by Kate Kisset
“Rudolph!” Adele broke into a smile wider than her little hand could cover. “Mommy, it’s Rudolph!” She giggled, pointing at the reindeer in all of his gleaming magnificence.
Monique caught his eye. “Thank you, Trace.”
“Don’t mention it.” He winked.
Gulp.
“Thank you, Mr. Trace, for helping Rudolf.”
“Happy to assist, Miss Adele.” He adjusted the fabric at his knees and crouched down. Monique tried to recall the last time a man Adele’s father’s age had given her the time of day. “It just wouldn’t be Christmas without big bunny Rudolf guiding Santa into the valley, right?”
“Right!” She shot up her hand, and he clapped it. “High five!”
“So.” Getting out of his crouch, Trace brushed his hands together. “Are you ladies ready to see your masterpiece?”
“You have no idea how much I’m counting on this tree.” She grabbed Adele’s hand. “Almost time for decorating.” When her boss, Michael Santino, surprised her in October by assigning her the responsibility of the Santino Winery holiday party, Monique jumped into action. Although Michael, the eldest of six Santino brothers, ran Napa’s prestigious Santino Corporation with his father, the winery was Michael’s baby. All of their worldwide businesses stemmed from the success of Napa Valley’s Santino wines. The entire Santino family and their closest friends would attend the party and if there was one family you didn’t want to disappoint it was the Santinos, especially at Christmas.
After hiring a designer to create custom wine bottle ornaments featuring miniature Santino wine labels, Monique ordered a specifically sized tree to show them off. If she impressed Michael with the party tonight, maybe she’d finally get a promotion. She hated denying Adele the new clothes she needed or the kitty backpack and playhouse she wanted. If she could just get a raise, Monique could climb out of the financial hole Jarod had left her in.
“Right this way, ladies,” Trace said, grinning. When they reached the truck, he threw his head back. “Let the jingle bells ring.” Resting his arm on the side of the vehicle, he waved them over. “Come on. Get a load of this beauty.”
After waiting months for this moment, Monique could barely contain her excitement. Clutching its cool metal side, she peered into the truck, and her heart hit the dirt. “That’s not the tree.”
Trace frowned. He glanced into the bed and back at her. “Of course it is.”
Tears welling in her eyes, Monique blinked them back. No raise. Why had she put her faith in Joe Rozzi at the Christmas tree lot? Joe guaranteed he’d have her tree delivered by today, and now her party plans were ruined. The whole shebang hitched on the custom adornments, now waiting in boxes, ready to be hung on a particular sized tree. She didn’t have time to track down another one before the party. “No. It’s not what I ordered.”
The corners of Trace’s lips drooped, something that rarely happened. “Yes, it is. When Joe told me I’d be delivering it to you, I even double-checked the paperwork. I remember how picky you can be.”
“Well.” She sighed. “I ordered a twelve-foot blue spruce with enough space between the branches for specific ornaments, and that appears to be a scrawny Leyland cypress.”
“Like the Charlie Brown tree?” Adele asked.
“Yes, sweetheart, exactly like the Charlie Brown tree.” She redirected her focus from Adele to Trace, narrowing her eyes. “And although the puny pine was pretty in its make-believe way,” she said raising her eyebrows, “I have to have a particular tree for my plans to work.” Her ears thudded, waiting for his response.
“It’s okay, Mommy, maybe he’s only good at singing.” Adele scampered off a few yards and found a stick.
Trace crossed his arms in front of him and harrumphed in a way that made his pecs bulge. “You need to take another look.”
Acknowledging his frustration, and trying not to be too distracted by his annoyingly masculine physique, Monique angled her chin down and inspected the truck’s bed again.
“Now, see? It’s a fine tree. Once you get your hands on it and cover it with lights, you’ll be all set.”
“No.” She shook her head. “I can tell you right now, we shouldn't bother moving it into the winery because it’s a waste of time.” She studied his dumbfounded expression. “It isn’t going to work.”
Although he used to be perceptive when they dated, Trace threw her a blank stare, seeming to not understand she wasn’t a magician, didn’t have a magic wand and therefore couldn’t do anything with that measly tree to merit a promotion.
