Snow is falling in Copper Ridge, Oregon—but the heat between a holiday-loving party planner and the town’s resident Scrooge is off the charts in this sweet and sizzling Christmas novella...

Holly Fulton is throwing a special Christmas Eve party for the foster parents who gave her so much. To finish the preparations in time, she needs to recruit her one-time foster brother, Ryan Masters. He may have a scowl that could curdle eggnog, but under that surly demeanor is a big heart. And amazing muscles. And a gorgeous chest. In fact, X-rated visions of Ryan have been dancing in Holly’s head for years, but she can’t risk complicating the only real family she’s ever known.

But maybe there’s a way for Holly to have her Christmas cake and eat it too. A no-strings affair, just until they’re done with the planning. Ryan is certainly willing. But from the first touch, it’s clear that this isn’t just a festive fling. It might just be a Christmas miracle in the making...

A Copper Ridge Christmas

Maisey Yates

www.millsandboon.co.uk

About the Author

Maisey Yates is a USA TODAY bestselling author of more than thirty romance novels, including the Copper Ridge series. She has a coffee habit she has no interest in kicking, and a slight Pinterest addiction (those half-naked men are for research, she swears). She lives in rural Oregon with her three children and her husband, whose chiseled jaw and arresting features continue to make her swoon. When Maisey isn’t writing she can be found singing in the grocery store, online shopping for shoes and probably not doing dishes. You can find Maisey on her website, www.maiseyyates.com, chatting on Twitter as @maiseyyates or on Facebook as Maisey Yates, Romance Author.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Title Page

About the Author

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Extract

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

THERE WERE A few things Holly Fulton knew for certain. The first was that Ryan Masters would not be looking forward to Christmas. The second was that she needed him if she was going to pull off her plan for a perfect holiday party. And the third was that if she was approaching the metaphorical badger in his metaphorical den, she needed to bring bait. In this instance, bait was takeout cheeseburgers and curly fries from Ace’s Bar.

Holly wasn’t a fool. She wasn’t going to approach Ryan without a peace offering.

She walked across the dock, careful not to slip on any of the pools of water gathered in the old wood. The ocean lapped up against the sides, gray and chilly, a reflection of the winter sky that hung low around her, thick and heavy with mist.

Ryan’s boat was moored at the end of the dock, bobbing in the surf. It was slightly tarnished and a bit weathered, like the owner himself. But he would have to be rickety in private for the next couple of weeks, because she needed him to get it together long enough to pull off her plan.

She approached the boat, eyeing it for a moment. She wasn’t exactly sure how she was supposed to get his attention. Knock on the hull? She hadn’t come to visit Ryan on the boat before. Usually she caught up with him at Dan and Margie’s house, or during occasional get-togethers at Ace’s Bar. But they didn’t really hang out at each other’s homes.

Which stood to reason, really. They’d both been foster children to Margie and Dan years ago, and that was the connection that united them. So they rarely saw each other out of that context these days.

She frowned, leaned in and pounded her fist on the boat’s side. She knew his living quarters were belowdecks, and she imagined she was making enough noise to get his attention. Though, she realized belatedly, he might be asleep. A fisherman, Ryan had to be out on the ocean at an hour she had rarely ever seen the a.m. side of. It was still pretty early, but it was already dark, the cool December evenings swallowing the sun down into the sea earlier and earlier every day.

But if he was asleep, he would just have to deal with the interruption.

After waiting for a moment, she leaned forward and rapped her knuckles against the hard, unforgiving surface yet again.

She probably should have called first. But then, had she called first, he would know it was her, and he would probably pretend he wasn’t home.

She straightened, tapped her foot and crossed her arms. The bag, laden with greasy food, crinkled as she did.

It was really starting to look like he wasn’t home. Or like he was asleep. Or just hell-bent on ignoring anyone who came knocking. Holly started to turn away, but just then she heard something. The creak of a door, heavy footsteps. She looked up just in time to see Ryan appear on deck.

Her heart did a jump up and out, hitting her breastbone hard. It didn’t matter how often she saw him. It didn’t matter how many years stood between the present and that teenage crush she’d had on him. Didn’t matter that adulthood and all its complexities stood between now and those years when she thought of him as the most beautiful, compelling, desirable man she’d ever known. Didn’t matter that she realized now that even if something could happen between them, it was a risk she couldn’t take. Because family came first, and the Traverses were her family.

It had been easy to fantasize about growing up and marrying Ryan when she’d been too young and naive to understand that those things often didn’t last. Now that she had no illusions about how most relationships ended, the truth seemed much simpler: as hot as he was, the potential loss of her surrogate family wasn’t worth it. Well, that and the broken heart she would surely get out of the deal. There would be no middle ground with that man. He made her feel too many things far too intensely. She didn’t have a future with Ryan.

