Nash watched Honey through the window. What the hell was he doing? He should have said nothing, locked up behind her, and worked off his restlessness the way any other guy would. That would have been smart. Instead, he’d baited her. And now she was heading his way wearing nothing more than a sexy black bra and the skimpiest excuse for panties he’d ever seen. He adjusted himself and stifled a groan when she walked outside.

Honey moved like a cat, her lithe limbs fluid and sure. She slid into the hot tub and settled onto one of the seats opposite him. Thank God. He needed some space. The raging hard-on between his legs was a dead giveaway to the way she affected him. No way could she know the power she had. He needed to keep this dynamic neutral.

Steam rose into the air, and overhead, the clear sky twinkled with a million stars. Snow blanketed most of his deck, reflecting light like diamonds. It was a beautiful night to be out here, and it should have been a relaxing one too. But Nash was as far from relaxed as he was from the damn moon.

He studied Honey covertly. She leaned back and rested her head on the edge of the hot tub, exposing the delicate curve of her neck and throat. Her eyes were closed, but the tightness around her mouth told him that, like Nash, she was pretending. Made him wonder why she’d stayed. But more importantly, it made him wonder where the hell this was going.

“Your tattoos,” he said.

She slid down in the water as her eyes flew open. “What was that?” God, the sound of her voice did things to him.

“Your tats.” Nash sat a little straighter. “What do they mean? The ones on your spine.”

She looked away, her eyes settled over the lake, and she shrugged. “They don’t mean anything really.”

“Bull.”

She jerked her head back at his quick reply.

“No one gets ink without it meaning something unless they’re an idiot.” He paused. “Pretty sure you don’t fall into that category.”

“Thanks,” she murmured. “I think.”

“You gonna share?” He was curious. He had a few as well, but contrary to what he’d just told Honey, one of them had been a drunken mistake that had no meaning other than too much tequila and the wrong crowd. Why else would a guy have the Tasmanian Devil tattooed on his back? “Which was your first?”

She sank lower in the water—maybe she was trying to hide. He thought she wasn’t going to take the bait, but then she surprised him.

“I got my first tattoo when I was twelve.”

Okay. That surprised the hell out of him, and he made no effort to hide it. If he’d come home at twelve with ink on his skin, he was pretty sure his mother would have removed it with a scouring pad.

“It’s behind my right ear. A small pink-and-purple unicorn.”

“The reason?”

She kicked at the water and shrugged. “Someone told me fairy tales weren’t real. That I was wasting my time dreaming of something better. I got the unicorn because I believed. Because I wanted a piece of magic on my skin. I wanted something to remind me of the possibility of better things even if better things never came my way. That tattoo was like a secret, and knowing it was there made me feel like I could get through anything.”

She spoke quietly, her eyes drifting, as if she were remembering things. From the look on her face, they weren’t exactly happy things.

“Who told you that?” Nash found himself asking, wondering who in hell would crush the dreams of a young girl of twelve.

Slowly, she turned her head his way. “My mom.”

“That’s a shit thing to say to your kid.” He didn’t realize he’d spoken aloud until she nodded.

“Not everyone has a mom like yours. Some of us end up with parents who’ve given up on life, and they’re selfish about it. They want their kids to give up too so they don’t feel so alone. They have a hard time accepting the fact their offspring want something better. That their kids deserve something better.”

“What about your dad?”

Her expression changed. Her eyes deepened. Her mouth tightened. And the pain he saw, however briefly, was tempered by anger.

“I never met him.”

Now, Nash wasn’t a sheltered kid. There were those in his community who were unfortunate. Kids he’d gone to school with. Hell, Mackenzie Draper was regularly beaten by his dad, and everyone knew it. But the rawness in Honey’s voice touched something inside him. He wanted to know more.

“And the vines up your back?” He remembered them climbing her skin. Delicate etchings that encircled her spine from the base all the way up to her shoulder blades.

“Hidden in the leaves are the names of the places I want to visit someday. Barrow was the first one.”

“Barrow?” He was confused.

“Barrow, Alaska.”

“Anchorage, I could wrap my head around.” He watched her closely. “But Barrow? I’m willing to bet most people have never heard of the place.”

“You’re probably right.”

“So what’s the reason? Why pick Barrow as a destination spot?”

“When I was in grade five, I asked my teacher what the farthest city in the US was from where we were, and she looked at a map and told me Barrow.”

He thought about that. Then pictured the cute little girl she must have been. Nash wondered about the mindset in a girl that young who wanted to go as far away from home as she could.

“Did you ever make it to Barrow?” he asked.

“Not yet.”

He thought of that tattoo. “You been to any of the places on your back?”

“A few,” she replied.

“You gonna name them?”

“Crystal Lake.”

He wasn’t sure if she was serious or not and decided she was pulling his leg. “Where are you headed next?”

“Who says I’m going anywhere?”

His eyebrows shot up. She was definitely pulling his leg. “This town isn’t your end game.”

“You don’t know me,” she retorted.

“I know you better than you think.” He took a pull from the cold beer he’d set down.

“Really.”

He nodded. “You push people away because you don’t want anyone to know you.”

“You’re probably right.” Her voice was light, and a soft smile tugged at her generous mouth. She cocked her head to the side. “Why aren’t you married?”

Okay. That was outta left field. “Why aren’t you?” he shot back.

“I’m too young.”

“And I’m old?”

She laughed. “You’re older than me. All your friends are married. Most of them have kids.”

“Yeah, well. I’m not like most of them. Up until a year ago, I hadn’t set foot in this town for years. I travelled a lot. Visited a lot of places. Met a lot of different people. Got to know a lot of different cultures. I lived out of a knapsack for years. That’s not the kind of life that leads to happy relationships.”

