Chapter 1

Jack

 

At midnight, my new intern arrived with bells on. Seriously, the guy wore more bells than all twelve of Santa’s reindeer. Between the jingling and his rosy cheeks, I had to shove my hands in my pockets to keep from knocking the Christmas cheer off his face.

“I’m Benjamin. You must be Jack.” He thrust his red and green gloved hand in my direction.

I glanced from his hand to the clock. “You’re late.”

The guy followed my gaze. “I was told to report at twelve.”

“You should be present and ready to work at midnight.”

He stilled, but the bells continued to tremble. “I’m ready now. Don’t drink coffee. Don’t need to settle in.”

“You’re not ready, because there’s no way I’m going out with you dressed like that. Go change and meet me by the stables.” I was being a dick. I knew it. He knew it. Hell, the entire population of the North Pole probably knew it, and I didn’t care. I had a reputation to uphold. The other Frosts would never let me live down hanging with a guy dressed in green velvet, trimmed with silver bells and white fur.

Every freaking year, each Frost team leader would receive a shiny new intern who arrived on the first night of winter. A guy who would follow them around until Spring. I’d begun to suspect Saint Nick cloned them in his workshop. Same eager expression, same incessant questions, same holly-jolly reindeer shit. The only thing different about them was their names. I’d evidently won the bad intern lottery this year.

Benjamin looked over my dark blue sweater, well-worn jeans, and work boots. “Perhaps I overdid it.”

Might as well get this over with. The sooner I broke him in, the sooner he went out on his own. The sooner I could get to my primary objective—stalking a woman. Or more specifically, stalking the cabin owned by the family of the woman I loved. I stood and grabbed my scarf. “Just a smidge.”

Ben’s already ruddy cheeks burned as red as Rudolf’s nose. “I wanted to make a good impression. Appear enthusiastic. My classmates all wanted to work with you. When I got the assignment, they suggested I dress the part.”

I bet they did. It hadn’t been that long since I’d graduated from the same training program. Of course, as a high elf who came from a long line of Frosts, I hadn’t needed the formal education. The magic was in my blood.

“I’ll meet you at the stables.” Ben shoved his hands in his velvety pockets and turned for the door.

I gave the guy a quick nod. “Thanks, and don’t worry about it. You’re not the first new recruit to fall victim to the prank. I doubt you’ll be the last.”

Most humans had heard of Jack Frost, Old Man Winter, Snow Queens, Ice Maidens, Mother Holle, or one of the other names for my kind. In the supernatural community, we’re known as Winter Elves. Our purpose, as the name implies, is to bring winter in all of its frigid, white glory. There are many of us, but only the males with a branch in my family tree can hold the title of The Frost—the head honcho, the grand poohbah, the guy who oversees all of the other frost teams.

I slid into my coat and followed Ben out the door. “Bring me a black coffee and all’s forgotten.”

“Sure thing, boss.” Ben saluted me.

Strolling down Candy Cane Lane, I did my best to shake off my foul mood. Tonight was the first day of the season. The Winter Solstice was the next best thing to Christmas in these parts, but I hated it. For me, it marked the twelve-year anniversary of the worst day of my life.

The reindeer raised their heads and snorted when I walked into the stables. They disliked me. Not that I could blame them. I had a growing reputation as a Scrooge, a Christmas hater of the first degree, a bah-humbug among the ho-ho-hos.

I rounded the corner and came up short.

At well over six feet of solid muscle, Saint Nick eclipsed the light spilling through the doorway. “Nice night for the first snowfall of the season.”

“That it is.”

Santa, aka Nick, was my boss and the ruler of the North Pole. Something important had to have happened for him to come to the stables. This time of year, he had far more important things to do besides whispering sweet nothings to the reindeer. Something had lured him from his workshop, and I had a sinking feeling it had to do with me.

Nick motioned for me to join him. “Jack, you’re an adult now, in the prime of your life. It may seem as though you have all the time in the world…”

I braced myself for the inevitable lecture, the one I’d heard from my mother and my uncles and now it seemed—from my boss.

My father walked around the corner, and my entire world went blizzard white. I hadn’t laid eyes on him in a half a decade, not since he’d retired to a Summer Elf resort in Florida. It wasn’t enough that Dear Old Dad had called to give me the Time-to-Elf-Up speech on a weekly basis for the previous few years, he’d somehow brought Nick over to the dark side, which was married with children.