A pity, as he did make a rather dashing figure standing on the upper deck of his boat, partially illuminated by a light on the deck. He was wearing a thick cable-knit sweater, a beanie pulled down low over his dark hair, his hands shoved into his pockets.

He’d always had a beard, well, at least since he’d been old enough to grow one. He claimed it was to keep the frigid sea air from freezing his face. At first, Holly hadn’t liked it. But as she’d gotten older it had called to her on some deep feminine level. Evidence of his testosterone, or something like that. Maybe she just liked beards now. Or maybe she was just a hopeless enough case for Ryan that she liked beards because he had one.

“Holly?” he asked, looking down from his position on the boat.

“Yes.” She lifted up the bag of cheeseburgers. “And I come bearing dinner.”

She couldn’t quite make out his expression, but she sensed that he was frowning. “I already started cooking.”

“Oh.” She fought against the disappointment making her stomach sink. “What are you making?”

“I just opened a can of clam chowder.”

She laughed. “Don’t you think that might keep? I have cheeseburgers.”

“Why?” he asked, his tone turning decidedly suspicious.

“It’s cold out here.” She wrapped her arms around her midsection, still holding onto the bag of food, hopping up and down as though to prove her point. “Aren’t you going to invite me in?”

“You don’t want to come in. Just hand me the burgers.”

“Sorry. There’s no such thing as a free meal.”

“Were you hoping to trade me for a sturgeon?”

“Keep your fish, Travers. I have... Well, I have bigger fish to fry than literal fish.”

“Ha-ha,” he said, the words carrying no humor at all. “Fine, come on up. But it’s at your own risk.”

“Am I going to be tripping over stray mollusk?”

“I try not to leave mollusks lying around.”

“Well, in that case.” She looked around. “How do I get...on the boat?”

“Climb on up.”

She looked around and saw the basic rope ladder hanging over the side of the boat, leading to the lower deck. She raised the bag of burgers. “You’re going to have to take these.”

He walked down to the lower deck, coming close to the railing and extending his hand. She reached up, transferring the bag to him, trying not to react when their fingers brushed.

Yes, her mind had accepted the fact that nothing was going to happen with Ryan. Her body was another matter. It was all aflutter over the brief contact between his hand and hers.

She gritted her teeth and pulled her arm back to her side before grabbing hold of the ladder and climbing up onto the ship.

“Okay. Now you’re here. Before I let you down into my house tell me why,” he said, holding the burger bag out of her reach. “You made a mistake, Holly. I have the food now. Therefore, I hold the power.”

“Bastard.”

“I’m wounded. I am a literal bastard, as you well know.”

“Sorry,” she said, wincing.

“If you really are sorry, you’ll leave me in peace to eat both of these cheeseburgers, and all of the French fries.”

She shook her head. “Sorry, not that sorry.”

He grunted. “Then come on down.”

He led the way down the narrow staircase, and pushed open a door that led to an even smaller living area. Ryan was over six foot, and his broad frame seemed much too large for the space around him. Honestly, it was kind of appalling. He could barely stand up straight. There was a narrow bed in the corner, built into the wall. A tiny galley kitchen with a one-burner stove, and a table and chairs that were also bolted down.

“I really don’t get how you stand this.”

“I don’t stand it. I like it. It’s my home.”

“Right. I guess...I prefer a yard. And to be not on the water.” As if to reinforce her point, the boat tilted as the water rolled beneath it.

He shrugged his shoulder. “That’s maybe why you aren’t a fisherman.”

“Not everyone lives on their boat.”

“I’m betting my boat cost about the same as your house. Anyway, I like the freedom. And the solitude.” He looked at her pointedly. “The general solitude.”

She fought to keep a scowl off her face. “Oh, boo-hoo. You have a cheeseburger.”

“That I do. But you didn’t just come to feed a lonely man on his boat. Cut to the chase.”

She cleared her throat. “Right. Well. Margie and Dan are going to be back from Hawaii on Christmas Eve.” Their foster parents spent more and more time at their home in Hawaii these days. The perks of retirement, Dan said.

“I’m aware. I’m picking them up from the airport.” His dark eyes looked wary. She decided it was best to press on before he started forming his own conclusions.

“Elizabeth is going to be at Mount Bachelor skiing with her new boyfriend Todd until the twenty-third. Which means she isn’t going to be around for the next couple of weeks.” Elizabeth was Dan and Margie’s only biological child, and Holly’s best friend.

