Evergreen Christmas (Frosted Firs Ranch #1)

Chapter Two

“I ncoming! The Cheek Pinchers are here!”

Nate Reed, owner of Frosted Firs Ranch, shut the cash register drawer, handed change to the customer in front of him, then frowned as his younger brother sprinted across the gift shop, nearly crashing into the young woman who stood on the other side of the checkout counter.

“Sorry about that.” Nate grabbed the customer’s elbow, steadying her as she swayed in Tucker’s wake. “Tucker is . . .” He smiled ruefully. “Well, you know Tucker.”

The young woman standing in front of him—Sandy Simmons, if he recalled correctly—blushed then giggled. “Oh, yeah. I know Tucker.” She smoothed her long blond hair behind her ears and grinned. “Everyone in Noel knows Tucker. He gets around more than any one man should in his life. You, on the other hand”—she winked—“are quite the mystery.”

Nate smiled politely but nudged the ornament—an ornate reindeer figurine he’d just gift wrapped for her—closer to her hands, hoping she’d get the hint and go on her way. “There’s no mystery to me,” he said. “I run this place, take care of my daughter, and stay out of trouble.”

Her smile fell into a pretty pout. “No drama, excitement, or romance for you then?”

Still holding his polite smile firmly in place, Nate shook his head. “I like things peaceful and predictable. Thank you for visiting Frosted Firs Ranch, Sandy. We appreciate your business and hope you visit us again soon.”

Sandy’s smile, which had briefly dimmed, brightened at his last comment. “Oh, I will.” She gathered up the bag in her arms and eyed him from head to toe, grinning wider. “I definitely will.”

Nate stifled a groan as she left, then rubbed his forehead. After nine years, he should’ve gotten the hang of letting women down gently and discouraging their interest in him. But no matter how many times he declined dates, a new woman would show up, poking around his ranch in an effort to catch his attention or entice his interest.

That was Tucker’s fault though. His younger brother made an art form out of catching a woman’s eye, and while Nate disliked being the center of attention, Tucker reveled in it, delighting daily in the flirtatious advances of women and enjoying each opportunity to use his charisma and charm. Tucker’s behavior was an irritation Nate could do without, but considering that his twenty-five-year-old brother had abandoned his bull riding career and left the rodeo circuit to return to Noel and partner with Nate to run Frosted Firs Ranch, he couldn’t complain too much.

Tucker had been a lifesaver in more ways than one. He’d picked up the slack at the ranch when Nate had lost his wife, Macy, six years ago due to childbirth complications.

Nate’s polite smile vanished as quickly as he’d summoned it. A heavy weight of grief settled in his gut like a stone. As a thirty-year-old widower and single father who ran a thriving ranch that boarded horses and doubled as a Christmas tree farm, Nate had little time and no interest in pursuing a romantic relationship with any woman.

Macy and his six-year-old daughter, Roxanna, occupied all of his thoughts and every bit of his heart.

“Nate!” Tucker, hiding behind two women who were shopping in the snow globe aisle, slung one brawny arm over each of their shoulders and peeked between their giggling faces at him. “Did you hear what I said? They’re here!”

Nate frowned. “Who’s here?”

“The Cheek Pinchers!” He pointed frantically at the wall of windows that lined the front of the gift shop. “They’re out there right now, looking for us.”

Nate jerked his head to the right, scanning the parking lot through the wall of glass panes, his gaze homing in on four elderly women exiting a red Cadillac. “And you left Roxie out there to fend for herself?” A smile, a sincere one this time, tugged at his lips. “How could you? What kind of uncle are you anyway?”

Tucker shook his head, the look of abject horror on his face almost comical. “I don’t care what kind of uncle that makes me. The kid’s gonna have to fight ’em off herself. Ain’t no way I’m getting pinched by them women again.”

Nate rolled his eyes, then rapped his knuckles on the checkout counter. “Then take over the register and help the customers while I go see what they want.”

“Now that I can handle.” Clearly relieved to be well away from the Cheek Pinchers, Tucker straightened his muscular physique, slipped between the two young women he’d hidden behind, then swept his arm toward the snow globe aisle. “You ladies find what you’re looking for? Because I’d be more than happy to check y’all out.” He winked.

Groaning, Nate dragged his hand over his face as the young women giggled.

It was a blessing Tucker had the good looks to go with his oozing charm, and that his charismatic presence had increased foot traffic exponentially over the past six years, otherwise Nate would’ve cut him loose from the business long ago. But as things stood, he couldn’t imagine running Frosted Firs Ranch without his brother. Not only had Tucker’s presence eased the workload, but he also made the day more enjoyable . . . if, at times, in a somewhat aggravating way.

