The Christmas Catch (Holiday Harbor #1)

Chapter 1

I stare blankly at my boss, assuming the words that just came out of his mouth were a joke and he’s going to start barking out his annoying hyena laugh at any second. Much to my surprise, it’s not happening. Instead, he offers me a proud, immature smirk, indicating he’s not bullshitting.

Against my will, a scowl tugs at my brows, and I pinch the bridge of my nose to hide it because if there’s one thing Victor hates, it’s feeling like people are laughing at him.

It’s gotta go hand in hand with his little man syndrome.

“So, what you’re saying, Victor, is … you want me to fly to Maine, two weeks before Christmas, arrive at the owners’ property, and try to seal this deal?

” I give him an are you fucking kidding me look while also trying to appear semi-nice.

“Did I hear you correctly? Because I have to be honest with you, that seems … well, insane.”

He relaxes behind his desk, putting his palms against the back of his head lazily. “That’s exactly what you’re going to do, Stella. And I’ll tell you why.”

I wait for him to explain why on earth I’m going to pack up and head to a tiny-ass town on the coast of Maine and bombard the owners right before the holidays when everyone’s lives are already hectic enough.

It’s got to be his worst plan—ever. If he hopes to actually seal this deal, it would be better to do it at another time of the year.

Literally any other time. When people aren’t stressed. Or frazzled. Or depressed.

I’m not depressed though. I just really, really hate Christmas.

“Well?” I finally utter. “Don’t leave me hanging, Vic. I’m on the edge of my seat over here,” I say dryly. “Let a girl know what’s up.”

A weird, smug, yet entertained expression covers his face, making his eyes scrunch up and his cheeks plump when he smirks.

“Because I sent Lester out there earlier this year—in July. It was a terrible time because the fishermen were busy, and that meant they were cranky as hell.” He stops, pointing at me.

“That right there is why you’re going now and not when it’s mid-summer.

Apparently, this time of the year, fishermen aren’t able to get out to haul as much—something about the weather.

I don’t really know or care.” He shakes his head.

“Anyway, when Lester was there, he said there was a lot of single fishermen around.” He wiggles his brows.

“So, we knew right then that sending him out there was an error.” He jerks his chin up, bobbing his head up and down like a fucking moron. “So, I’m sending in the big guns now.”

I act like I’m looking behind me on both sides for someone else before I stare straight at him. “And I’m your big gun? Me? The same chick you usually send to handle your smallest deals? And that’s not even to get the deal; it’s more a paperwork thing.”

“Well, you’re great at paperwork, Stell,” he coos. “And trust me, this one will come with a shit ton of paperwork.”

When he doesn’t respond to the other part of my question, I attempt to compose myself.

“So, let me get this straight … because there are single fishermen and I have boobs—which, by the way, aren’t even that big—and a vagina, which will be staying behind a set of panties, you’re sending me to these fishermen?

” I can’t even believe the words coming from my lips.

“Victor, you do understand that I’m not going to seduce them into selling us their land, right? ”

“Well, yeah,” he deadpans, and I sigh in relief until he adds, “because that would be illegal.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose again, unsure of how such an absolute moron became the head honcho of this company. And then I remember, he was born with a silver spoon in his mouth, and his dad owns the whole thing. I’m quickly reminded why he’s staring at me from the other side of this desk.

“So, if you aren’t expecting me to seduce anyone into selling, why me?” I shrug. “Why do I have to be the one to deal with the grumpy-ass lobster fishermen?”

He wags his finger at me. “Seduce? No. But charm? Well, babe, there’s nothing wrong with that.”

I imagine punching him in the face, and it helps to mask my revulsion. For a second anyway. Charm is a huge part of the game of gaining properties, but I don’t enjoy being talked to like I’m a piece of meat.

“Look, Stella, you know that you’re beautiful, smart, and incredibly witty.” He wiggles his eyebrows. “Which makes you the perfect fit for this job.”

For a moment, I just stare at him until I finally relax in my seat again. “Flirting with a man who smells like bait sounds absolutely awful, but okay … I’ll entertain you because I’m not afraid of a challenge.”

He gives me a cocky chin jerk. “And that right there? That’s why I chose you, Stell; that’s why I chose you.

” He chuckles. “This property could be huge. I’m talking its very own boardwalk, restaurants, a resort, a golf course overlooking the ocean.

