A Sugar Pine Christmas (Single Dads All the Way #1)

Chapter 1

ONE

Mattie Blackwell

“Who are you?” the blond kid asked as I hefted a box up the steps of the duplex. Being back in Sugar Pine was surreal, but at least I’d found a nice place to lick my wounds and settle back into my hometown.

The house was a two-story blue-green color. Steps from the sidewalk rose up to meet with three steps to the porch. The porch boasted a white railing, a swing, and two windows in the middle flanked on each far side by a door.

I placed the box on the porch swing and wiped my hands on my jeans. The Midwestern fall season hadn’t given up just yet, but a wintery chill danced on the air in promise of freezing temperatures to come.

When I thought I’d make it big in California, the gorgeous weather was one of the biggest draws. Along with escaping the town I’d grown up in and the guy who didn’t want me. But now, the thought of a real Sugar Pine winter had excitement coursing through me.

“Who are you?” I asked back with an easy smile.

I liked kids. Didn’t want any myself, but I enjoyed giving them art lessons.

Some of my friends had kids spanning from babies to teens, and I’d always been deemed good with them.

Probably because I could hand them back to their parents when things got real.

The kid looked to be about thirteen or fourteen. Maybe eighth or ninth grade. Middle-schoolers were a tough crowd, but once you found your in with them, you were golden.

He crossed his arms over his chest and jutted out his chin. “Sam!” he hollered over his shoulder. “There’s a man out here. He might be a creep.”

“What? No,” I started, but then I froze.

Sam?

No way in hell.

The door on the other side of the duplex opened, and fourteen years of moving on flashed in front of my eyes before crashing to a screeching halt.

Sam fucking Benton.

It wasn’t like I’d thought he’d moved away from Sugar Pine, but I also hadn’t truly thought he’d still be here.

Or at least I hadn’t let myself think about what it would mean if he was still here.

The worst part? The self-preservation side of me should have screamed at me to grab the box and run far, far away. Back to California, or maybe I’d give the East Coast a try. What about Oregon? Washington state? I’d heard they were lovely.

But I clearly had no self-preservation side because the only thing my dumb-ass mind could think of was how badly I wanted Sam back then.

And how damn fine he still looked now.

Fuck.

We’d both aged, but Sam wore it very well. His brown hair showed more silver. There were fourteen years of laugh lines. But his dark brown eyes still sent heat through me.

“Mattie?” Sam asked as he slipped dark-rimmed glasses to rest on the top of his head.

“Sam.”

In two long strides, Sam was across the porch pulling me into a hug. He smelled like home, and he felt even better.

“You two know each other?” the kid asked, arms still crossed, standing beside us glancing back and forth like a spectator at a tennis match.

“This is my friend, Mattie. He ran off back before you were born.” The edge in Sam’s voice offered just enough challenge for me to remember why I’d been so gone for this man.

We’d both come to Sugar Pine about the same time. Me returning from getting my art degree. Sam moving to town to be closer to his twin sister who, at that time, was stationed at a somewhat nearby Air Force base.

Sam and I had struck up an easy friendship, both of us living and working in the small town. Most friends my age had moved away when we finished college. Those who’d stayed were married and having kids. Sam was easy to talk to, and we spent many lunches chatting at the diner.

Evenings at the Sugar Pine Tap were spent sipping beers, laughing, and watching idiots fight over pool games.

And then, two years into our friendship, things changed.

I pushed the thoughts away and turned toward the kid. “I’m Mattie Blackwell. I used to live in Sugar Pine. You must be Tabitha’s son?”

He narrowed his eyes and threw a glance toward Sam. When the older man nodded, the kid stuck out his hand. “I’m Toby Benton. You know my mom?”

“I do. And I think she’s got a shit load of explaining to do.”

When I’d talked to my old friend Tabitha Benton, I’d forced myself to push the fact that she was Sam’s twin sister out of my mind.

She said she had a perfect half of a duplex to rent to me, and I didn’t question it.

I knew she was now a Major in the Air Force and did something with flying heavy aircraft when she was deployed, but I also knew she owned several properties in Sugar Pine and the surrounding towns.

Four towns butted up against each other in a tidy little square in Evergreen County—Sugar Pine, Red Pine, White Pine, and Jack Pine were all similar Midwestern towns, each vying to bring in the most tourism with their quaint festivals throughout the year, gorgeous scenery, and their namesake Christmas tree decorated on the town square each holiday season—although, not all of the pine types made great holiday décor.

All four had been settled at the same time and, since they were in the same geographic location, it was hard to tell a difference between them as Pine River split into four forks in the northwest corner of Evergreen County and ran right through each.

