His Christmas Gift

By SARAH MAYBERRY

Since tragedy estranged defense attorney Jenna Macintosh from her family, she’s done her best to pretend Christmas doesn’t exist. Not so easy this year when she needs to work with client Lacey Gallagher, who is living on her brother Sawyer’s Christmas tree farm. All those fragrant pines dripping with twinkling lights are bad enough, but when disaster strikes, Jenna is stuck alone in a wooded cabin with Sawyer, the hottest man she’s ever met.

Experience has taught Sawyer Gallagher that smart city women like Jenna don’t want men like him, but when Jenna falls ill, he must abandon his plan to keep his distance and soon he’s trying to work out ways to make her his—and not just for Christmas.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tule Publishing
• Release date: Nov 2, 2015
• ISBN: 9781943963546

SARAH MAYBERRY

Sarah Mayberry was born in Melbourne, Australia. Ever since she learned to read and write she has wanted to be an author. She studied professional writing and literature before embarking on various writing-related jobs, working as a magazine editor and in various story-related roles on Australia's longest running serial drama, Neighbours. She inherited a love of romances from both her grandmothers and fulfilled her fondest wish when she was accepted for publication.

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Acknowledgments

First up, I need to say a big thanks to Kat Latham for suggesting we do a linked book again. When she raised the idea, it was a no brainer for me – our experience working together on the first and last books in the Bachelor Auction series was so much fun, I definitely wanted to do it again. As I’m sure you’ll agree if you’ve read Kat’s book already (and if you haven’t, you are totally missing out!), she’s an amazing writer, and working with her has been a joy from beginning to end. I so hope you enjoy the world we created together. I especially love the relationship we built between Lacey and Sawyer. I’d also like to say thanks to Jen, who rose to the challenge of making sense of my garbled understanding of the US legal system. Thank you so much for your patience and expertise. And another big shout out to the peeps on FB and Twitter who also rallied to my cause. The Tule team have, as always, been amazing – Meghan and Sinclair, thanks for your enthusiasm for and patience with this one. Finally, big thanks to my lovely husband, Chris, and my furry buddy, Max, for putting up with my deadline craziness, vagueness and a very messy house!

Chapter One

Jenna Macintosh glanced up from the trial transcript she was reading, but the prison gates she was monitoring from the warmth of her car remained steadfastly closed.

Typical. The Montana prison system didn’t care that Jenna’s client had been waiting for this moment for nearly three long years. The system moved at its own pace, and even though Jenna had been told that Lacey Gallagher would be released by eight, it was now nearly ten and there was no sign of her.

The windshield was starting to fog up, and Jenna cracked her window and cranked up the fan on the heater to try to clear it. Billings, Montana was supposed to be enjoying a whole thirty-five degrees today, but it felt far, far colder to her.

She brought her attention back to the transcript but got distracted thinking about the three hour drive ahead of her. If the prison delayed Lacey’s release much longer, there was a high risk Jenna would be driving through snow on the return journey once she’d delivered Lacey to her home town of Marietta. The thought made Jenna’s stomach tense, and she frowned down at the thick document in her hands. If worst came to worst, she could handle a bit of snow. She had good tires on her ten year old Volvo SUV, and she’d be travelling on major roads. It was stupid to get all sweaty about it.

And yet here she was, sweaty. That was the awesome thing about her subconscious – no matter how many times the rational part of her brain gave it a stern talking to, her subconscious went on its merry way regardless.

Movement caught the corner of her eye and she glanced up. The heavy-duty pedestrian gate was opening. Jenna reached for the glasses she needed if she wanted to see anything clearly at a distance, sliding them over her ears just as someone stepped outside. The woman’s shoulders were hunched against the cold, her long brown hair pulled back into a no-nonsense braid. She was holding a heavy-looking plastic carrier bag, and she glanced around uncertainly. Jenna tossed her paperwork to one side and hastily scrambled from her car.

Lacey! Jenna waved to attract the other woman’s attention, and Lacey’s head swiveled her way. After a small hesitation, Lacey started walking, and Jenna met her half way.

Up close, Lacey was very pale, her big, green eyes wide as she absorbed her first few minutes of freedom. Jenna had seen that look before on recently released inmates. For nearly three years, Lacey had dreamed of this moment, but now it was here, and all the problems she’d left on the outside – plus a whole host of new ones – were about to descend on her. Then there were all the things she’d have to get up to speed on, because the world hadn’t simply stood still while she’d been wearing prison khaki and living in a concrete and steel box. Taylor Swift had conquered the world. Gay marriage was legal, and marijuana was heading that way. The world had changed, while Lacey’s world had become so small and focused she’d almost disappeared.

Even though their relationship was a professional one, Jenna couldn’t stop herself from throwing her arms around Lacey and giving her a big hug. Ideally, Lacey’s older brother, Sawyer, would be here today, greeting Lacey on her first day of parole, but he hadn’t been able to get away from work, so Lacey was going to have to simply suck up having a hug forced on her by her lawyer.

