchencounterswithShaye,

whispering dirty little nothings into his sous chef’s ears while she sliced and diced this

morning’sprepwork.Hiswifewassexyashellwithaknifeinherhands.

“Bethereinasec,”hecalledback.

AcutelittleVwrinkleappearedonShaye’sforehead.“Sugarhoneyicedtea.Youdid

pickmypantiesupfrombehindthefreezerlastnight,didn’tyou?”

“Um…”

Hescruncheduphisface,pretendingtothinkaboutit,eventhoughhe’dstashedher

Santa-print panties into his pants pocket for safekeeping. Shaye’s knife stilled on the

choppingboard,hercheekstorchingcrimson.

“DelmarWestlake!”

Embarrassed,alittleworried,andmaybeevenatinybitturnedon,hiswifewaseven

sexierthanshehadbeensecondsago.

“That’s a case of mistaken identity,” he said. “Remember last night? I was God Del

then—asinGod,Del.”

Her green eyes narrowed and she hip-checked him—narrowly missing the family

jewels. “Go and see what Vince wants, and he better not be holding any item of my

underwear.”

Heheadedforthepantry.“Yes,dear.”

“Santa’sgoingtoleavecoalinyourstocking.”Shaye’sfinalthreatchasedafterhim,

makinghimsmile.

Vince, their first cook, stood in front of the chest freezer with the lid up. “We got a

problem,”hesaid.

Del’s leftover smile transformed into a frown as he followed Vince’s pointed finger

into the freezer…to the partially defrosted and fully defrosted stacks of meat, poultry,

pastry, and other goods. Unlike most restaurants, fresh wasn’t always an option on an

isolated island like Stewart Island. Unless you were talking fresh seafood—and that’s

whereDueSouthexcelled.

Del swore under his breath and met Vince’s gaze. “Plug been knocked out of the

socket?”heaskedhopefully.

Vinceshookhishead.“FirstthingIchecked.Nope,Ithinkit’sthemotorgonekaput.

It’saprettyoldfreezer.”

“Abloodyantique.”DelremembereditfromwhenhisdadruledDueSouth’skitchen

asheadchefandsqueezingdownthesideofitmadeagreathidingplacefromWestwhen

theyplayedhideandseek.

“What’s happened?” Shaye stood in the pantry doorway, wiping her hands on her

apronandshootinglittleglancesatVince.

“Freezer’spackedin,”VinceansweredforDel.“Andallthemeatisdefrosting.”

“You’dbettergiveFordorRobacall,”Delsaid.“Getthemoverheretoseeifthere’s

somethingtheycando.”

Twentyminuteslater,Del,Shaye,Vince,Bill,andWeststoodinasemicirclebehinda

crouched Rob and the chest freezer, which had been muscled out from against the back

wall.Robgainedhisfeetandgrimacedathisimpromptuaudience.

“Compressor’sbuggered,”hesaid.“AndIdon’thaveareplacement,sorry.Nowayto

getoneeither,notuntilthedayafterBoxingDay—assumingtheferry’srunningbythen.”

Delexchangedglanceswithhisbrotherandfather—ohshit glances. The restaurant’s

smaller freezers and chillers were already packed in preparation for the holiday season.

Whiletheyweren’topenonChristmasDay,BoxingDaybrunchwashugelypopular.

“Sowhatdowedowithallthisfoodbeforeitgoestowaste?”Vincevocalizedwhat

allofthemwerethinking.

“Ihaveasuggestion,”Shayesaid.

“Let’shearit,”Westsaid.“Noideatoostupid.”

Shayesniffed,archinganeyebrowattheirlittlegroup.“AreanyofyouinsinuatingI

havestupidideas?”

Varyingrepliesof“Nope,”“Hellno,”and“Uh-uh,”camefromthemen,allofwhom

werefamiliarwiththeHarlandfamily’stemper.

“Not sure if marrying the dolt beside you was a good idea, girly.” Bill, on Shaye’s

otherside,nudgedherwithhiselbow.

“You want me to carve that donated kidney of mine back outta you, old man?” Del

grinned at his dad, who smiled carnivorously back. Another thing he could thank his

beautifulwifefor—helpinghimrebuildhisshatteredrelationshipwithhisfather.

“Shutit,youtwo,”Westsaid.“LetShayespeak.”

Shaye dug her hands into the pockets of her apron and rocked back on her heels.

“Well,Ijustthoughtthatsinceafewofourlocalfamilieshavehadtheirplansaffectedby

the weather this year and are probably unprepared for tomorrow, maybe we should pool

our resources with all this food and have a communal Christmas dinner up at the

communitycenter.”

Robnoddedslowly.“NowthatHarleyandBreearestuckhere,theboysandIcould

digahangioutback.Useupthoselegoflambsandporkroasts.”

“IwastalkingtoCarlylastnight,”Westsaid.“GlennaaskedherandKiptojoinusfor

lunch, but Carly wanted to contribute something and there’s nothing left at Russell’s

exceptforchickendrumsticks,hamburgerpatties,andvegetariansausages.”

“Glennaand I always make too much food, so she needn’t worry,” Bill said. “There

areafewfolkslikeBetsywho’reontheirownthisyear,thoughit’sabigaskforeveryone

toworkonChristmasDay.”

“Not so much work if everyone chips in,” Vince said. “I was only planning to laze

aroundandeattoomuchbymyself,sowhynoteattoomuchwithfriends?Idon’tmind

volunteeringifeveryoneelseiswilling.”

DellookedatShayeandhermouthtwistedintoalopsidedsmile.They’dplannedto

spend a lazy Christmas morning in bed, followed by Christmas lunch at his mother-in-

law’swhereneitherofthemwouldhavetocooksinceGlennaandBillinsistedontaking

over that chore, and then a relaxed family afternoon playing with their three nieces. But

Shayewasthegluenotonlyinherfamily,butinhishumbleopinion,shewastheglueof

their little community. She also had a heart as pure and big as Antarctica—though

definitelynotcold.

“We’re willing,” he said. “We’ll make it an evening meal to give the hangi time to

cook,andpeoplecancontributewhatpotluckdishestheycan.”

“I’llgetDenisetostartcallingaroundtogetanideaofnumbers,”Robsaid.“Andrally

thetroopstogetthehalllookingniceandorganizesomefunfortheyoungsters.”

Shaye slipped her arm through Del’s and leaned her head against his shoulder. “And

thereshouldbeafter-dinnerdancing,”shesaid.“Iwannacheckoutyoursmoothmoveson

thedanceflooragain.”

“You leave it up to us, girly,” Bill said. “This’ll be a Christmas party to go down in

Oban’shistorybooks.”

CHAPTER12

acperchedontheedgeofthesofa,makingsadeyesatthecoffeetable.Her

laptopdisplayedavideochatwindow,andstaringbackatherwithkill-me-

now eyes was her best friend, Reid, who was far, far away in Invercargill. He and her

other friend, Laura, were meant to be spending Christmas with them. But thanks to the

ferry crossings once again being canceled, they were there and she was here. No matter

howmuchLauratriedtoputacheerfulspinonthesituationwithhermile-widesmileand

LED-lightedreindeerantlerheadband.

“Wehaven’tmissedaChristmastogetherforyears,”Macsaid.“It’stradition.”

“It’sjustanotherday,Mac,”Reidsaid.

ButevenonalaptopscreenMacspottedthetelltalebunchingofhisjaw.Theholidays

were hardest for Reid. Since his mum died of breast cancer, he’d spent every Christmas

withherandLaura.Thoughtheyweren’trelatedbyblood,theywerefamilyjustthesame.

ReidslouchedbackintohisarmchairandproppedoneSanta’selfslipper-cladfooton

his knee. Tradition was Reid wearing the joke slippers Mac had bought for him three

Christmasesago…orwasitfour?Sheforgot.

“AtleastIwon’thavetoseeyouinthoseridiculousslippersalldaytomorrow.”

Reidflickedhisankleupanddown,andthelittlebellsewntotheendofthepointed

slippertinkled.“I’llwearthemforNewYear’sinstead.”

Lauraleanedforward,antlerheadbandflashingpulsesofredlightintothecameraas

she peered over her seasonal red-rimmed spectacles. “You and Joe are coming over for

NewYear’s,right?”

“We’llbethere,”Macsaid.“EvenifwehavetoswimtheFoveauxStrait.”

The corner of Laura’s red-slicked lips kicked up. “Just don’t wear a bikini. You’ll

freezeyourtits—”Shegaveatoodle-oowave,hergazeanglingpastMac.“Oh,hi,Joe.”

AhandtuggedtheendofMac’sponytailandshejumped,thentiltedherheadbackto

see Joe’s upside down smile. His slightly strained smile, the one he used when locals

wouldstophiminthestreettodiscussvariousunpleasantbodilyfunctions.

“What’s the craic?” he asked. “And what do my fiancée’s knockers have to do with

anything?”

“We were talking about Mac swimming the strait since we can’t get to you,” Laura

said.

“IcybluewouldsuitMacKenna’sfaircomplexion.”Joevaultedoverthecouchtosit

besideMac.“ButI’drathermylovestayshereandwarmsmybed.”

Laura made a finger-down-the-throat gesture. “We’ll survive without you. I thought

we’dwatchaProjectRunwaymarathonandeatthetwopavlovasweweregoingtobring

over.”

“Then I vote Christmas Day is pants optional.” Reid shot Laura an arched look and

hoveredahandoverhisbelt.

Her eyes narrowed in return. “You are not sitting around in your boxer shorts, Reid

Hudson.Roommateagreement,remember?”

“ThenI’mnotwatchingHeidiandTim.”

Sheshovedhisarm,notbudgingthemananinch,consideringhewassixinchestaller

andfiftypoundsheavier.Reidjustlaughedandgentlyshovedherback.

“YoukidsbickermorethanmeandKerry,”Joesaid.

“Little sisters—what can you do?” Reid shrugged. “Wonder if I can ship her to the

NorthPolebeforetomorrowmorning?”

ThetensioneasedoutofMac’schest.She’dmissthem,they’dmissher,butLauraand

Reidwouldmakesuretheotherhadafundaytomorrow.

Joegaveherkneeasqueezeandraisedaneyebrowinasilentyougood?question.She

returnedasubtlenodandhislipcurvedinasmile.

“Everyonehappy,then?”heaskedthelaptopscreen.“Wedone?”

Laura’s brow crinkled and she angled her head down, the reindeer antlers bobbing.

“Done?Butwehaven’ttalkedaboutthe—”

“Merry Christmas. Sláinte.” Joe slapped the laptop screen down, and in one smooth

movement,turned,draggedherontohislap,andclaimedhermouth.

He kissed her, a too-much-brandy-in-the-eggnog kiss that made her head spin in

delicious circles. His lips were still slightly chilled from the cooler air outside, but they

warmed under hers, since she was soon burning up for him from the inside out. Cool

fingers slid under her sweater and skimmed up her spine. Her bra clasp opened with a

snap.Comingupforair,shearchedbackandsetarestrainingpalmonhischest.

“NotthatI’mcomplaining,butwhat’stherush,Doc?”

“I’ve sent Kerry and Aaron to Russell’s for cranberry sauce,” he said. “Can’t have

turkeywithoutit.”

“Wehavetwojarsinthepantry.”HergazeslittedasJoe’seyescrinkledinthecorners.

ThosesamecoolfingersreturnedunderMac’stopanddeftlyfinagledherbraout.

Hetosseditonthebackofthesofa.“Notanymorewedon’t.Idumpedthesauceout

thewindowthismorning.”

Shewriggledforwardonhislaptogrindagainsthimuntilhiseyescrossed.Thenshe

pushedherunfetteredbreastsagainsthimandwhisperedinhisear,“Didyourecyclethose

jars,baby?”

Joesomehowmanagedtogainhisfeetwithherstillclingingtohimastightasplastic

wrap.“YouknowIdid,youfinething.”

ThefrontdoorbangedopenandKerryspilledintotheroom.Sheflickedthembotha

glanceasshedumpedherpurseonthediningtable.“Oh,grand—you’vefinishedonyour

computer.GladIdidn’tinterrupt.”

“That was a quick trip,” Mac said while unhooking her ankles from around Joe and

sliding herself down his deliciously hard body to stand, still a little wobbly, upright.

“Where’sAaron?”

Joe angled himself behind her so the action down the front of his jeans wouldn’t be

obvioustohissister.Macwasalltooawareofthatactionandhowshewasmissingouton

it.

“Andthecranberrysauce?”heasked.

Kerry flapped a hand in the direction of the door. “We never made it to the grocery

store.Aaron’sstillgettinghiseartalkedoffdowntheroadbyoneofyourneighbors.That

nicemechanicman,Rob.”Sheshruggedoutofherjacketanddrapeditoverachair.“He

told us the restaurant’s freezer has packed up and everyone’s invited to share Christmas

dinner at the hall. I decided to come back once they started discussing putting down

anotherhangitomorrow…”

Midmonologue,Kerryhadturnedtowardthem.Oncehermouthstoppedmoving,her

blueeyesgleamedashergazelockedontothecouchback.“Shite.Iaminterrupting,aren’t

I?”

JoesnatchedupMac’sbraandtriedtostuffitintohispocket.Onlyhedidn’thavea

pocketandbythetimehe’dcluedontothatfact,hisfaceresembledoneoftheshinyred

appledecorationsontheirChristmastree.

Kerry held up her palms. “You two continue with your quickie, and I’ll, er, wait

outsidetointerceptAaron.”

Agustofwindrattledthecottage’swindows.

Crap. Hosting the holidays demanded a certain sacrificial politeness—Mac couldn’t

verywellkickherfuturesister-in-lawoutintothecoldwhileshehadherwickedwaywith

Joe.

“I’ll go and get the sauce; I’m sure you and your big brother still have loads of

catchinguptodo.”Shehalfturnedandgropedaroundtryingtosnagherbra.

What her fingers touched on was as stiff as the underwire, but wasn’t at all thin or

curvedinahalf-moonshape.Joesuckedinaraggedbreaththendangledtheblacksatin

andlaceoverhershoulder.

Shesuppressedagrin,pluckedthebrafromhisfingers,andfoldeditneatly.“Hewas

practicing his techniques for next year’s Manly Man of the Year bra-removing contest.

Siobhanwon’tknowwhat’shitherwhenJoe’snimblefingersgettowork.”

Kerry’seyesbulged.“Youlethimfiddlewithsomeotherwoman’sknockers?”

“Jaysus,” Joe muttered and took a step backward. “Siobhan’s a mannequin. I’m not

fiddlingwithanyone’sknockersbutMac’s.”

Kerry snickered. “I’m sure we’re all relieved to hear that. The boys especially.” She

cockedherheadatMac.“KyleandLukeareveryappreciativeofyourchesticularassets

andhavethreatenedtodisembowelJoeifhesomuchaslooksatanotherwoman.”

Macwinced.ApparentlyheraccidentalboobflashtoJoe’sbrothersafewmonthsback

hadn’tbeencontainedtotheVegashotelroom.

“Appreciate them looking out for me,” she said with as much dignity as she could

manage.

“They’reveryfondofyou.”KerryshotacheekyglancepastMac’sshouldertowhere

MacassumedJoestillwas.“Oratleast,partsofyou.”

“Notfunny,”Joesaid.

BeforeJoespontaneouslycombusted,Macslippedaroundthecouchandheadedtothe

door leading to their bedroom to address her braless state. She risked a glance over her

shoulderasshereachedthedoorway.KerrywasgrinningatJoe,whostoodarmsfolded

withagoingtokickyourarseglare.

“I think someone is getting cranky because a shag is now off the table,” Kerry said

sweetly.

Mac’s lower belly gave a delicious shiver. Shagging on the dining room table…now

thatwasaregularandfunpartoftheirweeklyactivities.Joe’sgazezippedtothedining

tableandthenmethers.Hegaveherasmilethatcausedthewarmshiverstospreadlower

intoathrobbingache.

