Page 2 of Sweet Yuletide (Indigo Bay Christmas Romances #4)

Sunday was the weekly family dinner, not Tuesday night.

That hadn’t stopped Michael Patterson from jumping at his mom’s invitation.

A second home-cooked meal in three days was worth driving through Charleston’s rush-hour traffic.

For over a month, he’d bounced from one friend’s place to another.

Eating fast food, takeout, and pizza was getting old.

Besides, he wanted to see his parents before he left town for the rest of December.

Michael opened the front door, not bothering to knock. He’d grown up in this house with his brother and two sisters. After he stepped inside, he closed the door.

The sharp pine scent from the decorated tree in the corner and the faint smell of smoke from the wood burning in the fireplace hung on the air. Only Christmas carols were missing. Not hearing the music was strange. His mom played them nonstop until December twenty-sixth.

As he entered the living room, Michael froze, surprised to see all his family. They sat on the two couches and chairs: his mom and dad; Mason, Ashleigh, and baby Monroe; Madison and Rory; and Marley and Von.

Michael hadn’t expected his parents to invite his three siblings and their significant others.

That never happened during the week, but maybe his mom was trying out a new recipe and wanted everyone’s opinion.

It wasn’t a problem. The Patterson family motto was the more, the merrier .

This would save him from texting each of his siblings about going out of town for Christmas.

With a grin, he adjusted his baseball cap. “If I’d known everyone would be here, I would have worn something other than sweats and a hoodie.”

A joke, because he’d worn that most days since he’d lost his job.

No one laughed or smiled.

Weird . His family looked like wax figures from that tourist attraction up north.

Unease trickled along his spine. “Everything okay?”

His dad motioned to an empty chair. “Take a seat, Mikey.”

He’d been Mikey for as long as he could remember, but the nickname bristled.

Still, it beat “big baby” or “big boy.” Even though he was the youngest of the four kids, his siblings called him their “big” brother because of his six-foot-three height and broad shoulders.

His athletic build had come in handy playing sports through college, and he still enjoyed working out.

It also paid off because dressing up like a superhero for Halloween made all the pretty ladies want to flirt and take selfies with him and his shield.

As Michael sat, he glanced at the clock on the wall.

I’m not late .

So why was everyone staring at him like he wore two different shoes? A glance at his feet showed they were the same, but his socks were different colors.

No one spoke, but they kept looking at him.

“Seriously, guys. You’re freaking me out.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “What’s going on?”

Baby Monroe slept soundly in Mason’s arms and appeared fine. No one looked sick or injured. Yet they remained silent.

“Mom?”

His mother fingered the edges of her apron. Something she did only when nervous. She inhaled deeply before exhaling. “Have you found a new job?”

Oh, great . The stop-messing-up-your-life lecture was coming. Again. He guessed the weekly “you’re a loser” talks weren’t enough for them. “No.”

Which they should have known since they’d discussed this on Sunday night—forty-eight hours ago.

His dad crossed his arms. “You’ll have to explain the gap in your resume.”

Michael swallowed a sigh. This had to be the hundredth time he’d said this, but he would say it again. “The company went under. It isn’t my fault I lost my job.”

He wished his family understood that. Instead, they viewed him as Mikey, the twenty-seven-year-old man-child who partied too much on weekends and lost his job when the start-up he’d worked at for three years folded.

He’d loved his position in the marketing department.

He’d been promoted twice and, on occasion, helped code, too.

But the founders—two tech guys—had mismanaged everything so badly the investors had salvaged what they could before walking away.

Being unemployed, however, had been a blessing. Just one he couldn’t share with anyone.

Yet .

Still, he needed to tell his family something, even if it wasn’t what they wanted to hear.

“I’m keeping my eyes open.” Not a lie. Occasionally, he checked the job listings online and thanked his lucky stars he would never work for someone else again. “Trust me. Everything will turn around in the new year.”

“Have you found a place to live?” Mason asked.

“Not yet.” Michael hadn’t renewed his lease. Extreme, perhaps, but he didn’t want to raise suspicions if he wanted a different place in January. Not having a job had given him the perfect excuse to move out. “I’m staying with Tristan.”

For now .

Madison’s eyebrows knotted. “I thought you were over at Isaac’s?”

