Crescent Cove: The MacGregors
Chapter one
Cabin Fever Baby
Ocean
1 Week til Christmas
I drove my very sensible Subaru SUV rental up the winding road to the local Christmas Tree Farm. So local that I was pretty sure that was the only name for it. Not some obscure family name—nope. Just The Christmas Tree Farm.
It was part of the very expansive Brothers Three Orchard. I’d accidentally ended up at the wrong end of the orchard, thanks to my distractible nature.
All the houses along the winding road between Crescent Cove and Turnbull had been so charmingly decked out in Christmas regalia that I’d gotten myself turned around. The signal for my map app had been spotty at best once I’d gotten into the dense tree-lined areas.
Finally, I’d managed to luck into the wrong entrance and had been lost to all the holiday treated establishments that had cheerfully taken my credit card this evening.
First at the festively lit Lodge with so many white twinkle lights blinding me that I’d been unable to resist the pull to find a spot in the half full parking lot. I’d spent far too long walking around the picture-perfect stores that made up the main part of the orchard.
I’d been surprised everything was still open so late into the season, but Christmas seemed to be just as important as the apples to the Brothers Three.
Now my car smelled like the mouth-watering Laverne’s Mile High Apple Pie from the Lodge’s treats shop. I’d been so enamored by the twelve-foot tree in the center of the shop I’d ended up talking to the famed Laverne for a half hour.
She’d directed me to the gift shop a bit farther into the orchard’s maze of gravel and blacktop streets. There seemed to be new construction in progress for an eatery as well as signs for rentals.
Well, that was interesting. The land on this orchard seemed vast and I’d bet fall was as charming as a postcard. It was nice to know that the Hallmark movies I watched to decompress weren’t complete fiction.
Small town USA was in full swing here in Central New York.
I’d worried about how I was going to make this wild hair of a Christmas tree idea work, but I was pretty sure I wouldn’t have a problem there.
I only hoped the tree would fit in the SUV with the nine bags of ornaments, lights, and garland I’d bought from the gift shop. I’d even found a few special ornaments for my siblings.
The girl at the checkout counter had been damn near gleeful as I helped divest her of half of the store’s stock. She even helped me to the car with the bags. Spending a few pennies shy of four digits afforded me a bit of extra help it seemed.
I’d gone on my merry way with Mariah Carey blasting holiday standards from my rental’s surprisingly impressive speakers. I even sang along in my very off-key voice since my brother wasn’t around to make fun of me.
I’d crawled along the roads, my stomach growling due to all the delicious smells coming from the front seat. Unfortunately, the cafe had been dark, but there was a sign inviting me to visit the Cocoa Bus at the Christmas Tree Farm for some hot cider or specialty cocoas, as well as treats.
Good thing because I was about to dig into that pie.
I’d finally found my way up to the famed Christmas Tree Farm. When I’d read the stories about Clay Winslow moving to this area, I’d been shocked. Winslow Industries was a staple of Manhattan’s elite.
He and his now wife, Rachel, were an honest-to-God Hallmark movie come to life.
It had been big news in the city a few years ago. I couldn’t imagine how a man like him could be happy in a small town. I was a tried-and-true city girl.
Well, when I was actually home.
I was beginning to forget what my place looked like in the heart of Times Square. It was an indulgent apartment, but it had been the first place that had been mine.
Being one of six siblings and a staggering number of cousins, aunts, uncles, and two pairs of grandparents meant that having any space of my own had been a premium.
But the Hawkins clan was a little scattered lately. Ever since our parents had retired, they’d taken to traveling—actually, cruising.
I shuddered.
I did not want to be trapped on a huge boat full of strangers, thanks. But Lucille and Al Hawkins were addicted, so my brothers couldn’t help gifting them more trips.
Personally, I was pretty sure it was just because that meant our mom wasn’t in their business every five minutes.
Four sons and two daughters meant there was a whole lot of lives to meddle in. Add in the fact that none of Lucille’s babies had babies, and our parents were more than happy to be globetrotters now that we were all out of the house.
In fact, they’d sold our childhood home.
Sold it!