Guests or no guests, Mac knew Joe would continue to plot out ways for them to

indulgeinsomeChristmasfestivities.Nakedfestivities.

CHAPTER13

ollyplacedanotherlargeriverrockonthestackandsentaspeculativegaze

downatthefreshlydugholeinRobandDenise’sbackyard.

“Youknow.”SheshotHarleyafastgrin.“Wecouldprobablyfityourtwin’sbodyin

thereoncehefinishesdyingofmanflu.”

Aaron,who’dturneduptogivethemahandtodiganewhangipit,snortedandtossed

anotherspadefulofearthaside.“Howlongyoubeenmarriedagain?”

“LongenoughtoknowtheKomekebrothersaredescendedfrommightywarriorswho

happentoturnintocrybabieswhentheygetacold.”Robaddedanotherstonetothepile.

“Isn’tthatright,Hol?”

“Preachit,Dad.”ShespottedBreewatchingthemfromDenise’slivingroomwindow

andshegaveherathumbs-up.

BehindBree,sprawledonthesofawithascowlonhisfaceandaremoteaimedatthe

TV,wasFord.She’dforbiddenhimfromhelpingRob,Harley,andAaronwiththehangi

prep, and volunteered herself. Mainly because she was nosy enough to want to get to

knowMac’ssoon-to-bebrother-in-law,butalsobecauseGodforbidherhusbandgotany

sicker.

She’d spent a couple of nights this week sleeping on their sofa as his coughing kept

her awake. And in between dosing him with medicine, cleaning up the endless piles of

usedtissues,listeningtohimbitchandmoanthattherewasnothingonTV,andthathis

throat hurt and “could she run out to the store for that lemon-honey drink and some of

thosereallysofttissuesthatdidn’tleavehisnoseredraw?”shewasexhausted.

Hollysuspectedthevowof“insicknessandinhealth”waswrittenbyamanwhose

womanhadcomeclosetosmotheringhimwithapillowwhilehewasholdingoutajarof

Vicks VapoRub with puppy dog eyes. Granted, Ford seemed better today than he had

yesterday.

“Ford’sthecrybaby.”Harleytossedanotherspadefulofdirtaside.“Itakebeingsick

likeaman.”

ThistimeitwasHolly’sturntosnort.“Really.Soitwasn’tyouwhobecamegluedtoa

La-Z-Boyafewmonthsagoandhadyourphoneconfiscatedbecauseyouwouldn’tstop

textingBreewithrequests?”

“Mate—shetookyourphone?”AaronchortledandpunchedHarley’sarm.“Howlong

didittaketogetitback?”

Harleytwistedhislips.“Twodays—shutup,Hol.”

Hollypokedouthertongueathimthenlaughed.

“We finished here?” Harley asked his dad while he inspected the hole he and Aaron

haddug.“I’vegotacoupleofthingstodoathomewhileTāne’sstillhavinghisafternoon

nap.”

“Goon,then,son,”Robsaid.“Hol,yougooninsideandwashup.Denise’llchewmy

earoffforlettingyougetdirty.”

“Breelikesmedirty.”Harleypassedhisspadetohisdad.“MaybeI’dbettertakeoff

nowbeforeshecan’trestrainherselfanylonger.”

“You do that.” Holly brushed specks of dirt off her shirt left there by the rocks and

woodshe’dluggedacrosstheyardforthehangifire.“Makearunforitbeforeshejumps

yourbones.”

Inside, Holly updated Denise and Bree on the guys’ progress then slipped into the

livingroomtocheckonFord.She’ddraggedhimtoseeJoeyesterdaymorning,justtobe

ahundredpercentsureitwasnothingmoreseriousthanabadheadcold—anditwasn’t.

Eventhoughshe’dratherlugrocksandwoodthandealwithhercrankyhusband,shestill

had to restrain herself from jumping his bones at the sight of him stretched out on his

mum’ssofa.

Nothing wrong with his hearing as he turned toward her when she hovered in the

livingroomdoorway.

“Hey,babe,”hesaid.

Nothing wrong with his sex appeal either, as he sent her a smile that destroyed her

remainingannoyanceatsmellinglikementholforthepastweek.

“I’m, uh, just going to have a quick shower,” she said. “I’ve got wood chips

everywhere.”

“Everywhere?”Ford’sdarkeyesglittered.

“Inplacesyouwouldn’tbelieve.”SheangledherheadtowardtheTVandthefreeze-

framedscreenofwhateverNetflixshowFordhadchosentobinge-watch.“I’llbringyou

anotherlemonandhoneydrinkwhenI’mdone.”

Shebackedoutoftheroombeforeshehadanymorewickedthoughtsabouthowdamn

sexyherhusband’svoicewaswithjustalittleraspyleftovercoldinit.

HotspraypoundeddownonherbareskinafewminuteslaterintheKomekes’guest

bathroomshower.Hollyhummedafewbarsof“Santa,Baby”andshookhertailfeather,

relivingtheexpressiononFord’sfacewhenhe’dseenherlip-syncingherheartout.The

glass shower door swept open, bringing with it a rush of cooler air. She yelped, spun,

nearlyslipped,andthenwascrushedbyhard,hot,nakedFordmusclesashebackedher

underthespraytothestall’swall.

Her senses overloaded from all the hard, hot nakedness, and her brain misfired with

deprivedfemalehornyhormones.Foragoodthirtyseconds,Hollycouldn’tutteranything

other than a gut-deep groan as Ford dipped his head and nuzzled wet kisses along her

shoulder.

Shetwinedherarmsaroundhisneckandheldhimclose,revelingintheskin-to-skin

contact—sincethepastweekhe’dhadallthatyumminesscoveredwithlayersofflannel

andwool.God,hefeltsogood.Sostrong,andsolid,andhealthy.Shearchedherspine,

shouldersbumpingintotheshowerstall,herpelvisgrindingintohis.

“Waitaminute—youcan’tkissme—you’resick,”shegasped.

Hiseyesnarrowed,fingerstighteningonherhipsashischestroseonaraggedinhale.

Helethisbreatheaseout,leaningforwardtousethehardlengthofhimselftopinherto

the wall. “I’m about to sex you up with my mother and sister-in-law and nephew next

door,andyou’reworriedaboutsharingspit?”

“Somanythingswrongwiththatsentence,Mr.GermGroundZero.”Hollysquirmed

tryingtogetoutfromunderhim.Herfingersskiddedoverhiswetskinandsheslapped

his shoulder ineffectually. She had zero chance of making all that hard-packed muscle

moveoffherunlesshewasinacooperativemood.AndFord’sfierceI’mgonnamakeyou

screammynameexpressionsuggestedcooperationandcompromiseweren’tonhisagenda

forthenextfewminutes.

“Butmoreimportantly,”shecontinued,“whatareyoudoinginhere?”

Furrowsappearedonhisbrowasifhewasconcentratingreallyhardonthinkingofthe

answer.“Didn’tIjusttellyouI’mheretosexyourbrainsout?”

He rubbed an impressive erection against her belly and slid a hand up her waist and

overherribcagetobrushagainsttheundersideofherbreast.

Hernippleswereonboardwithshowersexandtheysenttheallsystemsgosignalto

everypartofheranatomy.Everythingwentslipperyhotandshivery,withtheexceptionof

hertonguewhichmomentarilyglueditselftotheroofofhermouth.

“Uh,’kay,”shemutteredthenswipedhertonguealonghertopliptocatchsomedrips.

“Butwhatabout…”Shetiltedherheadtowardthewall.

“Breeiskeepingmymumoccupiedwrappinglast-minutegifts.Shetoldmewehadat

least fifteen minutes if she taped the wrapping paper incorrectly and Mum had to redo

themtoperfection.”Hehauledherupintohisarms.

“Nice of her.” Holly grinned down at him and hung on tight. “Considering all the

wickedthingswecandowithfifteenminutes.”

“Likeusingupallthehotwater?”

“We’lltellthemweweredecongestingyouwiththesteam,”shesaid,thenloweredher

headandkissedhim.

Thoroughly.

Germs,scherms.Whatthehell,itwasChristmas.

CHAPTER14

reestood in the doorway of her mother-in-law’s spare room watching Harley

with his sons—one of whom was about to have his wet nappy changed. The

otherwasgivinghisdadarunningcommentaryofunsolicitedadvice.Noneofherthree

guyshadspottedherobservingwhatwasrapidlyturningintoaThreeStoogesroutine.

“Areyougonnabeamanaboutthis?”HarleybracedhispalmseithersideofTāne’s

wrigglylittlebodyandleanedover.

Tāne gurgled and bicycled his bared chubby legs which pummeled Harley’s chest.

Breehadtoadmititdidn’tsoundlikeanaffirmativegurgle.

BetweenHarleyandCarterthey’dmanagedtounbuttonandfreethebaby’slowerhalf

fromhissnugglyromperwithoutobjection.ThiswasmainlybecauseTāneadoredhisbig

brother’s repertoire of face-pulling expressions and the endlessly fascinating game of

peekaboo.ButtheywereontothetrickystageofgettingacleannappysecuredwhenTāne

wouldmuchrathergoaunaturel.

Harley grabbed a foot, held it out of the way, and blew a raspberry on the baby’s

stomach.Tāneletoutabellylaughandcaughtafistfulofhisdad’shair.

“Ow—” Harley’s hand shot out sideways toward Carter. “While he’s distracted

torturingme,passthenappy.”

Carter slapped a fresh nappy onto Harley’s palm with the efficiency of a surgical

nurse.“Betterhurrybeforehepeesonuslikelasttime.”

Shesealedherlipstogethertopreventaburstoflaughterfromescaping.Dayoneof

Carterstayingwiththemfortheholidays,Harleyhadropedhimintohelpingwithanappy

changeonlyforthebabytocatchthembothoffguard.

“My son has impeccable aim and timing, don’t you, mate?” Harley managed to

untangle his hair from Tāne’s fists. He unfolded the nappy and slid it under the baby’s

bottom.Tāneimmediatelybeganbuckinglikeaminibronco.

Someofheramusementmust’veslippedoutorelseitwastheuncannyconnectionshe

andHarleyhad,becausehelookedupfromthesquirmingbaby,hisgazelockingontoher

withunerringaccuracy.

“CarterandIhavethisundercontrol,”hesaid.

KnowingthatTānewouldreallygoballisticifheheardhervoice,Breemerelyraised

hereyebrows.Butshecouldn’tpreventhergazefromskimmingovertheplayofmuscles

onherhusband’sshouldersandback.He’dtakentochangingTānewithoutashirtsince

thefirsttimethebabyhadshownoffhisimpressivefiringpower.

ThearcofHarley’ssmilewentfromdelightednewfathertosensuousinaheartbeat.It

made her seriously grateful that they wouldn’t be sleeping in a tent again tonight but

would instead be tucked up in their big comfortable bed with Tāne in his nursery and

Carterinthespareroom.She’dshowhersexyhusbandwhowasreallyincontrol.

“We’llbereadytoheadhomeintwo,”Harleyadded.

Ofcourse,itwasmoreliketenbythetimeHarleyandCartergotthebabytapedinto

hisnappyandthendressedandfastenedinhiscarseat.Tānewasalreadygettingdrowsy

againafteranafternoonofbeingfussedoverbyhisgrandparents,uncle,andauntie.Bree

took the back seat—Carter had called shotgun—and watched as Harley secured the car

seatinplacebesideher.Hisstrongfingersstrappedtheseatdown,gazefixedunwavering

ontheirbaby’sface.TherewasaflashofwhiteteethinasharpsmilewhenTāneletoffa

machine-gun rattle fart, likely filling the nappy Harley and Carter had just changed.

Harleywasthekindoffathershehadn’tdareddreamhewouldbebackwhenshe’dfound

herself alone and pregnant with Carter. Her heart gave a familiar sickening lurch at the

thoughtofhowmuchHarleyhadmissedoutonwithCarterasababy.

“Youokay?”Harleyasked.

Drawn into unpleasant memories, Bree hadn’t noticed Harley had stopped fiddling

with the seat belt and was looking at her with a furrowed brow. She nodded, berating

herselfashervisiongrewwatery.“Justgettingnostalgic.”

Harleywedgedhisupperbodyoverthecarseatanddrewherinforalingeringkiss.

Hislipsstillhadatraceofthestrawberrieshe’dstolenfromhismum’sfridgeontheway

out.Juicyandsweet,Breecouldn’tgetenoughofhim.Shethreadedherfingersthoughhis

darkhairandhungon,teasinghimwithjustalittletongue.

“Ewww.Enoughwiththekissing,youguys.”

Harleybrokethekissbypullingbackfarenoughtoshootaslittedglanceatthefront

seat.“Mate,wetalkedaboutyoubeingmywingman.”

“Kissinginfrontofusisjustgross—you’llscarusforlife.”Carterscrunchedhisnose

upthengrinned,lookingmorelikeHarley’smini-methanever.

Although Carter referred to them as Harley and Auntie Bree, the boy had chosen to

treat his birth father more like an older brother than an uncle. Harley never overstepped

hisboundarieswithCarter,alwaysdeferringtohisadoptivedad,Paul,butheallowedthe

boytoslothimintotherolehewasmostcomfortablewith.

“Damn.” Harley kissed Bree’s nose and folded himself out of the car. “We’d better

startsavingforallthetherapyyouboys’llneed.”

They drove toward home to the chatter of Carter talking about the upcoming cricket

season.BreereachedovertostrokeTāne’swispycurlsastheypassedbyFordandRob’s

workshop and the beautiful mural Harley had painted of the Maori legend Ranginui and

Papatūānuku,EarthMotherandSkyFather,whowereseparatedandforeverreachingfor

one another. That could’ve been Bree and Harley, but thank God the two of them had

realizedintimethattheywerestronger,better,andhappiertogetherthantheywereapart.

Harleyparkedintheirdriveway.“We’renotgoinginside.There’sasurpriseforyouin

thestudio.”

Carter’seyeslitup.“Doesithavetwowheelsanda100ccengine?”

“It better not.” Bree unclipped her seat belt, sending Harley a mock glare before

switchingittoCarter.TheboyhadbeenbugginghisparentsandHarleyaboutgettinga

kid-sizeddirtbikeforChristmas.“OryourmotherandIwillfeedHarleyandyourdadto

thegreatwhites.”

“Youheardher,”Harleysaid.“Don’tmesswiththeFindlowsisters.”

“Whatever,”Cartersaidglumly.

Theyclimbedoutofthecar,andHarleyunclippedhissleepingsonfromthecarseat

andtuckedhimagainsthischest.

BreeslunganarmaroundCarter’sshoulderastheyheadeddownthesideofthehouse

toward the studio. “Yoooou…better watch out,” she sang then laughed when Carter

clappedhishandsoverhisearsandgroaned.

ShewasstilllaughingwhenHarleyunlockedthestudioandhitthelights.Hergiggles

taperedofftoashockedsilenceashereyestriedtotakeineverythingatonce.

“Wow,cool!”Cartershouted,duckingaroundHarleyandintothebigairyroom.

Harley had been busy. He’d moved all their canvases and painting equipment to the

edgesoftheroomandtransferredtheChristmastreefromthelivingroomintoonecorner

ofthestudio.Inthecenteroftheroomweretwofreestandingpop-uptents,onewithtwo

unrolled sleeping bags, the other with a sleeping bag and a set-up portable crib. On the

other side of the tent was a plastic sandpit filled with golden sand and a variety of sand

toys, and above them—oh, above them. Bree’s mouth sagged. Strung above them were

multiplestrandsofdelicatefairylightsthatsparkledlikeastar-studdedsky.

BreeslidherarmaroundHarley’swaistandleanedherheadagainsthisshoulder.“Oh,

Harley.Idon’tknowwhattosay.”

He smiled down at her, and she guessed the little boy inside him was delighted at

surprisingher.