Hope you haven’t been waiting too long, Lacey said, belatedly lifting her arms to return Jenna’s hug. ‘There was a situation in one of the pods and it slowed everything down.

I got some work done, no problems. Jenna couldn’t stop herself from beaming at Lacey.

For over a year now, she’d been getting to know this quiet, smart, determined woman. After hearing about Lacey’s story via another client, Jenna had taken the time to look into Lacey’s case, and it had quickly become evident that Lacey was the victim of a gross miscarriage of justice. Ever since then, Jenna had been advocating for Lacey in any way she could, going through her court records looking for grounds to have her conviction overturned, keeping Lacey up to speed on her parole application.

And now, here they were – day one of the rest of Lacey’s life.

You want to grab something to eat? Maybe some real coffee? There’s a Starbucks nearby.

Lacey’s wide mouth tipped up at the corners, slowly becoming a full smile.

Is it too early for a pumpkin spice latte?

Are you kidding? I’ve been mainlining those puppies for weeks. Come on.

They got into the car, Lacey stowing her bag of personal belongings on the back seat.

Thanks for the new clothes. I really appreciate you ordering them for me, Lacey said.

Jenna had bought a few things for Lacey from one of the prison-approved clothing catalogues, wanting Lacey to feel confident on her first day out in the world.

You’ve got clothes and things at your brother’s place, right? Jenna asked as she reversed out of the parking spot.

Lacey’s gaze was fixed on the high prisons walls and it took her a moment to snap-to and respond. Yeah. I think so. I didn’t think to ask. She glanced down at herself. I hope my winter coats still fit. I porked up a bit. Then again, maybe the extra layer of fat will keep me warm.

Gaining weight in prison was a common complaint – prison food was notorious for being high in heavily processed carbs.

Are there places you can pick up gear locally in Marietta, or should we try to find you a coat before we head down there? Jenna asked.

The thought of the forecast snowstorm tickled at the back of her brain again, but she pushed it away. Making sure Lacey had the best possible start in her new life was more important than the echo of bad memories.

Marietta’s not exactly a one-horse town, Lacey said, giving her an amused look. We have electricity and running water and everything.

I didn’t mean it like that. I’ve just never been there. It could be one of those places with nothing but feed stores and flannel shirts and men who chew tobacco and whittle.

Lacey’s smile flashed again. Careful, city girl. That hole you’re digging just keeps getting bigger and bigger.

They continued to talk and joke about nothing much during the short drive to Starbucks, where Jenna ordered two venti pumpkin spice lattes before they hit the road.

It wasn’t until they were on the outskirts of Billings that it occurred to Jenna that Lacey might like to call her brother to let him know all was well and she was on her way. Grabbing her phone from the center console, she handed it to Lacey.

Feel free to call your brother or anyone else if you like.

Lacey stared at the phone for a beat before setting it back in the console.

Thanks, but we’ll be there soon enough.

Jenna glanced at her, but Lacey’s face was turned toward the window, hiding her expression. Jenna knew Sawyer Gallagher had visited his sister regularly, and she’d assumed they had a good, close relationship. But maybe she’d misread the situation entirely.

God knew, she was no expert in navigating the murky undercurrents of family life. In fact, it was almost laughable that she even felt the urge to try. What was that old saying about getting your own house in order first?

I really appreciate you doing this for me today, Lacey said.

It’s not a big deal.

It’s six hours of driving, round trip.

Yeah, but it’s better than being in the office.

She could feel Lacey studying her, and Jenna took her attention off the road for a second to glance at her passenger. A small frown wrinkled Lacey’s forehead and she looked troubled.

What’s wrong? Jenna asked.

Don’t take this the wrong way, but one of the things I promised myself in prison was that I would never not ask the difficult, important question just because it might make someone feel uncomfortable, and I’ve been wanting to ask you this for a while now.

Why do I suddenly feel nervous? Jenna joked.

Why are you helping me like this? Why did you take on my case?

Jenna shifted her grip on the steering wheel as she tried to decide how honest she should be with her answer. Then she gave a mental shrug. If Lacey could ask the important, difficult question, the least Jenna could do was answer it.

A lot of the time, being a lawyer sucks, Jenna said. Especially working in criminal law. Defending people who are most likely guilty, dealing with the worst parts of humanity day in, day out, seeing crappy judgments and unfair verdicts... If I wanted to, I could get pretty depressed about the state of humanity just by reading through my in-tray. So I made a decision a few years back – whenever I find a case where I feel I can make a real difference in someone’s life, I do my best to get involved.

Jenna could feel heat stealing into her face as she finished speaking. She’d never articulated the motivation behind her pro bono work so baldly before, and she winced inwardly at how...worthy she sounded. She wasn’t worthy. She was overworked, more than a little anal retentive, and a born worrier. She had no social life to speak of, and she was pretty sure that her office nickname of GAJ – an acronym for Go Ask Jenna – was not an affectionate one, given her penchant for perfectionism when it came to paperwork and documentation.