“Look.” She pressed against the truck on her tiptoes, dipped into the bed and grabbed a damp branch. Fresh sap stuck to her palm. Trace touched the back of her shoulder, completely invading her personal space, and leaned against her backside presumably to get a better look. The intoxicating scent of leather and sexy-man coming off of him, combined with the smell of fresh-cut pine made her dizzy. She gulped a deep breath, and concentrated on the task at hand, her career and Adele’s future.
“There are only a few inches, at most, between the branches.” She wedged her hand in between the pointed needles and grasped the tree trunk. “See? There isn’t any place for me to hang the bottle ornaments. They’ll get squished, and if I start cutting branches, there won’t be any tree left.”
She let go of the trunk. The fresh boughs bounced back in place. “I don’t know what to do at this point,” she muttered, stepping away from Trace and the jalopy. Throwing her hands in the air like an Italian, even though she wasn’t one, she moaned. “I’m only making a big deal out of this because I’m trying to get a promotion.”
She glanced at Adele drawing in the dirt and something clicked. The sight of her cheerfully absorbed in the simple beauty of her art project gave Monique a chance to refocus on what really mattered.
“I’m sorry I blew a gasket. No one is dying here.” She sighed. “I’m running the party tonight, and wanted it to be perfect.” Unfortunately, her eyes began to well again and her chin started quivering. She inspected a clump of dry pine needles on the ground so Trace wouldn’t notice she’d become an emotional wreck over the last six years.
“I’ll tell you what.” Trace pulled keys out of his pocket. “Your tree is probably still in the lot with a delivery tag. I’ll jet back and get it.” Monique caught the familiar glint under his black lashes.
God, how she loved the way Trace used to make her feel like the most beautiful woman on the planet.
“Hey, to be honest, I don’t know the difference between a spruce, a General Lee, or what kind of tree Charlie Brown had for that matter. With Joe so worried about Jessica having a baby, who knows? Maybe I brought the wrong one.”
“Oh my God. Do you think it’s still at Napa Pines?”
Trace shrugged. “It’s worth a try.”
“Thank you. Thank you. I’ll go to the lot with you, though, just to be sure it’s the right one. Okay?” She pivoted to Adele. “Honey, have you finished your drawing?”
“Almost, Mommy.” Adele added a circle to her picture and after tossing her stick, galloped back to her.
Trace took long, sexy strides to the passenger side of the truck and gallantly opened the door.
“Oh, no.” She took Adele’s hand. There was absolutely no chance in hell she’d risk having her female body parts encased in a vehicle with that tall drink of . . . sexy songwriter. In a drought for so long, Monique didn’t trust her nipples or anything tingling below to behave. Trace already wreaked enough havoc on her breasts and he’d barely touched her. Suddenly springing out of a long dormancy, Monique kept having to hide her high beams with her arms. “We’ll take our car.”
He squinted at her. “You can drive with me, Monique.”
“No. I can do this by myself. Adele and I don’t need any help. Besides, I don’t want you to have to drag us around and interrupt your day.” She folded her arms over her chest, smashing her breasts against her body.
Trace brought his hand to his fa
ce and massaged his chin. “After six years, I finally see you again, and after only ten minutes, you’re already being stubborn.”
She jutted her chin out, returning his grumpy grimace right over her nose.
“We’re going to the same place, Monique.” He shifted his weight from one boot to the other and cocked his head. His sultry green gaze, the same one that transformed his fans into quivering bowls of pudding, scanned her body like an X-ray and then locked on her eyes. “I have the only truck on the lot. Therefore, I will be driving said truck back to this very location, with the right tree, hopefully.”
“Well, okay then,” she mumbled. Adele would sit in the middle as a blockade between any bumping thighs or arms. “I just didn’t want to put you out.”
He opened the door. “Please get in.”
Chapter Two
Trace Montgomery would’ve recognized Monique’s curves anywhere, but to have them literally drop out of the sky from a ladder shocked him senseless. He still couldn’t comprehend the presence of the small girl smelling like strawberries and mud sitting beside him.