I wasn’t bitter—nope.
Not at all.
And I simply had dust in my eyes—they weren’t stinging with emotion.
Nope.
My breath caught as the tree lot came into view. The web of lights that canopied over the space drew me closer. I could hear the whir of power tools over Mariah’s impressive pipes.
A massive school bus was stationed a bit away from the bustling people prepping trees to be sent off to their forever homes. A black lab was bounding around from station to station, looking for trouble.
I parked, stepped out of my car, and I couldn’t help but grin like a lunatic.
Okay, this was exactly why I was in this Christmas Tree Farm right now. The hope and happiness of the holiday season dusted the air with pine and fresh cut wood.
I’d been longing for family togetherness. So much so that I’d rented a massive cabin on Crescent Lake and convinced my siblings to come out to have a family Christmas, dammit.
It helped that my brother, Quentin Hawkins, was a worldwide superstar musician and had more money than he even was even aware of.
I was aware, because taking care of my little brother was my job.
Literally.
I never thought I’d be putting musician wrangler on my resume and yet here I was, four years deep.
I would never have picked this particular spot on a map if my brother’s producer hadn’t talked up the town every minute of the day.
Quentin and Rory Ferguson had spent exhaustive months in the studio for his last album—the one that we’d just spent eighteen months on the road promoting. My brother only cared about the stage, so I’d taken care of the tangle of scheduled interviews to make his management happy.
Even at the height of burnout and exhaustion, I’d remembered how fondly Rory had spoken of Crescent Cove and his ginger fairy wife, Ivy, as well as their daughter…some song name.
Right! Rhiannon.
How could I forget that name? Fleetwood Mac was a staple of my brother’s pre-show playlist.
Anyhow, Rory and his family split their time between Los Angeles and the Cove these days, but he still called the bucolic small-town home.
And home was what I needed.
Finding out my parents had sold ours had been a blow I hadn’t expected.
I shook back my blond hair and pulled the squishy wine colored hat I’d bought at the gift shop over my wild hair.
Now I was going to find a tree to go with all the ornaments I’d just bought to create a kickass family Christmas.
The gravel and pine needles crunched under my boots as I walked toward the lights. It was a week before Christmas, and I wasn’t the only one buying a last-minute tree.
There were at least a dozen people doing fresh cuts on the array of trees. I didn’t know anything about the kinds of trees I was looking at, but some were a deep evergreen, while some had an almost blue silver tone. Some were incredibly densely full, and still others were immensely tall and so perfect, it seemed like they couldn’t possibly be real.
Then there were Charlie Brown trees pre-lit and tucked into gorgeous little pots.
I was definitely getting one of those for each bedroom.
But as gorgeous as the trees were, the lure of the Cocoa Bus had me veering over to the edges of the lot. I was delighted to see photo stations near the bus. One with a VW Bus decked out in holiday finery that had a long line of customers waiting as a stunning redhead took photos. There was a smaller area with an arbor that reminded me of something that might be in a winter wedding.
I wandered over to that and snapped a selfie, sending it to my sibling chat.
Me: Can’t wait to see you.
Kent: Are you already there? It’s not Christmas for a week!
Rio: Where the heck are you, O?
Me: I’m getting a tree for the cabin.
Rio: Sweet! Get some popcorn to make garland.
Me: Can do.
Kent: Don’t encourage her. This is supposed to just be a quiet Christmas, kiddo.
I rolled my eyes. Kent was my older brother by three years. I was not a damn kiddo.
River: 5 bucks the tree is the biggest on the lot.
Levi: Make it 50 and maybe I’ll play.
River: bet
Quentin: Sucker bet. Can’t wait to see all you idiots.
I smiled at the flood of “me toos” tucked my phone back into my pocket. I knew this was a smart idea. Now, I definitely needed one of those cocoas, plus something to stop my stomach from eating itself.
The line moved quickly. A beautiful dark-haired woman with dense bangs over huge blue eyes smiled at me when it was my turn. “Hi, what can I get you?”
I glanced at the tag and my eyes widened. “The Rachel?”
