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I turned to her, my lips thinned. “You said that I had to be nice to the regulars. You didn't say anything about rich assholes who don't know when to hire a goddamned pilot.”

“Hey—”

Miriam ignored me and stuck out her hand. “Sunny, it’s nice to meet you. I'm the one who talked to you through the landing. And, bonus, I own the rental you’ll be using this season.”

A smile brightened his far too pretty face. “Is that so? Well. I’d really like to give you a hug.”

I snorted, but Miriam hip-checked me and opened her arms. “I would love that.”

He wrapped her and that weird dog up in a big bear hug, whispering, “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

“You shouldn't take off again until we can get that gear fixed,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest.

Sunny glared at me over Miriam’s shoulder. “Not a problem since, as I mentioned, I’m in for the season. Which . . . I’m pretty sure makes me one of those regulars you’re supposed to be nice to.”

Miriam stepped back from the hug, laughing at me. “He’s got your number, Gray.” She turned to Sunny again. “If you’ll wait in the lounge area, I’ll finish up my paperwork for the day and take you out to my place. We’re out by the falls that the town is named after, and I know you’ll love it.”

“That sounds great, Miriam. I can’t wait to get out there and decompress from this year.”

“Of course. Follow Gray here to the customer lounge, and I’ll be down in a jiff.” She turned to me and poked me in the chest. “You be nice.”

“Ouch,” I said, rubbing my sternum. “And nice isn’t where I shine.”

“No shit,” Sunny muttered, not quite under his breath.

I frowned at Miriam, then frowned at the guy currently ruining my Tuesday evening. He rolled his eyes.

Hitching a gesture with my thumb, I said, “Grab your bags and follow me.”

He looked to his plane, then to me. “Oh, yeah.”

If I were a betting man, I’d say he’d expected me to get his things. Which . . . absolutely not.

He approached the side of his plane and set his dog on his shoulder before swinging open the storage on his rig and pulling out a massive suitcase and duffel. He then followed me into the lounge area—it was small, but I’d sprung for comfortable furniture and some nicer amenities. I pointed to the coffee bar and mini fridge.

“You’re welcome to the refreshments,” I said before walking into my office.

I returned my jacket to the hook and sat at my desk, then patted my lap. Sweetie hopped up. When Sunny’s dog—Lunchbox, for fuck’s sake—yapped, Sweetie crawled up to my shoulder for a look. The yapping got louder, and I spun my chair right in time for Lunchbox to launch himself at me.

“Shit,” I said, rolling back to avoid him, only to smack the back of my chair into my desk.

Lunchbox bounced off my legs, then jumped again and landed on my lap. He put his paws on my chest, panting as he licked his eyeball while Sweetie sat on my shoulder, looking down at him. Likely with disdain.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” Sunny said, rushing into my office. He stopped short. “You have a dog?”

“Yes,” I answered, puzzling at his tone. “And so do you.”

“Yes, but I don’t act like I steal kids’ presents the night before Christmas. Also, this is the same dog that Charlotte got on Sex and the City.”

I sniffed. “I don’t steal presents. And this is Sweetie, not Elizabeth Taylor,” I said, then winced. Knowing the name of the dog from the show was probably not helping my case.

Whatever. Sweetie is about ten times prettier than that hack Hollywood sellout.

Sunny’s incredulous look broke and he laughed so hard he had to lean against the door frame. Meanwhile, his mutt was still in my lap, probably giving both of us fleas.

“Oh, my God,” he said, wiping a tear from his eyes. “You are ridiculous.”

Before I could respond, he scooped Lunchbox up into his arms, brushing my crotch as he did so.

“Excuse you.”

“Sorry,” he simpered, clearly not sorry in the least.

Before I could give him what-for, Miriam came downstairs in a rush.

I stood, transferring Sweetie to the crook of my arm. “Miriam? Is everything okay?”

She buried her face in her hands. “Remember how Cedric fell last week clearing our roof of the snow?”

“Yes. Is it worse than he thought? Do we need to call a doctor for him?”

She shook her head, then sent a sorrowful look in Sunny’s direction. “We never got around to clearing the cabin’s roof, and with the extra snow tonight, it caved in.”

Shit.

“Is everyone safe?” I asked.

She nodded. “But the cabin is an entire disaster. It’ll take days—weeks—to get it in working order again.”

Sunny, who’d been making kissy noises at his weird dog, stopped. “Wait, was that the cabin I’d booked?”

Miriam’s face fell. “It is. I’m so, so sorry.”