It was fun to visit each town to see the namesake pines growing and learn fun facts about them. All the trees were native, but the early folks had taken it upon themselves to plant more of one type in each town.

I was biased, but I thought Sugar Pine had the most interesting fact; when the town was originally settled, there was an argument about the type of trees they were planting.

An older brother swore it was a Pitch Pine while the younger brother argued it was a Sugar Pine.

The younger brother ended up dying in a hunting accident.

Even though the older brother still swore the trees they planted were Pitch Pines, he honored his deceased brother by naming the town Sugar Pine.

Years later, it would be declared the trees they’d planted were indeed Pitch Pines, but everyone agreed Sugar Pine was a better name, so it stuck.

Along with their histories and fun facts, each town had its own festivals, food specialties, and claims to the most picturesque backdrops through every season.

But Sugar Pine was home, and it was the first place I wanted to be when I finally admitted California wasn’t for me.

Tabitha having a place for me was like fate.

But I should have questioned it.

Really should have questioned it.

Shit.

“She’s not here,” Toby said. “Gone for nine months.”

“Nine months?” I glanced toward Sam, and he nodded.

“Tabby and I live together,” he said. “She goes on deployment for six to twelve months. While she’s gone, I’m Super Uncle-Slash-Dad Extraordinaire.”

Toby snorted and rolled his eyes, but it was in good fun.

“When she’s home for the same amount of time, I take a backseat and let her be Mom of the Year.” He shrugged. “Been doing it since this one was born. It works for us.”

I glanced toward the door that was supposed to be my side of the duplex. “And you live on the other side?”

“We do. Moved in when Tabby got pregnant and moved to Sugar Pine; my apartment wasn’t gonna cut it.” Sam ran a hand down his face and scratched at the brown and silver scruff on his jawline. “I should have wondered why she was so vague about the new renter.”

I sighed. “Is this going to be okay?” I didn’t want to get into too much history in front of Toby.

I’d paid the first and last month’s rent. Tabby had sent pictures of the den I was going to use as a studio, and the basement where I’d be able to store my art supplies. I really liked the house.

Sam smiled easily. He’d always had an easy smile. “It’s fine. We’ll enjoy having a decent neighbor.”

“Do you smoke crack?” Toby asked, his eyes narrowed.

“What? No.” I scowled.

“The last guy smoked crack. We kicked him out. The people before that were nice, but they moved to Denver. Do you have kids? No one ever has kids my age. One guy had a big ol’ dog he let me play with.” Toby turned to Sam. “Can we have pizza rolls for lunch?”

Sam chuckled. “You can fix some in the air fryer as a snack. I’ll fix something a little healthier for lunch.”

Toby rushed into the house. “Bye, Mattie.”

Then it was just Sam and me.

“It’s really fine,” Sam said. “Tabitha is probably laughing her ass off—she never did give up on the idea of you and me together.”

I forced a smile. “Yeah, well, we both know how that played out. I’ll give her shit, but this place is way too nice to turn down.”

“It’s good to have you home,” Sam said. I’d forgotten how genuine he could be.

My heart thumped double-time with memories of the past—good and bad.

Home.

I was home.

Not going to lie, I really liked the idea of living so near to Sam.

Shit.

Yesterday, if you’d asked me about my past with Sam Benton, I would have scoffed it off as a momentary lack of judgment.

Immaturity.

A passing phase where I found myself hot for a man I considered a friend.

Wanting something I couldn’t have.

Nothing more.

But now?

Well, now had me face-to-face with my past, and every cell in my body rejoiced.

Moving on hadn’t worked well at all it seemed.

Maybe I was a glutton for punishment, but seeing Sam brought back every single memory. Sure, it was unrequited back then, and probably now, but that didn’t mean my dumb ass wasn’t going to fall right back into being hot and bothered by the man.

We’d been friends back then.

We hadn’t ended on bad terms, just realistic ones.

Sam and I were nearing forty now. We’d lived a lot of life since then. Surely, we could be pleasant neighbors. Maybe even rekindle the friendship.

Like friendship is all you want.

Yeah, well.

Unless things had changed drastically over the years, Sam wasn’t interested.

I’d just have to admire from afar.

I was an artist. Pain and suffering fueled my work.

Looked like I’d have plenty of it.

I hoped my clients were ready for lots of longing desire and pining in my upcoming works.

But I was home in Sugar Pine to create new pieces, tackle the new job I’d taken on, and spend Christmas in my hometown for the first time in fourteen years.

Anything with Sam would just be icing on the cake.