Page 19 of Christmas in Vines

I quirked a brow. “That doesn’t work for you? How about pumpkin, dollface—”

“Stop,” she narrowed her eyes.

“Sweetcheeks, snookums, toots?” I kept on.

“Oh god,” she tried to keep an annoyed look on, but I saw humor dance in her eyes.

“Sugar lips, hot mama, honeybuns—”

“Tyler shut up.” She kissed me.

ChapterSix

Willow

Tyler Burrows.

God knew the man’s arrogance was as dazzling as his body.

Even now, at home and in my bed, I felt heat spreading through my cheeks and down my neck again. The embarrassment I felt from his dirty talk was nothing compared to the heat building up in my core right now. I felt mortified, knowing that his fingers inside me weren’t the only thing that brought me to orgasm but also his filthy mouth.

When I was on his lap, I was helpless to do anything but hold his gaze, his bright, seagrass eyes impossible to look away from.

I was sure that if I allowed him, he would make me come by dirty talk—and that scared me. How was it that I was this turned on by a man I knew little to nothing about?

With Maxwell, I’d been naïve and swept into a fairytale, and I thought I was wiser now to see all the red flags around me, but Tyler didn’t strike me as one. He had women, I knew this, but he was not the play boy who ran around with more than one.

That was fine as what we were doing was just a holiday fling, a good romp for fun, and by next year, I’d have the sweet memories to reflect on.

Today, we were going to build a snowman in the park with a dozen other families. After a quick worry about other people seeing us—some of the town folks were really up-your-butt nosy—I didn’t think too much of it. I didn’t owe anyone any explanation.

Tyler aside, I had something more important to address. I needed to know why the hell Dad was even entertaining having business dealings with Maxwell’s dad, much less actually doing it. I’d been too shocked and dumbfounded to see Maximillian there.

I took a warm shower, dressed and headed down to the kitchen, where I knew Dad would be there with a cup of tea. He’d given up on coffee long ago, but I was not on that train; coffee was my morning fuel.

As I’d expected, Dad was there, paging through the daily newspaper—he hated e-readers—with a cup of heather tea in hand. After getting the coffee going, I turned to Dad and said, “Dad, why is Maxwell’s dad coming around?”

He folded the paper. “That’s Herman’s doing, sweetheart. I had nothing to do with it—”

“Why is he here though?” I cut in. “You know if he is here, Maxwell is eventually going to show up. He’ll try to wheedle his way back, and I don’t want to deal with him.”

Dad sighed and rubbed his forehead. “I know it's not what you’d like, sweetheart, but Herman invited him in. On a purely business basis, Maximillian can be the biggest investor we would ever have. I knew there is bad blood between you and Maxwell, but this is commerce, sweetheart. If we partner with his shipping line, our cider could be in countries we have not even considered selling in or even have entry into.”

I bit back a grimace, as this was what I’d feared. I knew the man had enough money to compete with a small country’s GDP, and he could buy anything—and anyone—he wanted. Multi-millions would do that to anyone.

Adding cream and sugar, I stirred them in while considering how to reply. “A week ago, Maxwell ambushed me when I went to see Jackie. He tried to tell me he changed his ways and that he was a reformed man, ready to be the boyfriend I always wanted him to be. And now, his dad is trying to buy his way into our business. I don’t like it, Dad.”

“I know it’s uncomfortable,” Dad shifted his cup aside. “But this is a chance to finally get in the league with the Sullivans and the Vegas.”

As much as I hated it—Dad was right. It could be the best way to get into the top tier with those snooty winemakers and the indifferent Vegas. If they decided on taking Maxmillian on, I just had to stay out of their way.

“Just…” I didn’t know what to say and transferred my coffee to a travel cup. “Keep him, both of them, away from me.”

As I left the room, I could feel Dad’s sympathetic gaze on the back of my neck. Heading out to the warehouse, I felt the inexplicable need to see Tyler and talk to him. I didn’t think he would understand my dilemma, but he had offered to give me a listening ear.

I didn’t think we could talk openly with the other hands milling around us, but I could at least hope for a private moment.

There was more snow on the ground between the main house and the warehouse, but I didn’t mind; at least I could trample something representing Maxwell’s face. When I got there, I switched into work mode and got the guys moving out in quick time—but not Tyler. It was when almost all of the guys were gone that he came stumbling in.

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