Also, I needed to discreetly text him to come help Nick and get him out of my hair.

  As soon as Lila and Nick wandered off to check on their girls, I tugged out my highly extravagant—and okay, possibly useful—iPhone and texted Clay.

  Me: Busy?

  It took him several minutes to answer. By the time he replied, I’d moved on to unpacking the new merchandise for the shop.

  Christmas was a racket. A profitable, often pleasant one, but whoa, how many miniature Santa Clauses did anyone need?

  PITA: A little. What’s up?

  I frowned. That answer fit no-strings sex. But as someone who gave one hell of a superior blowjob, I wouldn’t have minded a little reverence.

  But beggars couldn’t be choosers, and his trees were my ticket to not getting a headache from too loud music that I had to pretend to enjoy. Not that I’d ever actually listened to any of my various relatives by marriage who sang for their supper, but odds were good I wouldn’t enjoy them.

  Me: I need your help with a tree.

  He responded much more quickly this time. Nice to see a basic request from me didn’t merit unless it involved sap.

  PITA: Are you up one right now?

  Me: No, smartass. A friend wants to select one himself. I think he wants to cut it down too.

  This answer was even quicker yet.

  PITA: What friend?

  Me: Does it matter?

  PITA: I didn’t know you had ‘he’ friends.

  Me: ‘he’ friends?

  PITA: I mean, male friends around here. Does he work at the gift shop?

  I was a perverse person, because I could’ve ended this line of questioning with one answer. But did I? No. Because Clay wasn’t slayed enough by my notable BJ skills to immediately leap to do my bidding, no matter what else he was doing.

  Me: No. I met him through family.

  PITA: Oh, old friend?

  Me: No, very new. But we connected.

  My phone rang. I tried to keep from smiling smugly as I answered.

  “Did you need to go hands-free?”

  “Are you tormenting me on purpose, woman?”

  “Why, whatever do you mean?”

  He growled and a shiver traveled between my shoulder blades. “Bring this friend you connected so much with back to the tree farm and I’ll assist him.”

  “By threatening him with a chainsaw?”

  “I hadn’t thought of that, but it could happen. Are you laughing?”

  “Maybe. Since we’re talking about my cousin-in-law.”

  “You were yanking my chain.”

  “Not yet, but I could be if you hadn’t insulted my BJ skills.”

  “What? Okay, I know I never did that. Did you have a cocktail with lunch?”

  “No, but that’s not a half bad idea.” I tucked my phone into the crook of my shoulder and grabbed my box cutter to attack the second box of ornaments. “I’m not sure where Nick wandered off to now, but when I see him again, I’ll send him back to you. You don’t have to be nice to him.”

  “Good to know. I still want to know how I insulted your BJ skills.”

  “It was a sin of omission not commission. Thanks. Later.”

  “Wait, Rach—when will I see you?”

  “Did you hear the bit about him being my cousin by marriage? He’s not pecking at your birdseed, so chill.”

  Clay’s rich laughter filled the line. “I still want to see you.”

  “It’s because I kept mentioning BJs, isn’t it?”

  A gasp from the older woman behind me made me flash her an apologetic smile. I was talking in a low voice. If you eavesdropped, you never knew what you were going to get. Besides, it wasn’t like I was giving him one right here.

  Though that kind of show would really drum up business. We’d have to hire more people first.

  “No, but thanks for reminding me of them again.”

  “I’ve got this concert thing tonight.” I had zero faith Nick would get me out of it. “You can come too. If you want.”

  “That’s the sweetest invitation I’ve ever gotten. Thank you, honey.”

  “I’d prefer if you’d reserve that word for pillow talk and not when you’re being sarcastic.”

  “Me sarcastic? How could you say such a thing? What concert is it?”

  “Oblivion. Or parts of it. I don’t know who all is coming, but the lead singer dude is here somewhere and my cousin-in-law supposedly can strum a guitar. My other cousin-in-law also sings. I don’t know his material either.”

