It occurs to me that I should probably take my hands off my new boss.

The dawning of this thought and my brain’s ability to execute the action are separated by about ten seconds, which makes for an awkward first meeting.

“Brandon Brown,” she says. She licks her lips and stares at me like I stood her up for prom, which I’m positive never happened.

Almost positive.

No, I’m totally positive. I’d remember those lake blue eyes for sure. Not just any lake, either. Crater Lake, where I worked the summer between high school and the Marines. It’s the deepest lake in the U.S., and tourists would ask what kind of dye we used to make the water so blue. “Just pure water, ma’am,” I’d say with a touch of small-town Oregon twang that charmed the pants off many a young college girl that summer. “Purest water there is.”

This girl’s eyes are like that.

Like that, but pissed off. She’s staring at me like I just tracked dog doo on her carpet, so I decide to keep my mouth shut about lakes or college girls or anything else that might get me into trouble.

“I’m Jade King,” she says. “I think maybe there’s been a misunderst—”

“My sister is delighted you’ve agreed to be our Santa this season.” The brunette I met earlier—Amber?—edges between us like an overzealous referee and elbows Jade in the ribs. “I was just telling her how much you love Christmas and how excited you are to be part of the team spreading holiday cheer at Jingle Bell Ranch.”

Every word of that is bullshit, from my supposed love of the most commercialized holiday on earth to Jade’s fictional excitement about me being here.

But since Amber has set the Liar-mobile in motion, I press the gas pedal. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Jade. I’ve heard great things about you.”

I can tell from her expression that’s the wrong thing to say, though I have no idea why.

“Oh?” She cocks her head to the side and gives me a skeptical look. “Like what have you heard?”

Shit.

“Um, well, that you’re capable and strong and really skilled on a farm.”

Great, I’ve just made her sound like a draft horse.

Sweating, I try again. “Look, Amber told me to come by at two to meet you in person and fill out some paperwork,” I say. “But I can come back another time if now’s not good for you.”

I shut my mouth so I don’t repeat the rest of what Amber told me. That she’s worried about odd stuff happening here—tools gone missing, gates left open, an eerie feeling of being watched—and that older sister Jade would never consent to professional security. Kinda kills the festive family vibe.

A Santa who fills the role in a subtle way seemed like a solution, so here I am.

Jade stares at me for a moment with those Crater Lake eyes unblinking. Two shaggy-looking reindeer stand behind her with antlers the size of coat racks, looking like thugs poised to beat the shit out of me if Jade gives the order.

But she seems to decide something then, and spins on her heel to walk away. I do not check out her ass because I am a gentleman. Also because the tail of her plaid flannel shirt comes down past her hips.

But mostly because I’m a gentleman.

“Come on,” she calls over her shoulder. “You can walk with me while I check the fence line.”

I’m not sure what we’re checking it for or why I’m already taking orders from her when I’m not positive I have this job. But I’ve got nothing better to do on this cold November afternoon, so I fall in beside her and try not to step on any piles of little black berries I’m ninety percent sure aren’t berries.

Jade’s walking fast for a girl almost a foot shorter than me, but she’s not breathing hard at all. She’s also not looking at me.

“So we’re the third largest domesticated reindeer herd in the continental U.S.” She stops and adjusts something on a surprisingly tall fence, then continues on like the world’s least-friendly tour guide. “A lot of them came from abusive homes or neglect situations, so I’ve been doing rehab with them and getting them ready interact with the public.”

I want to ask what reindeer rehab entails, but I suspect she’d think I’m making fun of her. “They look good to me,” I offer. “Not that I know what healthy reindeer look like, but I assume they are. Healthy, that is.”

I’m spewing word salad like it’s on the menu, which isn’t like me at all. I’m usually pretty polished around women, so I don’t know why this one’s making me blather like a moron.

Jade spares me a glance and continues walking. “They are healthy. We had four new calves born last spring, which gives us fourteen steers, sixteen cows, and one bull who’s not going to be a bull much longer.”

I’m almost afraid to ask. “What do you mean?”

She gives me a pointed look. “Harold—stage name Donner—is getting castrated next week.”

“Ouch.”

Jade shrugs and keeps walking. “Bulls are impossible to deal with during rut. Nonstop grunting from August to December, and they’re mean as hell. Dangerous, too.”

“I’ve known guys like that.”

Jade stops walking again and turns to face me. She narrows her eyes just a little, and I fight the urge to take a step back. “They die young,” she says. “Reindeer bulls do. You get three or four breeding seasons out of them, and they might live a year or so after that, but not much. Unless you castrate them, they’re pretty much goners.”

“Jesus.”

I’m not sure we’re still talking about reindeer, but I don’t love the way she just glanced at my crotch. Or maybe I’m imagining things. “So you’re cutting off his balls to save his life.”