“I actually knew that too. Elizabeth invited me over for dinner a couple of weeks ago and Todd was in residence. For the record, I don’t trust a man who wears sandals. It’s December, for God’s sake.”

Holly had a few of her own criticisms regarding Todd, but she didn’t want to voice them, out of loyalty to Elizabeth. “Once you get past the popped collar and pastel shirts, he’s not that bad.”

Ryan chuckled. “Yeah, I’m never going to do that. Because I don’t have to.”

“Have it your way. Anyway.” She sucked in a sharp breath, immediately regretting it. The air smelled like fish, the sharp tang of salt from the sea, and sweat. Really, only the fish was bad. There was something about Ryan’s sweat that was not altogether unappealing to her. “I want to throw a Christmas party for Dan and Margie.”

His dark eyebrows locked together. “What?”

“They have such a great party every year. And Margie puts so much work into it. And I wanted... I want to give them something back.”

“Why exactly?” he asked, frowning.

“The gift of Christmas. Christmas cheer. Christmas pudding. Christmas...music. But I probably won’t sing, because I’m a terrible singer.”

“What does this have to do with my cheeseburger?”

“I thought we might discuss the possibility of the two of us working on the Christmas party together.”

Ryan extended his hand and released his hold on the bag, letting it drop to the table. “No. I would rather eat canned clam chowder than help you plan a party.”

“That cheeseburger has jalapeños and pepper jack cheese on it. The fries are curly fries, with garlic. Think very carefully before you commit to canned soup over this.”

“I live on a boat and haven’t bought a new pair of shoes in three years. But these are choices I make, Holly. I can still afford to go buy my own damned cheeseburger if I want. Your tainted bribery food is unnecessary.”

“Look, eat what you want. But hear me out.”

He scowled and turned to the side, opening a cabinet and pulling out two plates, which he laid on the small, marred table. “Fine.” He gestured to one of the seats. “Talk.”

He sat down, rustled through the bag and pulled out both burgers. After looking beneath the top bun of one, he found the one with jalapeños and set it on his plate.

“I never had Christmas before the Traverses. They included me in the celebration when they didn’t have to.”

He looked up, raising one brow. “Are you going to sit and eat? Because I will eat all of your French fries.”

She sat down, taking her own hamburger, which was a bit more vanilla than his, and transferring it to the plate in front of her. “Eat my French fries and suffer a painful fate,” she said, snatching the bag and removing a little pouch of fries. “Now. About you helping me with my amazing Christmas party....”

“Hollyberry,” he said, using an old name for her that only he could ever get away with, “do you see a damned Christmas tree on my boat?”

“No. But it’s early still.”

“There will be no Christmas tree on my boat. I may, in fact, skip Christmas. It’s on a Tuesday and I’ll be out fishing, like I am every day.” He took a bite of his burger and groaned, and she felt a strange, heated sense of satisfaction blooming in her stomach. Why did he have to make sex noises while eating?

At least, they sounded like sex noises to her. Curse Ryan and his ability to push her mind straight into the gutter with his mere presence.

“I know Margie and Dan mean a lot to you too,” she said. “Maybe you could skip handling fish carcasses for a day and help me make something special for them. A Christmas Eve party, and a traditional Travers family Christmas.”

“You plan parties for a living, and you want my help putting together one Christmas party?”

“That’s the thing. I’m busy. Very busy this time of year. I have two weddings coming up, and several Christmas parties that I’m organizing the details for already.”

“And that’s why you decided to add to your list of responsibilities, and do an unpaid party for the Traverses.”

“It’s the one party that actually matters to me,” she said, taking a deep breath. “Christmas is important to me, Ryan. Margie and Dan are important to me. They’ve given me so many Christmases and it’s my chance to return that gift.”

Ryan assessed her, his expression unmoved as he chewed his dinner.

“They’ve given us all so much,” she continued, trying her best not to make an idiot of herself by crying into a cheeseburger on Ryan’s boat. “I just want to give them a little something back. I thought...I thought it would be the same for you.”

CHAPTER TWO

RYAN KNEW DAMN WELL when he was being emotionally manipulated. It wasn’t an easy thing for a person to do to him, seeing as he had few emotional attachments in this world, and he liked it that way.

But damn it all, Dan and Margie Travers were the two most important people in his life. He knew full well what Holly was talking about when she spoke of all they’d given her. They’d done just the same for him.

He’d come to live with them when he was twelve, with a bad attitude and anger that went deeper than the ocean. But they’d put up with him, refused to give up on him. Kept him with them until after he was eighteen, until he’d gotten his first boat and established himself with restaurants and stores in Copper Ridge as the go-to supplier.

