Page 27 of If You Give a Grump a Christmas Tree Farm
“Oh, it’s perfect,” I practically squeal, bouncing on my toes, a huge smile wrapping my face.
Boot scratches his beard. “Yeah, used to be my grandpa’s. It’s just been sitting in my backyard for years. JJ asked if he could buy it off me. Honestly, between you and me…” He leans close to me and whispers, “I’d have given it to him for free just to get it off my property. It’s been one hell of an eyesore.”
“Your secret’s safe with me.” I smile.
He returns it with a wink. “I knew I liked you.”
“It just needs a good wash, and then we can put a tree in the truck bed and paint a logo on the door. It’s exactly what we needed.”
JJ turns to me. “As good as the sleigh at Angel Ridge?”
“Even better.”
That gets a huge grin from him.
CHAPTER NINE
JJ—
After steaks on the grill, my brothers and I sit on the porch, drinking beer and watching a billion stars come out. It’s late, and they crash here. I put two of them in the loft and the other two on the pull-out sofa bed. That leaves me on a chair and ottoman.
When the sun rises, I’m stiff and sore, but the aroma of coffee has me stretching and standing. I find Rebecca in the kitchen baking blueberry muffins.
Heading straight for the pot, I pour myself a mug, then turn and lean against the sink and watch her. She’s got one of my grandmother's old-fashioned ceramic bowls and is stirring up the batter, the muffin tin already shiny with butter.
Her eyes shift to me with a grin. “You sleep well?”
“No,” I grumble. “Someone didn’t offer to share her big queen bed with me. Now I have a stiff neck.”
“Poor baby. You want to start that slab of bacon in the skillet?”
“Sure.” I flick the burner on and put the cast-iron skillet, already lined with slices of bacon, on to heat. Soon, it's sizzling in the pan.
I hear my brothers rousing and grin. “Works every time. You want to wake a biker, start frying bacon.”
Rebecca gets the muffins in the oven, then beats up a dozen eggs. “You want to set the table while I scramble these eggs?”
“Will do.” I grab a stack of plates and a handful of forks and lay them out in a pile in the center of the dining room table.
Rebecca lifts a brow. “That’s how you set the table?”
“For this crew, it is.”
Ghost and Hammer tromp down the stairs, and Boot and Griz come in from the living room.
“I smell bacon,” Griz says, yawning and scratching his chest.
Ghost cocks his head. “There coffee?”
I pour him a mug, and the others, too. “Take a seat. It’s almost ready.”
Soon, we’re all gathered at the dining table, passing around a bowl of scrambled eggs, a platter of crispy bacon, and hot muffins from the oven.
I let the fire burn overnight, and its crackling embers glow in the hearth.
“So, what are you gonna do with all those pumpkins, brother?” Ghost asks, forking up some eggs.
“Sell ‘em, I guess.”