“SinceIcouldn’tgetustothebeachtocampthisChristmas,IthoughtI’dbringalittle

of the camping experience inside.” He kissed her temple. “Actually, it’s more glamping

than camping since we’ve got running water, heating, and a toilet in here. You’re

welcome.”

Cartercrawledoutofthesecondtent.“SomeandTānegetthistent?”

“Yep,”Harleysaid.“Youokaywithbeingresponsibleforyourbrother?”

Carter’s chest puffed out. “Of course. I’m the best big brother in the history of big

brothers.Plus,hedoesn’tsnorelikeyoudo.”

“An added bonus,” Bree said. “And as his roomie you get to eat his share of the

toastedmarshmallowsthatIseearesetupbythefireplace.”

“Score!” Carter ran over to the coffee table where sticks and marshmallows were

readytogo.

“Soseparatesleepingbags,huh?”Breesaid.

Harleyliftedhiseyebrows.“Sleepingbagsthatziptogethertomakeonebigsleeping

bag—ifyoudon’tmindusbeingveryclosetogether.”

Bree rose on tiptoe and kissed her sexy, thoughtful, and creative husband. “Oh,

darling,Idon’tmindabit.”

CHAPTER15

ftherewasonethingthewomeninKezia’sfamilydidwell,itwastradition—

especially tradition around the holidays. Christmas in Kezia’s family, back

whenshewasalittlegirllivinginaseasidesuburbinWellington,wassteepedinItalian

tradition.Atleast,hermother’sversionofItaliantraditionsinceitwasnowblendedwith

theirKiwilifestyle.

Her parents, four older brothers, and Kezia all went to midnight mass on Christmas

Eve. They had a Christmas tree decorated in the green/white/red of the Italian flag with

precious spun-glass ornaments they’d brought with them from Italy. There was struffoli

napoletani, good red wine in Mama’s good crystal glasses for Christmas Day, but also

roast lamb and pavlova. Often they’d spend an afternoon at the beach under beach

umbrellaswhileherbrothersteamedupwithotherlocalkidstoplaysoccer.

And the tradition she’d started with Zoe, as an impatient toddler who couldn’t

understand waiting for Christmas morning to arrive, was to open a ‘family’ gift on

ChristmasEve.TonightKeziawasblessedtohavetwodaughtersandalovinghusbandto

sharethistraditionwith.

“Amoremio,goandbringtheboxinourclosetout,”sheaskedBen.

Bendutifullyfetchedthelargecardboardboxwrappedinsparklypaperandsetiton

thecoffeetablebeforeZoeandJade.Zoebouncedontheedgeofthecouch,immediately

losingtheaffectedpoiseofatweenandreturningtoayoungeragewhenshe’danticipated

the magic of Santa heading Down Under. Jade pressed her knuckles to her mouth and

giggled,shootingglancesatherdad.

“Don’tlookatme,kiddo,”Bensaid.“Ihavenoideawhatyourmama’shiddeninthis

box.”

The girls, who’d spent two Christmases as part of the Harland clan now, probably

suspected there would be some delizioso homemade snacks, something for them to do

togetherasafamily,andsomethingforthemtowear.Lastyearthey’dplayedacutthroat

gameofLordoftheRingsMonopolywhilewearingHawaiianshirtsineye-piercingand

hilarious prints. The year before it was charades with matching Team Harland T-shirts,

includingadoggy-sizedoneforSparky.

Thisyear…well.

Keziasmiledathergirls—herbeautifulblessingsthatfilledherhearttooverflowing—

andsaid,“Whatareyouwaitingfor?Ripintoit.”

ZoeandJadelaunchedthemselvesatthebox,tearingoffthepaperandpoppingopen

thetop.Jadereachedinfirstandpulledoutabundleofwhitefleece.Sheshookitopento

revealakid-sizedonesie,thehoodofwhichhadasparklyhornattachedaswellasalilac

maneand,attachedtothebutt,asparklylilactail.

JadelaughedandhandeditovertoZoe.“Thismustbeforyou!”

“Thankyou,Mama,”Zoesaid.Shepulledoutanotheronesie,thistimeabrownone

withfloppyearsandatail.“Jade!Nowyou’lllooklikeSparky.”

JadegiggledandtookitfromZoe,huggingitclosetoherchest.Thenshedroppedit

onthecouchbesideherandreachedinagain,draggingoutalarger-sizedonesiethatwas

alsobrownbuthadcutelittleroundedearsandastubbytail.

“AmamabearonesieforMama!”Zoeyelled.

JadehandedKeziathebearonesieand,withZoe,peeredoverthelipoftheboxtothe

last garment inside. Jade clapped a hand over her mouth to try and keep a fit of giggles

inside—itdidn’treallyworkandtheyspilledout,infectingZoebesideher.

“Letmeguess,”BensaidfromKezia’sside.Hisarmtightenedaroundherwaist.“It’s

aclownonesie,right?”

Thegirlsshooktheirheads.

“Agiantteddybear?”

Anotherheadshake.

“Giraffe?Pig?Abominablesnowman?”

“No,no,no,”ZoeandJadesaidinunison.

Zoeangledherear-to-earsmiletowardKezia.“Mama,youhavetogiveittohim.”

So Kezia stepped forward and pulled out the remaining garment—a red and blue

Superman onesie, complete with a little cape. She unfolded it and held it up against her

big,strong,gorgeousmanwhowaslookingatherasifshe’dgonecompletelypazzo,and

roseontiptoetobrushaquickkissacrosshisslightlygapingmouth.

“You’reourSuperman,BenjaminHarland.”

“Putiton!”orderedJade.“C’mon,Dad.”

Benshruggedgood-naturedly,steppedintotheonesie,andzippedituptohischin.He

struckalightningboltpose,whichmadethegirlsgiggleandKezia’sheartpitter-pattera

littlefaster.Onceuponatime,herseriousmanwouldn’thavedoneanythingheconsidered

embarrassingorfoolish.Nowtherewasnothinghewouldn’tdotomakeherorthe girls

smile.

KeziaslippedtheonesieonoverherclotheslikeBen,whileZoeandJadedisappeared

intotheirbedroomtogetchangedandadmirethemselvesinamirror.

“Aloneatlast,”Bensaidonceshe’dzippedupthesoftfleece.

Kezglancedup.Supermanwasbearingdownonherfasterthanaspeedingbullet,with

the devil in his eye. Laughter bubbled out of her as Ben hauled her into his arms. She

wrappedherlegsaroundhishipsandkissedhimagain.Thistimenotquickly.Thistimeas

ifhewerehermaincourseanddessertrolledintoone.

So wrapped up was she in a bubble of happiness, she didn’t flinch when Michael

Bublé’s “Christmas (Baby Please Come Home)” blasted through Ben’s fancy sound

system.Michael’ssmoothbaritonecurledaroundthemandshepulledaway,seeingBen’s

heartmirroredinhiseyes.Hisheartthatlovedherunconditionally,foolishly,completely.

HewasbetterthantheBarbiedollDreamhouseshe’dsecretlycovetedatChristmasasa

littlegirl.Benhadmadeherdreamhouse—herdreamhomeandfamily—areality.

Thecornersofhereyesbegantostingandsheblinkedrapidly.

“Pineallergiesagain?”Benangledhisheadtowardthetinsel-ladenChristmastreein

thecorneroftheroom.

“Shutup,”shesaidwithasniff.Theybothknewshewasn’tallergictothem.

Hegrinnedandturnedhersoshecouldseeherunicornandbrowndogdancinginto

thelivingroom.Benloweredhertoherfeetandspunheroutinaslickdancemove.

“ChristmasEvedanceparty!”Zoe’sunicornhornbobbedintimetothemusic.

BenspunKeziaoutagainthenreeledherbackin.Hersocksskiddedonthefloorand

sheendedupplasteredagainsthischest.Rightwhereshewantedtobe.Shewrappedher

armsaroundhimandheldontight.

Jadegrabbedheronesie’sdogtailandgaveitasassytwirl.“Dad,let’sdoanairguitar

contest!”

“After Superman finishes kissing and dancing with the sexiest little mama bear on

StewartIsland,”hesaid.

MamaBearwholeheartedlyagreed.Keziagrinnedathergirls.“Maybeyoutwoshould

partyonwithoutus—thiscouldtakeawhile.”

CHAPTER16

iperstoodinthedoorwayofMichaela’sbedroom—onceanofficewhereshe’d

spentherfirstnightbackinObanhatingonherfuturehusband—andwatched

West go misty-eyed over their daughter. Actually, she guessed he was misty-eyed since

onlyhisbarebroadbackbentoverthecribwasvisiblebythenight-light’sdimglow.The

Christmas stocking filled with little presents for Michaela was propped on the room’s

rockingchairandsoftwhufflingsoundscamefromthesleepinggirl.PiperhadsentWest

in to drop off the stocking, but obviously he’d become distracted mooning over their

daughter.

“Busted, you sexy Santa, you,” she said, not bothering to whisper since Michaela

asleepmeantnothingshortoftheapocalypsewouldwakeher.Whichwasjustaswell,as

thenewestadditionstotheWestlakefamilyhadyippedloudlyinprotestatbeingshutin

thelaundryroomforthenight.

Weststarted,hisheadwhippingaroundtowardher.Shecaughttheflashofasheepish

grinashespiedherleaningagainstthedoorframe.

“Howlonghaveyoubeenthere?”

“Longenough,”shesaidandwalkedovertostandbesidehimatthecrib.

Michaelasleptonherstomachwithhercutelittlerumppoochingupthequiltcovering

her.Hercheekswereflushedandherrosepinklipsparted,smackedtogether,thenopened

toletoutasoftsnort.Thegirlwasgonnabeasnorerjustlikehermum.Piperleanedover

andstraightenedthemussedquilt.

“StillthebestChristmaspresentever,”Westsaid.

“Sheis,isn’tshe?”

Heran his handdown the backof her sleep tankand cupped anass cheek. Her skin

prickledindeliciousanticipationandshedraggedhergazeupfromMichaela.West’sblue

eyescrinkledinthecorner,hisglancezippingdowntonot-so-subtlycheckoutherrack—

whattherewasofit.Evenafterallthistimetheheatinhisgazeinexplicablytriggereda

visceralreactionofneed.

“Iwasn’tjusttalkingaboutMichaela.”Hishandcontinuedtorestonherasswhilehe

didn’tmakeanyefforttoconcealhisattempttoseedownthefrontofhertanktop.

“Oh?”Shestraightened.“I’mincluded,then?”

“You’re the heart of this family. The best part of me.” He gave her a gentle squeeze

thenhishanddroppedaway.

Piperleanedintohim,inhalingthefainttraceoffreshpineonhisskin,lefttherebythe

stickyneedlesasthey’dplacedMichaela’spresentsbeneaththesparklingtree.

Shekissedthesmoothskinofhisshoulderandslidherarmsaroundhiswaist,dipping

her fingers below the waistband of his sleep pants. “If we’re talking in metaphors, then

you’reouranchor.”

“Draggingyoudown,youmean?”

“Down into the depths of everlasting lurrrvv.” She arched her chin back and nibbled

alongtheundersideofhisjaw—adifferentspotthantheoneMoehadplay-nippedearlier.

That’sright,WesthadnamedhispuppyafterTheSimpsons’bartender.She,ontheother

hand,namedherpupDallas,aftertheclassyfictionaldetective.“YouknowwhatImean.

Youkeepussafeandgroundedthroughlife’sstorms.”

“Goodcomeback.”

“Ithoughtso.”

Heangledhishead,neatlyavoidinghermouthassherosetokisshim.“Areyoutruly

happyhereinOban?Doyoumisswhatyouhadbackinthecity?”

Shetwistedherlipsinpretendthoughtfulness.“Whichpart?Theexcitingjob,thefive

hundredmiledistancefrommycrazyfamily,theabsenceofdirtynappiesortantrumsin

mydailyroutine?”Bumpingherhipsagainsthis,shegrinnedupathim.“Ordidyoumean

theno-strings,different-man-every-nighthotsex?”

Hiseyesnarrowed.“Differentmaneverynight?”

“Sure,” she said. “By the time I’d met you I’d gone through Ryan Gosling, the

Hemsworthbrothers,andwasseriouslyconsideringpoachingJoeManganiellooffShaye.”

“Smart-arse.”

Shenarrowedhereyesrightbackathim.“Asmymotheralwayssays,‘Askastupid

question, get a stupid answer.’ Of course I miss the city sometimes, but not in a

reminiscingwayofwhatmylifewaslikebeforeyoucharmedmeoutofmypanties.”

Thatmadehisfrowntipupsidedown.

“Butinthewayofthinkingthatyou’denjoycheckingoutthepubandrestaurantscene

—Wellington has more cafés, pubs, and restaurants per capita than New York City, did

you know that?” she continued. “Or that Michaela would love the indoor kids’

playgroundsorrunningaroundthenationalmuseumorbeingletlooseinthehugepublic

citylibrary.”

“Maybeweshouldtakeavacationuptherenextyear,”Westsaid.

“Maybe we should. You know what else Wellington has?” Piper wrapped her arms

aroundhisneckandcrookedaneyebrow.“Areallygoodmaternityhospital.”

Weststilled.“Pipe?Areyou…”

“Nuh-uh,”shesaid.“Notyet.”

West grabbed her ass with both hands and hauled her up in his arms. She squeaked,

giggled,andhookedheranklesaroundhim.Michaelasnuffledandsoftlyfarted.

“Yousureyouwantanotherbaby?”hewhispered,eventhoughtheirdaughterhadn’t

evenflinchedatthesoundofPiper’slaughter.

“As sure as Santa’s heading south on his sleigh tonight,” she said. “Now let’s go

practice,justtokeepourskillsfrombecomingrusty.”

CHAPTER17

ollywokeherselfuponChristmasmorningwithasneezethatnearlyblasted

off the top of her head. That apocalyptic sneeze was followed by five less

dramaticones,buttheycompletelyannihilatedanylastremainingsleepfromhersystem.

Sheflounderedunderthecoverstoasittingpositionandswitchedonthenightstandlamp,

anothersneezeticklinghernasalpassages.Likeawavesetofseven,thisonewasgoingto

be the mother of all sneezes. Her eyes watered and her throat gave her a two-second

reminderthatswallowingwithoutpainwasn’tonthemenu,whileallthetimethesneeze

builtmomentum.Shegrippedthebulkyshapeunderthecoversnexttoherinaspotshe

assumed a shoulder would be. She needed a tissue stat—peeps in the front row were

definitelyinasplashzone.

“Ford—”shecroaked.

Toolate.

Thesneezewassoexplosivethesoundofitscaredevenher,andshegavealittlestart.

Whichinturninformedherthat,ugh,shewasachyallover.

“B’essyou,”cametheroughmutteredresponsefrombesideher.

She gave the comforter-bulked hump a sharp shove. “Pass the tissues! Severe snot

situation.”

Wow.ThatmanyS’scombinedwith,dammit,aheadcloggedwithickystuffreallydid

soundlikeshewasahissingsnake.

One bare muscled arm appeared out from under the covers. She was in no mood to

appreciate the arm porn as Ford groped along the nightstand until his hand touched the

tissuebox.Hetosseditoverhisshouldertothecenteroftheirbed,thensnuggledunder

the comforter once more. Puffy eyes narrowed, Holly snatched up the box and

disemboweledhalfadozentissuesfromitsguts.She’ddamagecontroltotakecareof—

though a quick glance at the mirrored door of their wardrobe informed her she was no

starry-eyednewlywedthismorning.

She lifted the comforter edge so she could ogle the many muscles Ford had earned

workingathisdad’smechanics’workshop.Yum.MerryChristmas,Holly.Wakingupwith

Oban’s former hottest bachelor’s bare-assed naked body next to her each morning was

betterthanadozenpresentsleftunderthetree.Twodozen,even.

