Page 1 of Christmas in Vines

ChapterOne

Cole

Rubbing the condensation from the beer, I glared at it. “You know you’re the reason for my mess, right?”

It was not like I wanted the thing to answer me, but it was true. Three days ago, I’d lost a bet with my dumbass friend, and now, I was taking Tyler’s place as a temp hand at Clarkston’s Ciders brewery for three weeks—all because I lost a game of beer pong. What had made me risk so much for so little?

Loose cannon.

Cocky dumbass.

Egotistical maniac.

And wasn’t it perfect that my brother Ethan’s voice was in my head? I’d brushed his warnings off all these years, but now, I finally understood what he had been saying. At least, with my brother handling the Vega Meadery with the new Texas guys' contract and having more hands than he could handle, he didn’t need me for the three weeks heading to Christmas.

Plus, with Mia, his new girlfriend, in his life, he had another reason to be distracted. I wasn’t a contracted worker with my brother’s business anyway. I was free to come and go as I pleased because that thing was Ethan’s baby—I was not sure it was mine. I had no problem jumping in when he needed me and digging up dirt, finding contracts, and all that, but again, I was still finding my footing.

At least three weeks would pass by in a flash. I’d go to the place, keep my head down, do my job, and leave without incident. I was sure I wouldn’t leave without breaking out in hives—like the Sullivans, wine snobs, said would be a sure thing. To them, cider was the fourth-class citizen under wine, mead, and, surprisingly,beer.

To my shame, in my town, we mocked the Clarkston ciders a lot… well, not the town exactly, more like my family and the Sullivans discounting them asciderwas as commonplace as beer.

Well, not my buddy Ryan Sullivan; he had no prejudices against anyone, not my family’s mead business or even the cider makers.

“…Who knows? It could be a good thing,” I shrugged to myself. “Who knows?”

Why, in God’s name, do I get myself in these situations?

The reflection over a relatively low-key bar in Crescent Ridge’s square showed me my new, temporarily dyed, dark brown hair and tinted brows. Tyler had even set me up with his bunk keys, ID, and whatever else it would take to make me pass for him. It didn’t help that we looked scarily alike, except for the dimple in his chin; mine was smooth, but who would be gatekeeping dimples?

My start date was tomorrow, and I needed a drink—or three—to take the edge off. I was a few miles from home, but it didn’t matter; no one would be looking for me there. Finishing my beer, I left the bar and began walking to the bunkhouse, where I would crash until reporting the next morning.

In mid-November, snow was already fluttering down and dusting the roadways and housetops in soft fluff. I was not one for the Christmas hoopla; I got the reason for the season, the birth of Christ and all that, but I still didn’t get why people went crazy. All this tinsel town, hot chocolate, peppermint, and carol singing BS. Santa Claus made me cringe, and candy canes made me shudder in distaste, but what could you do except wait the madness out and welcome sanity on New Year’s?

Heading around the bar to where the car park was, I spotted a woman and a guy arguing under a dull streetlight. I kept my head straight and decided to walk off—their private business was none of mine—but when she slapped his hand away from her face, I stopped.

“Stop, Max, I’m done. I moved on. Get it through your thick skull,” she said tightly.

That didn’t sound so good.

“C’mon, Willow, you can’t be serious,” the guy said arrogantly. “I’m the best thing that happened to you.”

Hell, it sounded dangerous.

I couldn’t see her all that clearly at the angle I was at, but I knew I had to do something. The most I could tell about her was that she was about average height, slender without being skinny, and her hair was in a thick, brunette braid. If this was an abusive boyfriend or risky ex, I could not leave her there all alone against him.

Abruptly changing course, I strode over to them like a mad boyfriend on a mission. “Hey you, fuck off!” I shouted, “Leave my goddamn girlfriend alone.”

The two jerked apart as if I’d shot one of them, and I grabbed Willow’s arm to pull her a little behind me. Then I turned to her. “Is this the douche you were telling me about, baby?”

She swallowed but played along and nodded. I turned to Max, and objectively, I could see why he felt so arrogant and entitled; he was a good-looking guy with a square face, high cheekbones, gray eyes, and thick dark hair. But I didn’t give a shit.

“You’ve got about ten seconds to go before I nail your pretty face,” I snarled. “And if you ever try to come within a mile of Willow again, I won’t be responsible for your brokenspine.”

Max’s eyes narrowed. “So, you’re the guy she left me for?”

“Damn right,” I replied. “And I can see why. Move off, asshole. She doesn’t need or want you anymore.”

He laughed, then turned to Willow. “You can’t be serious.Him?”

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