Page 19 of Tangled In Tinsel & Knots
The land stretches out behind our property, fenced with serious hardware. Ten feet high, reinforced posts, electric wire running along the top. It’s not just for keeping the reindeer in. When you spend your days hunting down bail jumpers and dragging them back to face charges, you make enemies. The fence keeps those enemies out should they track us down.
Beyond the pasture, thick woods climb into mountains, snow-covered and pristine. Beautiful country, even if it’s cold enough to freeze your balls off six months out of the year.
The house sits about a hundred yards in front of it. Three stories of stone and timber, screaming old money and ranch life. Noel’s grandfather built it back when he was running cattle and making serious profit. Now it’s ours, and we’ve added our own touches. Security cameras on every corner. Reinforced doors.
Chris emerges from the house and strolls over to join us. Must have just woken up, seeing as he told us jack shit last night and went right to his room once he got home. Now, he leans against the fence, coffee mug in hand, and he’s got that look on his face. The one that means something happened and he’s deciding how to tell us.
“So.” I finish pouring grain, watching Pawn eat with single-minded focus. “You going to tell us what’s got you grinning like that, or are we playing twenty questions?”
Chris takes a long sip of coffee, deliberate. “Santa gig went sideways but in the best fucking way.”
“Go on.” Noel has moved to the water troughs, checking ice. “Did you scare children? Tell me you terrified at least one.”
Chris’s grin widens. “Event was boring as fuck for the first hour or so. Did the ho-ho-ho bullshit, smiled for photos. Standard mall-Santa crap.”
“Sounds thrilling.”
“It wasn’t. Until the hottest woman I’ve ever seen dragged me under the mistletoe and kissed me like she wanted me to strip her down and lick every inch of her body right there in front of eighty people.”
I pause mid-pour.
Noel straightens, turns around slowly.
Chris just grins wider, waiting.
“Lucky bastard,” I finally say, because honestly, good for him. “How hot are we talking?”
“Dark hair down to here.” Chris gestures to his lower back. “Curves that have me hard as a fucking rock. Waist small and fit my hands so well when I grabbed her. Softest breasts against me. Her mouth…” He stops, runs a hand through his hair. “Fuck, her mouth should come with a warning label.”
“And she just kissed you?” Noel is skeptical. “Out of nowhere?”
“She was trying to avoid some drunk asshole who was her business partner and wouldn’t leave her alone. Saw the mistletoe, saw me, made a decision.” Chris’s expression shifts, goes heated. “No hesitation.”
Chris sets his mug on the fence post. “I swear to God I almost dragged her out of that party right then.”
“But you didn’t.”
“I’m not a fucking animal. There were kids around.” He pauses. “Barely restrained myself, though.”
Noel is watching Chris with that assessing look he gets when he’s reading someone. “Who was she?”
“The event planner, Hannah Parker. Lily’s sister.” Chris says her name like it matters, and I file that away for later. “She planned that entire event herself. Every detail perfect, ran it like a general commanding troops. Smart, competent, takes zero shit from anyone.”
“Sounds like your type,” I observe, dumping the last of the grain.
“Fuck yeah, she is. The type I didn’t know existed until last night.”
I exchange glances with Noel. Chris doesn’t talk like this. Chris is the steady one, the grounded one, the guy who hooks up and moves on without getting attached. This is new territory.
“And after the kiss?” I ask.
“That drunk jackass, her business partner, lost his shit. Made a scene, yelled at her in front of everyone, stormed off threatening to destroy her career.” Chris’s voice goes hard. “She was shaking after he left. I got her away from the crowd, talked her down from a panic attack.”
“White-knight routine,” Noel says. “Classic.”
“Fuck off. She needed help.”
“I’m not criticizing.”