Hell, maybe even some shopping centers. The possibilities are endless because it’s a fuck ton of land. ”

He opens his desk drawer, pulls out a pile of papers, and tosses them in front of me. I look down at the photos of the land, running my fingers over the picture that shows the rugged coastline of Maine with the waves crashing against it. Even in a picture, I can somehow tell the water is freezing.

“It’s that much land? We could do that much with it, I mean?” I ask, flipping to the next photo that shows a bunch of fishing boats, all on their moorings with the sun rising behind them. The orange hues of the sun hit the water, making it look like wavy, colored glass.

“Oh, fuck yeah, it is.” He nods proudly, practically salivating at the mouth, just thinking about the property. “This is well over a hundred acres. All right along the coast of Maine.”

“All undeveloped?”

“Most of it,” he answers. “Aside from their working waterfront and a few houses and such.”

“And what makes you think they’ll sell?” I continue eyeing the photos, taking in the beauty, even though it’s far from anyplace I have ever lived or would ever want to live. Visit? Sure. But I’ll bet their nearest Starbucks isn’t within an hour. No thanks.

“Because I’m sure they’ve never seen the kind of money we’re going to offer,” he states arrogantly. “We’ve upped the initial number we proposed last summer. By almost double. But, you know, I had to throw out something low first because you never know who’s going to take it.”

Letting my eyes skim the paper, I inhale sharply and blow it out. “Well, all right then. Maine … here I come.” As I mutter the words, I realize this isn’t like other jobs I’ve done.

Normally, I am more the one who goes in and finalizes the deal once it’s secured. And even then, I don’t typically have to travel this far.

One thing’s for sure: Victor must really think this land is a gold mine. If not, he wouldn’t be wasting his time.

Or mine.

“That’s the last of them, Cap,” Connor calls to me, releasing the crate into the air and watching the lift pull it to the dock.

His hat’s cocked sideways, just like it has been for all the years he’s been on the stern of my boat. He’s about my age, but he acts like he’s sixteen, not twenty-eight.

“I don’t call that too bad of a day, Ridge,” Jake says, reaching for the strap of his oil pants.

“We still gotta dip bait, dipshit,” I utter, pointing to his shoulder. “Don’t be rushing out of here like your ass is on fire.”

“Fuck, I forgot.”

He lets a huff out, almost as if telling me that keeping him here for an extra fifteen minutes to get our bait ready for tomorrow is ruining his entire life. Too bad for him. I don’t give a shit. He’s worked for me for four years now, so he should know that much.

Turning to Connor as he makes his way toward us, he tips his chin up. “We gotta fuck with bait.”

Connor grins, shaking his head because he actually remembered. In his defense, he’s been with me since I was eighteen years old, so for ten years, he’s had to deal with my shit. I like my boat to sparkle, and I prefer to have my stuff for haul ready the day before.

“Quit pouting,” I grumble. “This is the first we’ve even been out in eight days because of the fucking wind. I’m glad you enjoyed your time off, doing whatever the fuck it is you do, but now it’s time to get back to work.”

“What he said,” Connor agrees with a wink at Jake.

Stepping onto the side of the boat, Connor climbs up onto the wharf with Jake eventually following behind.

Half the time, my two guys fight like cats and dogs; the other half, they laugh their asses off together.

And ninety-nine percent of the time, they are the biggest pains in my ass.

But help is hard to find, and they are damn good workers.

And both of them grew up around the ocean, so that’s helpful when we’re hauling through gear.

While I wait for the two of them to dip the bait so that I can load it on, I glance up at the wooded area far behind the wharf.

Tucked up in the trees is my house, and about a quarter mile from mine are the houses of my parents, my brother and then my grandparents.

My family has owned and operated this wharf since my dad was a kid.

But I didn’t just want to work at the wharf; I wanted to be on the ocean. Same with my siblings too.

I know there’s a whole big world out there—shit, I go south to Florida every winter for a few months so I have the proof.

But the truth is, there’s no place like home.

This coastline is rooted deep inside my flesh, and the waters run through my veins, giving me life. Because of that, I’ll never leave.

We may not utilize every single acre we have, but I sure love how peaceful it is around here.

And when I look up on the dock at all my stacks of crates, making today my biggest haul of autumn, despite my aching back, a grin almost tugs at my lips.

Because, goddamn, it’s been a good day. And now I get to go the fuck home and relax.