Kissing Under the Mistletoe

"I swear," she said, "the best-looking babes in the world come out of your office, and they’ve always got the most gorgeous and expensive shoes on, too. Another rich guy screwing around on his trophy, huh?"

Rafe didn’t bother to open his eyes. Or to acknowledge the question Mia already knew the answer to. Instead, he said, "If you’re here to ask if you can take my Ducati for a ride, the answer is and always will be no." Lord only knew what his impulsive sister would do to his motorcycle if he let her have the keys, even for fifteen minutes. Besides, if she hurt herself by driving too fast or too wildly, his parents would kill him.

"Well, you certainly need some cheering up today, don’t you?" He could hear her grinning even without looking at her. "Lucky for you, that’s why I’m here."

Finally, he opened one eye. "Whatever you’ve got up your sleeve today, I’m not up for it. Try me again in six months."

"Trust me, this is going to make everything better. I promise."

Mia reached into her big red leather bag, something he guessed cost nearly as much as his motorcycle, and pulled out a piece of paper. Though he hadn’t indicated that he was in the market for a summer house, she’d been telling him about various lake properties for the past few months, emailing him pictures and handing him flyers when they were over at their parents’ house for a meal. Still, the constant barrage of lake house listings had gotten him thinking, which he knew was entirely Mia’s intent.

A couple of months away from crying, jilted trophy wives and cheating captains of industry?

Sounded like heaven.

His siblings all loved their work. Mia was so good at selling real estate that she’d opened her own brokerage well before she’d hit her thirties. His brother Adam had never seen a historic house he didn’t want to rehab. Ian, the oldest Seattle Sullivan, made millions while he slept. And their brother Dylan had been sailing since before he could walk, so it made perfect sense that he was building some of the best boats out on the water.

Only Rafe was stuck with a successful business that was draining the life out of him, one day at a time.

"I don’t need another house," Rafe muttered.

He closed his eyes again, settled deeper into his couch, and kicked his feet up on the coffee table. Instead of making an irritated noise, or pushing his feet off the table, Mia let silence fall between them. Frankly, the silence worried him more than anything, given that his sister was not known for her deeply meditative states. Rather, she was the perfect combination of the Tasmanian Devil and a whirling dervish. He was working to muster up the energy to put a stop to whatever she was planning, when something sharp hit him between the eyes.

"Ow! What the hell, Mia?" There was a paper airplane on his lap, its nose bent from the impact with his forehead.

"Just look at it already. I know how busy you are consoling weeping women all day, and I wouldn’t bother you unless it was really important." She pointed at the paper airplane. "Trust me, this is important."

Knowing it was best to humor her so that he could get on with his shitty day, Rafe unfolded the airplane. There wasn’t much printed on the listing page apart from the slightly fuzzy picture at the top, but it was enough for him to understand exactly why his sister had dropped everything to bring this to him.

"It’s not April Fool’s, is it?"

He honestly couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Their parents had bought a lake cabin in the Cascade Mountains when he was a little kid, and they’d spent every summer there until Rafe was fourteen. That was when their father had lost his job, and everything had changed for their family. It had sucked when they lost the lake house, but it had been far worse to watch their father lose his self-confidence and turn gray nearly overnight. Worse still, they’d all still been grieving over the unexpected loss of their father’s brother, Uncle Jack. It had been a difficult time for the West Coast Sullivans, and even now, Rafe didn’t like to think back to those years.

"As soon as I saw this listing, I rescheduled my appointments to race over here to show it to you."

Rafe glanced down at the flyer again. It didn’t look like a single thing had changed, and he was glad to see it. Man, he’d loved that place—had looked forward to summer all year long because of it. Hiking, swimming, boating, fishing, waterskiing...and girls. So many pretty girls in bikinis it had made a teenage boy’s head swim.

"You’ve got to make an offer," Mia insisted. "Today."

He could practically smell the campfires, could feel the cool water cover him as he jumped off the end of the dock. But he’d already been through this with himself a hundred times. He had employees who counted on him. He had half the Seattle elite banging on his door, demanding that he investigate their spouses. He wasn’t a kid anymore with no responsibilities. He couldn’t just pick up and leave his business behind.

Rafe forced himself to put the paper down on the table in front of him. "My next client will be here in fifteen minutes."

"Have Ben take her for you."

"Ben has his own appointments."

"He’s good with your screwed-over wives. Better than you, actually, because he’s less cynical about it all."

Rafe was six foot three, with broad shoulders and big hands. People rarely called him on his bullshit. But though his little sister was a foot shorter and weighed at least sixty pounds less, she wasn’t the least bit afraid of going toe-to-toe with him.