It wasn’t the Christmases that stood out for him. It was the quiet, firm guidance from Dan. The hugs from Margie, even when he’d been twelve and had pretended he didn’t want them. Being touched in a way that didn’t leave bruises behind had been rare in his world before them. Being told he could accomplish anything he worked for? Even more rare.

Yeah, he owed them. More than he could ever repay. They’d given him his first real home, his first job, carrying bags of feed at the Farm and Garden store they owned. They’d taught him that tough love didn’t mean using fists. That hard work did pay off, and that he could make something of himself, regardless of what his old man had told him.

But he would rather shove broken glass under his fingernails than get roped into holiday festivities.

“Well?” Holly asked.

“You’re evil,” he said.

“I’m not evil. I’m like a little Christmas elf.”

“Evil.”

“I want your help planning a party, not burying a body.”

“Depending on the circumstances, I’m a better bet for body burial than I am for decorations and cheer.”

She rolled her eyes and just sat there, looking at once soft and formidable, as she tended to. She took a bite of her burger, chewing thoughtfully. He couldn’t help but follow the motion of her lips as she did. There was no question that she was beautiful. She always had been. Bright red hair, green eyes, a perfect smattering of freckles across her small, upturned nose. And her lips. Full, pink. Yeah, she was pretty. She was also about a million years younger than he was, and several teaspoons of sugar sweeter.

Okay, she was only four years younger, but it might as well have been a lifetime.

She took another bite and his gaze dropped, yet again, to her lips, forcing an unwelcome memory into his mind.

Another night, about nine years ago, when he’d been fixated on her lips. She’d been crying then. It had been her eighteenth birthday and her parents had arranged to visit her at Dan and Margie’s, but they hadn’t come. He’d put his arm around her and pulled her in for a hug, then the air between them had changed. Crackled with electricity.

And he’d pulled away like he’d been burned. Holly Fulton had enough bad things in her life without having him too. That had been true then, and it was true now. No matter how pretty she was.

“They worry about you, you know,” she said.

“Why?”

“Because.” She picked up a French fry and waved it around. “You’re a boat-dwelling weirdo.”

“And?”

“Maybe you could show them that you’re...well-adjusted? Doing fine? Participating in normal, human type things?”

“You’re using Dan and Margie’s emotional distress at my possibly sad life against me?”

She scrunched up her face. “When you put it like that it sounds... unsavory.”

He picked up a French fry and stuffed the whole thing into his mouth. “It is unsavory. It’s downright small. Low. Frankly, I’m surprised at you. For someone who looks so sweet, you’re ruthless.”

He could tell that she was very uncomfortable with being called ruthless. It was also the furthest thing from the truth. Still, he couldn’t help but goad her a little bit. Seeing as she was roping him into planning a Christmas party, and attending said Christmas party, both of which sounded about as appealing as getting a root canal while also receiving a vasectomy without anesthetic.

“Oh, cry me a river, Ryan. I’m strong-arming you into taking part in Christmas cheer and I will likely force-feed you gingerbread. It’s for your own good.”

“Like cod liver oil, flu shots and any book Oprah recommends.”

“A Christmas party is comparable to none of those.”

“Maybe not for you.”

“I promise not to get any joy on you. You don’t even have to like it.”

Saying yes to Holly really was the best idea. She wasn’t wrong. His involvement in this would make Dan and Margie less likely to think that he was turning into a seafaring hermit. He was a seafaring hermit, but as long as they saw him as something different, they might not worry so much.

He owed them way more than worry.

“Okay, Holly, you have a deal. I’ll help you plan your Christmas party. But I don’t have to like it.”

She brightened. “Oh, I expect you to hate it.”

“You seem awfully happy about that idea.”

“The more you hate something, the better I know it is. Since you seem to dislike the sorts of things normal people find extremely enjoyable.”

“What exactly are you going to enlist me for?”

She bit her lip, and he did his best not to watch as she worried her teeth over the delicate surface. “Putting up decorations. Helping me procure a tree. Tasting pies. You can taste my pies.”

He felt like he’d just taken a straight shot of whiskey, a trail of fire burning down his throat and settling straight in his gut. It happened so fast he could do nothing to stop it, could do nothing to reason out the fact that she was talking about literal pie, and that even if she wasn’t, it was Holly, and not some random chick in a bar.

He could try to blame it on the fact that, for a bachelor, the promise of fresh baked goods was a turn-on all on its own. But he knew it was more than that.

