Peppermint & Pine: Coming Home for Christmas Series, #8

By A.J. Nighthawke

This book is a standalone Christmas Romance, as is all in the Coming Home for Christmas Series! Welcome to the Blue Ridge Mountains of North Carolina. It's the perfect setting this Christmas. Snow is falling while tempers are heating! Stubborn hearts hold tight to their opinions and words pierce deeper than the prick of a soaring arrow. Can long-term resentment melt away the ice that has encased around hearts for too long? It's going to take a miracle and a little Christmas magic.
Enjoy! Merry Christmas!

• Language: English
• Publisher: A.J. Nighthawke
• Release date: Nov 25, 2022
• ISBN: 9798215698006

A.J. Nighthawke

There is nothing like a good story that leaves you feeling warm and cozy inside. Here is my promise to you - Within the pages of my books, you will never find anything vulgar or inappropriate. My goal is to leave you encouraged and happy. Who doesn't like a happy ending? You may find a little drama, maybe a touch of suspense. Some of the characters might even face hard challenge's but a sweet kiss, and a happily ever after is a must.

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Peppermint & Pine

© 2022 A.J. Nighthawke No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means – electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise – without written permission from the author.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

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Cover: A.J. Nighthawke

ISBN: 9798364470911

Published by: A.J. Nighthawke

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 1

Lane

Candy cane outline

Pulling up to the curb , a smile comes easy when I catch sight of my best friend bouncing to whatever Christmas tune is crooning in the shop right now. Peering through our festive window display, I can see that Laurel’s head is thrown back, her slender body bouncing to some jingly rhythm. The song must be an upbeat one! This scenario is quite predictable for Laurel. She’s a sweetheart that blooms in our little florist shop, and let me tell you that her personality draws more customers than our country Christmas window decorations.

Slipping from the truck, I round to let the tailgate down. Unsurprisingly, a low growl of menace and warning reaches my ears. There’s no need to even search out the source because that seething rumble of pure hate belongs to Locke Lennox.

He would be my best friend’s older brother and the constant ray of pitch black in our lives. To every bit of Laurel’s happy demeanor and optimistic view of life, Locke was the exact opposite. I’m sure that his attitude gets worse with age.

Ignoring the broody man, as usual, I heft the crate of mini-Christmas trees and push inside the pine-green door. The familiar jingle tickles my ears and brings me a smile. Then I get my first deep inhale of the fresh scent of pine. Glancing at the counter, I see the mint candle is lit as well. Hey, it’s the little things that make me happy, and we have to live up to our moniker of the Peppermint & Pine.

Laurel comes to take the crates with a smile. It takes several trips to the truck, and on the last one, I find Locke leaning against the fender with his permanent scowl cemented on his face. It’s typical for this man. He’s been glaring since we opened up the shop.

Great! I guess the bear is fixing to pick a fight.

Locke’s signature black cowboy hat is tilted forward, but it doesn’t hide those steely black eyes, the kohl-black curls that flip up at his ears, or the two-day-old scruff that only enhances that square jaw that ticks in anger. His brows dip even further when I approach.

Locke flips the brim of his hat with his forefinger. Maureen, he drawls lazily, knowing that I hate it when he calls me that.

Oh, how gentlemanly of you to help, I purr with a saccharine grin.

I’m not in the habit of helping the competition, he seethes through clenched teeth.

Pffft! I snort with a roll of my eyes. No matter how many times you say it, it’s still not true.

This reaction comes naturally when Locke is around. I used to try and hold the eye rolls, but it was just too painful. Now, there is no need in holding back. He is no more than a broody argument set on a loop because he just repeats the same thing over and over, no matter how untrue. In simple terms, Lock is delusional!

Attempting to bypass the seven-foot-tall giant, the broody behemoth has the nerve to cage me against the tailgate. So much for trying to keep the peace. And... here we go, AGAIN!

Blame it! Why do his forearms have to distract me? Has he been working out or something? Focus... I need to focus when dealing with the bear.