“But you’re back now.”

“I am.”

“And are you planning on staying single for the rest of your life?”

Nash scratched at the hair on his jaw. How in hell had she turned this around to be about him? Jesus. Less than five minutes ago, they were talking about Barrow, Alaska…wherever the hell that was.

“You realize this is the most we’ve talked all night.”

She flipped her foot and kicked up water. “I’d say this is the longest conversation we’ve had in days. And you’re trying to change the subject.”

She was good. Too damn good.

“I’ve got high standards.”

She snorted. Actually snorted. “If Jade Daniels is what you consider high standards, then you’re screwed.”

“Jade Daniels is a nice girl. She’s just not for me. This might sound cliché or maybe creepy. I don’t know. But my mom set the bar pretty damn high. I haven’t met anyone who comes close.”

“I get it,” she said, settling back. “She seems pretty awesome.”

“What about your mother?” he found himself asking, though he wasn’t sure why. From what little she’d shared, it didn’t sound like she was winning any Mother of the Year contests.

Honey looked away, her toes treading water. “She passed away a couple years ago.”

Shit. Nash felt like the biggest jerk for asking. “Hey, I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

“Don’t be. It happens. We didn’t have the easiest of relationships, but there was some good.” A few moments of silence passed. “When I was young, maybe three years old. I have this memory of my mother sitting behind me, and I’m watching her in the mirror. We’re in my bedroom. There’s pink carnations on the wallpaper, and my bed is white with little pink pillows. She’s brushing my hair. Her touch is gentle because it feels like her fingertips are butterfly kisses on my cheek. She is so beautiful. Her smile is full and engaging. She’s full of hope.” Honey exhaled and shrugged. “Back then, she still believed in unicorns.”

Nash finished his beer. Snow had started to fall, big flakes that drifted down from the darkened sky. “Good that you can remember that.”

“The weird thing is, sometimes I don’t think it’s a real memory.” Her brow furrowed, and she paused. “Or maybe I don’t want to think of it as real because where we ended up was so far from that image that to know we had a chance makes me sad.”

“What are you doing for Christmas?” Nash found himself asking.

“No.” She shook her head. “Not gonna happen.”

He was confused. “What’s not gonna happen?”

“I’m not a stray cat that needs taking care of, so don’t feel sorry for me.”

Nash took a few moments to reply. He saw she was upset and hated that he’d somehow tapped into something painful. “Trust me, Honey. You’re the last person I’d feel sorry for because you’re one of the strongest people I know.” Something hit him in the chest, and he paused, watching her closely. “I just meant, do you have family close by? Is there anyone you’ll spend the holidays with?”

“I have family,” she muttered, getting out of the tub. “But no, I won’t be spending the holidays with them.”

Nash let that bit of information settle. Honey had never let on she had relatives in the area. It was another layer peeled back, a bit of herself she probably hadn’t meant to reveal.

“I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“I’m not upset,” she retorted. But the rigid set to her shoulders and ramrod-straight back told another story.

He couldn’t help himself—his gaze ran down all that lovely, toned, wet flesh as she bent over and grabbed one of the towels he kept by the hot tub. Her ass cheeks were on full display, and his dick hardened even more. His body wanted her. No doubt about that. But he wasn’t sure they were a good fit outside the bedroom. He thought back to that night. Or barroom.

“Honey. Hey. Stop.”

“We’re not going to do this, Nash.” Her tone was sharp, and his hackles rose.

“Do what exactly?”

She yanked her head around and nailed him with a hard look. “This. This friend thing. I’m not going to spill my guts to you. I’m not going to share some deep dark secret. I’m not someone you can fix, so don’t try.”

He stayed silent. Honey was traveling down a road he hadn’t thought of. He realized then that there was a lot more going on with this woman than he’d realized.

“I don’t think you need fixing,” he said after a while. “And you’re wrong about the other thing too.”

“What’s that?” Chin thrust forward, she looked like she wanted to fight.

“Everybody needs someone.” He held her gaze until she looked away. “And from what I can tell, you need a friend.”

Honey headed for the door that led inside his home. “Thanks for the hot tub.”

Nash settled back in the water and watched through the windows as she dried off. She twisted her hair and then turned her back to him before slipping out of her bra and underwear. Holy. Hell. His groin tightened painfully, and he swore. Even though she wasn’t putting on a show for him, it sure as hell felt like it. She pulled on her dry clothes, tied up her hair in a loose ponytail, and, without a glance his way, let herself out of his house.

A few seconds later, he heard an engine start. Nash listened as the motor revved and eventually faded to nothing, leaving him alone under the stars with a hard-on that wasn’t going away. Honey Harrison confused the hell out of him. Sometimes, he didn’t think he liked her all that much. She was too abrasive. Too dark with a hint of twisty. Too much trouble. And yet there was something about her that grabbed hold of him and wouldn’t let go. She’d been a pain in his ass since she’d arrived in Crystal Lake.

But it was a good kind of pain. The right kind of pain.

Which was a bit of a problem since they were like oil and water. Whenever they mixed, things got heated. Hell, they couldn’t even share a hot tub without him pushing some invisible button he didn’t know about.

He shouldn’t care if she was alone for the holidays. She was his employee and nothing else. They’d done the something else dance, and though the sex had been amazing, great sex got you only so far. He needed to put Honey back in the little box she’d arrived in. The non-friend, non-anything box.

Mind made up, he sat back and grimaced, grabbing his beer and raising it up to toast an evening sky meant for two.

Merry Fucking Christmas.