“You can’t be The Frost forever. One day your heir will take your place, but before that can happen, you must have an offspring. Which requires you to have a wife.” My father folded his arms.

“Hey, Dad. Nice to see you, too. You’re looking rather sun-kissed.” I grinned at the tanned Miami version of my dad. He reminded me of a cross between George Hamilton and a raisin, browned to a wrinkled crisp.

His voice lowered. “It’s time you took this seriously.”

I ran my hand over my head and lied through my teeth. “I know, but I haven’t met a woman who could hold my attention longer than a week or two.”

“Not for lack of trying.” Nick smirked and clamped a hand on my shoulder.

He had a point. I had dated more women than Ben had bells, but in my defense, I’d married the woman of my dreams at eight-years-old. Sure, it had been a pretend ceremony. However, I’d spent the next thirteen winters falling in love with her. Not that I could mention Ginger to Nick. He’d met the girl once and had grounded me for three-freaking-years.

Relationships between elven kind and humans were strictly forbidden.

“It’s time, Jack. Settle down before this time next year or it’ll be your last winter as The Frost. I must ensure future seasons.” Nick narrowed his eyes, but I swore I saw mischief in his expression. No surprise there. Afterall, humans wrote songs about his twinkling eyes.

“I’ll work on it.” I had no intention of working on anything. Ginger still owned my heart, and I wouldn’t let a little thing like a twelve-year absence get in the way.

Never one to let anyone else have the last word, my father said, “See that you do.”

Benjamin gasped behind me.

I turned and scowled. My intern had changed from green velvet and bells to a red and white Christmas sweater with a freaking Rockwell painting stitched on the front—complete with a gold-threaded fire in the hearth. As if his wardrobe weren’t bad enough, he’d dropped my coffee. I understood his reaction, I did—Nick made everyone nervous, and my father was a walrus’s ass, but I needed that caffeine like whiskey needs ice.

“Sorry. Dang it. Sorry.” Ben snatched the empty travel mug from the ground. “I should have closed the lid, but I wanted it to cool to the perfect temperature.”

“I can freeze a valley with my pinkie finger. I think I could have cooled a cup and a half of liquid.”

Nick ho-ho-hoed. His laugh was the one thing pop culture had gotten right about the guy. What they’d gotten wrong was Saint Nick sported a six-pack, a neatly trimmed white beard, and a few tattoos. Santa was a badass. A very single badass.

Sorry kids, there’s no Mrs. Claus.

“Right. How foolish of me.” Benjamin appeared to look everywhere except at my father. No big surprise. I could have gone another decade or two without laying eyes on the guy myself.

“Perk up. It’s the first night of the season,” Nick nudged Ben, then turned and slapped me on the back hard enough to make me cough. “I’m looking forward to the wedding.”

Ben waited for Nick and my father to leave the stables before he spoke. “I didn’t know you were engaged.”

“I’m not.” I tossed a blanket and saddle on Dasher’s back. “And no more Christmas sweaters.”

Ben glanced down at the red and green monstrosity. “I thought it was festive.”

“I don’t do festive.” I motioned to the reindeer. “Take Dasher. He’s the nicest of the bunch.”

“Thanks.” Ben eyed the enormous animal.

I saddled Donner and set my foot in the stirrup. Larger than an average Clydesdale, the magical deer were smarter than most humans. Sitting astride the deer, I placed my hand on his neck and whispered, “Take me to the usual place.”

He jerked his head and nipped at my leg.

“Sorry, big guy. No treats until we’re finished for the night.”

I hated to bring Ben along on my fool’s errand his first night out, but the rules were clear when it came to interns. They shadowed their mentors until they’d proven they could handle a rotation on their own. I had to play it safe with my father in the North Pole. He’d go after any weaknesses or broken protocols like an orca on a baby seal.

Twelve years had passed since Ginger had stayed at her family’s cabin, but I could still remember the taste of her peppermint lip gloss and feel of her silky skin. I had no reason to believe she’d ever return, but even a Scrooge could hope.

 

 

Chapter 2

Ginger

 

“Hi Mom, it’s Ginger. I made it to Gram’s.” I disconnected and dropped my phone into my purse. I loved my mother, but the woman had an aversion to voice conversations. She preferred texts or emails or anything that she could control. To her, personal calls were like the wild west—lawless and messy.

