A Copper Ridge Christmas. Maisey Yates

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      “Have it your way. Anyway.” She sucked in a sharp breath, immediately regretting it. The air smelled like fish, the sharp tang of salt from the sea, and sweat. Really, only the fish was bad. There was something about Ryan’s sweat that was not altogether unappealing to her. “I want to throw a Christmas party for Dan and Margie.”

      His dark eyebrows locked together. “What?”

      “They have such a great party every year. And Margie puts so much work into it. And I wanted... I want to give them something back.”

      “Why exactly?” he asked, frowning.

      “The gift of Christmas. Christmas cheer. Christmas pudding. Christmas...music. But I probably won’t sing, because I’m a terrible singer.”

      “What does this have to do with my cheeseburger?”

      “I thought we might discuss the possibility of the two of us working on the Christmas party together.”

      Ryan extended his hand and released his hold on the bag, letting it drop to the table. “No. I would rather eat canned clam chowder than help you plan a party.”

      “That cheeseburger has jalapeños and pepper jack cheese on it. The fries are curly fries, with garlic. Think very carefully before you commit to canned soup over this.”

      “I live on a boat and haven’t bought a new pair of shoes in three years. But these are choices I make, Holly. I can still afford to go buy my own damned cheeseburger if I want. Your tainted bribery food is unnecessary.”

      “Look, eat what you want. But hear me out.”

      He scowled and turned to the side, opening a cabinet and pulling out two plates, which he laid on the small, marred table. “Fine.” He gestured to one of the seats. “Talk.”

      He sat down, rustled through the bag and pulled out both burgers. After looking beneath the top bun of one, he found the one with jalapeños and set it on his plate.

      “I never had Christmas before the Traverses. They included me in the celebration when they didn’t have to.”

      He looked up, raising one brow. “Are you going to sit and eat? Because I will eat all of your French fries.”

      She sat down, taking her own hamburger, which was a bit more vanilla than his, and transferring it to the plate in front of her. “Eat my French fries and suffer a painful fate,” she said, snatching the bag and removing a little pouch of fries. “Now. About you helping me with my amazing Christmas party....”

      “Hollyberry,” he said, using an old name for her that only he could ever get away with, “do you see a damned Christmas tree on my boat?”

      “No. But it’s early still.”

      “There will be no Christmas tree on my boat. I may, in fact, skip Christmas. It’s on a Tuesday and I’ll be out fishing, like I am every day.” He took a bite of his burger and groaned, and she felt a strange, heated sense of satisfaction blooming in her stomach. Why did he have to make sex noises while eating?

      At least, they sounded like sex noises to her. Curse Ryan and his ability to push her mind straight into the gutter with his mere presence.

      “I know Margie and Dan mean a lot to you too,” she said. “Maybe you could skip handling fish carcasses for a day and help me make something special for them. A Christmas Eve party, and a traditional Travers family Christmas.”

      “You plan parties for a living, and you want my help putting together one Christmas party?”

      “That’s the thing. I’m busy. Very busy this time of year. I have two weddings coming up, and several Christmas parties that I’m organizing the details for already.”

      “And that’s why you decided to add to your list of responsibilities, and do an unpaid party for the Traverses.”

      “It’s the one party that actually matters to me,” she said, taking a deep breath. “Christmas is important to me, Ryan. Margie and Dan are important to me. They’ve given me so many Christmases and it’s my chance to return that gift.”

      Ryan assessed her, his expression unmoved as he chewed his dinner.

      “They’ve given us all so much,” she continued, trying her best not to make an idiot of herself by crying into a cheeseburger on Ryan’s boat. “I just want to give them a little something back. I thought...I thought it would be the same for you.”

       CHAPTER TWO

      RYAN KNEW DAMN WELL when he was being emotionally manipulated. It wasn’t an easy thing for a person to do to him, seeing as he had few emotional attachments in this world, and he liked it that way.

      But damn it all, Dan and Margie Travers were the two most important people in his life. He knew full well what Holly was talking about when she spoke of all they’d given her. They’d done just the same for him.

      He’d come to live with them when he was twelve, with a bad attitude and anger that went deeper than the ocean. But they’d put up with him, refused to give up on him. Kept him with them until after he was eighteen, until he’d gotten his first boat and established himself with restaurants and stores in Copper Ridge as the go-to supplier.

      It wasn’t the Christmases that stood out for him. It was the quiet, firm guidance from Dan. The hugs from Margie, even when he’d been twelve and had pretended he didn’t want them. Being touched in a way that didn’t leave bruises behind had been rare in his world before them. Being told he could accomplish anything he worked for? Even more rare.

      Yeah, he owed them. More than he could ever repay. They’d given him his first real home, his first job, carrying bags of feed at the Farm and Garden store they owned. They’d taught him that tough love didn’t mean using fists. That hard work did pay off, and that he could make something of himself, regardless of what his old man had told him.

      But he would rather shove broken glass under his fingernails than get roped into holiday festivities.

      “Well?” Holly asked.

      “You’re evil,” he said.

      “I’m not evil. I’m like a little Christmas elf.”

      “Evil.”

      “I want your help planning a party, not burying a body.”

      “Depending on the circumstances, I’m a better bet for body burial than I am for decorations and cheer.”

      She rolled her eyes and just sat there, looking at once soft and formidable, as she tended to. She took a bite of her burger, chewing thoughtfully. He couldn’t help but follow the motion of her lips as she did. There was no question that she was beautiful. She always had been. Bright red hair, green eyes, a perfect smattering of freckles across her small, upturned nose. And her lips. Full, pink. Yeah, she was pretty. She was also about a million years younger than he was, and several teaspoons of sugar sweeter.

      Okay, she was only four years younger, but it might as well have been a lifetime.

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