A Bad Boy for Christmas by Kelly Hunter Page B

mother?”
    “A father who gives a shit might have been nice too, but I don’t see one of those anywhere, do you?”
    Beryl ignored that particular question in favor of addressing Mia’s earlier one. “Let me ask around. I might be able to find someone willing to talk about Lizzie. There won’t be many. Not a lot of people in this town who want to get on the wrong side of the Jacksons.”
    “Nash is a Jackson.”
    “Yeah,” said Beryl. “That’s the problem.”
    *     *     *
    The trouble with being in charge and used to getting exactly what he wanted was that when things didn’t go Cutter’s way it drove him bananas.
    And when Cutter went bananas the going got rough for everyone.
    His family needed fixing and no one was doing it.
    Nash needed answers and the one man who could give him some was being uncommonly silent. That was the main problem, as Cutter understood it. All the peripheral problems were simply piling in on top of it.
    Christmas was coming, and that was a busy time for him, what with everyone wanting seafood to put on their plates. Then there were the Christmas party rounds that cemented ongoing working relationships with yachtsmen and tradesmen, suppliers and customers. Cutter had never quite appreciated how much his mother regularly did by way of organizing their social obligations so that they didn’t drown in them.
    He’d snapped at Zoey this morning for smiling at him wrong, before turning straight back around, dropping to his knees, and begging her to help him organize invitations and catering for the Christmas party at the marina. He hadn’t done it yet. There was no space left in his head for any of it.
    She’d said yes, no problem, she and Bree would take care of it with pleasure, and he’d damn near wept.
    He was working his butt off and he was two men short for the trawler tonight. His grandfather would captain if asked and Cutter could work the deck alone if he had to, but it wasn’t ideal. Caleb had a day full of divers tomorrow and Eli was taking a boatload of sports fishermen out at dawn, so he couldn’t ask them.
    He rounded the side of the boatshed, phone to his ear as he heard yet one more no-can-do from one of his casual deckhands.
    That was when Nash’s red beast rumbled up and Mia jumped out of the passenger side, all long creamy legs, windblown hair and easy smile. The top she wore was a new one on her, pale pink and pretty. A denim skirt peeked out from beneath it, and her hair, as usual, was a wavy mass that reached half-way down her back.
    “ Damn it’s hot,” she said.
    Well, it was now .
    “Water’s that way,” he said. “Run to the end of the jetty and keep going.”
    “And hello to you too,” she said, her smile faltering.
    Could be that his helpful advice had been misconstrued. “Or there’s cold drinks in the fridge. Help yourself.” Was that better?
    Her wary gaze said probably not.
    He cast his eye over the cars on the semi-trailer and saw nothing but rust, rust and more rust. Christ. And then his brother appeared, looking so much like the man Cutter saw in the mirror every morning in spite of the jeans and steel capped boots that Cutter’s breath faltered.
    He didn’t think he was ever going to get used to having another man look just like him.
    “Hey.” Nash nodded. “Hope you don’t mind me parking this here. Eli said it’d be okay and that he’d keep an eye on it.”
    “For how long?”
    “A few days. Less if you have a problem with it.”
    “I don’t have a problem with it.” He had a problem with the world. “Mia!” he barked.
    “I’m right here,” she said dulcetly. “You captain boats with that roar?”
    Matter of fact, yes. “Sorry.” He ran a hand over his head and held out his phone. “Let me try that again. Please, Mia, would you take a photo of me and Nash in front of the semi?”
    “For posterity? Can’t your sister-in-law the photographer take one?”
    “She’s not here, you are, and I need it