Joe Whelan cast a side-eye at his new brother-in-law, Aaron Parata, and sized him up. He didn’t look as bad as Joe’d secretly hoped after hiking Stewart Island’s famous Rakiura Track in some pretty shite weather. In fact, Aaron was grinning something fierce into the wind and rain that pummeled them as they strode past Due South onto the home stretch.

“What have you got to smile about, man?” Joe asked between gritted teeth. “You know Kerry’ll be spitting mad that we didn’t backtrack and come home early.”

Hah! Like losing face in front of Aaron on the three-day hike was an option. Part of their pre-Christmas plans were for him to take Aaron on this male-bonding experience, according to Joe’s little sister, Kerry.

Kerry, who’d married the big lug next to him in Las Vegas earlier in the year, had arrived on the ferry with her husband four days ago. They were staying at a nearby B&B since Joe’s little doctor’s cottage was too small for guests, and Joe’s and Kerry’s parents would be flying in tomorrow for Christmas Eve where they’d all have a rip-roaring Whelan Christmas together.

“Nah,” Aaron said, “she’ll just be happy that you didn’t murder me in my sleep and leave me somewhere in the bush for hunters to find.”

Joe snorted. Not so long ago, a shallow grave in Stewart Island’s wilderness—in which people had disappeared, never to be seen again—was a distinct possibility. Now? Now he and his brother-in-law had somehow become mates.

“If I’d offed you on this hike, no one would have found the body, including sniffer dogs.” Joe hitched his hiker’s backpack higher, his tired feet moving faster of their own accord with the anticipation of seeing his Mac again.

Call him a lovesick fool, but three nights without MacKenna Jones—soon to be Mrs. MacKenna Whelan-Jones—and he was like a starving man anticipating a Christmas feast.

“Lucky Kerry and Mac would roast our chestnuts over an open fire if either of us came back solo,” Aaron said as they approached the little Oban medical center where Joe worked as the island’s sole general practitioner.

Both men paused in front of the single-story building that housed Joe’s practice. Behind it was the little cottage he and MacKenna shared. The windows were all shut tight and no cheesy eighties music pounded through the walls. Guess she wasn’t home. It was scary how quickly he’d become dependent on the warmth and light and laughter that followed Mac and made the cottage home.

“Coming up for a beer?” Aaron cocked his head in the direction of the rental house, situated farther along the road. “The girls are probably there. If we’re lucky, they might’ve started making dinner already.” He rubbed his hands together. “Vegetarian Thai, I reckon.”

“Yummo.” Joe pulled a face, but after freeze-dried rations for three nights in a row, even vegetarian Thai sounded good. Especially if he could sit with a beer and ogle his fiancée while she went all Nigella Lawson in the kitchen. “But I’d better hit the shower first.”

Aaron crinkled his nose. “Yeah, mate. I’m standing downwind of you and you’re a bit rank.”

“Like your stinky feet couldn’t fell a man at ten paces.” Joe grinned at him. “We’d both best clean up before the girls catch a whiff of us. I’ll see you up there shortly.”

Joe strode down the driveway and across the medical center’s small parking lot. He followed the garden path around the side of the cottage and retrieved the spare key from beneath a potted plant—one of Mac’s cherry tomato vines—and saved himself the humiliation of trying to jimmy open their bedroom window. Snickering at the memory of catching Mac’s B&E attempt through his window a few months ago, Joe let himself into the house and peeled off his mud-encrusted hiking boots.

Thirty minutes later, Joe arrived at Aaron’s and Kerry’s accommodation. Or, should he say, he was blown up the road to their accommodation. The wind hadn’t died down since first light that morning when he and Aaron left the North Arm hut for the last leg of the track. Looked as if they were in for a wet and wild Christmas.

He let himself in since the front door was unlocked, and followed the delicious scents of lemongrass and coriander into the kitchen. MacKenna stirred something in a wok, her back to him, her face in three-quarter profile as she chatted to Kerry who stood beside her at a counter, slicing vegetables. His gut gave a little jolt as it always did at the sight of Mac’s lush mouth turned up in a smile, and the curve of her arse beneath her jeans as she angled her upper body sideways to inspect his sister’s work.