Nate left the checkout counter, grabbed his jacket from his office, and shrugged it on as he exited the gift shop, then strode across the gravel parking lot to where his six-year-old daughter, Roxanna—or Roxie, as they’d nicknamed her—stood helpless in the grip of the Cheek Pinchers.

“Oh, my gracious, how you’ve grown!” Holly Wyld, decked out in a warm cashmere scarf and dressy pantsuit, squeezed one of Roxie’s cheeks gently while Kandy Lyons tugged at the other. “You are absolutely precious.”

“I do believe she’s grown at least three inches since we last saw her,” Kandy said. She smiled down at Roxie, who seemed enraptured by Kandy’s pink curls. “Do you like my hair, sweet girl? I had it done special just yesterday.”

Roxie tilted her head back for a better look at Kandy’s pink hair and the two women’s hands moved with her, maintaining their gentle pinch on her cheeks. “Yes, ma’am. I like pink.”

Nate smiled. Roxie had been born with a sweet, gentle disposition and never wanted to disappoint anyone. Her manners had always been impeccable without much prompting from him. Which, if Nate were being honest, was a godsend, because he had no idea how he and Tucker would’ve instilled such ladylike qualities in Roxie. Goodness knows, they’d unintentionally brought out the tomboy in her already.

“Oh, let go of the girl and let us have a look.” Carol Belle Bennett shoved Kandy and Holly aside, lowered to her haunches with a grunt and opened her arms. “Merry Christmas, Roxie, darling. The season is finally here, you know?”

Roxie smiled, and when Holly and Kandy released her cheeks, she moved into Carol Belle’s arms and hugged the older woman.

“Aw, you’re just as sweet as sugar, aren’t you?” Carol Belle’s tone was surprisingly tender given the backbone of steel Nate knew she possessed. “How did you get so sweet despite those two brutes who look after you?”

Eve Knight squatted down beside Carol Belle, adjusted her glasses and grinned. “Why, she was born that way. Weren’t you, doll baby? You take after your mother—just as kind and gorgeous as our Macy was.” She tugged at Carol Belle’s arms. “Now let her go, Carol Belle, so I can get my turn.”

Roxie smiled wider, hugged Eve, then stepped back as the two women continued to smile down at her.

Nate grinned. Eve was the most reserved woman in the group, but her exuberant greetings and joyful expressions around Roxie over the years had made it clear that she held his daughter in high regard. From what he’d heard, Eve had never been married or had children of her own but loved doting on the children living in Noel. During his interactions with Eve over the years, Nate had noticed a quiet grief hanging on the older woman, and the shadows in her eyes had spoken of a secret sorrow she carried.

“She’s just an angel,” Eve said softly. “Don’t you think she’s an angel?”

Carol Belle nodded, love glowing brightly in her eyes. “Yes. A perfect angel.”

Then, as usual, both women’s hands found their way to Roxie’s cheeks, pinching again gently as they crooned down at her. Roxie’s polite smile morphed into a wince.

“All right, ladies,” Nate said, smiling as he strode over. “Let’s not cut off my daughter’s circulation.”

Carol Belle frowned but she and Eve released Roxie’s cheeks, put their hands on the ground and tried to shove themselves back to a standing position. Grunts and moans escaped their pink, wrinkled lips but neither of them made any progress toward standing.

Nate bent and reached for their elbows. “Please, allow m—”

“No, siree! You keep those grubby Christmas Crown paws to yourself.” Carol Belle motioned toward the women behind her. “Holly, Kandy. Help us up, would you?”

They did, and soon all four women were lined up in a neat, confrontational row, all four pairs of eyes fixed firmly on Nate.

He shifted from one boot to the other, then hugged Roxie against his leg, hoping the four women wouldn’t notice his discomfort. During his childhood, the three women, affectionately known as Noel’s Nanas, had doted on him. Every time he’d crossed their paths, they had patted his shoulders, kissed his forehead, and pinched his cheeks much as they—and Holly, who’d joined the group of women later—had Roxie’s. The women were fun, spunky, and energetic. For as long as he’d known them, he’d enjoyed being around them as much as they had enjoyed being around him.

When he’d turned twenty-one, they’d attended his birthday party and later, his wedding to Macy, showering them both with gifts and attention. And six years ago, they’d even come to the hospital the night Roxie had been born and consoled Nate during his darkest days of grief, cradling Roxie in their arms as though she were their very own granddaughter.

But their outpouring of love and support for him had changed over recent years when his winning streak in Noel’s Christmas competition had continued without fail. Apparently, he had—as Carol Belle had so bluntly put it—a monopoly on winning the Christmas Crown, and she believed it was time he gave it up. She’d even gone so far as to insist he drop out of Noel’s Christmas competition altogether.