Although known for his creative prowess, Trace prided himself on his ability to keep his head on straight, but not today. The image of his past love with the clear, blue December sky backlighting her perfect butt in those jeans while she leaned over that bunny, would be etched in his memory forever.
He turned the ignition key and thought his body would combust. The demo track of “But I Love You More” blasted from the truck’s speakers. Adele squealed, covering her ears.
“Hey, it’s not terrible.” Chuckling from nerves mostly, Trace popped the disk out of the stereo. And just in case Monique and her offspring were a hallucination, did a double take when he shoved the disk into the CD case. As sure as his guitar-picking fingers were on the wheel, Monique and her daughter were in the truck with him.
Side by side, with Adele strapped between him and Monique, they bounced over the potholes of the vineyard until the tires hit the smooth main road of Santino Winery. How on earth did Jarod Jacobson manage to con Monique into marrying him?
“Thanks for doing this.” Monique’s smile hit him from across the seat.
“You’re welcome.” He stole another glance from the corner of his eye. With her skin practically glowing, and the sun streaming through the window making her long, honey colored hair sparkle, the one that got away still looked like an angel. His chest tightened.
“So, Jarod Jacobson, huh?” He had examined Monique’s left hand close-up when she grabbed the tree trunk, and didn’t notice a ring.
“He’s my daddy!”
“Yes, he is, honey.” Monique leaned around Adele. “Jarod and I got divorced two years ago.”
“I’m sorry to hear it.” Trace couldn’t imagine what kind of drama Jarod put her through and opted not to ask about the likely sordid details in front of Adele.
“So what are the plans for your trip?” Monique asked, shuffling in the seat. “Any wine tasting? The new Santino Zin won Best in Show Red in San Francisco last week.”
Trace’s Uncle Glenn had delivered Christmas trees to all of the wineries in the valley for as long as he could remember. The entire Santino clan attended the funeral last year. Trace hoped to have the chance to tell them how much it meant to have them there.
“I don’t know if I’ll have time to stop by any wineries or do much visiting this trip. I need to find an accountant.” Accounting? Really? That’s the best you can do with Monique?
Trace stole another glance at the gorgeous creature sitting three feet away. He’d never met anyone with eyes the same color, except for Adele five minutes ago. “I need someone to give me the bottom line on the tree farm’s financials. I should call Michael, I’ll bet he has a name. Then I need to track down a real estate agent.”
After waiting thirteen months to deal with his inheritance, Trace wanted to put it, and all the memories of death and sadness, behind him—the sooner the better. Although his Uncle Glenn’s generosity touched him, he didn’t need the money and had no interest in growing Christmas trees for a living.
He navigated onto Route 29 heading toward Calistoga, and a crushing feeling from years ago came back. As he approached the patch of road where his parents had died, he rolled his shoulders, trying to ease the tension. They’re all gone.
“Well, you sure have hit the big leagues since the last time we saw each other. Congratulations, Trace. I knew you’d make it.”
Silently, he thanked Monique for getting his head out of the dark place it was heading. Twinkle lights flickering around festive storefront windows caused him to slow the truck. Candy canes and toy soldiers decorated the sidewalks of downtown St. Helena. Passing the old Camelia Theatre, Trace stopped for a group of distracted shoppers loaded with bags that were cutting across Main Street.
Although he and his folks lived in Napa, Trace and his family spent most weekends between Thanksgiving and Christmas helping his aunt and uncle at their Christmas tree farm right outside St. Helena on the way to Calistoga. Martini’s Pub, the old Freshee Freeze, Modela’s Bakery, the pharmacy, every shop he passed, looked exactly the same. The town hadn’t changed, but he had. Trace tried not to think of all the times he’d spent with his family here.
Adele started wriggling and poked him with her elbow. “Look, Mommy!”
He checked the rearview and leaned on the brakes to give Adele a better view.
“Santa.” She leaned over Monique pointing out the passenger window. “And one, two, three—nine reindeer. There’s Rudolph!”
Trace grinned.
Monique craned her neck around Adele. “They put up the community Christmas display a few weeks ago.”
