Page 54 of Dumped for a Christmas Tree Farmer

“You’re my father,” I whisper.

“Indy,” Mav repeats, gripping my hand as he stands out of the booth, not letting me go. He kneels down in front of me, and I can’t help but think his pants are going to have a beer stain on them after this. “Look at me, sweetheart.”

My gaze dips down and meets his golden-brown eyes, swimming with concern.

“Indy, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. Your mother begged me not to tell you,” Mr. Honeyford whispers, his voice hoarse.

He reaches out, but Henry’s arm wraps around my shoulders and pulls me back. Mav stands to his full height, putting himself between Mr. Honeyford and me. Even Scott stands, crossing his arms across his broad chest, a snarl appearing on his lips that is usually reserved for when Henry does something to annoy him.

“As I said,” Mav growls in Holly’s direction. “Your stuff is getting delivered to your family home on January second. Building management is aware you’re no longer welcome at the apartment, and the locks have been changed. If you ever come near Indy again, I’ll destroy you and your entire family. You’ve seen me as a friend so far, a boyfriend. Someone who provides. You better believe I’ll provide some justice for what you’ve just done to Indy if you come near her again. Now get the hell out of my sight. All three of you.”

Holly sniffs, stomping out of the bar, James trailing behind her. Mr. Honeyford lingers a moment longer, his eyes glassy, his skin pale and gaunt, like the Ghost of Christmas Past has caught up with him. He leaves, the crowd of onlookers parting, and I swear I hear one person hiss at him.

My chest aches, my skin prickling with heat as the sight of what feels like hundreds of pairs of eyes surrounding the booth comes back into focus.

“I hate to say this, babe, but this is going to be talked about for years,” Henry says, shaking his head.

“Henry,” Scott warns.

“What? This was the biggest news we’ve received since we found out who was stealing all the roses out of Mrs. Green’s garden. At least Indy already has plans to move. No offense, darling. If anyone should be moving, it’s them, but you have bigger fish to fry.”

“People are going to think I’m running away,” I say, my lip quivering, keeping my eyes fixed on Mav so I can’t see if anyone is staring.

“No way. Mav made it clear that you’re already moving in with him in Seattle. The news will spread. Besides, now that I know what a penchant for gossip Scott has, he’ll be sharing the news far and wide, won’t you?”

“I like hearing gossip, not spreading it,” Scott mutters, but swallows when he sees Henry’s starkly raised eyebrow. “But I can make an exception in this case.”

Henry nods, grinning, and I look back at Mav, who hasn’t said a word. His thumb runs over my knuckles, and I squeeze his hand.

How the hell did I not know that Hugh Honeyford is my father?

◆◆◆

Mav doesn’t let go of my hand the whole way home, despite frostbite setting into my toes by the time we make it to the cottage. We stayed at the bar until around eleven thirty, not wanting to leave in shame the minute after Holly, James, and Mr. Honeyford left. Scott offered to walk Henry home, in what I suppose must be a polite way of getting him alone. If those two aren’t doing more than long glances at each other by now, then maybe they never will.

The cottage is cold, the cat curled up on herself on the couch pokes her head up as we enter the room. Mav lingers close behind me, his fingers tugging down my jacket before placing it over the back of the couch. He dips to one knee, as he did all those nights ago, when my breath caught in my throat and I lost all thought of James or Holly or this mess we had both found ourselves in. Now, a week since I met him, my life has changed so much. I’m moving to Seattle with a man I just met, a man who has shown day after day that he intends to take care of me so I can flourish. He’s not much of a talker. I’ve learned that about him. His actions speak for him. It’s in the way his hands wrap around my feet, warming them after walking home in the snow. It’s in the contracts his lawyer drew up to give me options. It’s in the way he sees me so undeniably that my cold heart has warmed just as much as my toes.

I love him.

Utterly ridiculous. Unfathomable, really, that a near stranger could have stolen my heart. Maybe it’s the way he decorated my cottage. Maybe it’s the way he excluded the cottage from the business sale. But it’s him, being here with me now, in the wake of the bombshell that is my father’s true identity, and he’s not pushing me to talk, not pushing me to get on with things. He’s quiet, composed, ready to help me through whatever emotion bubbles to the surface first.

“Can we get into bed?” I whisper, my hand reaching out to stroke his face.

“Whatever you want, sweetheart. But we should stay up until midnight.”

“Why?”

“Because then tonight is in the past. It’ll be last year. And this upcoming year is going to be nothing but good things, okay?”

“How can you be so sure next year is going to be good?” I murmur.

He rises to his full height, stroking my hair back from my face. “Because my whole year is going to have you in it, Indigo.”

He continues to stroke my cheek, drops a casual kiss on my forehead, scoops up the cat, and heads to my room like he hasn’t just said the most romantic thing I’ve ever goddamn heard. My mouth parts as a warm feeling spreads through me. I should be holding back from the torrent of feeling this man evokes in me, but it’s like a current sweeping me out into open water; I’m powerless to stop it.

“Indigo, get your ass in here and stop thinking so much,” he calls out. Somehow the worst night of my life has turned into one of the best.

I’m in love with him.