Nate admired Carol Belle and wanted to please her—he truly did!—but bowing out of Noel’s Christmas competition was out of the question. He and Macy had begun participating in it ten years ago, shortly after they’d married, and had continued up until her death. Macy had loved every aspect of the twelve Christmas competitions sponsored by the town, but her favorite had been the tree contest. She and Nate had built Frosted Firs Ranch together and lovingly tended to the Christmas trees they’d grown, picking out the best one each year and entering it into the Christmas tree contest. One October, the year before Macy died, one of their eighteen-foot Fraser firs had even been chosen as the White House Christmas tree, beating out other trees from all over the US. Macy had been so proud of their success.

Each Christmas season was an opportunity to celebrate Macy’s memory and help Roxie get to know the mother she’d never met by sharing Christmas memories he’d cherished with Macy and creating new ones that he hoped Roxie would carry with her into adulthood.

No. Bowing out of Noel’s Christmas competition—no matter how much Noel’s Nanas wanted him to—was completely out of the question.

As though reading his thoughts, Carol Belle narrowed her gaze on his face. “You haven’t changed your mind about sitting out the Christmas competition this year, have you?”

Nate sighed. “No, ma’am.”

Carol Belle looked down at Roxie and smiled. “Dear, would you be so good as to go inside and ask your uncle Tucker to bring out a load of firewood for us?” She reached into her pocket, pulled out a set of folded bills and handed them to Roxie. “That should cover the cost of one trunk-load and provide a nice tidy tip for your uncle and you. There’s a sweetie.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Roxie took the money, spun on her heel and skipped toward the gift shop, her long blond ponytail swishing across her back.

“Now that we’re alone,” Carol Belle said, leaning close to Nate, “I feel it’s only fair that I warn you.”

Nate frowned. “Warn me about what?”

Carol Belle smiled, a hint of devilry gleaming in her eyes. “That you have some competition this year.”

“Fierce competition,” Eve said, crossing her arms over her chest.

“And she has red hair and a white horse,” Kandy whispered, grinning.

“And they’re both gorgeous,” Holly said, spreading her manicured hands. “Stunning, actually.”

Nate made a face. “Look, I know what you’re saying makes sense to y’all, but I’m not quite followi—”

“Chestnut Ridge has been sold,” Carol Belle said. “And Fabio Fraser has a new owner. One that we’re going to sweet-talk”—she glanced at her wristwatch—“in precisely twelve hours, into entering Noel’s Christmas competition and kicking your burly butt.”

Nate chuckled. “Now, Miss Carol Belle, I know you think I’m hogging the Christmas Crown, but I honestly don’t mean any harm. I’m simply doing what any good citizen of Noel would do by participating in the annual Christmas celebration that the four of you created. Roxie loves it, Tucker likes it, and I enjoy it on most occasions, so I don’t really see the problem.”

“The problem,” Carol Belle said, poking her finger in his chest, “is that you’ve won the Christmas Crown and the Christmas Tree competition every year for the past nine years. Participation in our annual competition has decreased five percent every year since you started winning. Since you manage a Christmas tree business, everyone knows you’ll have the best tree and that they’ll be no match for you, so some of them give up before they even start. They’d rather not enter than lose for another year in a row.” She huffed. “We cannot grow participation in this competition if the same person wins the Christmas Crown every single year.”

Nate rubbed the back of his neck. “I understand that, Ms. Carol Belle. But I take pride in my work and participating in this competition is important to me and my family. I can’t help it if we just happen to win every y—”

“Well, we’re going to help you out with a loss this year,” Carol Belle stated matter-of-factly. “We’re bringing new blood into the mix—strong, feisty blood—and she has Fabio. You know as well as I do that it’ll be tough to find a tree that’s more perfect than Fabio.”

Yep. Nate nodded. He was well aware of that . . . though he still cringed every time he heard the ridiculous name Noel’s Nanas had bestowed upon the tree. Still, that hadn’t stopped him from taking an interest in the evergreen.

As a matter fact, he’d eyed the impressive tree bordering his property for years, never ceasing to be impressed by its growth and stature. The tree had grown wild into a perfectly trimmed shape all its own, as though God had fashioned it for himself as his very own Christmas tree. Nate had offered to buy it from the former owner of Chestnut Ridge several times over the years, but the owner had always refused, and Nate knew exactly why. Noel’s Nanas had paid his neighbor a tidy sum every year to preserve the tree and allow it to continue to grow until it reached a suitable height for entry into Noel’s Christmas tree contest.