But admiration of the sexy-as-hell husband she’d bagged could wait until later. So

instead of lowering the covers to keep her man snuggly and warm, Holly flipped the

comforteroffhimcompletely.

Insicknessandinhealth,babe.

Fordcurleduplikeaprawnthenhislonglegsshotoutandherolledover,makinga

grabforthecovers.“Hey!”

Sheheldthemoutofreachandraisedawarningfinger,thoughpartofherpausedto

admireherhusband’s,er,assets.

“I’m sick.” Kinda stating the obvious when it felt like she’d swallowed razor blades

sometimeinthenight.“Yougavemeyourgerms.”

Ford’seyebrowarchedthenaslowsmilespreadoverhismouth.“Igavethemtoyou

good,though,didn’tI,babe?”

Hehadgiventhemtohergood—really,reallygood.

Smugbastard.

“Not the point. You made me sick.” She tucked the covers tighter around her and

fartherawayfromhim.

“DoIatleastgetsomeoftheblanketsbacksowecandiscussthislikeadults?”

“No.”Shefoughttokeepastraightface.“Iliketheview.”Hervoicewasraspywith

theflu,buttoForditprobablysoundedlikeasex-kittenpurr.

“You do, huh?” Ford slid a hand down his bare chest and cupped himself. “Want an

extraChristmaspresentthisyear?”

Yeah,hermanwouldhearwhathewantedtohear.

“You’re a funny guy.” And if she hadn’t been, like, dying, she’d truss him up like a

Christmas turkey and have her wicked way with him. “But what I really want are

painkillersandahotlemonandhoneydrink.”

Ford’sfacefell.“What,now?”

“Youseriouslythinkwe’regoingtohavesexwhenIlooklikethis?”Shegesturedat

herself, taking in the finger-in-a-socket wild hair, a nose that was already looking

suspiciouslyred,andathinlineofewwwthatwasstartingtoleakfromherrightnostril.

Fordrolledontohishandsandkneesandcrawledpanther-likeacrossthebedtoplanta

soft kiss on her forehead. “You’re the most beautiful plague victim I’ve ever seen.” He

grinnedather.“I’llgograbpillsandyourdrinkbeforeyouripmynutsoff,eh?”

“You’realsoasensibleguy.”

Heheadedforthebedroomdoor.

“Ford?”shecalled.

“Yeah,babe?”

Stillbucknaked,heturnedbacktoher,andforacoupleofbeatssheforgotwhatshe’d

beenabouttosay.

“Um.Putonarobe,okay?”

“Aw,youdocare,”hesaid.

“Shutup.AndFord?”Herstomachgaveasharptwingeandsheblinkedbackthehot

prickleinthecornerofhereyes.Stupidsinuses.SowhatifitwastheirfirstChristmasasa

marriedcoupleandthey’dbeforcedtospenditinisolationfromfriendsandfamily?

“Yeah, babe?” Ford’s voice softened, his gaze skimming over her in concern. “What

canIgetyou?”

Allteasingaside,sheknewhe’dmoveheavenandearthtotakecareofherwhileshe

wassick.

“Nothing.I—”Shefannedherflushedfacethenswipedawayanerranttear.“Wecan’t

riskCarterorTāneoryourparentscatchingthis.Maybeweshouldstayhometoday.”She

sniffed.“I’msorry.”

Fordsworeunderhisbreathandwasatherbedsideinthreelongstrides.Hecupped

herfaceinbothhisbighandsandkissedhersquarelyonthemouth.

“Don’tapologize,”hesaidwhenhefinallybrokethekiss.

Wow—what little breath she’d managed to draw into her aching chest evaporated in

puresteamafterthatkiss.

“Ihaveanidea.Waitthere.”

Likeshehadthestrengthinherkiss-jelliedlegstogoanywhere.Butshenodded.

Ford left the room and she snuggled under the covers again. She must’ve dozed off,

because one moment there was only whitewashed ceiling above her, and then the next,

whensheopenedhereyes,adisposablepaperfacemaskwithawonkilydrawntoothygrin

hoveredaboveher.

Whatthe…

Hollysatboltupright,nearlyhead-buttingherface-mask-wearingman.“Ford!”

“Don’t you mean Santa?” he asked and pulled off the mask. “I drew a beard and

everything.”

“It’sdownrightterrifying.”

Helaughedandpulledsomethingfrombehindhisback—anothermask.Thisonewith

awidesmilethatfeaturedsharp,pointyteeth.

“Whatinthehellisthat?”

He rolled a shoulder and passed it over. “That’s your Santa’s elf mask. I figured we

couldseethefamilyforalittlewhileifyou’reuptoit—justlongenoughtoseethekids

opentheirpresentsfromusandMumandDad—andwe’dwearthemaskstomakesureno

oneelsegetssick.”Heangledhisjawathernightstand.“Imadeyourlemonandhoney

drink,andbroughtyoupainkillers.”

Heuntiedhisrobeinamovetolikelyclimbbackintobed.

“Wait!”shesaid.“BeforeIsharethecoverswithyouagainandletyoukeepmewarm,

Ineedonemorething.”

Fordwaggledhiseyebrows.

“Notthat,Sweets,”sheadded.“Twonewpapermasksandsomepens.Ilovemytwo

nephewstoomuchtotraumatizethemforlife.”

CHAPTER18

mancouldhopeonce his kids reached the age of not believing in Santa, they’d

sleepinalittleonChristmasmorning.Amanwouldbewrong—especiallyifthe

kidsinquestionwereZoeandJade.Theinseparableduomusthavesomehowrecharged

eachother’sbatteriesduring the nighttime hours, and, as if on a timer, they pounded on

BenandKezia’sbedroomdoorat6:30a.m.Atleast,Benthoughtthedigitonhiswatch

wasasixandnotaneight.Itwashardtotellwithonlyoneeyecrackedopen.

“Areyoutwodecent?”Zoeyelledthroughthedoor.

Benrolledovertofacehisbeautifulbride,orwhathecouldseeofheramongthehalo

ofdarkcurlsspillingoverherface.Underthecovers,heskimmedahanddownherarm,

over her hip, and rested it on her flannel-covered stomach. God knew the woman could

makepenguin-printedpajamasassexyasalacynegligee.

“Arewedecent,honey?”hewhispered,brushingthecurlsbackfromherface.“Iguess

we must be since we found the energy to cover our nakedness sometime in the wee

hours.”

Onefeminineeyeslittedopenandmomentslaterahandsnuckacrossthesheetstocup

him through his pajama bottoms. She made a croaky sound that could have meant any

numberofwittycomebacks,buthewaskindapartialtotheoneshewasmakingnow.

“Hellooo?” Jade’s voice came from floor level and drifted under the door. “I know

you’reawakeinthere.IheardDadtalking.”

Ben grinned at his sleepy wife and stilled her hand. She’d near exhausted him last

night,butthatwasn’tgoingtostoppartsofhisanatomythinkingallitsChristmaseshad

comeatonce.

“We’reawake,”hecalled.“Youcancomein.”

Whoops,barks,andZoe,Jade,andSparkyburstintotheirroom.ZoeandJadetumbled

onto the bed with their Santa sacks. Even though they were ‘too old’ for them, the girls

hadinsistedonputtingthemoutjustincase.Sparkydancedaroundbarkingandtryingto

findaspotclearofhumanstolaunchherlittlebodyupontothebed.Withaheartfeltsigh,

Bendrapedanarmoverthebededgeandscoopedthelittledogupintothecenterofthe

action. He set Sparky on the bed and got a paw to the groin for his trouble as she

scamperedupthecoverstolickhischin.

Besidehim,Keziahadsatuptoreceivehermorninghugsfromthegirls.

“Aw,”shesaid,slantinghimaglance.“WeallknowwhoSparky’sfavoritechewtoy

is,don’twe?”

Zoe crawled between Ben and Kezia, settling herself against the headboard. “She

lurrrvsyou,Dad.”

Jade giggled and joined her, squeezing between Zoe and Kezia. “Almost as much as

Mamadoes.”

“Seriously ruining my tough-guy reputation, ladies,” Ben said, further blowing his

image by allowing Sparky do her three times around before settling on his lap routine.

“Howaboutyouopensomepresents?”

Tenminuteslatertheirbedwascoveredinaruinofwrappingpaper,muchtoSparky’s

delight. Ben made the appropriate positive grunts over the girls’ Santa presents of what

seemed to be six dozen pairs of socks and brightly colored hair ties, plus various other

stuffwhichhe’dendupsteppingoninthemiddleofthenight.Heflickedbackthecovers

andgotup,reachingforhisrobe.

“Comeon,we’llstartonbreakfastwhileyourmamamakesherselfbeautiful.”

“Mamaisalreadybeautiful,”Jadesaidloyally.

“Can’tweopenthepresentsunderthetreeandthenmakebreakfast?”Zoewheedled.

Likehewasgoingtofallforthatone.Oncetheygottothepresentsunderthetreethe

girlswouldbetooexcitedtoeat.

“Nope,” he said. “Breakfast first, presents after we’ve eaten and loaded the

dishwasher.”Listentohim,Mr.Domesticity.

The girls groaned but stuffed their presents back into their Santa sacks and lugged

themoutofthebedroom.

“Areyouokay?”heaskedoncetheywereoutofearshot.

Kezia slanted him a glance under her lashes, then her gaze flicked to her nightstand

drawer. “I’m fine. Just distract the girls and give me a few minutes alone with my

emergencysuppliesandI’llberightwithyou.”

Hecrossedtothedoorway,thenturnedback.“Youarealreadybeautiful.”

Shesmiledathim,eventhough,ohdamn,shewaslookingalittlepale.“Hopingtoget

luckyagain,sailor?”

“I’mluckyalready.”Hesaiditinthesameteasingtone,buthemeanteverywordofit.

Luckydidn’tbegintodescribehowamazinghislifewasnowthatKezandthegirlswere

init.“I’llgomakeyousometoast.”

Breakfastoveranddonewith,BenandKeziasatintheirrobesaroundtheChristmas

treewiththegirls.Jadehadswitchedthetreelightsonandtheyflashedredandgreenover

thepilesofwrappedgifts—anotsoflatteringcolorpaletteforKeziawho,evenaftertoast

andteaforbreakfast,stilllookedalittledodgy.

Thegirlstorethroughtheirpresentsuntiltherewasonlyonelefteach—theoneshe’d

instructedthemtoleaveuntillast.

“Youhavetoopenthematexactlythesametime,”saidKezia.

Zoesqueezedthesmall,softpackage.“Ialreadyknowwhat’sinside.”Sherolledher

eyesatJade.“Dad’sgotusmatchingoutfitsorsomething,likewe’relittlekids.”

“Dad.”Jademanagedtostretchthewordouttotwoeye-rollingsyllables.

Benmockglaredatthem.“Justopenitalready.Ispenthourspickingtheseout.”

Withheartfeltsighs,ZoeandJaderippedintothereindeer-printedpaperandtwoitems

ofclothingdroppedontothegirls’laps.

JadeheldupasmallyellowT-shirt.“It’stoosmall.”

“Soismine.”Zoe’swasinpalegreen.

“Turnitaroundandreadwhatitsaysonthefront,”Keziasaid.

Thegirlsdid,withJade,whowasdyslexiclikehim,takingabeatlongerthanZoeto

makesenseofthetext.

“If you think I’m cute,” Jade read aloud, “you should see my big sisters.” Her nose

scrunchedup.“Huh?”

Next to her Zoe was still. Unnaturally still for a girl who didn’t stop bouncing,

skipping, dancing, or fidgeting. Ben’s stomach plummeted and he’d a fair idea of what

Kezhadbeengoingthroughthesepastfewweeks.

“Zoe?”heasked.“Areyouokay?”

Her eyes lifted from the pale green T-shirt clutched in her fists to him. “Does this

meanwe’regoingtohaveababybrotherorsister?”

Jade’s gaze zipped to his face before he could draw in breath to answer. “A baby?

We’rehavingababy?”

Ben shrugged. “Technically your mama’s having the baby, but yeah, we’re having a

baby.”

The girls forgot they were sophisticated tweens and squealed loud enough to send

everybirdinamileradiusintothecloudlessblueskythat’ddawnedthismorning.Then

they both launched themselves at Kezia, hugging her until she laughed and begged for

mercy.

“Youhavetohaveaboy.”JadetuckedherselfclosetoKezia’sside.“It’sonlyfairthat

Daddoesn’thaveanothergirlinthefamily.”

“Nothingwrongwithgirls,”Bensaid.“Butaboywouldmakeustwotothree.”

“Twotofour,”saidZoe.“Sparky’spartofthefamily.”

Sparkywoofedinagreement.

Kezia’s eyes sparkled in the fairy lights as she wrapped her arms around the girls

sittingeither side ofher. She dippedher head. “You know,there is achance that in five

months’timewegirlscouldoutnumberyourdadsixtoone.”

Thistimebothgirls’nosescrinkledastheysaid,“Huh?”

Kezshruggedandangledherheadtowardhim.ZoeandJade’sslightlyfrowningfaces

turnedinhisdirectionandhecouldn’tpreventthebiggest,widestsmilefromburstingout

onhisface.

“MerryChristmas,girls.We’rehavingtwins—yougetababybrotherorsistereach,”

he said. Seconds later two girls and a dog launched themselves at him and covered him

withkisses.

CHAPTER19

ndoorcampingprovednottobeoneofHarley’sbetterideas.Hewoke,crickin

neck,numbinass,andhavingagedfortyyearstoacrankyoldman.Camping

or glamping was for young bucks, or at least fully grown men who didn’t have a fully

grownwomanusingthemasamattressformostofthenight.

HarleywinceddefensivelyasBree,drapedmostlyontopofhim,stirredinhersleep

and almost kneed him in the nuts. Not her fault since they were jammed together in the

zipped-up sleeping bag with very little wriggle room. Shit. It’d sounded a lot more

romanticthanitactuallywas.

He stared up at the roof of the tent in the dim early morning light and felt a smile

tugging at the corner of his mouth. She’d been a good sport about his crazy idea of

campingindoors,throwingherselfintoplayingwiththesandtoyswithTāneandtoasting

marshmallows with Carter. Then giggling like a teenager as the two of them wedged

themselves into the sleeping bag and tried to find a comfortable position on the wooden

floor.

Which,trusthim,wasvirtuallyimpossible.

Hestrokedahanddownthecurveofherspineandcuppedafirmbuttcheekencased

in thin pajama bottoms. She murmured in her sleep, her fingers tightening on his biceps

where they rested. Was she dreaming of him? After months of married life, of him

unintentionally—andokay,sometimesintentionally—doinglittlemalethingslikeflipping

thetoiletrolltooverwhenBreeinsistedunderwascorrect…washestilltheheroofher

dreams?

Orhadsomesmooth-talking,designer-stubbledactorwhodidn’tchallengeherabout,

well,almosteverythingreplacedhiminhernocturnaladventures?

Hismates,otherthanWest,didn’tunderstandwhathavingababymeanttoacouple.

Yeah, Ben had the two girls, but they didn’t require twenty-four-hour supervision. West

gotpartofit.Holdingyourchildforthefirsttimechangedaman—changedarelationship

—atacellularlevel.ButWestdidn’thavethesortofchildhoodthatHarleyandFordhad

survived. He wouldn’t have experienced that gut-wrenching doubt that he’d somehow

screw up such perfect innocence. The fear that overtook him the first night that Tāne

wouldn’tbecomfortedandscreamedatanunbearabledecibelforoveranhour.

Heblewoutalongsigh.Everytimehethoughthe’dgottenagriponthisparenthood

thing,somethinghappenedtoyanktherugoutfromunderhim.Butit’dbeenahellofa

ridesharingitwiththeamazingwomancurledaroundhim.