In short, she was a conscientious lawyer, not a brilliant one, and the volunteer cases she took on were as much about making it possible for her to continue to stomach her career choice as they were about assisting people like Lacey.

So you really think you can help me? Lacey asked.

Jenna blinked, nonplussed by the simplicity of the question.

Absolutely. I wouldn’t have taken you on if I didn’t.

I thought maybe your firm had a pro bono quota or something like that.

Jenna snorted out her nose. No. I’m pretty sure my partners would prefer it if I concentrated on clocking up more billable hours.

Then I guess I owe you even more.

You owe me nothing, because I haven’t done anything yet. When I do, you can go nuts, but until then, pace yourself, Jenna said, smiling to let Lacey know she was only kidding.

Lacey made an unsatisfied sound, but the frown faded from her face. Jenna reached out and punched on the radio.

Be warned. If anything from Destiny’s Child comes on, I’m going to sing, and it’s won’t be pretty, Jenna said.

I feel the same way about Britney Spears, Lacey said.

Lacey had never struck Jenna as a pop princess kind of a woman. She shot Lacey a look and caught the sly curl at the corner of her mouth.

Almost had me, Jenna admitted.

Please. Do I look like a Britney fan? Now, Mariah Carey...

The sky remained clear for the bulk of the three hour drive. They stopped once for lunch – burgers and coffee in a truck stop – and were only running an hour behind Jenna’s mental schedule when they hit the main street of Marietta, Montana. Jenna looked around with interest, noting the charming shop fronts. Christmas decorations hung from the street lamps, oversized bows and shiny, golden bells mixed in with wreaths decked out with candy canes.

Turn left here, Lacey said.

Lacey continued to give instructions for the next few minutes, navigating them out of town. Soon they were heading toward a well-wooded area that Lacey told her backed onto the national forest.

She didn’t need to tell Jenna when they’d arrived at the farm. A huge, weather-beaten wooden sign was staked out on the side of the road with a big white arrow pointing left and the words Gallagher’s Christmas Tree Farm picked out in red.

Jenna realized that Lacey had shifted forward in her seat – not quite to the edge, but close enough.

Jenna gave her a reassuring smile. Almost there.

Yep, Lacey said.

Jenna turned onto the side road, then turned again when she came upon yet another sign for the Gallagher’s farm. The sealed road became gravel for a couple of hundred feet, then opened up into a sizeable parking area patronized by half a dozen cars. To one side was a rustic-looking log cabin, complete with cute little attic windows peeking out of the roofline, and to the other was a timber barn decked out in big red Christmas bows and flashing fairy lights. A couple of forty-gallon drums sat in front of the barn, the haphazard holes punched in their sides revealing fires burning within.

Cut Christmas trees were piled against one side of the barn, while others were dotted around, displayed upright thanks to half wine barrels that had been drilled centrally to create a sturdy stand. An elderly couple waited near the barn, while the rest of the customers walked amongst the trees, looking for the perfect specimen.

Lacey was truly on the edge of her seat now and Jenna braked to a stop.

Why don’t you go ahead and find your brother, and I’ll park the car, she suggested.

The last thing Lacey and her brother needed was an interloper witnessing their reunion.

Thanks, Lacey said, the gruffness in her voice hinting at the strong emotion she was combatting.

Jenna waited until Lacey had climbed out of the car and moved away before carefully guiding the Volvo into one of the remaining parking spaces. A glance in the rear view mirror revealed Lacey walking past the barn and weaving her way through the trees, clearly looking for someone. A tall, dark-haired figure was working with a piece of machinery, feeding trees into it. His face was a blur at this distance, but Jenna could see the tension in Lacey’s stance as she approached her brother.

Very deliberately, Jenna looked away, reaching for her phone. She didn’t want to watch someone else’s homecoming. It was way, way too close to the bone, especially at this time of year.

Instead, she did what she always did when she was unsettled or emotional – she called up the email app on her phone, and concentrated on work.

Sawyer Gallagher looked up from the tree he was passing through the baler to scan the lot, something he’d been doing regularly for the past couple of hours as he anticipated his sister’s arrival. This time, his vigilance was rewarded by the sight of Lacey walking toward him.

His sister was home. She was free. She was safe.

The rush of relief that hit him was so profound he had to reach out a hand to steady himself on the tree baler.

Finally, it was over. There would be no more fighting off dread every time the phone rang out of polite hours, and he would never again have to trek into Billings and go through the time-consuming process of being cleared to visit an inmate. Most importantly, he would no longer have to watch the light in his sister’s eyes harden and, finally, dull until all he could see inside her was the dogged determination to endure and survive.

Hard on the heels of his relief came an unexpected rush of anger so primal and visceral the heat of it scorched through him like a blowtorch. He exhaled on a rush, sideswiped by his own emotional response. And then he got it—for so long it had been about the trial, and then Lacey’s safety. But she was home now, which meant he could cease worrying about what might happen and simply be furious with her for the way