“What’s the craic, ladies?” he said.

Mac squawked and threw up her hands, the wooden spoon flying across the kitchen and bouncing off the refrigerator. She whirled toward him with a palm flattened between her breasts. He’d barely time to appreciate the cleavage showing in the V-neck clingy top she wore when Kerry marched around the kitchen counter and punched his arm.

“Jaysus, Joe, you great eejit. Creeping around, scaring us half to death!”

Joe rubbed his arm but couldn’t contain a chuckle at his unintentional scare-the-shite-out-of-the-women gag. His da and Aaron, he was sure, would appreciate the humor of it, even if Kerry and Mac didn’t. Had Joe’s mam been around, likely he would’ve gotten a smack on the back of the head.

“Sorry, not sorry,” he said. “Guess you didn’t hear me come in with the wind howling out there?”

“You think?” Mac glared at him from across the room.

Joe waggled his eyebrows and sent her his best you know you love me smile. “Come give me a kiss, then, darlin’. Let me make it up to you.”

She continued to give him the stinkeye, yet her feet moved her quickly out of the kitchen and into his arms. He scooped her up. She twined her arms around his neck and hooked her legs around his hips, staring into his eyes the way she did that told him everything he needed to know about how much she’d missed him. He dipped his head and brushed his lips across hers—just a taste of the kiss they’d share when they were alone—but she made a soft hum in the back of her throat and fisted a hank of his hair.

“Kerry,” she said. “You may want to look away because I’m going to kiss your brother into a near coma.”

Kerry snickered. “Well, while you two snog, I’ll go check if Aaron’s woken up from his nap.”

At any other time Joe would’ve been onto making jokes about her husband’s stamina, but not while he had two perfect handfuls of Mac’s arse in his palms. He lowered his mouth to Mac’s a second time, his entire focus on the feel of her pressed against him, the perfect fit of her body against his. She sighed, mouth parting as he dotted kisses along her lower lip then delved into her warmth, tasting silky smoothness with a tingly hint of chili on her tongue.

God knew how long their hot, wet reunion lasted, but they finally broke apart at the sound of a male throat being cleared in the doorway.

“You two about done making out?” Aaron asked.

Not even close to done, Joe helped Mac set her bare feet on solid ground. “For now.”

“Good.” Kerry bustled past Aaron into the kitchen and retrieved a clean wooden spoon to stir whatever was simmering in the wok. “Because it looks as if Mac got distracted cleaning your tonsils and forgot to tell you Da called this morning.” She turned back to them with a grimace. “Mam is as sick as a dog with food poisoning. She was hoping to be over the worst of it today, but Da says she’s still, er, leaking from both ends.”

Joe dropped his gaze to Mac. Her eyes were a little glazed from his kisses—which he loved—but her mouth twisted in a sad little frown.

“They’re not coming?” Joe asked.

“Nope,” said Kerry.

Mac slipped an arm around his waist. “She’s better off at home with your dad looking after her.”

He bent and kissed her temple. “For sure.”

As much as he’d miss spending time with his mam and da, maybe there was a silver lining in this cloud. Like more time in bed with his new fiancée. “We’ll just have to make the best of it,” he added. “Maybe have a more casual meal for Christmas dinner, like a barbecue.”

Both Mac and Kerry stared at him as if reindeer antlers had popped out of his skull.

“And what are we meant to do with the bloody great turkey in the fridge? Plus the vegetarian turkey alternative for my man,” Kerry asked, fists on hips. “And all the trimmings that Ma insisted we have ready for a grand feast?”

Mac pinched his arse to get his attention. “I even bought Brussels sprouts because I read online that they were traditional Irish fare at Christmas time. Do you know how hard it is to get Brussels sprouts this time of the year, let alone get them shipped to Stewart Island?”

“Er, no?” Joe held up his palms. “My bad. We’ll stick to the turkey and sprouts, then.”

“Yummo, eh, mate?” Aaron said and clapped him on the shoulder. “Now how ’bout that beer?”

“Hell yeah,” Joe said.

And sweet baby Jaysus, he needed it.