Page 7 of A Raging Merry Christmas
“Me getting the chop is one!” Jett retorted.
Blaze chuckled. He and I swapped glances, and I shook my head.
“Jett, get your ass to a jeweller and buy the woman diamonds. Expensive ones. Sin’s earned them after spitting out five kids and adopting Amelia!” I ordered.
“You think Sin will want them?” Jett asked, scratching the back of his neck. “Me getting the chop isn’t enough of a present?”
“There’re some boots Sin wants too. I’ll call Windfell’s and get them to put them aside in your name. And there is a really nice coat. You’ll buy Sin them and diamonds. Expensive diamonds, Jett, are you listening to me?”
“Yes!” Jett snapped.
“Bugger off,” I told him and turned to Blaze. “Ali-kat?”
“Ali-kat has the ATV she’s been drooling after, a pair of ruby earrings, and I’ve bought her some new clothes,” Blaze said quickly.
I sighed in relief. At least someone had their head screwed on.
“Make sure you buy those toys early!” I ordered, and Blaze nodded before disappearing.
I whistled through my teeth. We needed a back-up plan like… yesterday.
Chapter Two -
Decorate the tree…
Wild, Cowboy, and Savage (Cowboy’s POV)
“Someone wanna tell me why I’m traipsing through the snow when we could be having a beer at the clubhouse?” Savage demanded.
“Because we got nominated to cut down three big fuckin’ trees,” Wild retorted grumpily.
I snorted into my scarf. My brother glared at me as I glowered back. This wasn’t my idea of fun, either. It was Sunday afternoon, and I should be curled up with Jemma and the children. Instead, they were at Reading Hall without me. Jemma was probably gossiping and swapping anecdotes with Phoe. The kids would be running riot, no doubt.
“Did anyone pick up the axes?” I asked, and Wild stopped and groaned.
“How do you think we’re gonna cut them down? Go and get them,” Savage growled out.
Yeah, he was a grumpy bastard too.
“Forgot the fuckin’ sleigh as well. Brother, I ain’t dragging no tree through the forest,” Savage added.
“Fine! Wait here,” Wild snapped and stomped back towards the truck.
We’d driven to a Christmas tree farm and, so far, had walked ten minutes into the treeline searching for trees we knew Phoe would love. Having experienced a few Christmases at Reading Hall, we had a good idea of what we were looking for.
The ideal one for Phoe was tall, at least six feet, preferably eight or higher, bushy, green and a perfect pyramid shape. We had seen a couple, but we’d nixed them for one reason or another. After ten minutes, we were growing desperate. And yeah, it was only ten minutes, but we’d not found a single prospect.
“Think we should go tree hunting in the Black Hills?” I asked Savage, who grunted.
“Are we allowed to cut trees down there?” he mused.
“No idea, but this is starting to look like a washout,” I replied.
“Drake said Phoe gets her trees from here every year. There has to be something,” Savage added.
“This sucks. It’s much easier when the women do it,” I bitched, and Savage laughed. “Worse thing is, we gotta repeat this twice more.”
In horror, I stared at Savage.