Page 50 of Whiskey Kisses For the Mountain Man
Already, I have Mayor Pierce on the line and a long list of tasks that need expediting ASAP on my mind. I am in love. I am loved in return. And we are about to give this town the best Christmas they’ve ever experienced.
Merry fracking Christmas to me and all of Eden Ridge.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
OWEN
"Alittle higher on the left," I call up to Grayson, who's balanced in the cherry picker, adjusting the massive star atop the fifty-foot pine.
He gives me a thumbs up, making the adjustment while Asher and I check the electrical connections one final time. Everything needs to be perfect for tonight's tree lighting ceremony.
"You sure about this Santa surprise?" Asher asks quietly, checking the massive extension cords running to the generator.
"No," I admit. "But she deserves something special."
"Never thought I'd see the day Owen McKenna would willingly put on a Santa suit."
"Makes two of us."
We work in comfortable silence for a few minutes, the brotherhood of the Hunters feeling more like family than I've experienced in decades. When I first approached them about outbidding Silver Lakes for the tree, I expected resistance. Instead, they rallied around the idea with a ferocity that caught me off guard.
"She's good for you," Asher says, not looking up from his work. "We all see it."
I grunt noncommittally, but he's right. Three weeks ago, I was a shell, going through the motions. Now I wake up every morning with Lettie curled against me, and I actually look forward to the day ahead.
"Just don't fuck it up," he adds with a smirk.
"Planning not to."
Holden approaches with the final string of lights. "We're all set. Power test in five minutes."
I check my watch. Three hours until the ceremony, which means I need to get moving. "You guys finish here. I've got somewhere to be."
Beckett, descending from checking the upper branches, raises an eyebrow. "Getting cold feet?"
"No," I say firmly. "Just need to get ready."
The truth is, my stomach's in knots. Not about the Santa surprise—though the thought of appearing in public dressed as the literal embodiment of Christmas is still surreal. It's what comes after. The small velvet box is burning a hole in my pocket.
Too soon, everyone will say. Only known each other for a few weeks. But when you've spent decades guarding your heart and then suddenly find the one person who makes the walls irrelevant, why wait?
I'm forty-three years old. I've wasted enough time already.
"Good luck," Grayson calls down from his perch. "Don't trip on the beard."
I flip him off good-naturedly and head toward my truck, planning to stop by Lettie's office before grabbing the costume from Sierra, who helped arrange everything. Sucks Ezra and Zoe can’t be here for this in person, but Laurel’s video calling them when the moment comes.
As I approach Rebel Pine Events, I notice an unfamiliar luxury sedan parked out front. Something prickles at the back of my neck—intuition honed from years of reading people at my bar.
Approaching Lettie's office, I hear raised voices. The door is cracked open, and I slow my steps, not wanting to intrude but concerned by the tension I can feel even from the hallway.
"Colette, this has gone on long enough." A woman's voice, crisp and cold. "Your father's firm has lost two major clients because of your continued absence."
"I fail to see how that's my responsibility, Mother." Lettie's voice is strained in a way I've never heard before.
I move closer, able to see through the crack in the door. A woman who could only be Lettie's mother stands rigidly in the center of the office. She's the spitting image of what Lettie might look like in thirty years if she lost every ounce of warmth that makes her special—same features, but arranged in permanent disapproval. Beside her stands a tall, distinguished man with silver temples and a face that hasn't smiled in decades.
"Your absence reflects poorly on the family," the man—her father—says. "The Burton gala was a disaster. Every conversation turned to questions about you and that viral... episode."
