Rodeo Christmas at Evergreen Ranch (Gold Valley #13)(114)

But the story was more complicated than that. It turned out it was Hank’s wife, Tammy, who had dealt with the former mistresses who’d all had his children. Hank himself had never really known.

And so he was... He was doing this. He was heading up to this family Christmas thing. And he didn’t know what the hell was in store for him. But he’d spent his life without any real family. He was curious, frankly. To see this whole big family that was his.

Thankfully, Honey would be around to see to the running of the winery. Plus, Jackson and Creed could get their asses in gear to give them some help. They were like brothers to him.

And Honey was...

Under his skin in ways he didn’t like to acknowledge. He’d known her since she was a scrappy, spiky kid, and now she was a scrappy, spiky woman who ignited his blood and made him question if hell was really all that hot, or if it was something he should risk.

Lord knew, if he ever touched her, Jackson and Creed would have his head on a pike. And if he were the kind of man who could offer something extra, it might be different.

But in his mind, love was a sacrifice. And he’d bled out all that he could on that score.

So he kept his fly up and his hands to himself. Around her anyway.

Unwanted attraction aside, she was a good worker, and she would be more than up to the task of seeing to the place around the holidays. In fact, since he’d bought the place, he swore she’d been working two times as hard.

Being here without him wouldn’t be that difficult either, especially because it wasn’t exactly prime wine tasting time. They had a couple of private parties, but otherwise, people were getting together and sitting outdoors and watching music every week during this time of the year. Maybe his success in life was part of the reason he’d agreed to meet with the Daltons.

Because hell, he’d gotten pretty far in life without Hank.

He pulled himself up from nothing with bloody knuckles. Bought his first ranch after years of working it. Bought another one. Expanded. Made profits. Got to the point where he could buy the winery. And now he had several different business ventures relating to ranching and agriculture.

And he was successful. No matter how you looked at it.

He didn’t need the Daltons’ pity or their money. There had been a time when his mother really could’ve used it. They had gotten a single settlement from Hank, but her cancer had bankrupted them.

He’d been a kid left with nothing in the end. And yeah, he’d spent some time being bitter about it. Until he’d decided the best revenge could only ever be living well, and he’d done whatever the hell he could to make sure he was living as well as any man could be.

He worked hard, he played harder. Family, marriage... That shit wasn’t in the cards for him.

He walked into the winery tasting room, to see Honey leaning over the table on her phone. She was wearing a pair of blue jeans that seemed on a mission to hug her ass as tightly as possible.

No. Honey was not his sister. She was also barely over the age of twenty-two, too damned young, too damned earnest and more likely to bite him on the wrist than kiss him. She was like a wild mink.

And damn if it didn’t appeal.

He knew exactly when the switch had flipped, and he did his best to never think about it. It had been back last November when Creed had announced he was marrying his rival—because she was pregnant.

Honey had been incensed, a furious little ball of rage.

“You don’t marry somebody just because you lust after them. That’s silly.”

“Fine. The pregnancy.”

“I still don’t understand how you could be so stupid. You’re not a kid.”

“Honey, I pray that you always keep your head when it comes to situations of physical desire.”

“I would never get that stupid over a man.”

She’d said that with total and certain confidence and something had broken inside him. Shattered. She was a woman.

And he wondered what sort of man could make her that stupid.

His immediate, gut response had been...

Him.

He’d wanted to run out of there like his pants were on fire and his ass was catching. Instead he’d stayed—like it was nothing—and tamped it all down to a manageable burn.

It was what he’d been doing ever since.

“Afternoon.”

She lifted her head slowly, then turned to look at him, her expression cool. “Jericho.”

“Did you practice that face in the mirror?”

“What face?” she said, the coolness evaporating immediately, her eyebrows locking together.

“There you go. Now you look like you. I’m going to need you to oversee things while I’m gone over Christmas.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

She blinked wide, whiskey eyes. “Do you think that you’re my... Do you think you’re my boss, Jericho?”

“Honey,” he said, realizing that he was tempting fate. And her temper. “I own the winery now. You do work for me.” He was the one that would be signing the checks once that first pay cycle ended. So maybe she hadn’t realized it. But it was true.

“I...I quit,” she said.

“Excuse me?”

“I quit. I’m leaving, actually. I’m leaving.”

“You’re leaving?”