“Sorry I missed the party.”
Further up the highway, The Napa Pines and Wines Christmas Tree Farm sign came into view, and Trace pulled into the rocky driveway. After parking, they clamored out of the noisy old heap. Adele tore off to the lot’s gift shop, and he and Monique hurried to catch up with her. Smells of earth and fresh rain permeated the rickety shack.
“No baby today. Poor Jessica. She had those fake labor pains. Braxton Hicks,” Joe Rozzi announced, handing Adele a candy cane.
Louis Armstrong’s “Zat You, Santa Claus?” played over tinny speakers. As far back as Trace could remember, Joe had been his uncle’s right-hand man. During the off-season, he planted the trees, and the day after Thanksgiving, he’d help open the Christmas tree lot. The tradition had come to an end last year. At Trace’s request, Joe took over all of the responsibilities of the farm after his uncle passed away.
“Hello, Joe.” Monique lifted her hand waving her fingers. When he dashed around the counter and greeted her with a bear hug, Trace had to admit he felt a little jealous. “Are you relieved about the false alarm or still worried about Jessica going into labor?”
“I’m on pins and needles, pardon the pun. It took Barb and me so long to have a child, I never imagined I’d still be around to meet my grandbaby. I’m thrilled. Scared. I don’t know what to think.” He put his hands on his hips. “What did you think of the tree, huh? Here to get another?”
“Well.” Monique drew a line through sawdust on the counter with her finger.
“I hope it’s still here . . .” Trace stuck his hands in his pockets. “I delivered the wrong one.”
“Nah. I haven’t sold any twelve-foot blue spruces today.” Joe dismissed him with his hand. “It’s got to be around the back.”
Monique clutched Adele’s hand and they followed Joe out of the building. Something about the sight of Adele holding her candy cane and grinning up at her mom with pure adoration tugged at Trace’s heart. He stayed behind, not wanting to interrupt, or ruin their moment. Sure, he’d sold his share of records and launched a pretty successful music career, but over the last six years, Monique had created a family.
“Here it is.” Joe pointed to a massive heap on the ground. “Got to go, customers are waiting. But that’s the one you’re looking for,” Joe sa
id before leaving.
Even with its branches tied, ready for delivery, Trace knew it far surpassed the spindly reject back in the truck.
“Let’s take a peek!” Bending down, Monique straddled the tree, making her sweet round butt impossible to miss. How was he supposed to control himself around her?
Instead of reaching out and cupping one of those precious tight cheeks the way he wanted to, Trace rubbed his neck and enjoyed the show. “Need some help?
“Nah, I got this.” She pulled a pocket knife from her jeans and sliced through the plastic ties around the tree, like a pro. “Voila,” she said, in her own world, probably not noticing he was still there. Clutching the tree’s trunk, she raised it a few inches off the ground. She repositioned her grip and tried to lift it.
“Hold on, it’s twice your size. You’re going to get that up and it’ll topple over you.” Trace moved to the other side, squatting near Monique. He brushed over the soft skin on the top of her hand as he grasped the trunk. “Here, let me help.” Monique didn’t let go of the tree. The muscles in her small hand tightened. “Please, stand back.” When she didn’t budge, Trace came up with another tactic. “You won’t be able to thoroughly inspect it for the Santino winery, unless I hold it for you.”
“Fine.” Stepping over the tree, she pivoted, knocking him out with a beaming smile. Her eyes danced with excitement, and an overwhelming urge to take her in his arms and kiss her wildly overcame him. As much as Trace thought he’d forgotten all about her after she refused to join him on the road years ago, apparently he hadn’t. Monique took a few steps back and stood beside Adele.
Tasting the acrid needles in his mouth and feeling resin on his hands, Trace adjusted his grip on the sticky trunk. After securing a tight hold, he heaved the massive tree up to its full height. The branches covered a five-foot diameter.
Monique squealed. “It’s perfect.”
Adele giggled. “It’s the biggest tree ever.”
Not able to see their expressions from behind the tree, Trace shoved the prickles out of the way, made room for his head, and poked it in between two branches for a peek.