  “Oblivion? Are you serious? They’re huge.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because I don’t live under a rock? How can you be so blasé?”

  “I’m not blasé. I’ve heard one or two of their songs probably. Maybe even more than that. But they’re family. Besides, rich, privileged men don’t knock off my socks. I much prefer the working class sorts.”

  Clay was much quieter the next time he spoke. “Good to know.”

  “Yeah, so see, you should feel special.”

  “I do. And I still want to see this concert. It’s happening at Happy Acres?”

  “Yeah, so it probably won’t be too epic since lots of kids and families are around this time of year. Just don’t get any ideas.”

  “What kind of ideas?”

  “Like me pretending I’m a groupie and you’re a famous rockstar. I absolutely won’t sneak off with you to bang in a closet.”

  I didn’t look for the older woman behind me now. I didn’t want to know how close she was. Or if she’d gone to find my Aunt Laverne to report my lewd behavior during work hours.

  “Of course not. Why don’t I pick you up at your place around six?”

  “Sure. Should I padlock my coat closet just in case?”

  “No, I’ll wait until we’re at the concert itself. Forget a closet. Banging in the bathroom works. See you later.”

  I hung up, frowning at my phone. How did he know about proper concert banging protocol? And why did I want him to teach me all he knew?

  Chapter 24

  Rachel

  Cocoa To the Rescue

  I ducked out an hour early to go work in the CocoaBus. I’d been filling in at the gift shop for someone who’d called in sick, but Aunt Laverne had everything under control.

  She was fearlessly efficient, much like Cousin Lila. Just Lila wrangled rockstars, not miniature holiday gnomes.

  Although there were some similarities, at least in the case of Nick. No part of him was miniature, since he towered over me, but he had a questionable gnome-ish personality.

  Chaos awaited me at the CocoaBus. My cousins had taken over and were dispensing cocoa with enough whipped cream and the occasional liquor hit to send most profit down the proverbial toilet.

  Still, I might just try that new recipe I’d found the other day for mason jar whipped cream. It could be a cute counter item to sell too. Put on a festive bow, add a gingerbread name tag, and voilá.

  Also, making up bottles of that would be far better for me than contemplating my closet wondering what I should wear to a family-style rock concert. I mean, what the hell was that?

  I was going to find out.

  I’d turned on some Oblivion while I was organizing shelves at the gift shop. Knowing my relatives slept with these people kind of made it too close for comfort. It was hard to view them objectively on their actual merits.

  I turned them on again once I ducked out of the CocoaBus and headed home to meet Clay.

  As I rifled through my closet, I caught myself wiggling my hips more than once. Oblivion was pretty good.

  I listened to part of Ian’s album too, and he was as talented as Oblivion. His vocals were oddly similar and yet still distinct from his older brother Simon, the lead singer of Oblivion. Ian’s music was different too. It had a definite rock vibe but also mixed in elements of blues and folk and even occasionally, pop and country. He was like a modern Elvis, incorporating all kinds of genres and making his music entirely his own. Fitting, considering Ian’s baby’s name.

  I might even enjoy myself at this concert, whether or not Clay banged me.

  I’d texted him again when Nick had shown up to demand to be introduced immediately to my tree “connection”. I’d just wanted to make sure Clay could talk to him then and wouldn’t offload Nick on someone else. Not that I blamed the dude if he wanted to, since Nick seemed particularly persnickety, but I knew if Clay took the easy way out, I’d pay the price later.

  But Clay had been ready to help, so I’d sent Nick in his direction and told him I’d meet him at the orchard. With all the running around I’d been doing, I’d actually gotten myself a truck. It was an older model Ford Bronco in red and tan. It gave me CocoaBus vibes and I’d bought it before Beckett could meet me to look it over.

  Clay had texted later with a phrase that had given me glorious tingles.

  PITA: You owe me.

  What would that payment require? Maybe I should skip the jeans and go for an easy access skirt just in case.