Holly looked placid and pleased with herself and definitely not like she had any idea she had conjured up an image of him eating her pie. So to speak.

He cleared his throat. “All that, huh? Are you trying to kill me?”

She stood, taking the paper that her cheeseburger had been wrapped in and wadding it up into a ball. “No. But if you die, don’t die before Christmas. Because I need your help.”

“It might be Christmas that kills me.”

She laughed, turning on her heel, her red hair swirling around her. Even her hair was merry and bright. “Joy to the world the Lord is come...” she sang, off-key and too loud, all the way out of his cabin.

As soon as she disappeared from view, he let out a breath he hadn’t been aware he was holding. Two weeks with all that Holly was going to be a whole lot of enforced happiness.

But he was hardly going to let Holly do this on her own, and have it get back to Dan, Margie and Elizabeth that he’d refused to help plan a Christmas party in their honor.

He was not that big of a dick. Well, maybe he was, but he didn’t want them thinking that.

And as long as he didn’t think about Holly’s euphemistic pie again, everything would be fine.

CHAPTER THREE

SHE’D TEXTED RYAN a little over an hour ago and he still hadn’t responded. Fortunately, she’d gotten quite a bit of work done sitting in The Grind, the local coffee house. She also drank too much coffee and ate too many biscottis, but really, what was too many biscottis? Cassie Caldwell, the owner of the shop and baker extraordinaire, had made cranberry, white chocolate, and gingerbread in honor of the season, so, really, Holly had been obligated to sample them all.

An eggnog latte had also been a must in the spirit of the season.

Cassie was expecting her first child any day now with her husband Jake, and Holly felt that meant her work needed to be doubly honored, considering.

Holly looked out the window at the encroaching darkness. The shop windows outside were lit up, full Christmas displays adding warmth to the chilly evening.

She looked down at her phone, which was still dark, the inactivity beginning to stress her out. She was starting to wonder if Ryan had only agreed to help her with the party to get her off his boat last night, and now that he had routed her out of his domain, he had no reason to play along.

She looked morosely at her phone, which was still resolutely not receiving a return text.

Ryan should be off the water by now. Which meant he was just ignoring her.

She frowned and took another sip of her latte. She could do this without him. She planned parties for a living, after all. So what if he’d been the person she should have been able to count on most to want to give back to the Traverses? So what if she was busy? Where Margie and Dan were concerned, nothing was too difficult.

And if she just wanted to spend a little bit of time with Ryan because it reminded her of Christmases past, well, she would just have to get over it. Because it didn’t matter. And anyway, he was a lot meaner now than he used to be. She hardly even liked him. She just liked the way he filled out a sweater, that was all. An entirely different thing than liking his personality.

The door to The Grind opened and she turned to look, her breath catching and becoming a lump in her throat when she realized it was Ryan.

He was a bit more cleaned up than he’d been last night. No beanie, his dark hair pushed off his forehead as though he’d been running his fingers through it. He was wearing a black wool coat and tan corduroy pants, a tight, gray T-shirt conforming to his hard torso.

At least, she was assuming it was hard. It looked hard. She’d never actually touched his stomach, or his chest, though she had thought about it. In fact, she was thinking about it now.

Smiling, she waved from her position at the table and got nothing more than an arched brow and one corner of his lips turned slightly upward in return. He walked to the counter and she sat there, watching, taking a moment to get an eyeful of his physique.

Then she realized the long-distance ogling was probably a little bit weird and stood, leaving her laptop sitting on the table and making her way across the coffee shop to the counter. One of the many perks of living in a small town was that she didn’t have to worry about leaving her things unattended to stand next to the man she should see as nothing more than a surrogate older brother so that she wasn’t leering at him from across the room.

“You came,” she said.

“Yeah.”

“I wasn’t sure if you would. Seeing as you didn’t return my text.”

He lifted a shoulder. “I didn’t tell you I wasn’t coming.”

Just then, Cassie came out from the kitchen, brushing her hands on a flour-covered apron over her rounded stomach. “Hi,” she said, by way of greeting to them both. “More biscotti, Holly?”

Ryan shot her a look that clearly asked How many did you eat? Holly ignored him.

“No, thanks,” she told Cassie. “I think I ate enough for it to count as lunch, dinner, and dessert.”

“Nothing wrong with that,” Cassie replied cheerfully.

“I’ll have a biscotti,” Ryan said.

“What kind would you like?”

“Whichever is your favorite, and a large black coffee.”

Cassie smiled. “You got it. Go ahead and have a seat.”

Ryan actually smiled back, and Holly was so stunned for a moment she forgot to breathe.

