Free Christmas With You by Tracey Alvarez Page A

seat. “Poppa didn’t know me and Logan were hiding behind the couch, and I heard him say you were an idiot for leaving the farm.”
    “And having a deadbeat job,” said Logan. He nibbled on a cracker. “What’s a deadbeat job, Uncle Kip?”
    Carly’s stomach clenched, squeezing around her heart, which had sunk into her gut the moment she’d seen the flash of hurt cross Kip’s face.
    Kip’s lips pressed together in a thin line, then relaxed into a wry smile as he turned in his seat to look at the boys. “It means I’m cool enough to be a drummer for a zombie rock band.” He mimed a dramatic air-drum solo, causing the twins to giggle.
    “Zombies are scary,” Logan said, but he looked more excited than worried.
    “They eat braaaaaains,” Lucas added.
    “And I bet they smell awful.” Carly wrinkled her nose and winked at the boys, both of whom appeared to have forgotten how this conversation started. “Let’s go and get you a huge Christmas tree so you can smell something nice, instead.”
    Kip cast her a speculative look as they climbed out of the cab and helped the two boys down. As Logan and Lucas rushed ahead to a fenced-off area containing dozens of pine trees, Carly moved closer to Kip’s side and slid her hand into the crook of his elbow.
    “You’re not an idiot for doing what’s right for you.”
    His eyebrows drew together, and shadows clouded his clear blue eyes. “I let him down. I let Mum down. They just couldn’t accept I wasn’t meant to be a farmer any more than my dad was meant to be a banker or an accountant.”
    “But it seems as if you still have a good relationship with your parents.”
    The muscles under her fingers stiffened, but he didn’t pull away.
    “We do, mostly. But if I’d stayed in Bounty Bay, we wouldn’t—I couldn’t breathe. Here, I can.”
    They walked along the gravel road, their feet kicking up plumes of dust since the last two weeks hadn’t seen any rain. The tang of fresh pine sap filled the air, and the chatter of other people in the field drifted over in the light breeze.
    “And your sisters?”
    He rolled his eyes. “They believe I’m still their baby brother to boss around and manipulate. You think my family’s not here with an ulterior motive? That my parents won’t try to convince me to stop being an idiot and marry a nice woman, move back to the farm, and produce the requisite three grandkids? I don’t want that life.”
    Kip laughed, the edge of his chuckle razor sharp, the sound slicing through their little moment with brutal efficiency. He didn’t need to spell it out with sparkly lights and glittery tinsel. No matter how delicious his kisses, or how sweetly he comforted her. No matter how much he made her heart race and her body shiver with anticipation, Kip didn’t want the life she did.
    Someone to love. Someone to spend her life with. Someone with whom she could have a family.
     
    ***
     
    With the best-est, most awesome-est tree secured on the ute’s flatbed, Kip drove them back to the house, the twins keeping conversation to a minimum by singing “Oh Christmas tree, Oh Christmas tree”—the only lyrics they knew from the entire song—over and over.
    His dad emerged from the house as Kip reversed up the driveway. Hearing his father’s words straight out of his nephew’s mouth had rankled, but what the hell. It wasn’t much of a shock. He’d worked with James Sullivan long enough to pretty much know his opinion on everything. So, in his dad’s eyes? Yeah, Kip was an idiot working a deadbeat job.
    Kip slanted a glance at Carly, her sudden withdrawal at the Brailsford’s still apparent in her folded arms and faraway gaze as she stared out the passenger side window. She’d shared the twin’s excitement at choosing a tree, joked with Ben and Kezia when they’d arrived with an exuberant Zoe and Jade, and even teased Kip with a sly smile about compensation issues while carrying the seven-foot-tall pine back to the ute. Yet,