He laughed. “Open it.”
I tore off the paper with zeal, time being short and all, and opened the box lid. I gasped. An indigo cashmere trench coat filled the box. I lifted it out and laid it on the bed, running my fingers over the soft, luxurious fabric. “It’s beautiful.”
“Try it on,” he urged, his hands jammed in his jeans’ front pockets.
“Doc, this is too much.” It couldn’t have been cheap, not with the name brand on the inside tag.
“You needed another coat. Our adventures back in Slagton obliterated your red one.”
I slipped it on, adjusting the classic collar, smoothing my hand down the double-breasted front. It fit like it was made for me. “It’s perfect.”
His eyes narrowed. “Do you really like it? You’re not just saying that, right? Because I can return it for another style or color.”
I nearly tackled him in a rushed hug. “I love it.” I kissed him hard and then stepped back and did a little twirl, mimicking my daughter from the previous night. “It will look amazing with my purple cowboy boots.”
His eyes sparkled. “I know. I have a few new fantasies starring you, your boots, and that coat.”
I returned to him and wrapped my arms around his neck, pressing him back against the wall. “Kiss me, mon amour.”
“Cara mia, that’s French.” He looked down at my coat. “I can’t get to your arm to kiss it.”
“Will my lips do?” I puckered up.
“Ay yi yi, these lips.” He cupped my face and gave me a scorching kiss that burned clear to my cold toes.
“Violet!” My dad’s voice boomed down the hall. “Let’s go. Your mom is waiting.”
I sighed and pulled away. “Can I wear it to the store?”
“It’s your coat, Tish.”
After one more quick kiss and a breathy, “Thank you, Gomez,” I raced out of the bedroom. My worries about playing referee between my dad and Reid had eased for the moment.
Mom raised her eyebrows as I joined her in the foyer. “New coat?”
“Doc got it for me.”
She smiled wide. “He’s a keeper.”
I agreed. I was seriously considering locking Doc in the basement and never letting him out around the rest of the female population again. “It will look great with the new Ferragamo pumps you bought me, too,” I said, kissing her cheek. My shoe supplier had fed my addiction with another hit, this time a pale pink, low-heeled pump.
Susan sauntered into the foyer as Mom reached for the door. My happy balloon deflated a bit at the sight of her form-fitting silver sweater dress. She looked like a sexy strand of tinsel bordered with blood red lips on top and spiky boots on the bottom.
I tried not to roll my eyes, but couldn’t help myself. “Jeez, Susan. This isn’t the Playboy Bunny holiday party.”
“Jealous much?” she taunted, standing up straighter so that her perky boobs practically poked out my eyes.
Mom sighed. “You two knock it off. We have guests.”
The silver strumpet looked toward the living room, her grin edging on feral. “We haven’t had this much testosterone here for Christmas since that all-boy choir stopped by to sing carols when Violet and I were in high school.”
I grimaced. “Those were little boys.”
“And these are all big handsome men.” She purred.
I narrowed my eyes. “Keep your hands to yourself.”
“Mind your own business,” she snapped back.
“Girls!” Dad said, breaking things up before we degenerated to our usual claws and hair-pulling routine.
“Sweetie,” Mom said to Susan. “We’ll be back soon. Would you be a dear and help your Aunt Zoe cut up some fruit for breakfast while I’m gone?”
“Yes, Mother.” She looked back at me. “That’s a pretty fancy coat, big sis. We need to talk.”
“Talking never goes well for us. I think avoidance is a better plan for today.” Without giving her a chance to nip at me in return, I followed my parents out the door to where Reid and his snowcat sat idling.
My father’s shoulders tightened at the sight of Aunt Zoe’s ex. He laced his fingers and cracked his knuckles.
“Dad,” I warned. “You promised Aunt Zoe.”
“I’ll be good. But first, I’m going to explain a thing or two to Mr. Fireman about starting fires he can’t put out.”
My father had plenty of muscle to back up that statement, but Reid spent his working hours pumping iron and lugging big hoses around. The last place I wanted to be this morning was ringside while two hard-headed men traded blows.
“That’s just splendid,” I mumbled as I headed toward the snowcat’s back doors. “Merry freaking Christmas, everyone.”
Chapter Thirteen
“Susan is up to something,” I told my mom as we settled on opposite bench seats in the back of the snowcat. “I can feel it in my gut.”
She sighed with all the drama of a soap opera star and zipped her white winter coat up to her striped scarf. “Violet Lynn, why do you insist on starting fights with your sister? Just once, could we have a nice holiday without all of the yelling?”
Reid and Dad climbed inside, fastening their seat belts. The silence up front weighed heavy. I could practically feel the tension in the cab.
I leaned forward, lowering my voice. “I’d love to have a happy family Christmas, Mother, but why does Susan want to talk to me?”
“Maybe she wants your big-sister advice on a job or a man, have you thought of that?”
I cackled a little too loudly. Reid shot me a worried frown in the rearview mirror. “That would be advice on how to steal my man and make me lose my latest job.”
“Violet,” Dad reprimanded without turning in his seat. This Susan song-and-dance between my mom and me was an old routine of ours, dating back decades. He’d witnessed it too many times to count.
I blew out a breath. “Sorry, Mom. Surely, though, you must understand my being apprehensive when it comes to Susan’s motives.”
She nodded. “However, I don’t think this constant negativity is good for your psyche.