He started to walk back toward her table, and she followed. “So,” she said, “you are capable of basic friendliness.”

“Yes,” he said. “I can also use silverware and operate basic machinery.”

“It’s just that you don’t smile very much these days. At least not at me.”

He lifted a brow. “Did you ever think maybe it’s because you’re a pain in the ass?”

She thinned her lips into a flat line and shot him her most evil look. “How would I have time to stop and notice? You’re so busy being a pain in mine.”

“What did I do to you? I was just on my boat, minding my own business. You came in with cheeseburgers and dire commentary on my living situation and general countenance. Face it, Holly, you aren’t very nice to me.”

A wave of irritation and guilt washed over her, leaving her saturated in both. He wasn’t wrong. She was a little bit critical of his life choices. The most recent example being the comments she’d made about his boat. But honestly, she just thought he deserved better and should get better. So sue her. Still. She felt a little bit bad. She cleared her throat and offered a conciliatory smile. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t mock you.”

He leaned back in his chair, a lopsided smile on his face. “Oh, by all means, mock me. If you were to stop mocking me, I would start to feel like I was your emotional charity case. That’s worse than being tormented.”

“I’m not tormenting you.”

“You’re tormenting me with Christmas. My headstone will read death by figgy pudding.”

“I’m not going to feed you figgy pudding. I don’t even know what it is.”

“Okay, so if we aren’t going to have traditional British desserts, what exactly are we doing?”

She lifted her shoulder, suddenly feeling a little bit shy for some reason. This meant a lot to her and even discussing just how emotionally tied into this she was felt revealing. She’d spent her first Christmas with the Traverses when she was thirteen, and every Christmas thereafter. As the holiday season had started approaching this year, the thought of missing out had filled her with anxiety.

A deep, biting anxiety that she hadn’t experienced in years. A sense of invisibility. Of the world, and all the people in it, passing her by as she faded into vapor. Starving for food, for physical affection.

She had been invisible in her house growing up. But never once in the Traverses’ house. It was always so full of laughter, happiness, and warmth. Margie had always kept a pot of spices on the stove, for no reason other than to make the house smell wonderful. She had a hug for everyone who came through the door, and questions about their day, about their lives.

In their house, for the first time, Holly had felt like she existed.

They had thrown the most wonderful Christmas party for the community every year since then. Except for this year. And...

And for some reason the idea of a Christmas without them sent her straight back to the place she’d been in before they’d become her surrogate family. So, she’d come up with the idea for the Christmas party. But she didn’t exactly want to get into all of that with Ryan.

She knew he had his own reasons for caring for Dan and Margie. She also knew he wouldn’t exactly want to spill his guts to her and have a heart-to-heart. They had too many of their own issues to take each other’s on.

“Margie always made such a wonderful dinner. She had the best decorations. The best games,” she said.

“If you’re remembering her games as being fun, I’m going to say you’re romanticizing a bit. What do you need from me besides the heavy lifting?”

“Well, I made a list of people who normally attend the party, a list of the food that I remember, and a few other details.” She pushed her notebook toward him. “Tell me if you think I’ve missed anything.”

“I remember alcoholic beverages and demolishing an entire tray of pigs in a blanket. But those are my memories of Margie’s parties—the later years. The white elephant gift exchanges I don’t have a lot of fondness for.”

“Are you going to be this intentionally unpleasant the entire time?”

He shrugged. “It’s kind of my thing.”

“Right. Well...why? I don’t get it, Ryan. I mean, I know life is hard,” she said, skating perilously close to subjects neither of them wanted to delve in to, “but we’ve come out of it pretty good. Don’t you want to enjoy that a little bit?”

“Do you know what I enjoy? Freedom. The freedom to walk around frowning and stomping if I want. To go out onto the ocean for as long as I want. I don’t have to answer to anyone. And I don’t have to suffer anyone’s wrath. Hell, at this point if my old man tried to raise a fist to me? I could just kick his ass.”

Holly looked down into her empty coffee cup. She’d suspected as much about Ryan’s past. About his father. But they’d never talked about it. He said it now lightly, like it didn’t matter. But she knew it did.

“I don’t have to perform anymore,” he continued. “So, I don’t. I spent twelve years walking on eggshells, and then a few more until I was sure I wouldn’t get sent back. I like not doing it.”

She studied his face and evaluated the lines around his mouth, his eyes, across his forehead, differently than she had before. Lines he’d won the right to after he’d gotten out from under his father’s thumb.

“I was just invisible,” she said, feeling the need to trade with him now. He’d shared with her, and she got the feeling he hadn’t really meant to. She wanted to level the field. “So nobody cared what I did.”