Sitting in the safety of my car, I stared at my grandparents’ cabin. Memories of the countless summer vacations and holiday breaks I’d spent here flooded me and threatened to spill from my eyes. It had been three years since my granddad passed away. My Gram had followed him two months later. Some said she died of a broken heart, but after four years of medical school and four more of internships, I trusted science. The fact that she’d died of a hemorrhagic stroke lacked the poetry, but it was the truth.

Get it together, Ginger. You’re a grown woman. There are no such things as ghosts. You have a job to do. Get in there, box up anything of value, and get the place ready for renters. My impromptu pep talk didn’t help. If anything, the fact I sounded like my mother worried me.

A large SUV rolled up the drive and came to a stop beside my rental car. Caroline, the realtor, flashed me a bleached white smile.

I gathered my courage and stepped from the vehicle. A gust of freezing cold wind blew straight through my coat and into my bones. Living in Florida for the previous twelve years, I was ill-prepared for the mountain climate.

It turned out I was ill-prepared for a lot of things—including the bubbly realtor.

“Hi! It’s so good to see you again.” She set her hands on her hips and laughed. “And you’re still a redhead. Most children with red hair go dark as adults.”

Having no memory of ever meeting her, I gave her a half-smile-quick-nod that I usually reserved for my patients. With a name like Ginger Berry, I’d had more than my fair share of teasing—with or without my auburn hair. “Have we met?”

“Officially, no, but you know how it is in small towns. Shall we go in?” Caroline motioned to the front door.

“Sure.” Every fiber of my being screamed for me to get back into the car and return home, but I forced myself to move forward.

I should have sold the place outright when I’d inherited it, but it felt like a betrayal to my grandparents. Instead, I’d decided to turn it into a vacation rental and use the income to pay back my student loans.

Caroline shrugged out of her heavy winter coat. “I sent someone out to dust and clear away the cobwebs last week.”

“Thanks. It looks great.”

The interior of the cabin hadn’t changed much over the years. It felt like home, even though sheets covered the plaid sofa and Granddad’s easy chair. The scents of pine and cleaning supplies replaced the smells of homemade beef stew and fresh-baked cookies. And the hearth had been cleared of both logs and ashes.

I’d planned to spend at least two days cleaning, and another two packing. Thanks to the realtor’s prep crew, I’d be back in the Sunshine State in half the time.

Caroline gave me a sad smile, the kind reserved for the grieving and the dying. “Take your time. Look around. I’ll get the paperwork ready.”

I pulled my bag higher on my shoulder and walked down the hall. The door to my grandparents’ room was closed. I placed my hand against the wood and closed my eyes. “It’s just stuff. They aren’t here anymore. They don’t need any of it.”

“Did you say something, dear?” the realtor called from the front room.

“Just mumbling to myself.” I rested my forehead on the door and swallowed past the lump in my throat.

Despite my brave words, I turned and headed for the stairs. I had plenty of things to do before I ventured into the master bedroom. It made perfect sense to save the emotionally difficult tasks until I no longer had an audience. At least that’s what I told myself.

I dropped my bag inside in my childhood bedroom. It felt as if I’d stepped back in time. The same blue and yellow quilt covered the lumpy mattress. The same lacy curtains hung over the window. The same pink journal and tattered piece of white lace tablecloth sat on the desk.

Years of hugs and laughter and dreams had happened inside these four walls. Years that had nearly ended in tragedy. The memory of it stole my breath. I couldn’t sleep there. I snatched my bag from the floor and stomped back downstairs.

Caroline gave me another of her bless-your-heart smiles. “I could come back tomorrow if you’d rather be alone.”

“No. It’s fine. I’m being irrational.” I walked to the hearth to build a fire.

“It’s been over ten years, but I remember it like it was yesterday. I was a member of the search party. I was here when they found you.” The realtor’s voice had lost its effervescence.

I nodded without turning my attention from stacking the logs.

“It’s none of my business, but what happened that night?”

I ran away to be with my imaginary friend. Because I was a child with absentee parents and a vivid imagination. “I snuck out to go for a night hike and got lost.”

Three years of therapy had helped me to understand why I’d run away from home and nearly frozen to death. It had been a cry for attention. It had nothing to do with a boy who didn’t exist. A boy no one could see but me. An imaginary friend I’d conjured up as a small child and refused to let go of as a teen.