You stole my sister knowing that we run a family farm, he growls, leaning so close that I can feel the warm ghost of his breath against my chilled skin. I swear this is like being face to face with a wild beast or bull that doesn’t want you in their territory, and it’s complete with the angry flare of his nose.

Locke! Laurel hisses, slamming the door to the florist shop with a violent jingle. Back up before you get judy-chopped. I’ll not stop Lane when you deserve it.

Locke only takes her words as a challenge, leaning closer and invading my space, the smell of Christmas trees and leather filling my nose. The man is nothing but a brute and bully, thinking that he can scare me into pulling out of our business just to suit him.

We started this business together, Laurel reminds him for the umpteenth time. She’s not amused no more than I am. This is really getting old since we’ve had to deal with it since last spring.

Are you gonna sell items from the Collins or the Lennox farm? Or is it both? Locke rumbles low and lethal, cutting his dark eyes briefly to his sister before he focuses back on me.

Most people would cower. Nope! Not me! My spine stiffens, feeling like steel as the southern sass my papa said I was born with surges through my veins. This is my superpower!

Do you wish to run a special on heifers and Hibiscus at the Peppermint & Pine? I quip back with a smirk that he hates. It’s a florist shop, you oaf! We can’t sell bulls and bouquets!

Laurel snickers, only fueling the fire in her brother’s gaze. Another growl vibrates so low that it reverberates into my very marrow. Still not backing down, though!

Locke Lennox is a conundrum to Laurel and me... loves her and loathes me with the intensity of a thousand suns. The man has every single maiden within a fifteen-mile radius drooling over him. They literally ask him for dates instead of the other way around. That shows just how shallow some girls are. They only want a pretty shell, no matter how dark the inside. 

Don’t get me wrong. I’m woman enough to even admit that Locke is hotter than a hot pocket microwaved on high for six minutes.

Y’all know what I’m talking about!

Family comes first with him, which is oddly why he hates me. We aren’t really competitors. The Lennox farm doesn’t sell flowers at all, and Laurel has no interest in cattle. For a man who values family so much, he sure doesn’t care what his sister wants. Oddly, he doesn’t date either. Maybe he’s afraid of the women around our quaint little town finding out that he’s really irritating, and that would ruin their false perceptions of him.

Locke constantly rejects the advances of females around here. For some strange reason, that makes the females of Highlands see him as a challenge. Locke Lennox is now an unobtainable man to be conquered like a prize. It’s ridiculous!

Don’t push me, Maureen, he threatens, leaning even closer. Locke’s nose actually brushes against mine, barely skimming the tip.

How am I threatening him when he’s looming over me like a feral beast ready to devour a meal after a winter’s hibernation? I’ve learned that the only way to handle the man is like a bull. Yeah, that’s right. You’ve got to stand your ground and not show one ounce of fear.

Squaring my shoulders, I let my eyes narrow on him in a warning. Then I give him what he hates... my smirk. I can hear the groan of the tailgate as his massive paw clamps down harder.

He’s the only one that calls me Maureen. PURPOSELY! Everyone else calls me Lane, my middle name because Maureen was my grandma’s name. Locke only does it to rile me, the irritating oaf.

I wouldn’t dream of pushing you, Locke, I purr low and seductively. His nose flares again, his deep inhale barely audible. In my daydreams, I’m pushing blades into you, not pushing you per se’.

Those dark eyes narrow further, a devious smirk appearing at the left corner of his mouth. You dream of me, Maureen?

It’s more like plotting, I quip back, holding those dark eyes without one ounce of fear. You always end up...

Enough! he grunts, his hands tightening to knuckle-white.

Yeah! Enough! Laurel hisses, coming to pull Locke away. Don’t you have farm work back at home?

I’m caught up, Locke counters, his attention staying pinned on me. Maureen...

Well, we’re not, and I need to get back to it, Laurel huffs in irritation. Christmas is a few weeks away, and we are swamped.

Bye Laurel, I singsong, ignoring Locke altogether. Ducking by him, his beefy arm misses as it shoots out to stop me. It’s been a delight as always, Locke! See ya around.

The man is still a snarling bear when I drive away. I’m convinced the North American black bear is his spirit animal. The animal’s