“That was last week.”

“What about Brendan?” Rory asked.

Marley’s mouth quirked. “You were at Colton’s for a few days.”

The shared glances flying around the room made Michael’s hands clammy. He rubbed them against his sweats. “I’ve stayed with each one of them.”

His father brushed his hand through his salt-and-pepper hair. “Aren’t you a little old to be couch-surfing?”

Michael fought the urge to roll his eyes. “It’s temporary, Dad. If you’re worried about my living situation—”

“We’re worried about you, Mikey.” The words rushed out of Marley’s mouth.

Von held her hand but said nothing.

Ashleigh nodded.

Madison leaned forward. “You were laid off in September, and you still don’t have a job. Rory offered you one, and so did Von.”

“I thanked them, but those jobs weren’t right for me.” Michael envisioned his perfect life. Soon, it would be his. “As I said, things will turn around in the new year.”

And in a big way.

One day, he’d been laid off, handed a lousy severance package, and escorted out of the building with his personal belongings in a box that had once held copier paper.

The following afternoon, when he normally would have been at work, he’d bought a candy bar and a lottery ticket at a corner convenience market.

That night, his ticket not only matched all the numbers, but it was also the only winner of a seven-hundred-million-dollar jackpot.

Unbelievable but true.

Now accountants, financial planners, and attorneys worked for him.

Fortunately, he could claim his prize anonymously since he lived in South Carolina, but his team was doing the legwork so no one could track the money to him.

A trust was involved, maybe two, because he wanted to make sure his family, especially sweet little Monroe and any future nieces and nephews, were safe from kidnappers and whoever else preyed on the wealthy.

Michael didn’t care how much that cost him.

Even if it meant having those he loved most in the world think he was a complete loser for another month or so. He was keeping quiet for all their sakes. The lawyers had been crystal clear about what happened to many lottery winners and why few, if any, people should know about the jackpot.

Even so, people were trying to figure out the winner’s identity.

A fired cashier from the winning convenience store had stolen a security camera video of people, including Michael, buying lottery tickets.

The footage surfaced two days ago on the internet, but thankfully, he’d worn sunglasses and a beanie.

Those things and the beard he’d grown since losing his job made him unrecognizable.

But others from the footage had stepped forward to say they weren’t the winner.

That was why his high-priced attorney from New York had told him to stay out of Charleston until the new year.

That was when a representative of the trust planned to turn in the ticket and claim the prize money, but Michael had wanted to see his parents before he took off.

He just hadn’t expected an interrogation to be on tonight’s dinner menu.

“It’s going to be fine,” he added.

“You keep saying that, but you have no place to live and no job.” His mom wrung her hands. “We want you to know how much we love and accept you.”

Mason nodded. “You’re the best younger big brother ever.”

That made no sense, but whatever. Michael smiled at him. “Thanks, bro.”

“You always know when to show up with a pizza and a six-pack,” Madison added.

His dad nodded. “You’ve been a binge drinker for a while now.”

Huh ? Michael stiffened. “I wouldn’t say that. I don’t party nearly as much as I used to.”

His father’s jaw tensed. “But you still do. Drink, that is.”

Marley cleared her throat. “What Dad means is we’re concerned you’ve been drinking too much and possibly doing more since you lost your job.”

“Are you drinking and doing drugs?” his mom blurted.

Say what ? Michael stared at each person who showed the same concern and… fear. His heart dropped.

Forget this being an interrogation.

This was an intervention.

How had this happened? Why was this happening? “No. Of course not.”

“I saw your second cell phone on Sunday. Is that how you call your dealer?”

“I don’t have a dealer.” His temperature rose.

Sweat beaded his hairline. He used the extra phone to contact his team, and it would become his permanent one after they collected the money, so he had better control of who had the number.

This was all part of the attorney’s plan, who had worked with big lottery winners for years. But his family didn’t know that.

They couldn’t know that.

Not yet.

As he dragged his hand through his hair, Michael considered what to say. This would be laughable, except they were so serious. “I appreciate the concern, but I promise I’m not doing drugs or drinking too much.”

“That’s what addicts say,” Madison mumbled. “I’ve seen you drunk.”

Rory kissed her forehead.

Seriously ? They’re really going to do this . Michael blew out a breath.