“Pretty much.” Jade starts walking again. “Artificial insemination’s better for the herd anyway. Safer, too. Each reindeer is worth about ten grand, so we can’t afford to lose one to a hookup gone bad.”

That explains her hostility about mating. Maybe. It also explains why Amber was so gung-ho to have security. Now that I’ve met Jade, I understand why Amber said her sister would bristle at accepting outside help. I get the sense Jade would happily punch me in the jaw if I offered to carry her groceries.

I glance around the pasture, wondering which one’s the bull and whether I should go offer my condolences. “Have you always had reindeer?”

“No.” She pauses as a particularly massive specimen lumbers up and noses her pocket. I’m standing close enough that his antlers bump my arm, and I’m surprised by how powerful they are. Jade reaches into her pocket and pulls out the tiniest apple I’ve ever seen, which she gives him along with an ear scratch.

“The land has been in my family for six generations, but it’s been a few different things,” she says. “My parents raised pigs when I was growing up.” She glances at me like she’s daring me to say something about that, but I have no interest in taking that dare. “They sold off the pigs when they retired to Hawaii,” she continues. “Now the farm belongs to my sister and me.”

“So you decided to start a reindeer ranch,” I say. “Something different.”

She keeps walking, but I see her nod once. “A little different. It’s a commercial operation, obviously, but we’re still maintaining the regional culture and the intended purpose of the land.”

“Okay,” I say, though I have no idea what she’s talking about. “I guess you’ve gotta do what it takes to make farmland profitable these days.”

She stops walking and frowns up at me. “That’s not entirely true. These properties were meant to be farms and ranches. You couldn’t just plunk down a shopping mall or a strip club or some fancy resort for rich people. Not without losing the integrity of the land.”

Oh.

Okay, now I know what she’s talking about.

“You mean that luxury ranch resort thing down the road? The one opening next spring?”

She doesn’t answer right away. Just keeps walking, pausing once to check a sturdy-looking gate before continuing her march along the fence line. Her hair is long and wavy like her sister’s, but streaked with honey-colored rays of sunshine. A breeze catches the end of her ponytail, sending the soft strands fluttering across my forearm.

“I’m saying it’s important to be respectful of established culture and tradition,” she says. “Out here in the country, there are issues like grazing rights and quality of life and traffic patterns and—”

“Hey, I grew up here, too. I get it, don’t worry.”

That gets a snort out of her. “Yeah, well I’m not sure the resort people do. Out-of-state billionaires snapping up family farms and turning them into Disneyland for rich people? No, thanks.”

“I can introduce you to them, if you want,” I offer as she stoops to study a snag on some wire. “The Bracelyn family? They’re my cousins.”

She stands up so fast she smacks the top of her head on my elbow, which makes her teeter in tall rubber boots. I reach out without thinking and catch her arms again, annoyed to realize how much I like it.

For the second time in fifteen minutes, I force myself to unhand the boss.

Her throat moves as she swallows, and those lake blue eyes stare up at me in dismay. “You’re related to the Bracelyns?”

“Yeah,” I say slowly. “On my dad’s side. My uncle was the out-of-state billionaire. He bought it when I was a kid, but didn’t visit much until after my mom—”

Fuck.

I stop talking, not sure what’s got me blathering my life story to someone I’ve just met. Jade’s eyes are like magnets, drawing sharp shards of steel out of the scarred ridges on my chest.

I force myself to swallow. “Anyway, I’m staying out there with my cousins right now,” I continue. “I can talk to them if you want.”

She looks like she wants to dig a hole under the fence and make a run for it, but instead she turns and abruptly starts walking again. “I didn’t know that,” she mumbles. “That you’re related to the Bracelyns.”

“How would you? We have different last names, and it’s not like I put it on my job application.”

“Of course not, but we went to high school together.”

“You and me? We did?”

She doesn’t look at me, but I could swear she just rolled her eyes. She’s walking faster now, so I hurry to keep up as I rack my brain trying to remember her.

Our high school wasn’t huge—maybe fifteen-hundred students—but I’d definitely remember a girl with lake blue eyes and an attitude like a blast of rocket fire.

“We didn’t know each other in school,” she says at last. “I knew of you, but didn’t everyone?”

“Because of the sports stuff,” I ask, “or because I was an asshole?”

She fires me a curious look. “Did you just call yourself an asshole?”

I shrug. “I can admit it now. I was kind of a dick in high school. Might as well take the bull by the horns. Or the reindeer.”

That gets a smile out of her. A small one I see only in profile, but still a smile.

“Antlers,” she says at last. “Reindeer have antlers, not horns.”

“I’ll remember that.”

“Do.” She stops and turns to face me, her chin tilted up. “And keep in mind they’re more dangerous than they look. A reindeer can kill a full-grown man with just a flick of its head, if the mood strikes.”

I take a deep breath and nod. “I’ll consider myself warned.”