Page 1 of Dumped for a Christmas Tree Farmer

Chapter One

Christmas Eve

Mav

Snow billows around my rental car, threatening my journey with icy roads and unforgiving tires. My hands are ten and two on the wheel, gripping so hard my knuckles are as white as the snowflakes piling at the bottom of my windscreen.

Welcome to Bear Hills; the town sign has me breathing a sigh of relief. I’ve made it. It’s Christmas Eve. My girlfriend, Holly, returned home to her small town a few weeks ago with the intention of spending a little time with her family until I join them. I’ve been pushing hard for an investment opportunity, taking the leap to branch out on my own. It’s been relentless work; I’ve been putting in sixty-hour weeks at the office, all to work for the investment I just secured this morning. It was a lot, too much, and Holly isn’t wrong when she said I’ve neglected her for the past six months or so.

But now it’s time. Time to make things official with Holly. The ring I bought two weeks ago burns a hole in my pocket, a bead of sweat lingering at the base of my neck despite the cool air seeping into my car.

She didn’t leave on the best of terms. Unhappy and unsatisfied with how much work I was doing, but it was a temporary measure. A small sacrifice now to make our lives infinitely better in the future. And now, after minimal contact for the past two weeks, I’ve kept my word, and now it’s her turn to keep hers.

Holly’s family is rich, and not the kind that doesn’t worry about paying their rent each month, but the kind that collects the rent from everyone else. Her family is a big deal here in Bear Hills, and proving that I’m established enough, stable enough, to marry their daughter has delayed my proposal. But that changes tonight because as soon as I see her, I’m going to drop to one knee and make this partnership official.

My tires crunch against the snow-covered blacktop as I pull to a stop outside the biggest house I’ve ever seen.

Holy shit.

Red brick, white-framed windows, a mansion of a house. Too big for one family. Too goddamn big for anyone. Despite its size, there’s a homeliness to it. Welcoming Christmas music escapes through the bay windows. There’s a life-size nativity scene on the front lawn. Fairy lights cover every corner, every crease. Santa is on the roof with a sleigh as big as my car. I swallow down the apprehension as I step out of my vehicle; a man in a white shirt and black tie offers to take my keys. I didn’t grow up like this. No one I consider a close friend did, not that I have time for many of them anymore. Work has been my number one focus. Establishing myself. Getting myself out of the hole where I grew up and proving that I’m not just another kid from another shithole of a town who does nothing with my life.

“Thanks, man.”

“Of course, sir. Your ticket number.” He hands me a slip of paper, which I tuck into my coat pocket. I don’t plan to be using it given that I’ll be staying here with Holly and her family.

Another man opens the door for me, and I step through the entrance. Two staircases hug the walls. Garlands of green pine needles with red berries wrap around the black iron banister, twinkling lights embedded among the growth.

A server stands ready, a silver platter in one hand with a number of champagne flutes bubbling away. I take one, giving him a small nod. The warmth of the room has my fingers aching, and I slip a hand into my pocket to feel the velvet box stretching against my pants. Holding it does nothing to soothe the rise in my pulse.

I push through the thrum of people dressed in deep reds and forest greens. Christmas colors. My slate-gray suit isn’t exactly on theme with Christmas, but I’m here. That’s what Holly wanted, and I made it. I see her father, standing on a makeshift stage with a brass band behind him. He’s standing at the microphone, talking to the crowd about the spirit of Christmas and the importance of family. I roll my eyes, hiding my discontent. This is the life I used to dream of growing up. The fantasy that I can’t quite believe is true. His family looks flawless up there, his arm wrapped around his perfect blonde-haired wife, Holly’s mother, and his perfect blonde-haired daughter on his right. Holly is looking down on the crowd, and she mouths something to someone standing at the front.

Did she just mouth I love you?

I blink a few times, trying to focus my eyes from the distracting Christmas lights that must be fogging my vision. My heart rate quickens the closer I get.

I push through the crowd because apparently the whole damn town has been invited. Her father is talking, yapping on about Christmas miracles and having his family back together again. The crowd cheers, lifting their glasses, all except for one woman wearing a black slip dress. Her arms are crossed against her chest, her scarlet-painted finger tapping on her upper arm. Her hair is short, cropped above her shoulders in loose waves. I follow her eyeline and meet Holly. Holly, who is now jumping off the stage and into the arms of a man in a plaid shirt. Really? A plaid shirt to an event with servers? Her father doesn’t look surprised, and given he’s expecting me to show up tonight, it’s a little cutting. Like I’ve already been dismissed from the family without even meeting them.

The woman in the black dress audibly scoffs, spins on her heel, and barrels into me. There’s a shine to her eyes. They narrow as her cheeks flush. Her thick dark lashes are wet, and I feel my brows pinch together. There must be some mistake. Maybe she’s as confused as I am right now. I expect her to apologize, but she doesn’t.

The woman snatches the glass of champagne out of my hand, lifts it to her lips, and downs it in one. She shoves the empty glass back into my hand, her shoulder barging into mine. I’m not usually left speechless, but the woman in question storms through the dispersing crowd, leaving me alone to deal with the clusterfuck that is supposed to be my introduction to Holly’s family for the first time.

I turn back to Holly, her red dress cinching in at her waist. The sheer red puff of fabric slips down her shoulder, and the lumberjack delicately pulls it back up for her. She’s tilting her chin to meet him. His thumb runs along her jawline. It’s like a car crash I don’t want to see but can’t stop watching. The room is a muffled blur of chatter and glasses clinking together, tied in a neat bow of relentlessly jolly Christmas music.

He wets his lips, whispers her name before dropping the softest kiss I’ve ever seen on her lips. It’s slow, methodical, like he’s savoring it. Like he’s done it a thousand times before.

Well. Screw. This. Guy.

I stalk toward him, shouldering past smiling onlookers, before I rip him off my girlfriend and throw my fist straight into his nose. Blood sprays out, and he falls backward onto a couch on top of a man and a woman.

“Jeffrey, Anna, I’m so sorry,” he says, attempting to get to his feet whilst his hand is cupped beneath his dripping nose.

“James!” Holly screams.

I pull my hand back, throwing another punch until Holly grabs my elbow and hisses. “What the hell are you doing, Mav?”

Her eyes full of tears, she limply pushes me out of the way and I let her. She cradles James’s face as he whispers to her. The room has gone quiet, the music coming to a screeching halt. The crowd seems to hold its collective breath.

“Me?” I scoff. “I came here to meet your family, to spend Christmas with you, and you’re making out with a guy that apparently doesn’t own a suit or an iron.”