Chapter One
Cassie
West Kringle is not a true Kringle. At least, not in spirit. I don’t even know why the grumpy cowboy still works at the Kringle Christmas Tree Ranch that his parents built. All he does is stomp around here and boss employees around.
There’s no Christmas cheer to be had around this cowboy. He spends every holiday season avoiding the crowds that flock to his family’s farm. He doesn’t help out Ledger and Micah who give customers tours of the place. He doesn’t show up at the gift shop and help his mom bag and ship the orders. When he does deign to join the weekly family dinner, he barely says a word to any of us.
No, he’s too busy fussing over the trees and harvesting them to mingle with his family. Or he was. His father’s recent health scare changed everything.
Now, the annoying man is everywhere I turn. He’s usually scowling at me too. Always looking like he walked out of a hot cowboy calendar while he ducks his head under the brim of his Stetson.
He’s outside my workshop right now, banging on the door with his big fist and yelling at me to open up. I know it’s him because he’s announced it like three times and he’s not going away. Why can’t he take a hint?
“It’s too early for this,” I mutter as I pull my face up from my workshop table. It releases me with a sticky popping noise which means I must have fallen asleep working late again last night. I scrub at my stiff cheek and hope there’s no paint on it.
Christmas is my busiest season. It’s when Cassie’s Creations are most in demand. Not only do I sell my toys at the Kringle gift shop but on their website too. Plus, there are the organizations that serve foster kids who can always use extra donations this time of year.
I yell that I’ll be there in a second and reach for my cardigan, slinging it around my curvy body. This workshop used to be an old barn that I’d work out of. Then West caught on and within just a couple of weeks, he had it transformed into a real woodshop for me, complete with a heating system.
I tried to thank him but he just growled at me, “No sense in you freezing your fingers off.”
So, yeah, that’s West. He’s my brother’s best friend and the man that infuriates me even when he’s doing something nice for me.
I nearly trip over Snowball as I make my way toward the door of my shop. She’s the white kitty I adopted from the shelter earlier this year. She hisses at me, but I don’t take it personally. She’s hissed at every single person I’ve brought her around.
“What do you want?” I demand when I open the door and see him standing there. It’s not even seven in the morning and he has the audacity to look hot in his black t-shirt and tight blue jeans.
I think his mouth quirks, but it’s gone too soon for me to tell. I wish he were easier to read. I’ve never been able to figure this man out or why he drives me so crazy. The Kringles adopted me when I was fifteen. Micah had just turned eighteen so he couldn’t legally be adopted. But they took us both in and raised us alongside West, their biological son.
“Coffee,” he grunts the word. He’s a total caveman around me most of the time. But he’ll talk to Micah. I’ve heard them chatter a hundred miles a minute when they’re talking about a car they’re repairing or planning one of their stupid fishing trips with Ledger.
I step back and let him inside the workshop.
The moment he crosses the threshold, he yanks the Stetson off his head. His thick wavy brown hair is starting to streak with silver already. Micah and Ledger tease him about it. They call him an old man. Secretly, I think it looks incredibly sexy. It even matches his beard that’s peppered with gray too.
His brown gaze rakes over the shop, and I don’t like the way I feel so exposed and vulnerable with him looking at my creations. There’s a reason I don’t let most people in here. This is my heart, and I don’t want to share it with anyone.
To distract myself, I thread my way around the seating area in my workshop and toward the coffee machine I keep in the back. I don’t get many visitors other than mom and dad. But I like them to be comfortable when they do visit.
Snowball meows at West. It’s the first time she’s ever made any noise other than a hiss. But why on earth did she choose to bestow that gift to West?
He chuckles when she brushes up against him. I can’t say I blame the girl. I’d like to rub up on him too. He kneels next to her and pulls up his sleeves, revealing the ink from his tattoos. There’s the pink one from his mom’s cancer diagnosis three years ago and the trout that’s a tribute to his late grandfather who took him fishing every summer. Plus, a few more, but I haven’t seen them. I never lie awake at night wondering what they all are or if he has tattoos anywhere else.
“Such a pretty girl,” he murmurs in a soothing tone. He picks her up gently and she comes willingly, snuggling against his chest. Why am I not surprised? My grumpy cat likes the grumpy cowboy.
“You didn’t come all this way for a cup of my coffee,” I tell him as I start the old machine that hisses and hums to life, enveloping my space in the sweet scent of warmed caffeine.