  But when I arrived at the big performance building, already set up for the concert, I began to seriously doubt any headbanging—or any banging, period—would be taking place.

  And for once, that wasn’t a dig at my relatives by marriage.

  Christmas music blared from every unseen speaker, and instead of an actual band on stage, there was a giant overstuffed chair befitting Santa.

  Beside it, a sandwich board offered insight on Santa’s whereabouts.

  Santa needed a wee break, but hang tight, he’ll be right back.

  I spotted Zoe crouching near the stage with her ancient Polaroid camera, snapping away. I didn’t know what was so exciting about an empty chair, even if it was built to scale for a giant, but her pictures made more sense when her tall, lanky husband—or excuse me, Santa—strode out, adjusting his large black belt buckle.

  Guess the wee break had been truth in advertising. At least he’d put on a white wig and beard. I’d half expected him to just shove his man bun under Santa’s floppy red hat.

  “Rachel, what a sight for sore eyes you are.” Ian strode forward and plucked me right off my feet to give both cheeks smacking kisses. Since he hadn’t greeted me that way earlier, I was tempted to look over my shoulder. But he’d used my name so it had to be me.

  Then he set me down and whispered in my ear. “I don’t suppose you can get some of that hot chocolate with apple whipped cream sent over here? I have a mighty thirst.”

  “Apple whipped cream?” I frowned as Zoe glanced back. “What’s he on about?”

  “Ask Justin. I don’t know what the hell he’s doing over there.” She sat back on her haunches and cocked her head. “You know, that’s an excellent point. This place is going to be crawling with children in a half hour or less. If we could get a refreshments table set up over here, we’d make a killing. Aunt Laverne figured they could stop at the CocoaBus on the way here or after, but that’s not convenient.”

  I looked around for my favorite voice of reason. “Where is Aunt Laverne, anyway?”

  Zoe swapped film and smirked at Ian. “She stole Elvis away after a picture with Santa Daddy. Little guy was all peopled out.”

  I gave one last token protest. It wasn’t that I didn’t like the idea of making money. Just my rampant libido preferred I hold Clay’s ass tonight rather than cups as I filled them with cocoa.

  “Neither is filling up kids with sweets in a confined space.”

  “Hey, I can hold my hot chocolate. Mostly.” Ian yanked down his beard and gave me a blinding grin. I was momentarily dazzled until my cousin jabbed her knuckles in my ribs and snapped me out of it.

  “You get one starstruck moment because he’s a lot. But he’s your cousin-in-law. And wait until he’s high on sweets. He makes our two-year-old look mature.”

  I flushed then shook off my embarrassment. He was a world-famous rockstar with a sexy as sin smile and dimples for days. Charming unsuspecting females was his actual job. And he was damn good at it. The English accent did not hurt one bit, either.

  “Do you know how cold it is out there? I’m not going back to the bus to talk to your brother.”

  “Hello, text him?”

  “If he says yes, I’ll be drawn into work. I wanted to see the damn concert.”

  Zoe laughed in my face. “Sure you did. I can text Justin. He doesn’t have to bring the whole rig over here. Just a small setup. He can grab a tray of the baked goods from the kitchen too. Throw an apple-caramel tart at some of the kids, and they’ll be satisfied.”

  “Did someone mention tarts?”

  “No,” Zoe and I said simultaneously.

  Ian tugged on his beard, though Zoe hurried over to adjust it so his mouth didn’t look crooked. Then he sprawled in the Santa chair and grabbed his acoustic, strumming out a sweet version of “Silent Night.”

  As if he’d rung a bell, a random child called out, “Santa!” and feet pounded behind us.

  I didn’t look back. I was afraid to.

  “I’ll text Justin.” Zoe patted my arm. I was sure my face read blatant fear if it matched the emotions inside me.

  Children running around wanting presents and sugary snacks truly terrified me. I couldn’t keep order in that kind of situation. If I tried to hand out numbered tags to keep the lines neat and tidy, they’d probably eat the tags or turn them into confetti.