It was a stroke of brilliance for Noel’s Nanas to lay claim to that tree, but it seemed their scheme might not pan out. Chestnut Ridge had been sold and there was a good chance the new owner with red hair and a white horse might be willing to hand the tree over to him if he played his hand right.

The corner of Nate’s mouth lifted. “Seeing as how I have a new neighbor, I ought to stop by for a neighborly visit.”

The four women scowled.

“You watch that, Nate Reed,” Carol Belle said.

He laughed. “Watch what?”

“That cunning mischief-making of yours!” Carol Belle propped her hands on her hips. “We’re stopping by Chestnut Ridge first thing tomorrow morning, givin’ that gal a rundown on the competition and talking her into competing. She’ll know better than to let you bribe that tree out from under her.”

The hint of uncertainty in Carol Belle’s voice made Nate smile wider.

“Oh, my,” Holly whispered to the other women. “You see that passionate fire in his eyes?”

Kandy beamed. “I sure do. It’s been ages since he’s had that spark in his eyes. It sure is nice to see our Nate finally excited over something again.”

Eve nodded, smiling. “I agree.”

“Well, he better watch it,” Carol Belle said, thumping his chest. “Don’t even try pulling a fast one, Nate. We’ve got our eyes on you. And don’t even think about going over there and bribing that woman with your big bucks, gift shop coupons, or free firewood!” She glared at the other women. “And don’t go soft on me now, ladies—too much is at stake this year. Nate’s not our innocent little boy anymore. He’s a wily thirty-year-old man bent on stealing our Christmas Crown!”

The bell over the gift shop door jangled and Tucker emerged, carrying a bundle of wood in each muscular arm. He strode across the gravel parking lot, carefully averting his gaze as he passed the four women, then headed toward the trunk of their red convertible. “Afternoon, ladies.”

The frowns on each of the four women’s faces disappeared, bright smiles replaced them, and a collective giggle emerged. The four women huddled around Tucker as he opened their trunk and began loading the firewood into the Cadillac.

“We so appreciate your help, Tucker,” Kandy crooned.

“It’s so cold at night now,” Eve said. “It’s nice to have extra firewood on hand to keep our toes warm. We’re quite delicate, you know.”

Carol Belle nodded. “At our age, it’s important we stay warm.”

“I’ll say.” Holly leaned on the car’s bumper and ran one manicured finger over Tucker’s biceps, which strained the long-sleeved flannel shirt he wore. “But I can think of a lot of other ways to stay warm besides lighting firewood.”

Tucker tossed the last log into the trunk, shut it, then backed away slowly. “Glad I could help, ladies.” He gestured over his shoulder. “But Nate’s available, too, you know? He can load firewood in your trunk anytime just as well as I can.”

“Yes, but we enjoy talking to you,” Holly said as Tucker turned and started walking away. “And seeing you, too.”

Her gaze was fixed on his rear as he made a hasty retreat.

Nate choked back a laugh as Tucker made sure to position his backside in the opposite direction from the women.

“You’re all loaded up and ready to go.” Tucker’s face flushed as he added under his breath, “Thank God.”

The women smiled and waved, blew kisses at Roxie, then climbed back into their Cadillac, cranked the engine and drove away.

Tucker groaned. “Man, you gotta watch out for those four.”

Nate chuckled. “The last time I turned down a date, wasn’t it you that told me attention from a woman was a blessing from God that I shouldn’t decline?”

Tucker snorted. “That’s different.” He jerked his thumb toward the road. “Those four are trouble.”

Nate nodded as he watched the cherry-red Cadillac ascend a mountain curve. “Yep. They’re definitely up to something.”

The four women were probably sitting in those leather seats, plotting against him right now, discussing ways to convince the new owner of Chestnut Ridge to give them that perfect tree so they could steal a win right out from under him, ending a nine-years-long tradition that had been dear to Macy and was now just as precious to Roxie.

As distasteful as it might be to play dirty, he’d have to find a way to beat them at their own game.

“What are the Nanas up to, Daddy?”

Nate looked down and smiled. Roxie had joined them and stared up at him, her blue eyes innocent, her expression worry-free . . . as he believed every child’s should be. “The Nanas are determined to keep us from winning the Christmas Crown this year.” He bent, scooped her up in his arms and kissed her warm cheek. “But we’re not giving it up without a fight, are we, darling? We’re gonna win that crown again this year and put it in the display case beside all the others, for your mama.”

Roxie beamed. “Yes, sir. No one can beat us at the Christmas competition. You, me, and Uncle Tucker are the best team on earth and we’re gonna keep the”—her brow furrowed—“ta-dish-un going!”

Laughing, Tucker nodded. “That’s right, baby girl. Keep that same fire in your belly when you’re building your gingerbread house for the competition.”