Through the nylon sides of his tent, Harley heard the familiar grizzling whimpers of

Tānewaking.Forthefirstfewweeksafterhewasborn,Harleyhadbarelyslept—andnot

becausethebabywokehimwithhisregularfeedingtimes.Nightafternighthe’drisento

check on his sleeping son, marveling, heart in his throat, that he and Bree had created

someonesoperfect.

Although his kid, by the very fact of being born a Komeke, could also be a perfect

paininthebutt.

Harleyunzippedthesideofthesleepingbagwithonehandandmanagedtoeaseout

from under Bree without waking her. He slipped out of their tent and into the kids’,

grinning at Carter who was curled on one side like a prawn holding the edges of the

sleepingbagtightaroundhisheadandneck.Theboylookedlikeacrossbetweenaturtle

andaJediknight.

WithCarterstill fastasleep,Harley crawledfartherinto thetentandpeeredoverthe

top of the portable crib. Two wide-open brown eyes stared back at him. The grizzles

immediatelyceasedandtheKomekegrinspreadfromeartoearonhisboy’sface.

“Morena,son,”Harleywhispered.“Timeforbreakfast,eh?”

Tāne gurgled and kicked his legs under the blanket. The boy was gonna have strong

kickinglegswhenhegotolder,andhisUncleFordhadalreadyenvisionedhimplayingin

the kids’ rugby team he coached. Though, considering his boy’s skill at smearing food

overhishighchair,maybehehadmoreofHarley’sartistictalent.

Hescoopedthebabyupinhisarmsandheldhimclosetohischestashebackedoutof

thetent.TānelatchedontoHarley’shairandyanked.

“Mate,maybeSantaleftmeatoupeeunderthetreesoyoucanpullmyhairtoyour

heart’scontent.”

Tānejustgaveadelightfulbellylaughandyankedagain.Harleyrolledontohisback

andliftedhissonintotheairabovehim,wincingashisscalpborethebruntofthemove.

“Areyougoingtobeoneofthoseboyswhopullgirls’hairtoshowtheylikethem?”

Tānegurgledaroundthefisthenowsuckedon,hislittleonesie-coveredlegskicking.

“We’lladdressthatwhenyougetalittleolder,eh?”

Harleyrolledhisheadsidewaystothemorningsunlightstreamingthroughthestudio’s

picturewindows.BaublesontheChristmastreesparkedredandgreenfireandthetinsel

wasalmostblinding.Beneaththetreewereneatlywrappedgifts—courtesyofBreewhose

gift-wrappingskillswerebadass—oneofthemforCartercontainingasetofclueswhich

would eventually lead to the four-wheeler junior quad bike stashed in Ford’s garage. He

grinned, picturing Carter’s face when he and his two ‘uncles’ took him for a ride with

themontheirbikes.Andthen,whenTānewasalittleolder…

Tāne’s fist slipped out of his mouth with a pop and that sound was followed by the

well-rehearsedwhere’smybreakfast?grizzle.

“Hungry,littleone?”

HereturnedtohistenttofindBreehadwokenupandwassittingcross-leggedinside

the sleeping bag with it draped over her head—like mother, like older son. She slitted a

sleepy-eyedglanceatthem.

“Whattimeisit?”

“Boobtime,”hesaid.

“AlwaysthesamewithyouKomekemales.”Shegavehimasaucysmileassheheld

outherhandsforthebaby.

“We’vegotgoodtaste.”HeplacedTāneintoherarms,hisstomachandchestgiving

thefamiliarwarmsqueezeatthesightofhisbeautifulwifenursingtheirbeautifulson.

Once the baby was settled, Harley cupped Bree’s jaw and leaned in for an extended

good morning kiss. He eventually drew back when Tāne, sandwiched between them,

discovered his dad’s chest hairs. In the tent next to them came the rustling sounds of

Carter waking up. His artist’s eye skimmed over Bree’s mussed hair peeping out of the

sleepingbag,thepeaceandlovesmoothingherfeaturesassheglancedfromhimtotheir

baby.ShereallywasPapatūānukunourishingthefirstman,Tāne.

Hergazeflickeduptohisagain,thistimenarrowedwithsuspicion.

“You’rethinkingaboutpaintingme,aren’tyou?”

His woman knew him far too well. He pulled a who me? face and sat beside her,

droppingakissonhertemple.“Icanneitherconfirmnordeny.”

“Fine.”Shesniffed.“Butnoboobsinyourpainting.It’sbadenougheveryonethinks

they’veseenmenakedthankstothewomaninredpainting.”

Hechuckled.“Youlookparticularlysexyrenderedinoils.”

“Yeah,yeah,”shesaid.“You’reluckyIloveyou.”

Hewas.So,soluckyshelovedhim.Heslippedanarmaroundhershoulderandshe

leanedintohim.

“Iloveyou,too,”Harleywhispered.“MeriKirihimete,baby.”

CHAPTER20

nemoresmart-assquipabouthersweetpotatoesandShayewasgoingtocarve

herhusbandanewjack-o’-lanternsmileeventhoughitwasn’tHalloween.

Shecheckedagainonhersweetpotatocasserolewithpecantopping—recipecourtesy

ofDel’smum.Delinsisted on calling it a “diabetic kumara coma.” Next to it, in one of

Oban’s community hall kitchen ovens, was a tray of boring roasted pumpkin, kumara,

parsnips,andpotatoes—oneofDel’sunoriginalsidedishes.Shayesniffedandclosedthe

ovendoor.Somechefspreferredtodosomethingalittlespecialfortheirfriends,family,

andcommunityonChristmasDay.

Oneofthemanydifferencesofopinionthey’dseemedtobehavingtoday.

She slanted a glance across the community kitchen to where Del stood at a counter,

carving up one of the legs of lamb brought in by the Komekes, dug out of their hangi

twentyminutesago.HebarkedordersatRobnexttohimwhowasmakingshortworkof

fillingaplatterofperfectlycookedporkloin.Robgavehimawarningglancewhichsaid

I’ve been carving hangi meat since before you could piss in a pot, but Del apparently

didn’tnotice.

“Lani and Zach—get the cold salads set up on the buffet,” Del yelled through the

serverywindowtowheretheduoleanedagainstthewall,deepinconversation.

LaniarchedanindignanteyebrowatDel,andZachfoldedhisarmsandsaid,“Really,

dude?Howaboutapleaseandthankyou?”

“Now,Goldilocks.”

Zach flipped him the bird but sauntered over to the servery to load up with salad

bowls.

Somebodyneededtoremindherhusbandthatthiswasafuncommunityget-together

tocelebratetheholidays.Inotherwords,Delneededtolightenthehellup,andshewas

thatsomebodytoremindhim.

“Hey!Hollywood.”

She stalked over to tap him on the shoulder when he didn’t turn around. Muscles

bunched under his chef’s jacket—the one he’d insisted on wearing today, even though,

hello,ChristmasDay,andtheyweren’tofficiallyworking.

Hisheadjerkedtowardher.“Littlebusyhere.”

Shayelaidapalmoverhis,stillingtheknifeinhishands.Shecranedaroundhimto

smileatRob.“ThinkyoucancopewithoutthisGordonRamsaywannabeforabit?”

Robchuckled.“Yeah.Goeasyonhim,sweetheart.”

Del’snormallykissablemouthpuckeredintoapout—notthathe’dadmithewasdoing

anythingresemblingagirlishsulk.“ButI’m—”

“Tough,chef.You’recomingwithmetoinspectthedesserts.”

Hemutteredsomethingunderhisbreaththatwould’vecosthimatwo-dollardonation

to Due South’s kitchen swear jar, but set down his knife. “Please tell me you didn’t let

Denise anywhere near my pavlovas—you remember what Holly’s bridal shower cake

lookedlike.”

Theinfamouszombiepeniscakewhichwasmeanttolooklikeametalwrench.Yep,

Shayeremembered.

“Iheardthat,boy,”DenisesaidfromtheserverywhereshewashelpingLaniandZach

transferfoodtothebigbuffettablessetupalongthefrontofthehall.

DelblewherakissthenfollowedShayeovertothecounterwhereshe’dbeenadding

thefinaltouchestothedessertdishes.Thankstoeveryonecontributing,theyhadbowlsof

trifle, Mrs. T’s famous fruit cake, fresh fruit salad, struffoli napoletani from Kezia, and

enoughbrandysnapshellsreadytofillwithwhippedcreamtofeedanyarmy.Oneofher

andDel’smanyculinarydiscussionsthisafternooninvolvedDel’sneedforeverythingto

run as if they were on dinner service. Only, as Shaye had pointed out repeatedly, they

weren’t on a service; they were supposed to be delegating to friends and family so that

theycouldenjoytheirChristmasdinner,too.

Earlier,he’dpulledthehead-chefcardonmakingafreshbatchofhotcustardforthe

plumpudding,andshe’dconceded.Microwavedcustardwasgross.Butwhenitcameto

whipping the cream for his precious pavlovas and decorating them with intricately cut

slices of kiwifruit and strawberries, Shaye had put her foot down. Preparing the damn

pavlovas could be handled by someone else, because the two of them had been at the

community hall since they’d finished breakfast at her mum’s place at ten. Shaye had

barelyhadtimetohelpMichaelaunwrapthedarlinglittleteasetshe’dboughtherniece

forChristmaswhenDelstartedmakingweshouldgetgoingnoises.

Delcastacriticaleyeovertherowsoffilledbrandysnapsandtheleftoverbigmixing

bowl of whipped cream. Shaye planned to cover the remaining cream with plastic wrap

andleaveitintherefrigeratoruntilitwastimetodecoratethesixperfectlyrisen,crisp-

shelledpavlovaswaitingonservingdishes.

“ThoughtIaskedyoutowaituntilafterdinnertowhipthecream?”Delaskedmildly.

“RememberthepartwhenItoldyouwhereyoucouldstickacoupleofthosebrandy

snaps?”sherepliedjustasmildly.“Imadeanexecutivedecision.”

HesnortedandbrushedpastShayetocloserinspectapavlova—oneshe’daccidentally

bumped and a chunk of glossy white meringue had broken off. The pouty mouth turned

intoafrown,buthe’dlearnedsomethinginthetimehe’dbeensharingherbed.Heroseto

hisfullheight,leanedajeans-cladhipagainstthecounter,kepthissexy-as-sinlipssealed,

andadoptedhisI’mchillwiththisface.

Liar,liar,pantsonfire.

Shaye faced him, leaned her pretty-red-party-dress-covered-by-an-apron hip against

thecounterafootfromhis,andbrokeoffasizeablechunkofmeringue—fromoneofthe

perfect, unbroken pavlovas. Del’s gaze wrenched sideways and down, then tracked her

hand as it lifted the sugary sweetness to her mouth. She licked the crisp white shell of

sugar,thenpoppeditintohermouthandcrunched.Ahalf-fake,half-realorgasmicmoan

slippedfrombetweenherlips.

Del froze and she watched him between lowered eyelashes. About to turn into the

IncredibleHulkchef?Orabouttodragherintothecommunityhall’sjanitor’sroomand

teachheralesson?Shayescrapedherteethlightlyoverherbottomlip;thesecondoption

wasveryappealing.

“Shaye?”

“Uh-huh?” she murmured and reached for another chunk of meringue—this one she

generouslyplannedtosharewithhim.

Del’shandshotoutandlightlygrippedherwristbeforeshecouldtouchit.“You’llruin

yourappetitebeforedinner.”

She poked her tongue out at him. “There’s nothing wrong with my appetite. And

there’splentyofpavs.NoonewillnoticeifInibbleawayjustalittlebitmore.”

Amusclejumped in his jaw and she had to bite the inside of her cheek to prevent a

smile.

“No one will notice if a couple of them are a little lopsided,” she added, pouring

gasolineontothefire.

“Shaye.”

She ignored the warning in his tone and swayed closer to him, popping open the

buttonsonhischefjacket.Oncetheywereundone,shepushedasidethejacketandranher

fingersoverasnugT-shirt.Lotsofyummymusclesbumpedunderherfingertipsasthey

made their way up to Del’s nape, where she gripped a fistful of his hair. His blue eyes

darkenedunderthebrightkitchenlightsandhefinallygotwiththeprogrambygripping

herhipandreelinghertherestofthewayinsoshewassnuggedupflushagainsthim.

“Chef?”shewhispered,hermouthlightlypressedtothewarmskinofhisthroat.

HisAdam’sapplebobbed.“Uh-huh?”

“We’redoingdessertmyway,okay?”Shenudgedherpelvisforward,justtogivehim

ateensyreminderofwhowasreallyincharge.

Therecamearaggedinhalerightbyherleftear.

“Okay,”hesaid.“Youwin.”

“OfcourseIdo.”Sheroseontiptoeandnibbledherwayuphisjawline,stillpricklyas

he’dforgottentoshavebeforetheylefthomethatmorning.Justthewayshelikedhim—a

little bit roughed up, a little bit off his game. Her perfect man not so perfect, but still

perfectforher.

Hesuckedinanotherbreathandthehandonherhipclenchedafractiontighter.She

arched back a little so she could see the blissful smile on her husband’s beautiful face.

Lock,stock,andbarrel,shehadhimexactlywhereshewanted.

“GivemeaChristmaskissandIpromisenottoeatanymoreofyourpreciouspavs.”

Sheclosedhereyesandpuckeredup.

“You’vegotbiggerballsthanme,son.”Bill’svoiceyelledfromtheothersideofthe

kitchen.“Duck,everyone!”

Huh?

Shaye’seyespoppedopen.InsteadofDel’smouthinchesawayfromhers,therewas

only white. Well, cream, to be precise. Three finger-laden blobs of soft, whipped cream

smearing over her lips. She choked on a gasp, her spine stiffening as she released the

fistful of Del’s hair and thumped his shoulder. He grinned down at her, and before she

couldpullawayandlungeforabrandysnaptouseasajavelin,hedippedhishead.

“MerryChristmas,Cupcake.”

Thenhekissedheruntiltherewasn’tatraceofsweetnessleftoneitherofthem.

CHAPTER21

estadjustedhispurplepapercrownandtookaseatnexttoMrs.Tatoneof

the community hall’s tables. Above them twinkled strands of fairy lights

andglitteryfakeiciclesthatheandtheguyshadspenthoursstringingup.Inawell-oiled

team, West and his brother, along with Kip and a few other able-bodied locals, had

transformed the hall into a winter wonderland, while the women had set out tables and

beautifiedthemwithtealightcandlesandotherglittery,baublystuff.

“Youlookridiculous,Ryan.”Mrs.Tthumpedoneofhercanesforemphasis.

He draped an arm casually on the back of her chair and angled his chin. “You’re

jealousbecauseIgotthepurplepartycrownandyou’restuckwithayellowone.Itmakes

youlookjaundiced.”

“Rudeboy.”Shesniffed.“Whereareyourmanners?”

“Youknowyouloveme.”Hegrinnedatherandsherolledhereyes.

“Youalwaysweremyfavorite.”Mrs.Tsetdownhercaneandpattedhisknee,leaving

herhandthereandslantinghimaside-eyetoseeifhe’dreact.

West laid his palm over her wrinkled hand, reassured by her warm skin and the

strength that was still contained in her fingers. Though she could be a pain in the ass at

times, she was as much a part of the history of Oban as Due South was. Five years ago

you could’ve stuck splinters under his fingernails and he still wouldn’t have admitted it,

butnow…

“Andyouwerealwaysmine,”hesaid.“Wherewouldweallbewithoutyou,Betsy?”

Hercheekspinkenedandshewavedabejeweledhandathim.“Getawaywithyou.”

“It’strue.”WestshiftedinhischairsohecouldseethetablenexttothemwhereHolly

andFordsatwithpapermasksovertheirfaces.FordgentlyshoulderbumpedHollyand

said something that made her laugh. “Take Ford and Holly; a masterpiece in

manipulation.”

“Well, that’s true,” she said, “though really I was just pointing out the obvious; that

they’dalwaysbeenrightforeachother.”