He reached out and patted her shoulder. “Hey, that’s okay. I’ll just rent something in town.”

I shook my head. “You won’t find anything this time of year. Between the festival and the holiday, the entire month of December is booked solid.”

Miriam started to tear up. “I’m so sorry! I’d have you stay with us, but my daughter is here with all her kids, and?—”

Sunny held up his hand and I stiffened. If he was mean to Miriam, I’d rip him a new one.

“This isn’t anyone’s fault,” he said, then looked outside. “Maybe this whole trip was a bad idea to begin with.”

He kissed Lunchbox’s scruffy head, then looked outside again. “I could . . . yeah. I could just head back home. It’ll be fine.”

“No,” I said, already shaking my head. “You are not flying out of here with gear that isn’t fully functioning. In the snow. At night. With barely enough skills to get you into the fucking sky.”

“Well,” he said, returning his hand to his hip. “What do you suggest? Would you have me sleep in your super spacious lounge area?”

I glanced over at Miriam, who held her hands together in prayer. I shook my head.

“Gregory Isaiah Frost.” She poked the same spot on my chest again. Ouch. “It’s the Christmas season.”

I let my head drop back. She’d just first-and-middle-named me.

“I hate this season,” I reminded her.

She knew that. Everybody knew that.

“And yet you still live and work here. What does that say about you?”

“Not getting into that right now, Miriam.” I took another look at Sunny’s pretty face and let out an annoyed grunt.

“Gray . . .”

I sighed. “I’m finding it.”

Finding what, I wasn’t sure. My sense of generosity, maybe? Definitely not the Christmas spirit. Possibly not even the will to go on.

She raised a finely plucked brow at me. “Find it faster.”

“Fine,” I said, glaring at her. “He can stay with me.”

“He has a name,” Sunny said, far too imperiously for someone who was gate crashing my quiet evening. “And you don’t hafta worry about me squatting at your house. I’ll have your mechanic look at it tomorrow, and I'll be out of your hair as soon as it’s repaired.”

Miriam grimaced. “Our guy is on vacation until next week, and we don’t even know what part to order. Unless a spare mechanic is willing to hoof it out here to look at your plane, it’ll be a while before you can fly it.”

Sunny pressed his palms to his forehead.

“Actually, no,” he finally said. “I’ll . . . I'll hire a car to take me back into the city tomorrow.”

“No, don’t do that,” Miriam said, eyeballing me. “There’s no need to rush off. You’re already here, and this one works too many hours for him to notice he has a guest. Spend a few days getting to know the place, at least.”

I stared at the side of her head. “Did you just offer up my house with me standing right here?”

She blinked, then gestured at Sunny as though she were gesturing at the entirety of his existence. Truth be told, I wondered how I’d missed the way fatigue seemed to weigh down his shoulders. He was carrying a bone-deep kind of tired, the kind that might make one get on a plane and fly out to some unknown spot on the map in hopes of finding . . . whatever it was that men like him looked for.

Miriam grinned at me, fully aware of my weakness for stepping in when help was needed. And Sunny needed my help. That much was clear.

I bit out a string of curses, then squared up to him. “I keep particular hours, I don't like a lot of noise, and I don’t want your flea-bitten dog sleeping on my guest bed.”

“Lunchbox doesn’t have fleas,” Sunny protested, his face flushed. “He takes a monthly chewable and lives in a penthouse.”

“La-dee-fucking-da. My point stands.”

“Okay, but . . .” Sunny paused, biting the inside of his lip. “I . . . Um. I don’t sleep well by myself.”

I narrowed my eyes at Miriam, and she smacked my arm.

How was this guy the CEO of some big tech company? He seemed far too nervous for such a big job. I’d bet good money that the people he worked with hated his guts.

Eh. Probably not. I bet he sent handwritten Christmas cards to all his employees every year.

“Fine. But if he pees on anything, you’re replacing it.”

“Of course,” he answered quickly.

I let out a breath that came from the depths of my soul. “Okay, then. You are welcome to stay. And Miriam is right; you should check out the town while you’re here.”

Sunny sagged with relief, maybe. Or sheer exhaustion. “Deal. And I’ll pay you the same rate as I was going to pay Miriam.”

“No.”

Sunny went to open his yap again, and I clapped my hand over his mouth, ignoring the shock of sensation making its way up my arm. “No.”

“Fine,” he said, his breath tickling the palm of my hand.

“Yay!” Miriam said, cheering with imaginary pom-poms.

I pulled my hand from his mouth and looked at my palm. The last thing I wanted at this time of year was company.

Merry fucking Christmas to me.