The Christmas Cover Rule (Holiday Rules #3)

Chapter 1

jonas

“Are you watering your Christmas tree with dirty bong water?”

“Is there such a thing as clean bong water?” I ask, grinning before the words even leave my mouth.

“Your watering method doesn’t appear to be working for you.”

“Oh, trust me, there’s nothing wrong with my care technique.

” I stand from my haunches, setting the pipe down on the coffee table in front of my friend.

“There’s a little black book in the top drawer of my desk if you want to follow up with anyone.

” I shoot him a wink before making my way to the kitchen.

“Pass.” My best friend, and technically my boss, adjusts his cuff links, ignoring what I just told him I keep at work.

“Alright, well, instead of hammering me about my tree, why don’t you tell me why you’re here?” I grab two beers from the fridge and pull out my favorite party trick, making Miles cringe when I pop the tops off with my teeth.

“Do you have to do that?”

“No.” I smile before taking a long pull. “But I’m going to.”

“Your little black book of references are going to stop calling when you’ve broken off all your teeth.”

“My dick thanks you for your concern,” I say, handing him a bottle and sitting down beside him, “but let’s get to why you’re really here.”

“You and everyone else always give me shit about how I’m unapproachable, and now here I am, just trying to spend time with you.”

I laugh around the rim of my beer. “First of all, it’s the permanent scowl on your face that makes people think you’re unapproachable, not the time you spend with them.”

He pinches the bridge of his nose with his thumb and middle finger, already annoyed with me.

“Second, aside from maybe your wife, I know you better than anyone. You wouldn’t come to my house just to spend time with me,” I say, finger-quoting the air. “So cut the shit, Cameron. What’s going on?”

Miles takes a sip of his beer and runs a hand along his jaw before leaning back on the couch.

This man loves to know everyone’s tells.

He prides himself on how well he can read people, and in some weird way, I think the grumpy fuck even gets off on it.

So for his sake, I’ve never let on to the fact that I’ve found his tell.

I can read him like a book, and when he appears overly relaxed, I know something’s up.

We both have our roles to play, though. He’s the best lawyer on the West Coast, and I’m the handsome sidekick.

And we’re both better off staying in respective lanes.

“Alright, you know The Caribbean Splendor Resort?”

I nod my head because that resort will always be the one that got away.

“I have it on good authority that they’ll be letting go of their current firm,” he says, face completely void of any emotion.

“Great. You want me to call them on Monday?”

“You know that’s not how we handle important business.”

I know that’s not how Miles Cameron handles important business.

“I want you to be there with open arms, waiting to catch them when they fire Kettella and Brundell.”

Jesus. I must have ripped that bong a little harder than I intended. “I’m sorry. Come again?”

He looks at me with his stoic and otherwise unreadable expression. I knew this place meant something to him, but to send me there…

“You want me to go to the Dominican Republic, four days before Christmas, with no meeting planned?”

“I want you to go to the Dominican Republic, meet with Diego Grosso, be your charming self, and close this deal for us.”

Charming, right. Put it on my tombstone. Here lies Jonas: son, friend, charmer. I can’t complain; my winning smile has gotten me this far, and my whole life has been spent making the most of my opportunities. However they’ve been given to me.

I slap on the smile that built my reputation and hold my beer out toward Miles in a cheer. “Well then, I’ll charm the fucking pants off him, and the thong his girlfriend’s wearing too.”

“Lovely,” he deadpans.

I smirk around my beer, noticing how Miles set his nearly full glass down on the coffee table before standing.

“I’ve got to get going.” He crosses the living room and grabs his suit jacket from the kitchen island stool. “The in-laws are getting in early tomorrow.”

“How’s Camila? Running around like a chicken with her head cut off?”

“A beautiful chicken. But yes.”

I huff a laugh, following Miles to the front door.

“Talan is working on your flight and reservation right now. He’ll call you later tonight once everything is accommodated.”

“Yes, sir.” I bring my hand to my forehead in a salute with a mocking smile, only instead of dropping my hand to my side, I flip him the bird.

“I saw that!” he calls before the door shuts.

“You were meant to!”

I fire off a quick text to Miles’s assistant, making sure he secures me the best suite the place has to offer—on the firm's dime—before grabbing my coat and hitting up my favorite bar.