“Andoppositethem,JoeandMacKenna.”

Mrs. T pursed her lips and nodded. “Quite inspired I was with those two, I’ll admit.

Youknow,theyaskedmetoreadapoemattheirweddinginFebruary.”

“Really?You’renotgoingtorecitethatdirtylimerickIheardyouquotingafteryou’d

hadonetoomanyginsatthepubafewweeksback,areyou?”

“I might.” She grinned her sharklike grin. “People forgive an awful lot when they

thinkyou’reanuttyoldbat.”

“Joe’llhaveNoaharrestyou.”

“Noah’s welcome to arrest me anytime. He’s on my hit list, in case you haven’t

guessed.”

Westchuckled.“Goodluckwiththatone.Theman’sanimpenetrablestronghold.”

“Bollocks.” Mrs. T folded her arms and tilted her chin toward the kitchen. “That’s

whatyourlittlebrotherthoughtwhenhecameback,butwesoonshowedhim,didn’twe?”

ThroughtheserveryareaDelandShayewerearguingoveratrayofsomething—his

brotherskatingonthinicebysmilinghiscockysmileathiswifewhoresortedtopoking

himinthechestwithafingertomakeapoint.

“Shayeshowedhim,”hesaid.

“Shedid,andshe’sstillshowinghimbythelookofit.”

Westleanedbackonhischairandliftedhischinasagesturetothetablebehindthem

where Ben, Kezia, and the girls sat. “And what about Ben, speaking of favorites? You

createdyourinfamousbachelorauctiontosavehisass.”

“Wasn’tthatfun?”Mrs.Trubbedherhands.“I’mthinkingoforganizinganotherone

sometimesoon.”

Hesnorted.“BachelorsareadyingbreedinOban,thankstoyou.”

“Hmmm.That’strue.Andsincewelostourbiggestdrawcardtoyoursister…”

“Hey—IthoughtIwasyourbiggestdrawcard,notKip.”Heshotaglanceacrossthe

roomtowherehisbartenderandfriendwashavinganintensediscussionwithFord.Ford

andHollyhadbeenassignedtopartyDJstokeeptheirgerm-riddenselvesawayfromthe

generalpopulation.

“You keep thinking that, dearie.” Mrs. T grinned in the direction of Carly, who had

turned in her chair to watch Kip with a dreamy smile on her face. “Another one of my

successes.”

“Who,CarlyandKip?”

“Irentedhermylittlestudioapartment,remember?AndwhowasitthatletKipinto

thatapartmenttoputupChristmasdecorationswhileshewasout?”

Westgrinned.“Sohecouldgrovellikeamadbastardforherforgiveness?”

Mrs. T narrowed her eyes at him. “Seem to recall you doing a bit of groveling for

forgivenessyourself,youngman.”

“Won’tbethelasttime,”hesaid.

“Iexpectnot.”Herfrowntransformedintoasweetsmile,completelyunlikeherusual

toothy grin. “But making up with the person you love after a quarrel can lead to some

spectacularsex.”

Sweetsmile,hisass.

West burst out laughing. When he finally got a hold of himself, his gut aching, he

leanedoverandkissedhercheek.“MerryChristmas,Mrs.T.Don’teverchange.”

CHAPTER22

he thing about hosting a family Christmas was it was your responsibility to

makesureyourguestshadagoodtimeonthebigday.Sofar,Joethoughthe’d

beendoingabang-upjob.

He’dmanagedasmileand“MerryChristmas”whenKerryhadbangedontheirdoorat

sixthirtyinthemorningwantingtoopenpresentslikeanoverexcitedthree-year-old.He’d

bitten his tongue after Aaron had volunteered the two of them to help lay down the

Komekes’ hangi. He’d kept the conversation jovial while making the four of them a

traditional Irish breakfast, even though Mac still refused to eat black pudding. And he’d

evenjoinedinagameofcricketonthebeachthatafternoonsincethewindhaddropped

overnightandgiftedtheislanderswithagrandsummer’sday.

Buthereatthecommunityhall,withMacKennawearinganewoff-the-shoulderwhite

dress with the jade pendant he’d got her for Christmas emphasizing what a bloody fine

rackshehad,beingresponsibleforAaronandKerry’sgoodtimehadbecomeharderand

harder.Ashadhe…

Joeshiftedagainononeoftheuncomfortableplasticchairssetoutinthehall,grateful

forthewhitetableclothcoveringhisdiscomfort.Macsatbesidehim,herhandrestingon

histhigh,buthalfturnedawayfromhimasshewasdeepinconversationwithhissister.

KeepinghisgazewellawayfromthetemptingswellofMac’sbreasts—oneofmany

height advantages of having a petite fiancée—Joe scanned the room to see where his

brother-in-lawhadendedup.AaronhadbeenacceptedintotheKomekes’whānauasifhe

werejustanotherextendedfamilymember.ThetwinsandRobhadstartedraggingonhim

asif he were,so Joe wasn’tsurprised to see him,Harley, and Carterclustered in the far

cornerofthehallbyaportablebabypen.

From inside the pen came a sharp little yip—one of West’s and Piper’s puppies

must’vewokenfromtheirnap.West,thebigsoftie,couldn’tbeartoleavethemathome

aloneallday,andsohadsetupatemporarypuppydaycareinthehall.Adaycarethathad

provedverypopularwithkidsandadultsalike.

God bless Dallas’s and Moe’s cuteness factor. He craned around MacKenna to catch

Kerry’seye.

“Thepuppiesareawake.You’dbettergonowifyouwantacuddlebeforethelinegets

toolong.”

“Oooh.”Kerry’seyeslitup.“Youwanttocome,too,Mac?”

BeforeMaccouldruinhissuddeninspiringplan,heleanedtowardhersoherhandslid

uphisthighandbumpedintohisgroin.Herheadwhippedaroundandhegrinnedather.

“Um,”shesaid.“I’mallergictodogs.”

“Isthatright?”ThecornerofKerry’smouthtwitchedup.“DevelopedsuddenlysinceI

lastsawyoulovin’uponourneighbor’sretrieverswhenyouwerevisitingawhileback?”

“Suddenonsetallergies,”Joesaidstraight-faced,stillingMac’shandwhichhadgotten

allsortsofideasandstartedtowander.“Ifnottreatedimmediatelytheconsequencestend

tobedire.”

Kerry’ssmilewasknifesharpbutfullofaffection.“You’dbetterslipoutthebackand

checkMachasn’tbrokenoutinhivessomeplacemostuncomfortable.”

Hetuggedthetailsofhisbutton-downshirtoutofhispantsandletthemdrapeover

hisgroin.Hestood,pressedaquickkisstoKerry’sforeheadwithamuttered,“Oweyou

one,” and tugged Mac to her feet. She giggled and linked their hands. For a woman

wearingadangerouslyhighpairofheels,sheplowedarapidpaththroughthelocalstothe

endofthehall.

“I know just where I can check you for hives.” Joe led her down the short corridor

leadingtothejanitor’sroom.

They reached the storeroom door and Joe couldn’t wait any longer—he spun Mac

around and pinned her lush body to the wall, each and every one of her curves playing

havocwithhisrestraint. Cupping her face in his palms, he bent and took her mouth. To

hell with the pretty red lipstick she’d only just applied after dinner, because every time

he’dglancedathisfiancée’smouthhe’dimaginedthosecherryredlipsaroundhis…

Joe groaned, freeing a hand from her face and fumbling with the storeroom’s door

handle.Whichwouldn’tturn.Atall.

He broke the kiss with a sound closer to a sob than a growl, and glared at the metal

handle—asifsheerwillalonewouldunlockit.Stupideejit.Ofcoursethejanitor’sroom

would be locked when there were children roaming around who could accidentally gain

accesstothechemicalsandcleaningproductsinside.

Maclookedathimwithhoodedeyesandaslightlypuffymouthfromhiskisses.His

damncocknearlystormedthedoorlikeabatteringram.

Shite!

Hismindscrambledtoclearitselfofabouttogetluckyhormoneoverloadsohecould

formulateawaytohuntdownsomeonewithaccesstothecommunityhall’sofficewhere

thejanitor’skeywaskept.

High-pitchedbarking,laughter,shouting,andthescreechofchairlegsdraggedonthe

woodenflooreruptedfromthehallbehindthem.

“Whatthehell?”Macsaid.

She pushed against his chest to back him up a step so she could see around him,

craningforwardjustastwopuppiesshotthroughthemainhalldoor—theoneMacandJoe

obviouslyhadn’tshutproperlyafterthey’dleft.Thepups’pawsskiddedonthefloor,one

ofthemspectacularlyface-plantingandslidingsidewaysasheorshestruggledtocontinue

withtheirescapeplan.Asecondlaterthehall’sdoubledoorsblastedwideopen.Zoeand

Jadewerethefirstintothefoyer,followedcloselybyCarterandHarley,withAaronanda

clusterofotherlocalsbringinguptherearguard.

BeforeJoecoulddragMacoutofthesidedoorsandawayfromthechaos,thepuppies’

beadylittleeyesspottedthemfrozenattheendofthecorridor.Withexcitedyips,thetwo

dogsmadeabeelineforthem.

“I’ll get the ringleader. You grab the chubby one.” Mac ducked under his arm and

assumedastancesimilartoarugbyplayerabouttoenterascrum.

“They’re both bloody chubby,” Joe said, but lunged at the nearest Houdini pup and

snatchedupthewriggling,lickingballoffur.

Quicklysurroundedbycooingandlaughinglocals,Joecouldn’tdoanythingbutgood-

naturedlysmileandaccepttheapprovalforsavingChristmasbyrecapturingtherunaways.

HarleyandAaronclaimedapupeach,withAarongivingJoeandMac’sdishevelmentan

amusedside-eye.

Thecorridoremptiedoutasthecallfordessertcameoverthehall’ssoundsystem.

“Notgotasweettooth,Doc?”

Joe’s gaze zipped to Kip who still remained in the corridor, leaning against the wall

with a knowing smirk on his face. Joe grunted a noncommittal reply, since all his

brainpower had been used up fielding the hundred and one questions from Zoe about

puppyanatomyandbehaviourinthepasttwominutes.

“Maybe instead of dessert you’d prefer this?” Kip unfolded his crossed arms and

dangled a key chain from his finger. The key chain containing the key to the janitor’s

room.Joe’sheartbeattripled.“Howdidyou…”

Kip’s smirk transformed to an ear-to-ear smile. “I’ve some experience with the

janitor’s room around this time of year, and when I saw you two sneaking away…” He

pulledafaceandshrugged.

MacthrewherselfatKipandsnatchedthekeychainfromhim.Joealmostexpected

his fiancée to scale the big bartender to plant one on him in desperate appreciation. Of

course,Joewould’vehadtobeathisfriendsenseless…thenagain,hewastemptedtolaya

bigandjuicyoneonKiphimself.

“You’reafine,upstandingman,”JoesaidasMacshovedthekeyintothestoreroom

door.“AndI’llraiseaglasswithyoulater—muchlater.”

Kipchuckled.“DoIwinthebestwingmanoftheyearaward?”

Macgotthedoorunlockedandthrewitopen.ShesteppedinsideandoutofKip’sline

of sight, and tugged the dress farther down one slender shoulder to expose more of her

creamycleavage.

“You do,” Joe said. “Now in the nicest possible way, piss off, mate. I’m about to

unwrapthebestChristmaspresentever.”

CHAPTER23

etsyTaylor,MatchmakingQueenofStewartIsland,wouldn’tletalittlething

likeparanoiaruinChristmasDay.

Hellno,astheyoungsterssaid.

Eventhough,forthepasttwohourspresidingastheVIPofthecelebrationsatOban’s

communityhall,she’d been eyeing up every single male over the age of fifty. Of which

therewereafew.Shewasn’tdelusionalenoughtothinkshecouldinterestamanwhowas

underhalfherage,butthirtyyearsyounger?Eh.Strangerthingshadhappened.Justlook

atthatblondpopstarwhoonceuponatimeworeaconebraonstage—shemanagedto

scoreaboyfriendthirtyyearsherjunior.

Betsysnortedinto her glass of fruit punch. She wasn’t a pop star who could contort

her body into weird sexual positions. At least not anymore. And she certainly wasn’t

looking for a boyfriend at her age, now was she? She chuckled, set the glass down, and

gavetheemptychairbesideherasidewaysglance.

She’dalreadyhadvisitingchatsfromanumberofpotentialsecretadmirercandidates.

Laurie had sat a spell and promised her a nice fresh crayfish within the next week.

Possible,butnotlikely.Unlessthepoorfella’sideaofromancewasbringingawomana

bucketofsnappingcrustaceans.

OldSmittyhadstoppedbyandbroughtheraplateofpavlova,freshstrawberries,and

cream for dessert so she wouldn’t have to trouble herself to get up to the buffet tables.

Kindofhim,but—please,Lord—no.

Then there was Arnold Peterson, who trapped her with a monologue about his

digestiveproblems,LarryChapman,whocontinuallyfartedandblamedaninvisibledog,

and Sully, her friend’s husband, who complained about his wife’s knitting addiction—“I

countedtwenty-twoscarves,fourteenjerseys,twelvepairsofgloves,andtenkneerugs.Is

thewomanexpectingsnowageddonnextwinter?”Sullywasthebestofabadbunch,but

Betsy didn’t think he was looking for a little on the side considering June was always

complaining in return that her husband’s libido was probably stashed in the garden shed

underapileofpowertoolshedidn’treallyknowhowtouse.

“Isthischairtaken?”

Betsyjumpedatthesuddenappearanceofatannedhandonthebackoftheseatnext

to her. Her gaze flicked up from the hand to the purple, yellow, and mud-brown striped

hand-knitted cardigan behind it. Then farther up to Walter Nolan, his mouth set in an

unreadablestraightline.

“No.Noone’ssittinghere,sohelpyourself.”Shehadn’tmeanttosoundsuchanold

harridan, but she had three settings around Walter—tongue-tied, snippy old bat, or

babblingfool.

Oneofhisneatlytrimmedwhiteeyebrowsrose,almosttotheheightofhisbaldhead.

Hiseyes—stillasbrightandclearastheBlueLakeinNelsonwheresheandherhusband

hadspenttheirhoneymoon—seemedtostudyherfacewiththeconcentrationofasniper.

Oh,shewasalwayssounsettledaroundWalterNolan,andtheirsparseinteractionoverthe

yearshadmadeitclearthatshewasoneofhisleastfavoritepeople.

Wouldithurttheoldcodgertosmileonceinawhile?Herstomachtightenedarounda

littlepinchofhurt.Hedidsmile,justnotather.

Withoutaword,Waltereasedintothechairbesideher.Heshovedthetoo-longsleeves

of his cardigan up to his elbows and rested his forearms on the table. Betsy’s gaze was

drawndowntothesinewycordsofmuscleflexingbeneathsurprisinglysmoothskinfora

man in his seventies. While Walter walked with a cane, the old fella apparently hadn’t

beenneglectinghisupperbodystrength.

Theoldfellainquestionclearedhisthroat.Blast!She’dbeenstaringatWalter’sarm

likeamoony-eyedteenager.Eighty-plus-year-oldbraincellspanickingtofindsomething

charmingoratleastsensibletosay,Betsyopenedhermouth.

“Thatistheugliest,mostridiculouscardiganonGod’sgreenearth,”sheblurted.

Listentomeflapmylips.

The atomic blasts on Bikini Atoll in the forties were nothing compared to the heat

detonatinginhercheeks.HergazeflewtoWalter’sface,expectingtoseecoldderisionor

stiff insult. Instead, laughter lines creased the corner of his eyes and a deep belly laugh

emergedfrombetweenhislips.

“Itsureis,”hesaidbetweengustsoflaughter.“Myeldestgranddaughtersentitdown

forChristmas.”

“Poorlamb.Isshecolorblind?”

“Isuspectso.”Awide,fiercesmileflickeredoverWalter’smouth.