Her smile became a little cautious, but it didn’t waver. “Yes.”
“Sorry. I’m from Manhattan. We were all swooning over your love story with Mr. Winslow.”
“Oh.” Relief put the sparkle back in her eyes. “That first news story was a little stressful for me.”
I frowned. “I must have missed that one. I just remember the videos from your sister. They were everywhere online, and I swear I had to come here to find a tree because of it.”
“That’s quite the trip from the city,” she said with a laugh.
“Oh, no. I’m not that crazy. I’m staying on Crescent Lake.”
“Thank goodness. Clay and Jim’s trees are very impressive this year—especially the Townes’ Trees, but they’re really big. I think you’ll find a cute little tabletop one to brighten up your room. I convinced my husband to expand the dwarf trees recently. They’re super cute.”
I glanced over my shoulder to make sure I wasn’t holding up the line. “I’m looking for big, actually. My family is coming in, so I want to do it up. I just emptied half the stock at your gift shop to decorate it.”
Rachel laughed. “Then we better get you sugared up to keep spending your money. How about my Salted Caramel Cocoa and a chocolate croissant?”
“That sounds perfect.”
“Coming right up.” She twirled away, the huge red bow on the back of her apron jingling with a little bell.
I moved out of the way as a couple with two kids came up to the bus then my eyeballs widened as a hulking man ran over.
He was wearing a Santa hat over his long, curly dark hair, a red thermal shirt pushed up to show muscular inked arms, along with red and white striped pants that were stuffed haphazardly into half undone motorcycle boots. The closer he got, the bigger he seemed.
“Kokoleka! We need some provisions!”
That was not Clay Winslow—but he was a very fine specimen of male. And did he just speak Hawaiian?
“You just had provisions, Kane.” Rachel held out my food. “Here you go. Don’t mind him. He’s as huge and harmless as a teddy bear.”
Kane gave me a faux snarl then grinned. “S’up.”
“Hi.”
“Actually, you can help our friend here—I’m sorry I didn’t get your name.”
“Ocean.”
Kane blinked at me. “Well, hello, Moana.”
“Oh, here we go.” Rachel rolled her eyes. She waved over someone, and another woman appeared in the window to help the waiting couple. “You are quick on the nickname today, buddy.” She glanced at me. “Kane is our chef over at the taproom. But it’s the offseason, and he sometimes helps us. Help being a relative term.” She narrowed her eyes at him.
He grinned. “This lovely lady is named for the open water, Moana.”
I laughed. “More like my mom was longing for adventure. My sister’s name is River. But I’ll take how you say it.” I glanced down at his huge hand and sighed. “Evidently, someone else likes it too.”
He laughed. “My kaimoni definitely keeps me in check. Bells is around here somewhere. She keeps getting dragged into helping to take photos.”
“Oh, I saw a big line over at the vintage bus.” And the stunner redhead that had to be his wife. Figured.
“That’s where she probably is.” He shot a puppy dog look at Rachel. “Rations, please, I beg of you. Jim has me hauling out those big bi—” He broke off, looking down at the children, before he cleared his throat. “The big ten-foot trees. I’m burning calories by the hundreds.”
Rachel shook her head. “Can’t have that.” She disappeared and came back with a white bag and a bottle of water. “These are the last of my cider donuts.”
“You are an angel.”
“Yeah, yeah. Just help Ocean. She’s looking for a big tree.”
He sagged a bit, but he gave me a big smile. “C’mon, I know where the good ones are. Not that we have many left.”
I sipped from my cocoa and managed not to moan at the salty caramel perfection. It was a near thing, but I was a pro at holding myself in check.
Having one of the most famous men in the world as my little brother meant I couldn’t give much away. I never knew who was angling for dirt for blind items online. They were the new hotness for gossip.
Saying just enough for people to guess who the dirt was about.
Quentin had been the subject of far too many of them. Most of them where just rumors, but his name made people click—so it didn’t much matter which was real or fake.
I was also used to the bustle of city life, so I kept up with Kane’s long-legged gait with ease.
“So, what kind of ceilings are we talking? Lots of people have a hard time telling when they’re in the lines of trees. Then they go home and have a Clark Griswold moment.”