They’d cared once. Before it had all faded away. Before her mother had realized her little red-headed daughter wouldn’t keep her husband from sleeping with other women or disappearing for days at a time. Before she’d realized Holly wasn’t a Band-Aid.

Before Holly had betrayed her in the worst way possible.

She looked up and caught Ryan’s eye and her heart stopped for a moment. His expression was intense, focused. “I can see you just fine,” he said, his voice rough.

She wanted to touch him. Wanted to do something to extend the connection between them. She wanted—

Just then, Cassie came over and set Ryan’s coffee and biscotti on the table before quickly walking away, obviously not wanting to interrupt their conversation.

Ryan picked up the biscotti first, and the moment of tension between them was gone. “I called Margie a couple of hours ago.”

“About?”

“Arrangements for picking her and Dan up at the airport. And to ask her a favor.”

She pushed the plate that had once held her biscotti back, then pulled it forward, looking for something, anything to do with her nervous energy. “What kind of favor?”

“Not a huge one. But you wanted this party to be a tribute to a Margie Travers party, and...when I think of her parties, I think of the village. The little snowy village she put on the mantels. And her garlands, with the shiny ribbon and the little berries in them.”

Holly nodded. “Me too.”

“So I asked her if she minded if I went and borrowed some of her decorations. She said it was fine, and she didn’t even give me the third degree, though I have a feeling she’s decided I want to impress a woman, even though I would never use Christmas decorations to impress a woman.”

Holly wrinkled her nose, not particularly wanting to imagine what Ryan did with women. Ever. “What would you use?” She couldn’t hold back the question. Apparently, something inside her was masochistic.

“My boat.”

“No way.”

“Women like my boat.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Not me.”

“I guess that’s why you didn’t make a pass at me when you came aboard yesterday.”

Her whole face felt hot and she looked down, desperate for a focal point that wasn’t his face. “Among the many other reasons. Anyway, thank you for talking to Margie, but I can use the decorations I have. I don’t have a key to their house. And I would feel funny about going in by myself.”

“I have a key,” he said.

“You do?” She resisted the urge to ask why he had a key and she didn’t.

“Yes. And I could go with you.” He sounded pained, and obnoxiously long-suffering.

“Well that’s...nice. If a bit grudging.”

“I’m flattered you think I’m nice, Holly.”

“And grudging!”

“I’m focusing on the ‘nice’ part.”

She made a scoffing sound and took her jacket off the back of her chair, then hurriedly packed up her laptop and notebook, bundling up before following him outside into the darkening evening. It wasn’t quite five, but the sky was already starting to turn a deeper blue as the sun sank into the sea.

“I walked over,” he said. “Do you mind driving?”

“No, I’m just parked down the block.”

The businesses on the main street were starting to close. Only restaurants stayed open past dark during the winter months. Rebekah Bear was standing outside the souvenir store, bringing in her signs and flags for the night, and she waved as Holly and Ryan passed.

White lights, strung around the various buildings, suddenly lit up as the sky continued to darken. Holly had lived in Copper Ridge for most of her life, but Christmas in the beautiful town was still remarkable to her. Walking beside Ryan, she was struck by a feeling of intimacy. He was tall and warm and she found herself wanting to lean into him. To brush her hand against his.

Nope. Nope nope nope.

She took a step away from him, to get a hold of her wayward fantasies. She was suddenly less focused on the town, and much more focused on just getting to her car, a little white beacon in the dimness.

“It’s unlocked,” she said, jerking open the driver side door and getting in, fishing her key out of her bottomless bag before jamming it into the ignition.

He got in after her, closing the door, and she suddenly realized that her car was not the safe haven she had been imagining it might be. It certainly did nothing to dispel the tension that she felt between them. Tension that Ryan was probably completely oblivious to, because Ryan had always been oblivious to the way he made her feel. Good thing, too.

He had no idea how many fantasies she’d woven around him as a young teenager. Had no idea that when he’d moved out of Margie and Dan’s a few months after she’d moved in, she’d spent the evening watching “It’s A Wonderful Life” and crying while eating a tub of ice cream.

He had no clue about any of that, and he would never know that even though she didn’t have feelings for him anymore, per se, there were still some nights when she had trouble sleeping, and thoughts of him would enter her sleepy brain. That on those nights, feelings for him would take over her restless body. He didn’t need to know that it was the easiest thing in the world, on those nights, to slip her hands between her thighs and think of...

Yeah, he did not need to know any of that, and she didn’t need to be thinking that while they were closed up inside her car. Honestly, how had she thought this would be less uncomfortable than the open street?