Oooh.Itwasaverynicesmile.Andthat,forsomereason,madethemusclesaround

her mouth contract upward in a returning smile. So she sat there grinning at him like a

numbskullwhilefolkshustledbackandforthmovingtablesandchairsoutofthewayto

makeaclearspacefordancing.Evenwithallthenoisegoingonaroundthem—including

youngZoeandJadeHarlandbeltingout“JingleBells”atthetopoftheirlungs—itfeltlike

abubbleofsilencedescendedaroundherandWalter.Abubblethatwasbothfamiliarand

strangeatthesametime.

Couldhebemysecretadmirer?

Pfffft. What a load of old nonsense, likely caused by the extra gin and tonic she’d

consumedduringthenibblesandpartygamesearlier.ItwasChristmasafterall.

Walter held up a finger then reached onto the empty seat on his other side, turning

backtoproduceasparklyfoil-wrappedChristmascracker.“I’vebeensavingthisonefor

you.”

Heheldoutoneendandshewrappedherfingersaroundit,quietlymortifiedthather

fingers were shaking. Silly old duck, she scolded herself. Get a grip, as the youngsters

said.

“Ready?”heasked.“Go.”

They both tugged at the same time and the cracker split in half with a loud pop.

Somethinginalittleorganzabagdroppedontothetable,followedbyaslipofpaperthat

fluttereddownbesideit.Raisedtoalwaysreadtheaccompanyingcardbeforeopeninga

gift,BetsyreachedforthepaperbutWalterstilledherhandwithhis.Thistimeherfingers

reallytrembledandherheartracedlikeshe’dbeenforcedtoclimbaflightofstairs.

“Openthebagfirst,”hesaid.

Shenodded,nottrustingherselftospeak.Sheslidherhandoutfromunderhiswarm

palm and untied the bag’s silk ribbon. Wrapped in a wisp of tissue paper were a pair of

delicateamethystearringsthatwinkedatherintheglowofstrungfairylightsabove.

“Oh,”shewhisperedinalittlevoice.

“Doyoulikethem?”

Forthefirsttimeinanyconversationshe’dhadwithhimovertheyears,shehearda

glimmer of nervous anticipation in his voice. He always seemed so confident and self-

assuredshejustassumedhe’dnointerestinlisteningtoherprattlingon.Butwhatifshe

waswrong?Whatifhisquietreservewasn’tdislikebutsimpleshyness?

“Oh,Walter.They’rebeautiful.Fartoobeautifulforthelikesofme.”

Hechuckled.“Codswallop.They’reperfectforyou.”

“Justlikealltheothergiftsyouleftme?”sheasked.

But Walter merely smiled and unbuttoned the top three buttons of his ugly cardigan.

DearLord—Betsy’spulseracedevenfaster—hewasn’tgoingtodoaMagicMikeforher,

washe?Fortunatelyhedidn’tcontinuetounhookanymorebuttons,whichcouldhaveled

to a small coronary on her part. He reached inside to the breast pocket of his shirt and

drewoutasmallbutperfectredrosebud.

“This particular variety’s called Thinking of You,” he said. “It seemed appropriate.”

Helaidtheroseonthetableinfrontofher.“Nowyoucanreadthenote.”

The first notes of music came through the hall’s sound system, but Betsy was so

addled and off guard that she couldn’t have identified it if her life was on the line. She

pickedupthenote,squintingatitinthedimlight.

Betsy,

They’replayingoursong.Willyoudancewithme?

Yoursalways,Wally.

That’s when she recognized Frank’s seductive voice crooning “The Way You Look

Tonight.”

Betsy’s hand fluttered to rest at the pulse thundering in her throat. “It was you all

along?”shesaid.

He smiled again and eased to his feet, extending his arm. “It was me all along, my

dear.”

Shestoodandslippedherarmthroughhisandlethimleadheroutintothemiddleof

theroom.Hetookhergentlyintohisarms,andeventhoughtheynolongerhadtheoomph

tocutituponthedancefloor,theybothstillhadsomemoves.

Astheyoungsterssaid.

Suddenly she wasn’t an eighty-something-year-old widow and he wasn’t a seventy-

something-year-old widower. They were just two people with a world of possibility

betweenthem,withFranksingingthemhome.

Maybeloveandromancewasn’tjustfortheyoung,butinsteadforthebravewhowere

willingtotakeachanceonalittleChristmasmagic.

“

CHAPTER24

veryone’shavingagoodtime,”Kipsaid,sittingdownnexttoCarly.“Areyou?”

“Absolutely.Goodparty—greatparty.”Carlypeeledherlipsbacksoherteethcould

dotheconvincingforher.Somewouldcallitasmilebutsheknewitwouldn’tfoolKip

formorethanamoment,eventhoughshebadlywanteditto.

You’rebeingungrateful,Zoomie.Sheheardherdad’svoiceinhermind.Actinglikea

spoiledbratbecauseyoudidn’tgetyourwhiteChristmas.

She was. She totally was. But she just couldn’t shift the niggly, squirmy

disappointment in her belly that she wouldn’t see snow this year. More importantly,

experiencethatsnowwithKip.

And it wasn’t like her wonderful man hadn’t done everything in his power to make

thisChristmasDayspecialforthem.They’ddecoratedtheirtreetogetherandthensprayed

thehelloutofitwithfakewhitesnowstuff.They’dbakedcookiesandplantedjellybeans

that turned into candy canes on Christmas morning—even though Kip’s twin nephews,

LoganandLucas,weren’ttherethisyear.They’dsungcarolsandhungstockingsoverthe

fire.LeftaglassofmilkandsomeoftheircookiesoutforSanta.

“Carly,”Kipsaidgently.

Yeah,heractingskillswereprettycrap.“Iknow.I’mokay.”

Theferryandplaneswouldberunningagainthedayaftertomorrow,andsheandKip

would be on the first morning ferry. Kip had spent hours on the phone and computer

rearrangingtheirtravelplansandrebookinganothercabininAspen.Sothey’dbehavinga

whiteNewYear’sinsteadofawhiteChristmas.Ithardlymatterediftheywereafewdays

late.Onlytheniggly,squirmydisappointmentsaidotherwise.

ThisyearitwasherdisappointmentthatwasthegrinchthatstoleChristmas.Shecould

definitelytakealessonortwofromthoseWhosdowninWhoville.

Kiptuckedastrandofherhairbehindherearandlethisfingerslinger,strokingthe

softskinofherthroatandcausingadeliciousshivertoscurrydownanddisappearbeneath

thewhitefake-fur-trimmedstraplessMrs.Clausdressshewore.WhileMrs.Twasknown

locallyasthematchmakingqueen,CarlyhadanimageasthereigningChristmasqueento

uphold. She was the one Kezia called to come in and help the schoolkids make little

festivebaublestotakehometotheirfamilies.ShewastheoneresponsibleforDueSouth’s

seasonaldecorations,putupwithmilitaryprecisionandcoordinationthankstoherloyal

and somewhat complaining team of fellow employees. She was the go-to oracle for the

gift-handicappedlocalmenwhowerecluelessastowhattogettheirwivesandgirlfriends.

Shewasonthecommitteethatorganizedthekids’annualChristmasparty,thecollection

of wrapped gifts to give to the Mainland women’s shelter to distribute, and the small

holidayfoodbankshe,Shaye,andDelprovidedtolocalswhowereonaverytightbudget.

She was the queen, but after hours of smiling and laughing about their ‘white

Christmaswhenthesunisshiningoutside,’shewasdone.Beat.

She leaned into Kip and whispered, “Do you think anyone would notice if we left

soon?”

He brushed his mouth along her jaw. “Wait until a few more songs, and if you still

wanttoleave,we’llslipoutthen.”

“Mrs.TaylorandWallyareadorable,”shesaid.“Whoknewtheycouldbothstillcutit

uponthedancefloor?”

Her gaze was drawn again to the cleared space in the hall, filled with couples, and

thereinthecenter,Mrs.Taylorandhernewbeaudoingaslowfoxtrotto“LetitSnow.”

They’d killed the hall’s main lights and the dance floor was a romantic grotto of fairy

lightstwinklingoverhead.

Hestoodandextendedhishand.“Dancewithme?”

The mood she was in she wanted to say no, but for Kip? For Kip she’d walk over

burningChristmasyulelogstomakehimhappy.Sosherose,tookhishand,andlethim

leadheroutontothefloor.

His arms closed around her and the muscles along her spine finally softened and

relaxed.Snowornosnow,ChristmasornoChristmas,thiswaswhereshebelonged.

AndI’mnotungratefulforthat,Daddy.

“LetitSnow”endedandthesilkysmoothtonesofNatKingCole’s“I’llBeHomefor

Christmas”began.TearswelledupinthecornerofCarly’seyesandsheturnedherface

intoKipsonoonewouldseehercry.Theyswayedtogether,allthosenightsdancingin

their living room in practice for their wedding day making them a lean, mean dancing

machine.Thethoughtoftheirweddingplanskeptthetearsatbay,andbeforesheknewit,

NatKingColeturnedintoFrankwishingthem“AMerryLittleChristmas.”

That’swhenshefeltit.Tinylittlespotssprinklingonhershoulderblades.

HernosecrinkledandsheliftedhercheekfromKip’schest.

Snow!

Itwassnowing,inside.Tinywhiteflakesdrifteddownoverthedancingcouples,some

ofwhom,likeher,hadstoppedandwerestaringupattheceilingwithdelightedsmileson

theirfaces.

Hereyeswidenedandherjawsagged.“Didyoudothis?”shesqueaked.

Heshrugged.“Artificialsnowmachine,”hesaidmodestly.“Theamateurtheatergroup

hadonetuckedawayfromtheirChristmasproductionacoupleofyearsago.”

Hespunheroutfromhiminaslickmove,andlaughterburstoutofher.“Oh,Kip!”

Kidswoveinandoutoftheirparents’legs,squealingwithjoy,andtheirfriendsstole

kisses under the strategically hung bundles of mistletoe with snowflakes caught in their

hair.

Likethegrinch,Carly’sheartgrewtwosizesinthatmoment.Surroundedbythoseshe

loved,andthosewholovedher,shereallywashomeforChristmas.

BONUSSHORTSTORY!

Turn the page for an exclusive Stewart Island short story featuring Officer Sexy-

Britches…

NOAH’SNEWYEAR’SRESOLUTIONS

December31

10:35p.m.

NoahDanielsdidn’tbelieveinNewYear’sresolutions.Youeitherdidsomethingoryou

didn’t.Makingalistwouldn’tchangealifetimeofbadhabits.

One bad habit of his was forgiving Carson for his regular attempts to set Noah up.

Guess when your childhood mate created New Zealand’s favorite hookup website, Kiwi

Match,therewasgonnabecollateraldamageifyouwerestillsingleinyourearlythirties.

WhichNoahwas.Happilysingle.Or,atleast,satisfactorilysingle.

SomethingCarsonKingoftheNerdsKnightfailedtocomprehend.

Slumpedonhislivingroomcouch,NoahtappedCarson’snumberandwaitedforhim

to pick up, reminding himself that as Stewart Island’s sole charge officer, he was often

requiredtobemoreofapeacemakerthanacop.Butifreasonabledebatefailedtoensure

Carson had a come-to-Jesus moment, Noah would remind his mate he knew a dozen

lowlifesintheQueenstownareawhowouldhappilybreakCarson’sperfectnoseforless

thanatwenty.

“Pickup,asshole,”Noahgroundout,thendialedhistonebacktocool,calm,andnot

abouttodevelopaneyeticwhenCarsonansweredwithadistracted,“Yup?”

“That time Williams and Donahue cornered you in the gym? I should’ve let them

shovethatflutewherethesundon’tshine.”

“Ah.”Aweightypause.“Yougotmyemail,then?”

“Yeah.TheoneI’mholdingasevidencewhenItakeyoutocourtforbeingacyber-

hackerwhowon’tleavewellenoughalone.”

Carson chuckled, and in the background Noah heard the telltale rattle of his mate’s

fingersdancingoverakeyboard.Somepeoplehadidentifyingsmells,likeScott,afellow

trainee in police college who chewed grape bubble gum in an attempt to break his

addiction to cigarettes. Others had a catchphrase or style of clothing, or in Noah’s

background experience, an unexplainable vibe that some people gave off that Scott

dubbedcopscum-dar.TopickoutCarsonfromacrowd,itwastherattleofakeyboardor

thetapofhisfingerononeofhismanyelectronicdevicesthatgavehimaway.

“It’snothackingwhenIprogrammedthewebsite,”Carsonsaid.

“It’ssomethingillegalwhenyousetupafakeprofileandgocatfishingforwomen.”

The email that had popped into his in-box a few moments ago had the subject line:

YourNewYear’sresolutions?InsidewerelinkstotheprofilesofthreewomenwhoCarson

claimedwereinterestedingettingtogetherwithNoah.

“Hey, I’m not a catfisher. Well, at least I was catfishing on your behalf. I used your

photo and stuck to the facts. Thirty-something years old, never been married. No

dependants.Steadyjobwithresponsibility.Hashisownhairandallteethaccountedfor.

Notadouche.Iwasallaboutthehonesty.”

Noah rolled his eyes so hard he nearly ruptured something in his eyeballs. “Uh-huh.

Except I bet you omitted the part about me living on a remote island and, more

importantly,howI’mnotboyfriendmaterial.”

“Actually,thewordshusbandmaterialmight’vebeennotedinyourprofile.Kidding,”

Carson added quickly, correctly analyzing that Noah’s sudden silence probably meant

homicidalintent.“Let’sbehonest,mate.HaveyougotanyonelinedupforaNewYear’s

Evemidnightsnog?”

NoahranthroughamentallistofthewomenheknewwhocoulddropintoDueSouth

fortonight’scelebrations.Narrowthatdowntosinglewomen,ashehadnoenthusiasmfor

aplatonicpitykissonthecheekfromoneofhismarriedfriends,anditwasabloodyshort

list.

“Youthinktoomuch.Icanhearyourbrainworkingovertimefromhere,”Carsonsaid.

“Theanswer’sno,isn’tit?AndpleasetellmeMrs.Taylorisn’tanoptiontonight.”

EventhoughCarsonlivedinQueenstownandonlyoccasionallyflewovertotheisland

tohangoutwithNoah,heknewofMrs.T’sfearsomereputation.

“Betsyhasaboyfriendnow,”Noahsaid.

The keyboard rattling stopped abruptly. “You’re shitting me? The octogenarian is

gettingmoresexthanyou?”

“Fuckoff,Carson.”Sadly,hisfriendwasprobablyright.

Noahpinchedthebridgeofhisnoseandsighed,slumpingbackagainsthiscouchand

propping his feet on the coffee table. “I’m not doing the online thing with women. You

knowwhathappenedtoFordKomeke,right?”

“Didn’t he get married to a super-hot chick not so long ago?” Carson asked

acerbically.“I’mjusttryingtobeyourwingman,mate,sowhat’syourpoint?”

“The point is my sex life, or lack of it, is my business. So from now on use your

matchmaking skills for good, not evil. Got it?” Noah snapped his mouth shut before he

implied that Carson could take a long, hard look at his own sex life next time he was

temptedtointerfereinNoah’s.“Idon’tneedawingmanandI’vegivenuplookingforthe

femaleequivalentofaunicornyearsago.”

Agruffhmmmphechoeddowntheline,cynicismineachstretchedoutsyllable.

“And shut down my profile before I end up with a crazy woman on my doorstep.”

Noahglaredatthephonethendisconnectedwhenatextmessagepoppeduponthescreen.

CANYOUSTOPBYONTHEWAYTOTHEPUB?IHAVEANEMERGENCY.

Mrs.Taylorherself,whostillwouldn’tbedeterredfromtypingallincapitals.

Hehitreply.ActualemergencyoraBetsyemergency?Rememberourdiscussion?