My words have him pulling his attention from inspecting my workspace to inspecting me. His gaze narrows as he takes in my candy cane striped mini dress and matching white leggings. I bought the dress that hugs my curvy figure from Mallory at Sew Cute. “What in the hell are you wearing?”
I wrap my arms around myself and fight the urge to tug the material down my thighs. He’s seen me in less clothes when we’d go down to the river. There’s no reason for him to make a big deal out of this. “What do you care?”
“It makes me hungry.” Something flickers across his face. Shock, surprise, maybe horror. I don’t know. It’s too hard to read West and I’ve spent years making myself crazy as I’ve tried.
“You’ve never had a sweet tooth.” He never touches dessert, never indulges in anything really. He’s wound too tight for that, always has a need to be in control. I’d love to be the one person that slips under his defenses. That makes him lose his control.
An image of the two of us together floats into my mind. Him above me, panting and sweaty. Saying the dirtiest things in that raspy voice of his. Telling me that he owns me now, that he’ll never let me go. It’s silly and I don’t let myself indulge in those fantasies. Ever. That would be a one-way ticket to heartbreak city.
“Not why I’m here,” he grinds out and shakes his head. He lowers Snowball to the ground who makes a mournful sound at the loss of contact with him. Then he starts for the door like he might leave again.
“Did all the Whos finally realize it was you?” I call out in a teasing tone. It’s no secret that everyone thinks he resembles a certain green monster who destroys the holidays for those who do find joy in them.
He pauses and turns back to me, a half-smile playing at his lips. This has got to be a new record of near smiles for me. “It was that damn Cindy Lou.”
“She spoils everything. Is that why you’re here? Are you trying to get new toys to clear your name?”
“Not exactly.” He pulls off his Stetson again and spins it in his hands, the way he does whenever he’s not sure what to do next. I’ve spent a lifetime studying this man, learning his habits and quirks.
“I could use a bride for Christmas,” he finally announces.
“I don’t make those kinds of toys here,” I quip at him even as my chest feels too tight. West is getting married. I didn’t even know he was dating. He’s never brought a woman home to meet his parents and that’s just not how things are done in Courage County. So, who is the mystery woman and why am I already jealous of her?
“I need a real woman. Someone to help me out.” He’s not looking at me anymore.
Finally, I understand what he’s saying. He doesn’t have a woman. He’s looking for someone to help him. I don’t think I want to know the task he has in mind.
“Maisy might be willing to do it,” I answer. She and I recently became friends. She moved back home to Courage to care for her adoptive brothers after her parents passed away this summer.
He snorts. “Striker would have me strung up by my thumbs before noon.”
OK, so that is true. Striker runs the Cardinal Ranch and he’s fiercely protective of anything that’s his. Including Maisy. He kidnapped her one night and they fell in love. Not long after that, they were married.
“I had someone else in mind for the job.” His voice has that dark, raspy note that makes me want to close my eyes and listen to it again and again, like a beloved song.
“What do you need her for anyway?” West has always been handsome and even though I try to ignore their looks, I see the way other women pay attention to him. It doesn’t matter if they’re locals who have known him all his life or women visiting the farm for holiday cheer.
My stomach hurts when I see their looks because I know that some woman will eventually snag his attention then he’ll be hers. I’ll have to sit across from her at family dinners and pretend that I don’t think about her husband.
The coffee pot makes a noise to indicate it’s finished brewing. I pull two chipped mugs from the cabinet. They have holiday puns on them because Dad loves puns and he’s always giving me gifts with them.
I pour West his coffee and pass it to him, careful not to touch his fingers. I’m always worried that my face will give me away. Mom says my eyes tell the truth and West is the one person I can’t afford to tell the truth to.
He takes a long sip of his coffee and I watch his throat work. “Mom wants Dad to sit out of everything this year, so it looks like I’ll be putting on the big red suit.”
An important part of the Christmas festivities every year is the Santa’s workshop event that Dad and Mom put on here. He dresses up as Santa and she’s Mrs. Claus. They hand out gifts to all the kids in town and donate groceries to needy parents. Their goal is to make sure every family in Courage County has a beautiful Christmas day and I love them for it. They aren’t just interested in Christmas as a business. It’s a way of life for them and that means giving back to those less fortunate.
Still, I can’t help the giggle that manages to escape when I imagine West in the big red suit, trying to smile down at the babies and take pictures with the sugar-hyped children who come to sit on his lap. “You’re going to pretend to be jolly this year?”
“Oh, it gets better,” he drawls. “You’re going to be Mrs. Claus.”