Neither of them said anything as she drove out on the main road, away from town and up toward the winding back road that led to the houses set into the hills that overlooked the ocean. There was a run of vacation rentals, a small gated community, and then a few larger houses on the street. At the very end of it was the massive West Family Ranch, the largest equine facility in Copper Ridge. Though it was currently getting a run for its money thanks to Jack Monaghan and his ranch, if rumors were to be believed.

The Travers family home was between the gated community and the West Ranch. It was a stunning, two-story house with a beautiful yard, tall, stately pine trees standing behind it, and a view of the ocean through large bay windows.

It was the kind of home she’d imagined only existed in movies when she’d been a child. Being allowed to come inside had been beyond her wildest fantasies. To actually live here? To stay and to attend parties? It had been like something out of a dream.

Being taken away from her parents by Child Protective Services had been terrifying. Leaving everything she knew, even when what she knew was bleak, was frightening. But then she’d seen this house. Margie and Dan had been there waiting, with open arms, and instantly, Holly had felt like she was in a movie. A fairytale where she was the secret princess.

The impact of this house, of coming here, hadn’t lessened even now that she was an adult. Her heart still swelled as she pulled her car up to the gate and entered in the code so that it swung open, allowing them entry.

“You sure you have the key with you?” she asked, pulling through to the paved, circular drive and stopping the car just in front of the door.

“Of course. But even if I didn’t, I know how to get in without using the front entry.”

He got out of the car, and she followed suit. “Really?”

“I snuck out more than once during my teen years. And back in. Successfully.”

He pulled his keys out of his pocket, unlocked the door and opened it, holding out his arm as if waiting for her to enter. As she walked into the expansive entryway, her heart fluttered a little bit.

She should be a lot more blasé about this kind of thing, really. She’d lived in this home for almost five years, after all. But even so, every time she walked in it returned her to that place of feeling honored to be permitted to be a part of something. It made her a thirteen-year-old again. Happy for the first time.

“It’s all still in the attic,” she said, gesturing to the sweeping, curved staircase.

“Oh, I know where it is. Because fetching decorations was my job.”

“Oh, poor put-upon youth. No wonder you had to sneak out.” She tried to imagine Ryan being filled with enough whimsy to do something like sneak out and look for trouble. It was difficult. She never would have dared to sneak out, for fear of upsetting the magical world she’d been admitted to.

Of course, she’d assumed it would have been the same for him. Her vision of him was that he’d always been responsible, serious. He’d bought his fishing boat at a young age, then moved out, and had been working on the boat ever since.

“Why did you sneak out? I have to know.”

“Honestly?”

“Yes, honestly.”

“I was doing an apprenticeship on a fishing boat.”

She blinked. “Oh.”

“Sorry, it’s not exactly sex, drugs and rock n’ roll.”

“I didn’t take you for that type, actually. This...makes more sense.” He started up the staircase, and Holly scurried after him. “Why didn’t you tell Dan and Margie? Why did you sneak?”

“Habit, I guess. I found something I was interested in and didn’t want to be shot down. Dan didn’t shoot my dreams down, of course. When he caught me and found out what I was doing, he encouraged me. As long as I didn’t let my grades slip, he said I could go out on the boats on the weekends.”

“We were pretty lucky to have them,” Holly said, emotion pressing tightly on her chest.

“Damn straight,” he said. “I think so too. You can tell because I’m here fetching Christmas decorations for you. For them.” He reached the top of the stairs, then opened the door that led to the attic. “Why don’t you come and choose what you like?” he asked, jerking his head toward the door.

She took a deep breath. She was headed for another small space with Ryan. That was a lot to ask of her Ryan-frayed nerves in a short amount of time.

But he seemed oblivious —which was for the best —so she was going to act like it wasn’t anything.

She swept past him and up the stairs, grabbing hold of the small cord hanging down from the bare light fixture on the ceiling, pulling it and illuminating the space.

Everything was neatly stacked and organized. Probably not by Margie, but most certainly delegated by her. The thought made Holly smile.

“There they are,” Ryan said, gesturing to a stack of bins clearly labeled “Christmas.”

“Okay. Well, my house is a lot smaller than this one, so I’m going to have to be selective.”

“Why do I feel like I might as well have gone shopping with you? This is about the same.”

“At least we didn’t have to drive out of town to get to a big box store. So there’s that.”

“Small comfort.”

“Wrap yourself in it like a blanket, Masters, because you’ll get few more of those small comforts. We’re on the Yule train, next stop tidings of comfort and joy.” She walked toward the bins. “Okay, but lift that top box for me because it looks heavy.”

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