DON’TBECHEEKY,camethirtysecondslater.

Thewomanwasobviouslygettingmoreefficientattyping.Yet,capitals.

I’llbetherein5.

Andwithanyluck,he’dbeoutofBetsy’sclawsinthesameamountoftime.

10:48p.m.

Betsyopenedherfrontdoorwithafamiliarcarnivorousgrinandhereyesfullofdevilish

gleam.

“Itimedyou,”shesaidandedgedoutofthewaysohecouldenter.“Thatwasseven

minutes.”

Maintainingsomesemblanceofprofessionalism,Noahmanagedtokeepfromatired

facepalm.“Thisisanofficialcallout,isit?”

“Notexactly,”Betsyadmitted.“There’sabloodygreatwetacrawlingaroundmybed.

Beadearandrelocateittothewoodshed,wouldyou?”

He hooked his thumbs into his belt loops. “And you couldn’t call your boyfriend to

help?”

Betsyhuffedimpatientlyandtottereddownthehallway.“Atthistimeofnight?Walter

wouldthinkIwasmakingabootycall.”

“Uh-huh.Ofcoursethat’swhathe’dthinkbeingtrickedintoyourboudoir.”

Sheflashedhimanothersmileasshepointedhercaneinthedirectionofthebedroom

door.“OfficerSexy-Britches,Idon’tneedtotrickamanintomybedroom.”

Noahgrimacedatthenickname,slidoutofhisbeltholderthelittleflashlightthathe

carriedeverywhere,andgamelyslippedintoBetsy’sbedroom.Purpleandlavender,well,

everything, seared into his retinas by the light of a bedside lamp. At least an unwary

brown-coloredinsectshouldbeeasytospot.

Butwhathespottedwasanopenlaptopinthecenterofthepurplestripedcomforter.

Hefrownedatthescreenforamomentuntilamorealertpartofhisbrainrealizedthere

wassomeonestaringbackathim.Afemalesomeone.Afemalesomeonewitharedhair,

bugged-openblueeyes,andpouty,partedlips.

“OhmyGod,isthatagun?”shoutedthered-hairedwoman.“Whathaveyoufreaking

donetomyAuntieBetsy?”

AndbeforeNoahcouldexplain,thewomanshriekedheraunt’snameoverandover,

loudenoughtocauseadeafeningracketthroughthelaptop’ssmallspeakers.

The bedroom door popped open and Betsy poked her head around it. “Alice! Alice!

Calmdown—Alice!”

Noah just folded his arms, closed his eyes to stop his head from exploding from

femalehysteria,andwaitedforthestormtopass.Eventually,thescreechingstopped.

HecrackedaneyeopentoseeBetsyatthefootofthebed,staringupathim.

“Well, that certainly didn’t play out as I imagined it would,” she said, then shuffled

around to face the laptop screen. “Alice, dearie, I don’t believe you’ve been formally

introduced to Noah Daniels, our local constabulary. Noah, this is my lovely great-niece,

AliceRobinson.”

NoahslittedopenhisothereyeandcheckedoutMrs.Taylor’sonscreenniece,whose

splotchy cheeks and still-a-little-hysterical eyes didn’t warrant the description of lovely.

Pretty, no doubt, but currently she looked more like a thoroughly pissy marmalade cat

who’dbeenthreatenedwithagardenhose.

Alicehuffedoutabreaththatalmostsoundedlikeafour-letterword.“Youtoldmeyou

weregoingtothebathroomandyou’dberightback,”shesaid.“Iwasnotexpectingsome

strange,enormousmantocreepintoyourroomlikeapervert.”

“Iwasn’tcreepinglikeapervert,”Noahfoundhimselfsayingsomewhatdefensively.

“Iwasusingstealthtocapturethewetayourauntieclaimedwasinherbedroom.”

“Youcalledthepolicetowrangleaweta?”Alice’svoiceroseyetanotherhalfoctave.

“Whydidn’tyougetWaltertocomeover?”

Noahrockedbackonhisheels.“That’swhatIsaid.”

Aliceshookherhead.“Iapologizeformyaunt—ifyouknowher,youcanguesswhat

she’supto.”

He shot a glance way down to Betsy’s lavender-shaded curls, her chin tucked down

intoherwattlednecklikesomesortofturtle.

“ForPete’ssake.Betsy?”hesaid.

Anevenguiltierlookarrowedupathim.Guilty,butnotrepentantintheslightest.

“What?IknewAlicedidn’thaveahotdatetonight,andIknewyoudidn’teither,soI

thoughtwhynotputyoutwointhesameroomtogetherandseeifyoucouldliventhings

up?”

ThensheshowedNoaharowofhershinywhitefalseteeth.

A choked snort came from the laptop. “How do you know I don’t have a hot date

tonight?”

Betsy turned her attention back to the screen. “Because you’re still in your office,

dressedinyourboringbeigebusinesssuitonNewYear’sEve.”

Alicemutteredsomethingthatthelaptopspeakersdidn’tpickup,butherauntdid.

“Itissoboring,missy.Youshouldbewearingapartydressandouthavingfun.Orat

leastinbedwithsomehandsomeyoungman,ringingintheNewYear.”

That’s when Noah took a giant backward step toward the door. “And…I’m out,” he

said.“Alice,Ican’tsayitwasnicetomeetyou,underthecircumstances.Butgoodluck

withyourauntmatchmakingyouwithsomeoneelse.”

Betsy pouted. “But you would’ve looked so pretty together. Are you sure you don’t

want me to arrange a naughty weekend away for you in my downstairs apartment? I’d

throwinsomestrawberryflavored—”

EvenfromhisgiantstepawayfromthelaptophecouldseeAlice’seyesbulgeopen

again.

“No,”heandAlicesaidinunison.

Hellno.HewassureAlicewasanicelady—andGodmust’vegivenherthepatience

ofasainttodealwithhergreat-aunt—buttherewasn’ttheslightestflickerofattractionon

hispart.Orhers,ifherthin-lippedgrimaceathimasshesaidgoodbyewasanyindication.

Thelaptopscreenwentdark.

“Goodnight,Mrs.T,”NoahsaidandgrinnedatBetsy.

No harm, no foul. If being pranked by a mischievous octogenarian was the worst he

hadtodealwithinhisjob—comparedtothedangersheusedtofaceinhisoldlife—then

heconsideredhimselflucky.

Betsysigheddramaticallyandfollowedhimtothefrontdoor.

“Honestly, Noah,” she said as he opened it and stepped out under a million stars.

“Howonearthareyougoingtofindtheloveofyourlifeifyouwon’teventry?She’snot

justgoingtoshowuponyourdoorsteponeday,youknow.”

Beingarealist,theoddsoflovefindinghimatallwereamilliontoone.

“StrangerthingshavehappenedonStewartIsland.”

Before she could argue or agree, Noah lifted a hand in silent farewell and walked

away.

11:55p.m.

It’dbeenstandingroomonlywhenNoahhadarrivedatthepubjustaftereleven.Whilea

DueSouthNewYear’spartywassomewhatmoresubduedthan,say,oneofWellington’s

packed city bars, five minutes before midnight the noise level still filled the room and

spilledouttheopenwindows.

He leaned against the bar, sipping his first and only beer of the evening. While

technicallyoffduty,Noahpreferredtokeepasoberheadonhisshoulders.Partandparcel

ofthejobwhenyouweretheonlysheriffintown.

Another scan of the bar revealed three different locals whose keys he’d be forced to

confiscate if they attempted to drive home, and tension brewing between a couple of

youngmenwhowereabouttohittheblusteringstage.Iftheysortedtheirshitoutwithout

help—preferable—he’dletthembe.Ifhejudgedthetestosteronelevelwasabouttospike,

Noahwouldcalmlyintervene.Thethoughtdidn’traisehisbloodpressureintheslightest;

hecoulddothissortofnegotiationinhissleep.Pettycrimewasusuallytheworsthehad

to deal with here and he was grateful for it, compared to the unbelievable pressure and

stressesofhislifeontheforcebackinthecity.

Noahshookhisheadandtookanothersipofbeer.

“Hey,”saidafemalevoicebyhisside.“Youthinkingaboutknockingthosetwoidiots’

headstogether?”

Heglanceddown—waydown—toErinDonaldson,wholookedscarilyhopefulatthe

ideaofsomeguy-on-guyaction.

“Bloodthirstylittlething,aren’tyou?”hesaidconversationally.

Erinshothimaknowingstareandtweakedhereyebrowsupanddown.Finestrandsof

herlongblondhairhadcomeloosefromherusualFrenchplaitandcurledwaiflikearound

her face. She was as pretty as a pixie, but during their first and only ‘date’ after the

embarrassing bachelor auction a few years ago, their chemistry proved to be merely an

embarrassingfizzleonthefireworksscale.Ithadn’thelpedthattheywerebothintroverts

who’drunoutofthingstotalkabouttenminutesintodinner,thoughoncethey’dagreed

friendswithoutbenefitssuitedthembetter,they’dslippedintoeasierconversation.

“Youhavenoidea,”shesaid,studyingthebiggermaleoftheduowhoNoahguessed

waskindofgood-lookinginabrutishway.“Idolikeabadboy.”

Noahsnorted.“Boybeingthekeywordhere.Thatoneonlylookstobeabouttwenty-

two.”

Erinhipcheckedhimandgiggled.“Guessthatmakesmeacougar,then.”

He’dbekeepinganeyeonEringettinghometonight,too.“You’reafewyearsaway

frombeingcougarmaterial,”hesaid.

She slitted a glance up at him and pursed her lips. “Well, you’re not. When are you

goingtofindyourselfawomantosettledownwith?”

Noah’sgazeskippedrestlesslyaroundthepubagain.Thetwoguyshadsortedouttheir

shitbyoneofthemmovingtoanothertable,hewasgladtosee.HespottedWestgiving

somesortofinstructionstoZach,hispart-timebarmanwho’dtakenoverwhileKipand

CarlywereonvacationtotheUS.ConspicuouslyabsentwereWest’swife,Piper,andtheir

littlegirl,nodoubttuckedupandwaitingforhimathome.Fordwasatthemic,tuninghis

guitarforthetraditionalchorusof“AuldLangSyne”atmidnight,whilehiswife,Holly,

satcloseby.ShayeandDel,finishedinDueSouth’skitchenforthenight,werecuddledup

atacornertable,momentarilyignoringeveryonearoundthem.TherestofNoah’smates—

HarleyandBree,BenandKezia—wereathomewiththeirkids.

Withtheirfamilies.

A sharp elbow prodded him, drawing his attention to his surroundings again. “No

commentfromtall,dark,andhandsome?”

Keepitlight,Noah,heinstructedhimself.She’snotaskingforawrittenreportonwhy

youluckoutwithwomen.Hesmirkeddownather.“Maybeawoman’llhavetofindme.”

“Well,goodluckwiththat.”Erinraisedherglassathiminasilenttoastthentookasip

ofherwine.“Gotsomeonetokissatmidnight?Whichis”—shecheckedherwatch—“in

lessthantwominutes’time.”

“Sure.”NoahnoddedtowardOldSmittyleaningonthebarandyappinghappilyaway

toZach,whoappearedtobeonlylisteningwithhalfanear.“Smitty’salwaysupforit.”

Smittylookedoveratthesoundofhisname,butnothavingheardtheearlierpartof

theirconversation,liftedahandinacheerywaveandwentbacktobuggingZach.

Erinshookherhead.“That’sjustpathetic,mate.”

“I’lljustpretendI’monduty.”Noahshrugged.“Nobodyexpectsacoptograbsome

unsuspectingwomaninapublicplaceandplantoneonher.”

Eringiggled.“Maybeyoushouldtrythatsometime.MakeitaNewYear’sresolution

orsomething.”

They stood in amicable silence for a moment while Ford did a mic check. Soon

enough,thepubroaredoutthecountdownfromtentotheNewYear.Whistles,shouts,and

bangs from party poppers exploded as they reached number one. Beside him, Erin

whoopedandtuggedonhiselbow.Hebenttohearwhatshewassaying,andjoltedwhen

hermouthbrushedhischeek.

“HappyNewYear,OfficerSexy-Britches.”Withonelastgrin,shedisappearedintothe

crowd,singingthefirstlineof“AuldLangSyne”witheveryoneelse.

Noah held back, melting away to the rear of the pub while everyone’s attention was

towardthelittlestageandtheirfriends,ringingintheNewYear.

One more three-hundred-and-sixty-five days down. One more year he’d lived while

others…hadn’t.

He shook his head with a grimace, forcing his facial muscles to relax back into

impartiality. This was not the time or place to let himself be dragged down into the pit

again.

Heleanedagainstawallandliftedhischin,pastinganamusedbystandersmileonhis

faceashewitnessedhislittletowncelebrating.MaybeheshoulddecideonaNewYear’s

resolutionafterall.

Resolutionnumberone:findsomeonemoreattractivethanOldSmittytokissthistime

nextyear.

Resolutionnumbertwo:stopsecretlyhopingforaunicorntoappear.

Noah’sNewYear’sResolutions—TraceyAlvarez

transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other

electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher,

except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other

noncommercialusespermittedbycopyrightlaw.

Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents

areaproductoftheauthor’simagination.Localesandpublicnamesaresometimesused

for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to

businesses,companies,events,institutions,orlocalesiscompletelycoincidental.

CoverArtbyKellieDennisat

BookCoverbyDesign

ALSOBYTRACEYALVAREZ

StewartIslandSeries

Book1

InTooDeep(Piper&West)FREE

Book2

MeltingIntoYou(Kezia&Ben)

Book3

ReadyToBurn(Shaye&Del)

Book4

ChristmasWithYou(Carly&Kip)

Book5

MyForeverValentine(ShortStories)

Book6

PlayingForFun(Holly&Ford)

Book7

DrawingMeIn(Bree&Harley)

Book7.5

KissingTheBride(Shaye&DelWeddingStory)

Book8

SayingIDo(MacKenna&Joe)

Book9HomeForChristmas

Book10BendingTheRules(Tilly&Noah)Coming2018

BountyBaySeries

Book1

HideYourHeart(Lauren&Nate)FREE

Book2

KnowYourHeart(Savannah&Glen)

Book3

TeachYourHeart(Gracie&Owen)

Book4

MendYourHeart(Natalie&Isaac)

Book5BreakYourHeart(Vanessa&Sam)Coming2018

ABOUTTHEAUTHOR

Tracey Alvarez is a USA TODAY BEST-SELLING author who lives in the Coolest Little Capital in the World (a.k.a

Wellington,NewZealand)whereshe’syettobeburiedunderherto-be-readbookpilebyWellington’sinfamouswind—

herKindle’salifesaver!MarriedtoawonderfullysupportiveITguy,shehastwoteenswhowouldlovetobesurgically

linkedtotheirelectronicdevices.

Fuelledbycopiousamountsofcoffee,she’stheauthorofcontemporaryromanticfictionsetpredominantlyinNew

Zealand.Small-towns,closecommunities,andfamiliesareabigpartoftheheart-warmingstoriesshewrites.Oh,and

hot,down-to-earthheroes—Kiwimen,inotherwords.

Whenshe’snotwriting,thinkingaboutwriting,orprocrastinatingaboutwriting,Traceycanbefoundreadingsexy

booksofallromancegenres,nibblingonsmuggledchocolatebars,orbribingherkidstotakeoverthehousework.

www.traceyalvarez.com

tracey@traceyalvarez.com

ONELASTTHING…

I do hope you enjoyed reading Home For Christmas. Please share your thoughts by

leaving a short, honest review of this book on the retailer site you purchased it from.

Reviewsaresoimportanttoauthors.Thankyou!

TraceyA.

Document Outline

Copyright
Welcome to New Zealand!
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Bonus Short Story!
Noah’s New Year’s Resolutions
Copyright
Also By Tracey Alvarez
About the Author
One Last Thing…

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