A Copper Ridge Christmas. Maisey Yates

She didn’t have a future with Ryan.

      A pity, as he did make a rather dashing figure standing on the upper deck of his boat, partially illuminated by a light on the deck. He was wearing a thick cable-knit sweater, a beanie pulled down low over his dark hair, his hands shoved into his pockets.

      He’d always had a beard, well, at least since he’d been old enough to grow one. He claimed it was to keep the frigid sea air from freezing his face. At first, Holly hadn’t liked it. But as she’d gotten older it had called to her on some deep feminine level. Evidence of his testosterone, or something like that. Maybe she just liked beards now. Or maybe she was just a hopeless enough case for Ryan that she liked beards because he had one.

      “Holly?” he asked, looking down from his position on the boat.

      “Yes.” She lifted up the bag of cheeseburgers. “And I come bearing dinner.”

      She couldn’t quite make out his expression, but she sensed that he was frowning. “I already started cooking.”

      “Oh.” She fought against the disappointment making her stomach sink. “What are you making?”

      “I just opened a can of clam chowder.”

      She laughed. “Don’t you think that might keep? I have cheeseburgers.”

      “Why?” he asked, his tone turning decidedly suspicious.

      “It’s cold out here.” She wrapped her arms around her midsection, still holding onto the bag of food, hopping up and down as though to prove her point. “Aren’t you going to invite me in?”

      “You don’t want to come in. Just hand me the burgers.”

      “Sorry. There’s no such thing as a free meal.”

      “Were you hoping to trade me for a sturgeon?”

      “Keep your fish, Travers. I have... Well, I have bigger fish to fry than literal fish.”

      “Ha-ha,” he said, the words carrying no humor at all. “Fine, come on up. But it’s at your own risk.”

      “Am I going to be tripping over stray mollusk?”

      “I try not to leave mollusks lying around.”

      “Well, in that case.” She looked around. “How do I get...on the boat?”

      “Climb on up.”

      She looked around and saw the basic rope ladder hanging over the side of the boat, leading to the lower deck. She raised the bag of burgers. “You’re going to have to take these.”

      He walked down to the lower deck, coming close to the railing and extending his hand. She reached up, transferring the bag to him, trying not to react when their fingers brushed.

      Yes, her mind had accepted the fact that nothing was going to happen with Ryan. Her body was another matter. It was all aflutter over the brief contact between his hand and hers.

      She gritted her teeth and pulled her arm back to her side before grabbing hold of the ladder and climbing up onto the ship.

      “Okay. Now you’re here. Before I let you down into my house tell me why,” he said, holding the burger bag out of her reach. “You made a mistake, Holly. I have the food now. Therefore, I hold the power.”

      “Bastard.”

      “I’m wounded. I am a literal bastard, as you well know.”

      “Sorry,” she said, wincing.

      “If you really are sorry, you’ll leave me in peace to eat both of these cheeseburgers, and all of the French fries.”

      She shook her head. “Sorry, not that sorry.”

      He grunted. “Then come on down.”

      He led the way down the narrow staircase, and pushed open a door that led to an even smaller living area. Ryan was over six foot, and his broad frame seemed much too large for the space around him. Honestly, it was kind of appalling. He could barely stand up straight. There was a narrow bed in the corner, built into the wall. A tiny galley kitchen with a one-burner stove, and a table and chairs that were also bolted down.

      “I really don’t get how you stand this.”

      “I don’t stand it. I like it. It’s my home.”

      “Right. I guess...I prefer a yard. And to be not on the water.” As if to reinforce her point, the boat tilted as the water rolled beneath it.

      He shrugged his shoulder. “That’s maybe why you aren’t a fisherman.”

      “Not everyone lives on their boat.”

      “I’m betting my boat cost about the same as your house. Anyway, I like the freedom. And the solitude.” He looked at her pointedly. “The general solitude.”

      She fought to keep a scowl off her face. “Oh, boo-hoo. You have a cheeseburger.”

      “That I do. But you didn’t just come to feed a lonely man on his boat. Cut to the chase.”

      She cleared her throat. “Right. Well. Margie and Dan are going to be back from Hawaii on Christmas Eve.” Their foster parents spent more and more time at their home in Hawaii these days. The perks of retirement, Dan said.

      “I’m aware. I’m picking them up from the airport.” His dark eyes looked wary. She decided it was best to press on before he started forming his own conclusions.

      “Elizabeth is going to be at Mount Bachelor skiing with her new boyfriend Todd until the twenty-third. Which means she isn’t going to be around for the next couple of weeks.” Elizabeth was Dan and Margie’s only biological child, and Holly’s best friend.

      “I actually knew that too. Elizabeth invited me over for dinner a couple of weeks ago and Todd was in residence. For the record, I don’t trust a man who wears sandals. It’s December, for God’s sake.”

      Holly had a few of her own criticisms regarding Todd, but she didn’t want to voice them, out of loyalty to Elizabeth. “Once you get past the popped collar and pastel shirts, he’s not that bad.”

      Ryan chuckled. “Yeah, I’m never going to do that. Because I don’t have to.”

      “Have it your way. Anyway.” She sucked in a sharp breath, immediately regretting it. The air smelled like fish, the sharp tang of salt from the sea, and sweat. Really, only the fish was bad. There was something about Ryan’s sweat that was not altogether unappealing to her. “I want to throw a Christmas party for Dan and Margie.”

      His dark eyebrows locked together. “What?”

      “They have such a great party every year. And Margie puts so much work into it. And I wanted... I want to give them something back.”

      “Why exactly?” he asked, frowning.

      “The gift of Christmas. Christmas cheer. Christmas pudding. Christmas...music. But I probably won’t sing, because I’m a terrible singer.”

      “What does this have to do with my cheeseburger?”

      “I thought we might discuss the possibility of the two of us working on the Christmas party together.”

      Ryan extended his hand and released his hold on the bag, letting it drop to the table. “No. I would rather eat canned clam chowder than help you plan a party.”

      “That cheeseburger has jalapeños and pepper jack cheese on it. The fries are curly fries, with garlic. Think very carefully before you commit to canned soup over this.”

      “I live on a boat and haven’t bought a new pair of shoes in three years. But these are choices I make, Holly. I can still afford to go buy my own damned cheeseburger if I want. Your tainted bribery food is unnecessary.”

      “Look, eat what you want. But hear me out.”

      He