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He pocketed his cell and pulled out his keys. “Next time you want to switch a shift, you go through me.” He headed for the door and didn’t bother with a good-night.
Which was probably a good thing on account of the fact Honey gave him the one-finger salute on his way out.
11
There weren’t many things the folks of Crystal Lake took more seriously than Christmas—whether you were Christian or not. There was something magical about a northern town covered in snow, with beautiful forests, lakes, and mountains as a backdrop, to make a person love Christmas. Everyone was in a good mood. Honey had never seen so many smiles or heard so many “Merry Christmases.” She’d never served so many red sangrias with peppermint to overly tipsy women intent on figuring out what their significant other got them for Christmas.
It was relentless.
Though Honey, being the cynic she was, had a different take. She thought that maybe the cash registers that rang constantly in the shops and hotels and resorts in the area had something to do with it. Cash would put a smile on most anyone’s face. Crystal Lake was filled with out-of-towners who’d come to this magical place to celebrate the holidays with their families, to ski and snowmobile and even ice fish. It made it hard for the locals to get in and out of the grocery store without waiting in line for twenty minutes. Or to get from one end of town to the other without being late for an appointment.
So they grumbled about that, but they sure as heck loved the tourist dollars.
She was sick of the endless Christmas parties and good cheer, and dammit, if Alex Benton tried to kiss her under the mistletoe one more time, she’d knee him in the junk so hard, he wouldn’t be able to see straight for a week. If that wasn’t bad enough, she’d lost count of the times Susie and a few others asked who she had for secret Santa. Seriously. It was secret for a reason. Didn’t get people get that?
She looked at the gift in her hands, a small box wrapped in red-and-black plaid—very masculine—and then glanced through the windshield at the house she’d just parked in front of. It was December twentieth, and the Coach House had closed early because the staff had been invited to Nash’s place for a Christmas party of their own.
Since that night in his office, he’d been civil—pleasant, even—and it had gotten old about two days in. She didn’t like nice Nash. Or bland Nash. Or the Nash who said “excuse me” when he passed by and nothing else.
Honey sighed and, before she could change her mind, got out of the car. She heard music and voices, and took a few moments to appreciate the beauty of his spot. The house overlooked the lake, and with the moon shining down, it was picture-postcard perfect. He’d salted the stone path that led to the house, and she walked briskly to the door, then paused for a second or two before heading inside.
/> She’d never been to Nash’s place, and she wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting. But it sure as hell wasn’t this. The cottage was older, that was evident from the style, but the inside had been completely redone with gleaming hardwood, stainless steel, granite, and fixtures more on the industrial side. It was pulled together with simple furniture that was neutral in color and looked comfortable. A massive Christmas tree in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows sparkled with twinkling lights and hundreds of decorations and a few wrapped presents underneath. Stockings hung from the fireplace, and the smell of pine and Christmas filled her nose. Tiny and the kitchen staff were gathered around the tree, chatting, laughing, and drinking. Some of the servers were nearby, bobbing along to a rocking Christmas soundtrack. And Susie, the young bartender, was desperately trying to get Cam’s attention.
The entire scene was domestic and homey and the total opposite of the bachelor pad she’d expected. She glanced around and found Nash’s dark eyes on her. He leaned against the granite countertop, looking casual in a pair of faded jeans and—her eyes widened—the ugliest Christmas sweater she’d ever seen. It looked as if he’d pinned a felt advent calendar to a tattered green sweater that was falling apart at the seams. She couldn’t help it. A small smile tugged at her mouth, and she crossed the room, dropping her present on the counter as she eyed him up.
He hadn’t shaved in a few days, and his shadowed jaw gave him a dangerous, sexy edge that would make any woman’s heart stop. So, wasn’t Honey’s fault that hers skipped a beat or two. Her stomach rolled over, her cheeks heated up, and she hated the way her body betrayed her. Couldn’t she just be normal around him? Why in hell did she react this way?
“Didn’t think you’d show,” he said slowly, straightening and grabbing the beer he’d been nursing.
“Why wouldn’t I?” she retorted, tugging off her jacket and setting it on one of the barstools.
He shrugged but didn’t reply, his gaze moving from her to the group in front of the tree.
Great. They were still in the polite zone. Honey wasn’t sure how long she could stand it. She opened her mouth to say something, but Susie jumped in before she could. Which was probably a good thing, because anything Honey would have said wouldn’t have been polite.
“Time for the gift exchange.” Susie practically pranced around the tree. “Now that Honey’s here.”
Tiny swung around, his massive shoulders nearly taking out the young bartender. A wide smile broke open on his face, and he moved toward Honey, enveloping her in a big hug that could have snapped her in two, if he’d been so inclined.
“There she is,” Tiny said, stepping back. He looked her over with a critical eye. “You are disturbed, you know that, right? It’s Christmas. The land of candy canes and marshmallow, and—”
“This isn’t a scene from Elf,” Honey said with a frown.
“Figures that’s what you think of when you think of Christmas.” Tiny shook his head, his gaze glued to her shirt.
She looked down at her plain white T-shirt. She hadn’t had time to look for an ugly sweater, and instead, she’d drawn a stick family surrounding a Charlie Brown tree, which was on fire.
“It’s creative, don’t you think?”
“It’s something, all right,” Tiny said with a smile. “You want some eggnog?”
She didn’t get a chance to reply as Susie was digging into the presents.
“Time for Secret Santa,” the young woman squealed, tossing a large box to Tiny. Honey got herself a cup of eggnog, content to watch from the sidelines. Nash sat on the edge of the sofa, his back to Honey, and she was able to watch the shenanigans without being observed. She slowly sipped the eggnog as each person opened their secret Santa gift. When her name was called, Honey accepted a small package and took her time opening it. Nestled in a gold box was a beautifully carved ornament, two white doves, their wings touching each other in flight. It was delicate and beautiful, and it kind of took her breath away.
There was no note—it was secret Santa, after all—and she thanked “whoever it was” and put the small ornament into her purse.
“Where’s Nash’s?” Susie searched through the presents under the tree, and Honey set down her cup. Shit. She glanced back at the box she’d brought in with her.