Roxie high-fived him. “I will, Uncle Tucker!”

Nate lowered Roxie to the ground and rubbed his chin as she skipped back into the gift shop. “We might have to play a little dirty this year. The Nanas claim they’re going to recruit our new neighbor at Chestnut Ridge to compete against us in this year’s tree competition.”

“Oh, yeah?” Tucker asked. “Who bought the place?”

“A feisty redhead with a white horse, apparently.”

Tucker’s eyes sparkled with male interest. “Oh? Want me to check her out for you?”

Nate grinned. “Nah. I know exactly what kind of checking out you’d do. Besides, I need to handle this one myself. I don’t want to drag you into my feud with the Nanas. I’ll pay our new neighbor a visit right now and ask her to sell us the tree. I doubt she’ll give me a hard time considering she just moved here and probably has no use for it. In any event, she couldn’t possibly give us more trouble than the Nanas.”

“You got that right. The Cheek Pinchers are the worst.”

The small log cabin Jordyn had purchased showed signs of age and neglect, but had a vaulted ceiling fit for a choir of angels.

Lying on her back, sprawled across the hardwood floor of the living room, she stretched her arms and legs in opposite directions, arched her back and gazed up at the dark hardwood planks that comprised the high ceiling. Two thick wooden beams supported the ceiling and spanned its length, and a stone fireplace was centered on the wall beside the front door. The two windows on either side of the stone fireplace were small, but large enough to let in a pool of sunlight that added warmth to the cold hardwood floor beneath her.

Sighing, she closed her eyes, swung her arms and legs out in wide arcs as though creating a snow angel, then opened her eyes and smiled brightly at the impressive ceiling above her. “I don’t know exactly how you feel about me,” she said, “but I sure like the looks of you. I got a feeling you and I are gonna get along just fine.”

The vaulted ceiling remained silent.

Jordyn smiled wider. “I know you probably think it’s strange having some stranger lie on the floor and talk to you like this, but the thing is, you’re all I got aside from Star and a dream. But I’ve been pretty successful making my dreams come true. I wanted to compete in barrel racing, so I taught myself how to do that, saved my money to pay for proper training, and won several championships on the circuit.” She rose to her elbows, craned her neck, and glanced around the small log cabin. “If I can do all that, I know I can make this place into a real home.”

But where to start?

She had bare floors, bare walls, and a beautiful vaulted ceiling. That was it. She had no furniture, no dishes or silverware, no bed, no cute homey trinkets, and no food. She’d had no need of any of those things during her years traveling the circuit. She’d spent her nights in motels—and occasionally her truck—never entertained anyone and lived off food from restaurant buffets and grab-and-go items from convenience stores.

It was vital that she make a good first impression as a hostess tomorrow when the four women who’d bombarded her earlier returned with their welcome basket and a proposition of utmost importance , as they’d termed it . . . whatever that would be. If she didn’t pull something together today, the four women would have nowhere to sit, nothing to admire, and nothing to eat.

Well, she did have one bit of food.

She rolled her head to the side and glanced at the silver bag that lay open on the hardwood floor beside her, revealing a lone red velvet cupcake with thick cream cheese icing.

Her stomach rumbled. She’d already consumed two of the three mouthwatering delicacies she’d purchased earlier. A jumbo cupcake by anyone’s standards, the remaining one could easily serve three to four people if it were divided equally. She should stick the last one in the refrigerator, pull it out in the morning, slice it up and offer each woman a taste when they came for their visit. Surely that would go over well—at least better than offering them nothing—and score her at least one point as a good hostess.

Jordyn frowned. “Forget that!”

Her hand shot out, withdrew the last cupcake and brought it to her mouth. She chomped off almost half in one bite. Its sweetness burst against her tongue, and a shiver of excited pleasure stole through her whole body at the realization that she was finally sitting in her own home.

“No way am I saving this for someone else,” she mumbled around a mouthful. “This is a time for celebration.” She swallowed, licked her lips, then took another bite of the cupcake. “Matter of fact, when I finish this one, I’m probably gonna go back to town and get myself some more.”

What was to stop her? She’d stayed fit and healthy for years while she toured the circuit, forgoing greasy food and sweets in favor of more healthy options that would fuel her performance in the arena. But now she was a homeowner, an entrepreneur. A young single woman living in a Christmas town known for its holiday cheer and spectacular mountain views. She had a charming log cabin all her own where she could roll around on the floor anytime she felt like it, basking in the celebratory glow of a fresh start and new life!

Something moved in front of one of the windows, blocking the sunlight. A knock on the glass pane jerked her upright into a seated position, her gaze shooting toward the source.

