Christmas In Snowflake Canyon. RaeAnne Thayne

stomach rumbled at the mention of the signature recipe Andrew’s wife made. “Sorry I missed that.”

      “She left a piece especially for you as she knows how you favor it. You can stop by the house when you’re in town next.”

      That was an order, not really a suggestion, and Dylan made a face he was quite glad his pop couldn’t see.

      “I’m to give you an important message from your brother.”

      “Which one? I have a fair few.”

      “Andrew. He tried to call you earlier but couldn’t get through. He said the call went straight to your voice mail, and he left orders for me to try again.”

      Dylan hadn’t heard his phone but sometimes the cell-tower coverage up here could be sketchy. He checked his call log and saw he had three voice-mail messages, no doubt from Andrew.

      “What’s the message?”

      “You’re to meet him at the district attorney’s office at noon. Don’t be late and wear a tie if you can find one.”

      Now, that sounded ominous. He had always hated dressing up, something Pop and all five of his brothers knew. A lifelong healthy dislike had become infinitely more intense over the past year.

      “A tie.” Another of his many nemeses. He defied anybody to knot a damn Windsor one-handed.

      “Do you have one?” Dermot asked when he didn’t respond. “If you don’t, I can run one of mine up to you.”

      “I can find one. You don’t need to drive all the way up here.” He didn’t know whether to be touched or guilty that his father was willing to leave the Center of Hope Café during the breakfast rush to bring his helpless son a necktie.

      “Did Andrew tell you why I’m supposed to meet him wearing a tie?”

      “Nary a word. All I know is he was heading into court and ordered me to make sure I personally delivered the message. If you didn’t answer your phone this morning, I was under orders to drive up Snowflake Canyon to drag you down. You’ll be there, right?”

      “I’m not five years old, Pop. I’ll be there.”

      A guy might have thought multiple tours in Afghanistan would be enough to convince his family he could take care of himself.

      Then again, since he had come home half-dead, they could possibly have room for doubt.

      “See that you are,” Dermot said. He paused for a moment, long enough for Dylan to accurately predict a lecture coming on.

      “I’m disappointed in you, son. Surely you know better than to find yourself in a fight at a place like The Speckled Lizard, no matter the provocation.”

      “Yes. I’ve heard the lecture now from both Jamie and Andrew, thanks, Pop.”

      “What were you thinking to drag that pretty young Genevieve Beaumont into your troubles?”

      He snorted at the blatant unfairness of that. “Who dragged whom? You obviously didn’t hear the whole story. I was minding my own business, waiting to share a drink with my brother. I can’t help it if the woman is bat-shit.”

      “Watch your mouth,” Dermot said sharply. “That’s a young lady you’re talking about.”

      He shuddered to think what Pop would say if he knew the kind of semipervy dreams Dylan was having about that particular young lady, crazy or not.

      “Right. A young lady with a particular aversion to Christmas carols and a right hook that needs a little work.”

      “Ah, well. She’s a troubled girl who could use a few friends in town. You treat her kindly, you hear me?”

      When Dermot was riled, the Irish brogue he’d left behind on the shores of Galway when he was just a lad of six peeped out like clover in July.

      “I hear you.”

      “Now you had best be hurrying along if you’re to make it to meet your brother on time.”

      “Yeah. Message received. I’m up. I’ll be there. I’m heading into the shower right now.”

      “See that you are.” Dermot’s voice was stern but he tempered it to add, “And I’ll expect to see both of my sons here afterward for a bite and any news from court.”

      He hung up with his father and slid out of bed. After letting Tucker out with a quick check to make sure he didn’t have to plow again in order to make it down to the main canyon road, he hurried into the shower, trying to pretend he wasn’t wondering whether Genevieve would be there.

      * * *

      “NO. HELL NO. Are you freaking kidding me? That’s the stupidest thing I ever heard. Absolutely not.”

      Through her own shock at the proposal Andrew Caine had just laid out for the two of them, Genevieve found Dylan’s reaction fascinating.

      “Geez, Dyl. Don’t hold back,” his brother said with a raised eyebrow. “Seriously, why don’t you tell us how you really feel?”

      “You want to know how I really feel? I feel like I’ve just been steamrolled.”

      “Come on. It’s a hundred hours of community service. It’s not like you’re being sentenced to hard labor on the chain gang. I hope I don’t need to tell you how far I’ve had to bend over in the last forty-eight hours to make this deal happen. You’re lucky you’re not serving hard time for assaulting two officers of the court.”

      Beside her, she was aware of Dylan’s hand clenching on his thigh. Despite the evidence of his frustration, she couldn’t help thinking he looked quite different from the disreputable hellion who had brawled at The Speckled Lizard just a few nights earlier. Though his hair still needed a trim, he had shaved off the stubble that had made him look so dangerous, and he wore tan slacks, a light blue dress shirt and a shiny hammered silver bolo tie that gleamed in the fluorescent lights.

      She wouldn’t have taken him for the cowboy sort but the look somehow worked.

      “I’ll do the community service,” he growled to his brother. “I’ve got no problem with that. Just not there. This is a damn setup, isn’t it? They got to you, didn’t they?”

      Andrew Caine looked slightly bored. “Who’s they?”

      “Charlotte and Smoke Gregory. Since the moment the two of them hooked up, they’ve been trying to drag me into this stupid Warrior’s Hope business. I won’t do it. Have the judge throw me in jail for contempt if you have to, but I’m not going out there.”

      “What’s the problem?” Genevieve asked. “I think it’s a fantastic deal! My father has been calling me all weekend to warn me I could be going to prison if I didn’t let him take over my defense. I’m really glad I didn’t listen to him.”

      “Thank you. It’s always nice to hear from a client who appreciates all my hard work.”

      “You’re welcome.”

      From what she understood, Andrew had worked some kind of attorney magic. They only had to plead guilty to misdemeanor assault and disturbing the peace charges and they would in turn be sentenced to a hundred hours of community service. If they were able to finish the hours before the New Year, their guilty pleas would be set aside and nothing would remain on their records.

      “I’m not doing it,” Dylan said, his jaw set.

      “Don’t be an asshat,” his brother said. “How hard can it be? It’s basically two weeks’ effort to keep from going to jail. Only an idiot would refuse a sweet deal like this.”

      “I don’t want to work at A Warrior’s Hope,” he said through clenched teeth. “Charlotte and Spence know that.”

      Genevieve didn’t know much about the organization, though she had heard it started up