Page 59 of Christmas in Vines

“Not until now,” I replied. “And why were you talking to Sean at all? Don’t you all get hives by being within three feet of acider maker?”

“Well, he didn’t tell me exactly,” Mia murmured, “I overheard him talking to Greer at Mama Macchiato.”

“And you ran with it?” I bit down on my laughter. “Still same ol’ hotheaded Mia. Have you considered why Sean would have conveniently let the info slip in your presence?”

“To start something,” she admitted.

“No, starting something would mean something isn’t already there, and as the whole town, possibly half the world, knows about our family rivalry, he was using that to build on the mutual dislike. Once again, are you sure that degree is accredited?”

She huffed, then stood. “Well, seeing as I was mistaken, I apologize. And now that I have made a complete embarrassment of myself—”

“More like a jackass,” I corrected her.

“I shall be going,” she headed to the door to pivot on her high-heeled boots. “Its…erm…I’m sorry I disturbed you. I was wrong for running in like that, and please forget about my screw-up?”

“Not even when there is a snowstorm in hell,” I replied. “And Mia, the next time you want to come and confront me about something I have not done, make an appointment, like the rest of the world, hm?”

When she left the room, I picked up my phone and called Cole, who was somewhere in Palisade. When he answered, I got right down to business, “Tell me anything you know about some big Texas bigwigs coming in for a contract—now.”

* * *

“I know that look,” Cole, my younger brother by three years, said as he knocked on my door and came in the following day. “If you keep doing that, you’ll have crow’s feet by thirty and crossed eyes by thirty-one.”

“Jokes on you,whippersnapper,” I replied. “I’m already there. You think I’m scared of thirty-two?”

“No,” Cole laughed, raking his hand through his dirty blond hair. “I’m afraid you’ll be a young guy with a grandpa's face and won’t be my wingman when we got to clubs. They’ll take a look at you and run the other way.”

“I’ve got a business to run, not skeeze at clubs,” I replied. “If you want a wingman, Jerry Clarkston knows all of them.”

Cole’s fake-horrified gasp nearly had me laughing.

“A Clarkston?” he gaped. “Acidermaker? You insult me, sir. You insult me deeply.”

“I didn’t say you should marry the guy,” I snorted. “But whatever. Where is the information I asked you to get for me?”

Cole handed me a folder without another word, and I opened it.

“They’re saying the two biggest beef ranches in Texas are looking to make a long partnership with the beverage makers here, and yes, I think Clarkston Ciders is in the running, too.”

“As they have a right to be,” I grumbled, while a picture of Mia’s face from yesterday popped up. “It’s a free market around here, last time I checked.”

“Unless you’re an oligarchy like the Sullivans,” Cole’s face twisted. “Oh, by the way, Mia is in town.”

“I know,” I grunted. “She popped by yesterday.”

Cole’s brows shot up. “Why?”

“To bring me a platter of cookies and borrow a cup of sugar,” I deadpanned. “She is aSullivan, Cole, and she came to demand that I not accept the newest contract because a Clarkston had let it slip that we had already secured it.”

A soft whistle left Cole’s lips. “Damn. I never expected that.”

“It’s a battle of a multimillion-dollar contract.” I closed the file, having read all I needed to know. “And no way will I let them beat me to this deal.”

“Ethan….” And something ran up my spine at the tone he used. I tensed—why didn’t I like that tone? “…when was the last time you got laid?”

I narrowed my eyes. “Thatis none of your business.”

“It kinda is when you look like you’ve got iron shoved up your butt,” Cole replied. “Listen, I know you are pissed about what Mia did, but come on, man. You need to chill out, man. Forget about getting wrinkles by thirty-two. You might have a stroke by tonight.”

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