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REID

PRESENT DAY

W intervale, Montana, at Christmas is my favorite, and as I breathe in the cool, crisp air, I can’t help being thankful that I get to be here year-round.

Finally.

Growing up, my parents had brought me here just for the summers to run wild with my cousins. The days were long, exploring and working the land, but I craved it all the months we were back in Ohio. The mountains called to me, the land rugged and wild and everything I’m not.

I’d honed my nerdy, outdoor vibe, doing everything my cousins could do but without looking like I stepped from the pages of Ranchers R Us.

But I loved it here all the same, forgoing vacations to the beach to be in the mountain air. The summers had never been enough, and when I graduated from high school, no one was surprised I chose to go to college up here. Less surprising still was the day I moved in with my cousin Wren.

We’d always been close, but over the years, we’d become inseparable, and I didn’t hate it one bit. She’s the yin to my yang, sassy and playful and never afraid to put someone in their place. I’ve always envied that quality, because most times people didn’t change their tune just because you smiled at them.

Doesn’t stop me from trying though.

The streets of Wintervale are buzzing with tourists and locals all embracing the holiday spirit with mugs of coffee that will undoubtedly be hot toddies as the day goes on. It’s my favorite way to end a busy shift at the tree farm.

Normally, I’m sequestered in my office keeping our marketing and social media campaigns up and running. About the only time I venture out is if I need pictures or video for whatever I’m working on.

But December is all-hands-on-deck so in addition to my job, I’m working every available minute in the fields or gift shop, making sure people are getting the best possible experience. I’ve seen engagements and family photos and first dates among the trees. It’s a kind of magic that’s hard to describe—the kind that even when you’re dog-tired at the end of the day, you can’t help but feel joy at being able to witness it.

Wren likes to tease me for my ability to romanticize almost anything, but I don’t see the downside. My penchant for festive and fun makes me the perfect date, shopping buddy, and all-around good time.

My phone rings in my pocket and I pull it out, smiling as I see Wren’s name flash across the screen. We probably could have had this conversation at the house—we’re roommates after all—but I’d been compelled to get an early start, and early had never been in Wren’s vocabulary.

“Good morning, sunshine,” I say with a level of enthusiasm for the daylight hours that grates on her nerves.

“That’s you —the rest of us need coffee first.”

“Well, hook up your IV and let that caffeine flow!” I joke as I walk down the sidewalk and give a couple of people an awkward salute with my coffee cup in hand.

“Very funny. Anyway, not why I’m calling,” she says, mildly out of breath like she’s late running around getting ready for work. “You’ll never guess what happened.”

“You won the lottery.”

“No.”

“You’ve decided I can get that fancy coffee maker and matching apron that says kiss the barista, ” I guess and she snorts out a laugh.

“No.”

“You’ve figured out time travel and we can go back to the summer before responsibilities really hit and enjoy daiquiris by the pool.”

“Forget it, I’ll tell you,” she says with an amused huff.

“I’m waiting…”

“We’ve been hearing rumors at work about big changes coming next year, but no one’s been able to confirm anything.”

“You already told me that,” I say as I head back toward my car.

Wren growls. “I know. I’m just reminding you .” When I don’t say anything, she adds, “Someone bought Mountain Side Salon and Spa. They take ownership January first.”

“What?” I say, genuinely shocked by this news. “Who bought it?” Mountain Side has only ever been family owned so this news is surprising.

“We don’t know, but Erika called a meeting first thing this morning. I’m headed there now.”

“I’m gonna need all the details on that.”

“Obviously.”

“Wine and lasagna for dinner?”

“I can get on board with that,” she says before cursing under her breath. “Okay, I have to go. I left my coffee inside and I have to run—literally—or I’ll be late.”

“I’ll see you at home.”

“Love you.”

“Love you more,” I say before disconnecting so she can’t try to one-up me.

WREN: I love YOU more.

Brat.

I snicker and pocket my phone or else we’ll be at it all day. Unlocking my car, I slide into the driver’s seat and set my coffee in the cupholder, thankful that it’s already toasty warm . The remote car starter may be the best invention ever created, and I take full advantage of the long-distance capabilities in the winter here in Montana.

Easing onto the road, I turn some Christmas music on low and let my mind wander. New ownership of Mountain Side makes me uncomfortable. That kind of secrecy speaks of big city money and someone with no ties to our little slice of heaven here in Wintervale.

It means change and not the good kind.

Turning down the road toward the tree farm, I smile as I pass by the little efficiency cabins that Wren’s parents rent to tourists and people looking for an extended stay. I’d streamlined their booking capabilities a couple of years ago when they added a few new builds as popularity grew.

Modernly Rustic and Timelessly Romantic.

I’m still ridiculously proud of that slogan.

Smoke billows from the chimneys, and a few of them have the blinds still drawn. All of them are occupied, but only one has piqued my interest. It’s the last one on the drive toward the farm, set back farther than the rest, the house dark and no truck in the driveway.

Damn.

I’d been hoping to catch a glimpse of him.

Where are you, Harlan Frost?

He’d been hired the end of November, but I hadn’t managed to run into him yet. He’d made quite an impression around town. Words like godly and chiseled from stone had been used, and the newcomer had turned a few heads.

It’d been a while since anyone had turned mine, and at the very least, it deserved a little exploration.

Preferably the naked kind.

Ugh, Wren was right; I am in a dry spell.

I blame it on the explosion of holiday cheer and the underlying loneliness that always pokes its ugly head out each December. But aside from these fateful thirty-one days, I don’t hate being single—quite the opposite.

My life is amazing, I’m practically high on the mountain air, and when that special guy finally shows up, I’ll be more than ready.

I want a guy but I don’t need a guy.

I learned the difference the hard way.

And there was no way of knowing if he even liked men. One of the girls at the salon had said he’d seemed interested, but there’d been no other corroborating accounts.

And besides, I wanted to see him with my own eyes.

For scientific purposes, of course.

Slowing down, I pull into the lot and ease my way across the dirt driveway to park in front of my office. There’s a truck already parked off to the side with out of state plates. My lips curve up as I grab my coffee.

Time to go for a walk.