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Holiday Heir

Page 93

by Maggie Cole

CHAPTER TWENTY

Jagger

Three Days Before Thanksgiving

The ranch wakes up loud. Engines rumble to life before sunrise. Ladders scrape against the side of the equipment shed. A radio blasts country music from the direction of the main barn loud enough to carry clear across the yard.

Every year, it's the same chaos. It starts for Halloween, then moves into Thanksgiving and Christmas, getting more intense with each holiday. And every year, I forget how much I actually love it until I'm standing in the middle of it again.

This year, I get to share the holiday fun with Lainey and Charlie.

"You gonna help me with these lights or just stand there admiring the view?" Mason hollers from the top of a ladder propped against the porch eaves, a string of gold and orange lights tangled around one forearm.

"I'm supervising."

"Supervising's my job. I'm older."

"By sixteen months. Barely counts," I remind him for the millionth time. I take off my jacket, not needing it since the weather is already in the seventies, which isn't normal this time of year. I climb up the other ladder to change out the wreath.

Half the family has spilled out into the yard in one form or another. Wilder, Ace, and Jacob are chasing each other around the base of the big oak with a football none of them seem to be able to throw straight today. Isabella's supervising with a mean shrieking whistle. Emma's found a stick she's decided is the most important object on the ranch, refusing to set it down for any reason while following Isabella around.

"Careful up there, Daddy," Wyatt calls from below, steadying my ladder with one hand while balancing a mug of coffee in the other.

I glance down at him. "You keep calling me that, I'm gonna start thinking you're jealous."

He snorts. "I enjoy sleeping through the night."

"Keep telling yourself that."

Wyatt grins at me with the same smile he's had since we were kids getting into trouble. "Willow tells me congratulations are in order. Officially. Publicly. Whole nine yards."

"Congrats for?"

He smirks. "A successful first date. She saw you making out by your truck."

My blood heats thinking about it. I try to stay nonchalant but can't stop the grin forming on my face. "Word travels fast."

"Word travels at the speed of Paisley, which is faster than most modern technology."

I can't argue with that statement. This family's never met a piece of gossip it didn't want to workshop, dissect, and pass along embellished within the hour. I've spent a solid thirty years learning to live inside that particular fishbowl without losing my mind over it.

He takes a sip of his coffee while I secure the wreath. "You good?"

"Better than good." I glance down at him, and a steady certainty settles into my bones. I confess, "Best I've been in a long time, honestly."

"Good. You deserve it." He knocks his knuckles against the ladder rail. "Took you and Lainey long enough to catch up to each other. For the record, Willow and I had a bet going on about how long it'd take if she ever showed back up."

"A bet?" I cautiously ask, knowing Wyatt had to stop gambling because he decided he had a problem.

He grunts and says with a mischievous expression, "Don't worry. Just our private little bet."

"Ew. I don't want to know," I say, not wanting to think about him doing anything with my sister. Not because I don't think he's good enough for her, but because it's my little sister and always will be.

He chuckles.

"How long's the bet been running?" I ask.

"Since about June. Right after you started disappearing off to your apartment and coming back looking like somebody kicked your dog." Wyatt takes another sip. "Willow said whoever the girl was, she would hold out longer. I put my chips on you."