A man—tall, blond, and muscular—cupped his big hands around his face and peered through the window, his rich blue eyes finding hers.

She stopped chewing. Holy holly!

“Sorry to disturb you,” the man called out, the deep tone of his voice muted as he waved one hand. “I knocked but I guess you didn’t hear me. I’m your neighbor. Saw your truck outside and thought I’d pay you a visit.”

Jordyn stared. A Christmas town full of holiday cheer, a charming log cabin, spectacular mountain views, and a hot man? What sweet Christmas dream had she been lucky enough to fall into?

The man rapped his knuckles gently against the glass pane again. His brow furrowed as he peered through the window. “Are you okay in there? Do you need some help?”

Jordyn shook her head, mumbling around the chunk of red velvet cupcake in her mouth, “I’m fine.” He was fine! The finest of male specimens she’d ever laid eyes on. Chewing furiously, she scrambled to her feet and smoothed her hand over her long, tangled hair. “Hold on.” She chewed twice then added, “I’ll let you i—”

Oh! Oh no! Red velvet cupcake! Choking, she doubled over and coughed, struggling to clear the crumbs from her windpipe.

“You okay?”

At the sound of the man’s voice, she nodded and waved furiously for him to come to the front door.

Oh, Lord , Jordyn prayed, her throat burning, please don’t let me go like this. Not now. And not by cupcake. I promise I won’t ever be selfish with baked goods again!

One heavy cough later, the obstruction cleared and she drew in a deep, ragged breath, glancing up at the vaulted ceiling where she almost expected a choir of merciful angels to appear. “Oh, hallelujah! Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

She smoothed her hands over her long-sleeved shirt and jeans, inhaled deeply, then opened the front door.

The man was even more impressive up close, with chiseled features and a sensual mouth. It was as though he’d been plucked from her romantic dreams—a strong, handsome prince sent to sweep her up and carry her away.

He grinned. “Hi.”

She blinked, her body swaying toward him. Did he feel that electric sizzle between them, too?

“Hi,” she breathed.

His grin widened. “You, uh, have a bit of . . .” He lifted his hand and tapped his lower lip with one blunt fingertip.

Jordyn licked her lips, the sweet taste of cream cheese frosting hitting her tongue. Face flaming, she spun away, dragged the back of her hand over her mouth, wiped it clean on her jeans then pushed her hair away from her face and lifted her chin, doing her best to summon a bit of dignity.

“Thank you,” she said, her voice slightly hoarse as she faced him again. “I was, um, strangled by a cupcake.”

His eyes narrowed and one blond brow rose, amusement appearing on his face. “Strangled by a cupcake?”

“Yep.” She forced a strained laugh. “First time I’ve had one of Noel’s famous red velvet cupcakes. I gotta say, those things are dangerous.”

One corner of his mouth lifted in a boyish grin. “I have to agree with you on that. I have a hard time turning ’em down, too.” He held out his hand. “I’m Nate Reed, owner of Frosted Firs Ranch next door.”

She shook his hand, the feel of his warm palm against hers sending a fresh surge of female appreciation through her. “I’m Jordyn Banks. New owner of Chestnut Ridge,” she stated proudly.

He nodded, his gaze lowering to her mouth again. “I didn’t mean to barge in on you, but I wanted to welcome you to town. And I . . .” His lean cheeks darkened slightly as he gestured toward her chin. “You . . . you’ve still got a bit of frosting there.”

“Oh!” She scrubbed her fingers over her chin. “Sorry. I usually have better manners! I promise.” She looked down at her fingers, which were coated with icing, briefly considered wiping them on her jeans again but, seeking a politer option, stuck them in her mouth instead, quickly licking the icing from her fingertips.

He looked away, averting his eyes.

“Sorry,” she blurted. “That was rude of me. Just don’t want to waste that money I spent on the cupcakes, you know?”

He rubbed the back of his neck and issued a half-hearted laugh.

Great. Fantastic first impression! Wallowing on the floor, choking on a cupcake, then disgracing herself with bad manners . . . The poor man probably thought she was a fruitcake.

“Look, I’d love to invite you in but as you can see”—she gestured behind her—“I don’t have any furniture yet.”

He held up his hands. “No worries. I didn’t mean to intrude. I’m sure you’d rather settle in before having company. You just arrived today, I take it?”

“Yeah.” She gestured toward the stable to the left of the log cabin. “Me and Star, that is.”

His brows rose.

“My quarter horse.” She smiled widely. “Star’s been my partner for years.”

“Ah.” He nodded. “You barrel race, right?”

“I see word travels fast around here.”

He tapped his lips. “From your mouth to all of Noel’s residents’ ears . . .”