  I had enough trouble running herd on my cat.

  “Thanks. I’m not shirking my responsibilities. I’ll help. I just—”

  “Need a break,” Zoe finished. “I get it. Also, you probably figured you’d get to hear some music tonight other than children’s screams.”

  “I was hoping.” Okay, I hadn’t hoped at first, but then I’d found my holiday spirit enough that a show followed by a festive bang had excited me.

  “There will be music, don’t you worry,” Ian called from his throne. “Soon as my brother gets done decorating his suite here for his wee one, he’ll demand we start playing so the kids don’t have a chance to climb all over him.”

  “He’s a rockstar. Isn’t he supposed to enjoy females climbing on him?”

  My attempt at a joke fell flat when Ian gave me a narrowed-eyed look. “Females under ten climbing on you is a whole different story, love.”

  My cheeks burned. “Oh, of course, I didn’t mean that. I was just trying to be funny.”

  Clay strode in with snow dusting his brown hair and the shoulders of his long wool coat. I was so grateful to see a friendly face that I kind of forgot we were on the downlow and flew toward him, all but leaping into his arms and giving him a giant kiss.

  He grunted out a hello and met my mouth enthusiastically, his lips cool and minty and impossibly soft.

  Halfway through our tongue battle, I recalled we, um, weren’t supposed to be doing this. So what did I do? Pull off the lamest save in the history of them?

  Yes, that would be correct.

  “Oh, thank you so much!” I said loudly as I jerked back. His eyes crinkled at the corners before widening with a mixture of mirth and surprise. “You have the very best…trees!”

  Behind me, I heard a woman whispering. “We clearly should’ve gotten our tree here, Todd.”

  I covered my face with my hands. “I think I need a drink.”

  “And here I didn’t even have a chance to tell you I spoke to the man you had such a quick connection with.” Clay lifted his brows as I lowered my hands. “He’s a character.”

  “One way of putting it.”

  “You neglected to tell me he’s Oblivion’s lead guitarist. I found out what your comment about him ‘strumming a guitar’ actually meant when he introduced his best friend as Simon Kagan, the lead singer. Do you introduce me as a guy who plays in the dirt?”

  “You’re not funny.”

  “Oh, but I think I am.” Clay dipped his hands in his pockets. “But if you want to kiss me again to shut me up…”

  My pulse skipped about a hundred beats. “Aren’t you pissed I blew up our spot?”

  His mouth twisted. “I might be, if I knew what that meant.”

  “You know,” I gestured between us, lowering my voice, “your trees are great, but they’re not that good.”

  “I beg to differ.”

  “Dude, I just jammed my tongue down your throat. A prize evergreen on its way to Rockefeller Center wouldn’t make me do that.”

  He laughed and drew me closer to loop his arm around my shoulders. “And here I assumed you were grateful I’d helped your crazy cousin.”

  “He’s not technically my cousin, but—”

  Hearing myself, I sighed. It was Christmas. Maybe I should try to practice social skills. Once upon a time, I’d had them. Since then, I’d become so trapped in my head that I’d basically become a feral cat.

  “Thank you. I appreciate your help. Though how exactly did you help him? Did you give him a saw?”

  “Absolutely not. We don’t give lay people weapons of mass destruction. His daughters actually picked out a tree for him, and the guy’s basically the biggest mushball ever.” Clay smiled almost fondly. “Completely slayed by his two cute little girls.”

  “Clay, I never knew you were such a family man.”

  He smiled faintly. “Not yet, but maybe someday.”

  Okay, we needed a quick detour from that conversational path.

  “So, how did Cousin Lila react?”

  “I didn’t see that part. But one of my customers said they’d seen the lead guitarist from Oblivion ‘sucking face’ with a hottie blond woman in the parking lot that I could only deduce was his wife. Seems like I helped one way or another. At least he had his tree.”

  “Wow, here I thought your only skill was selling trees, and it turns out you’re a saver of marriages too. Quite a free gift with purchase, sir.”