“Minus the frozen moment without a saw, I hope.” I cupped both my hands around my cup. The cold temperatures around here were far different than the city.
He laughed. “Think we can arrange that.” He waved to a tall blond man in a Yankees cap as well as a beefier one with a backwards hat. Then he snagged a small chainsaw that looked like a Lego in Kane’s huge mitt of a hand.
“We’ve got Douglas Firs and the Balsam. Both great trees and our current ones are about seven feet.”
“Bigger.”
He looked down at me. “You sure?”
“According to the specs on the cabin, it has twelve-foot ceilings in the main part of the house.”
“You haven’t seen it yet?”
“I just got here, actually. I kinda got lost in the shops in the orchard.”
“Laverne get you?”
I laughed. “Let’s just say between the pie and pastries and the gift shop I should be getting a VIP award.”
“Let’s see if we can get you all set up then. Is it just you or do you have help?”
“That’s a very good question. Just me. My family is coming in a few days.”
“Then we will get you set up with a tree base too. We’ve got some in the workshop. Then you just gotta get it inside and put some water in it. Sound good?”
“Too good to be true.”
He gave a hearty chuckle and tucked his bag into the crook of his arm, then he dug out a donut. “Fortification first.”
I held up my croissant for a pastry bump. “Cheers.”
We ate our delicious treats as Kane led me through the impressively full rows of trees. There was a fair amount of them already cut down, leaving holes in the forest of pines. Some were precut and tied to stakes for what seemed like a quick turnover.
Families were walking around hunting for trees, so I didn’t feel unsafe on my own with the large man. He was well over a foot taller than my own 5’3.
“Are you looking for a classic tree with areas for big ornaments, or do you want a big beefy dude?”
“Well, I have a fair bit of filler ornaments, but not a bunch of like kid kinds, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“That helps. My wife wanted a purple tree. We don’t have kids yet, so she wanted one crazy artsy tree before we go traditional-style full of kid ornaments.”
“They make purple trees?”
He laughed. “No. But we bought out every purple ornament possible.”
“Oh, sorry.” I laughed and popped the last bit of my croissant in my mouth.
“It’s impressive.” He dug out his phone. “Like this.”
“Wow.”
“I know. Cool, right? This is a Townes Tree.”
“I want that. Minus the purple, though it is very cool. How did you find purple feathered garland?”
“My wife is a wonder.”
“She sure sounds it.”
Kane nodded to a section of trees with much larger trees. “If you want something like this, you might want to go with our delivery service.”
“Holy crap.” I craned my neck at the perfect deep green tree that had massive branches that stretched out, even making Kane look short.
“She’s…” He held up a finger and pulled out his phone again. He dug into the branches and pulled out a tag. “Number 47 is an eleven-footer. Sounds about right for your space. Gives you room for a star. And when we do the fresh cut, it takes a few inches too.”
“Perfect. And that is not going to fit in my Subaru.”
He laughed. “Then let’s get you set up with an appointment. I’m actually on the delivery schedule tomorrow. I’ll bring Bells with me, and we’ll get you all set up and the tree perfectly straight.”
“Then you have yourself a deal.” I held out my hand.
“You didn’t even ask a price.”
“It’s for my family. It doesn’t matter how much it costs.”
“You must have one helluva family.”
“You have no idea.” I laughed. “Now let’s wrap this baby up.”
“Hold on there. I’ll cut it fresh tomorrow.”
I frowned and looked around at all the people wandering around. “I don’t want anyone to take this one. I like this one.” I petted the soft bristles. “I’m already bonded with her. I think I’m going to call her Agnes.”
He threw his head back. “Well, we’ll make sure Agnes is all yours.” He hit something on his phone, and it made a little jingle bell noise. “Officially.”
I went on my toes and peeked at his phone, then I grinned up at him. “Sold.”
“Sold to Moana—er Ocean…”
“Hawkins.”
“Well, Ocean Hawkins, you’ve got yourself a tree.”
I laced my fingers together under my chin. “I do. And she’s perfect!”