“Indeed.”

They both laughed, then fell silent.

“Well, as I mentioned,” Jordyn said, “I’d like to invite you in but I don’t even have a chair to offer anyone a seat yet.”

She laughed self-consciously, eager, at this point, to retreat in embarrassment and try to impress him another day when she had time to make herself presenta—

“Hey, wait!” She snapped her fingers. “You said you’re my neighbor. Nate, right?”

Smiling, he nodded.

“Neighbor Nate Reed,” she repeated slowly. “Owner of Frosted Firs Ranch and that long, white fence bordering my property?”

“Yep.”

She grinned. “The one who lurks around my fabulous fir tree from time to time?”

He chuckled. “I see Noel’s Nanas have already warned you about me.”

“Noel’s Nanas?” She tapped her chin. “Has a nice ring to it. I suppose those were the four women who followed me from the town square this morning and told me to guard Fabio Fraser with my life?”

He groaned and dragged a broad hand over his face. “I hate that name.”

“Not your first choice, huh?”

“No. It’s demeaning. First of all, I don’t name trees—each species has already been named—but if I did, I would’ve chosen something much more dignified.”

She tilted her head, trying to focus on his eyes rather than his mouth. “Like what?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. Frederick? Bill? Carlton Brandon Holmes the third, maybe?”

She laughed. “All suitable choices, but a bit stuffy, if you ask me. Fabio Fraser has a much more mischievous—and fun—ring to it. I take it Fabio’s the reason you’re here?”

He winced. “Not that I’m trying to take advantage of anyone, but—”

“But you’d like to get an up-close look at him, huh? Get your Christmas fix?”

He held her gaze, his mouth twitching. “I suppose that’s what I’m after.”

“Then how ’bout we take a stroll out back and admire him?” Jordyn grabbed her jacket from the floor, shrugged it on and slipped past him outside, pausing on the front porch. “While we’re out there, would you mind showing me the property line between my place and yours? I was thinking of putting up some fencing for an additional paddock and I don’t want to encroach on your property.”

“I’d be happy to.”

He ambled down the steps, joining her, then strode across the property, his long legs matching her pace. The wind had grown blustery, pushing against them as they walked, ruffling their hair. By the time they’d walked across the back lot, Nate’s blond hair had been tousled across his forehead and ears.

“The white fencing to your left marks my property line, and”—he pointed to the right—“the Fraser fir marks the back edge of your property bordering mine.” His steps slowed as they reached the tree in question and he dragged a hand across the back of his neck, adding sheepishly, “Have to admit, this one caught my eye a long time ago. It has a natural shape I haven’t been able to replicate in my own trees.” He lifted his hand, his long fingers gently cradling the needles of a low branch.

She drew to a stop, too, standing behind Nate, doing her best to keep her eyes above his waist. Good grief, the man was built! And after an inconspicuous glance at his left hand, she noticed he wasn’t wearing a wedding ring. Something about his reserved, quiet, gentlemanlike approach pleased her unexpectedly.

Most of the men she’d met when traveling the rodeo circuit were decent guys, but they tended to be a bit rowdy, overly assertive and usually only interested in one thing: a good time with no strings and no commitment. They all sought a casual relationship. The exact opposite of the type of romantic relationship she’d always dreamed of having.

But judging by first impressions, this man—Nate Reed—seemed to have put down roots in this beautiful town and might be inclined to embrace commitment rather than run from it. In any event, he was a man she definitely wouldn’t mind getting to know a little better.

“. . . willing to part with it?”

Jordyn blinked. Nate faced her now, his gaze, expectant, focused intently on hers. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

“I was wondering if you’d be willing to part with it?” He reached out and touched one of the tree’s branches again. “I’ll pay top dollar for it.”

She shook her head in confusion. “You want to buy Fabio Fraser?”

He nodded.

“You want to cut it down?”

Smiling, he nodded again.

“But . . .” Frowning, she shoved her hands in her jacket pockets, pulling her coat tighter around her chest. “I kinda like it in the ground, you know? Healthy and alive? Able to be admired year-round? It’s a rather perfect tree, I think.”

“That it is.”

“You know . . . the Nanas mentioned they were coming back to visit me tomorrow with a welcome basket and a proposition of utmost importance.” She raised one eyebrow. “Got any idea what they want to propose? Anything to do with this tree?”

Nate chuckled. “Chances are, they’re going to come by to talk you into competing against me in Noel’s annual Christmas competition.”

“Christmas competition?” Her frown vanished and she smiled, her stomach fluttering. “That would be fun. I’ve never stayed put anywhere long enough to participate in a community event. Sounds like a blast!”