Caroline shuffled her papers. “This town is worse than a soap opera when it comes to rumors. All these years, I thought you ran off to be with some boy.”

“Just a hike gone awry.” I shook my head and lit the kindling.

My mother had been correct when she’d urged me not to return to the cabin, but I’d assured her I would be fine. Admitting she was right wasn’t an option. Nope. I had a job to do. I’d get the place in shape, return home, and Mom would never be the wiser.

“Let’s get those papers signed.”

“Of course.” She pulled a pen from her briefcase. “Oh! Before I forget. I stocked the fridge and pantry with some essentials. I thought you might be hungry.”

I flipped through the documents. A wise person would have read them, but I didn’t feel particularly sensible at the moment. Instead, I scribbled my name next to each of the colorful post-it flags. “Thank you. I’m sorry for dragging you out so late on a Sunday night.”

“It’s no bother. Your grandparents were like family to me.” Her voice quivered.

I had to get her out of there before we both ended up in tears. “I’ll drop by your office and pick up copies before I return home. You have a good night.”

Caroline took a few moments longer than necessary to button her coat. “That’ll be fine. Please, don’t hesitate to call if you need anything.”

“I’ll be finished in two days. I’d like you to book the first rental over Christmas weekend. If that’s possible.”

“It’s more than possible. Loads of folks would love to stay here over the holidays.” She stepped onto the porch and loitered as if debating on coming back inside. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

I smiled despite my exhaustion. It had been far too long since someone had asked after my wellbeing and meant it. “I’ll be better in the morning. Would you like to meet in town for lunch tomorrow? My treat for wasting your time tonight.”

Caroline’s eyes lit. “I’d love that, but I’ll put it on the company’s expense report. Noon at the Silver Moon Diner?”

“Sounds great. Drive safe.” I waited until she descended the stairs before I shut the door. I had no idea why I’d asked her to lunch, let alone what we’d talk about for an hour or so, but it gave me something to look forward to other than boxing up the remains of my grandparents’ lives.

My ringing phone sent my heart into tachycardia. It was after ten in Colorado and after one in Florida. It had to be an emergency. Pressing my hand to my chest, I answered without checking the screen. “Hello?”

“Gin. Are you all right, love? You sound out of breath.” Perry, my ex-fiancé, hadn’t called in months, not since the day I’d caught him examining my former-best-friend’s vagina—with his tongue.

I grimaced and used my professional voice. “I’m fine. Why are you calling in the middle of the night?”

“Gin, I’m sorry for what happened. Let me come over and explain.”

Once upon a time, I’d enjoyed listening to him talk just to hear his English accent. Now, it grated my nerves. “There isn’t anything to discuss.”

“Three years is a lot to toss in the rubbish bin over a misunderstanding. I love you, darling. Please. I need to see you.”

I struggled to keep my voice calm. “Did I misunderstand your face between my best friend’s legs?”

“Gin…”

“I didn’t think so. We have nothing to discuss.”

“Wait.” He drew an audible breath. “I left some things at your apartment. I need my black suit.”

Ah ha! The real reason behind his call. He probably had a swanky event to attend. “It’ll have to wait. I’m out of town.”

I’d planned to return on Wednesday, but he didn’t need to know that. In fact, he didn’t need to know where I was or why. He’d forfeited the right to care about me months ago.

“I still have my key. Would you mind if I—”

“Yes, I mind. You’re not welcome in my apartment. And don’t get any ideas. I changed the locks.” My rising anger surprised me. It wasn’t the hurt kind of rage I’d experienced early on. At some point I’d gotten over the betrayal. The conversation pissed me off because he’d called in the middle of the night as if he’d drunk dialed or worse, wanted a booty call.

“It’s late. You’re always unreasonable when you’re tired. I’ll call you back in a few hours.” His voice flattened as if he’d lost interest.

“Don’t bother.” I disconnected and curled up beside the fire.

In hindsight, I could see the realities of my relationship with Perry. The fact that he understood the demands of my schedule had attracted me at first. As an emergency room physician, he had a crazy schedule of his own. However, Perry had been the safe choice. A convenient man to share an occasional meal and a less than wonderful roll in the sheets. What we’d lacked in passion, we had in mutual understanding—or so I’d thought.

I would never accept a share of the blame in his infidelity. He’d made the decision to cheat. That was his problem, not mine. But I had learned a lesson during the ordeal. I didn’t have time for a man.