He shrugged. “It is. But it’s also pretty cutthroat.” He leaned closer and lowered his voice, his mouth twitching. “The Nanas are in charge of the competition and they take the whole thing very seriously.”

“And that’s why you’re both interested in this tree?”

“I’d like to buy it and enter it into Noel’s Christmas tree contest,” he said. “It’s the culminating contest of the Christmas competition. And the Nanas probably want to buy it, give it to one of my competitors to make sure I lose the Christmas tree contest along with all the other contests in Noel’s Christmas competition this year.”

“Oh yeah?” She stifled a giggle. “And what did you do to deserve such poor treatment?”

He laughed. “Nothing, I assure you. I board horses and grow Christmas trees next door on my ranch and generally keep to myself. Producing spectacular Christmas trees is my specialty and it’s more than a full-time job. But I guess I won the tree contest in the Christmas competition too many years in a row and the Nanas think it’s time someone else gets a shot.”

“And you don’t want to give up the title?”

“Not a chance.”

Jordyn crossed her arms over her chest and smirked. “I get it. I’m pretty competitive myself.”

“That’s what they’re counting on.” He rocked back on his heels and glanced up at the tree. “They’re planning on talking you into competing against me and using this tree to clinch the win.” He spread his hands. “But considering you just moved in, I imagine you’ll have a lot to do to get settled and probably won’t have time to participate in the Christmas contests. By the way, if you need a hand getting moved in and settled, I’d be happy to help you out. I know a few folks who’d be willing to give you discounts on—”

“Are you trying to bribe me?” She lifted her chin and held his gaze, the hint of mischief in his eyes making her smile wider. “You are, aren’t you, Neighbor Nate? You’re just trying to get to my tree before they do.”

Holding her gaze, he grinned. “You think?”

“I know.” She leaned in, too, bringing her nose inches from his, then whispered, “And I’m gonna tell you right now, Nate Reed—neighbor and not—if I were to enter this competition, I’d wipe the floor with you.”

He laughed softly, his warm breath brushing her chilled cheek. Oh, he smelled delicious. His muscular physique, tender voice and sensual mouth were enough to melt any woman into a puddle at his feet—even in the midst of a winter chill.

“What if I sweeten the deal?” he whispered. His gaze lowered to her mouth, a subtle flare of heat in his eyes. After a moment, he stepped back, straightened to his full height, and withdrew a business card and pen from his jacket pocket. He flipped the business card over and scrawled something on the back, then handed it to her. “If you go to town to pick up some things—furniture, linen, household supplies, whatever—show this to the owners of the stores you go to and they’ll give you my business discount. You can even flash it at Kringle’s Café for a hefty markdown on those red velvet cupcakes.”

She flipped the card over and read his note on the back: Please extend my discount to Jordan Banks upon purchase. His signature was beneath the note.

She glanced up at him and grinned. “I spell my first name with a y.”

“Oh.” He dipped his head in apology, then plucked the card from her hand, corrected it, and returned it to her. “There. Good to go now.”

“You think this will do it, huh?” She tapped the business card with her fingernail. “You think offering me a discount on some furniture and jumbo cupcakes is going to persuade me to sell you this tree?”

Biting his lip, he squinted up at the Fraser fir. “Well . . . I’m hoping it’ll at least be a jumping-off point for negotiation.” He met her gaze again and smiled. “And if you’re into decorating for Christmas, I sell every decoration imaginable in the gift shop next door. Swing by when you have the time and I’ll make the deal even sweeter.”

He spun around on the heels of his worn boots and left, striding across the dormant grass, but paused several feet away and glanced at her over his shoulder. “I mean it. Stop by Frosted Firs Ranch anytime you like. We’d be happy to welcome you to Noel properly.”

We?

Jordyn watched him amble away, then looked up at Fabio Fraser and smiled. “You’re in rather high demand, dude. Though I’m not sure who’s more handsome—you, or our neighbor.”

At the sound of an engine, she glanced at the driveway, watching as Nate’s big red truck moved slowly along the driveway and returned to the main road.

Looked like Noel had even more to offer than she’d thought. Though she was eager to get to know Neighbor Nate better, make a good impression on Noel’s Nanas and possibly participate in Noel’s annual Christmas competition, she was rather fond of her new Christmas tree and had no desire to give it up to anyone. And most especially, she didn’t want to cut it down. How could anyone hack down a perfect, living embodiment of Christmas?

But she did want to make a good impression on Noel’s Nanas, become a part of the close-knit community and create a home here. There was no better way to get a jump on that than to participate in the annual Christmas traditions.

Problem was, whom could she afford to disappoint the least? Neighbor Nate, Noel’s Nanas . . . or herself?