Christmas Eve brought a storm that threatened to dump nearly ten inches of snow across the entire state of Michigan. Already firmly entrenched in Canada, it moved toward the United States fueled by an unrelenting northerly wind. By the time Honey rolled out of bed at eight in the morning, the entire area was a winter wonderland. She padded to the bedroom window, swiped at the condensation on the glass, and gazed down at the parking lot and the fluffy white mountain that buried her car.

As someone from the South—a girl who’d never seen snow before—she’d been excited to experience her first snowfall. And the second. Maybe even the third. But the bloom was definitely off the rose, and the sight of snow didn’t put an instant smile on her face. It made her wince because it meant shoveling and ice and cold. Winter hadn’t even taken hold yet, so she knew this was just the beginning.

Honey sighed and moved away from the window. She shouldn’t complain. Things could be worse. Some folks would be out in that weather today finishing up their last-minute Christmas shopping. Honey had nowhere to be other than downstairs around noon—and they were closing at four. Nope. The storm didn’t affect her, and she could appreciate the beauty without the work it caused.

Her plan was to eat leftover Chinese takeout, throw a bag of popcorn in the microwave, and settle in for a night of Netflix. And no, she wouldn’t be watching some sappy Christmas movie—she was more of an action and violence kind of girl. Honey was looking forward to an Avengers marathon and would happily watch every single one of them.

She had a shower and a lazy morning, content to go about a daily schedule that was no different from any other. After three cups of black coffee while watching CNN on her laptop, she perused a few travel blogs she followed and hit up Facebook to see what was going on in the world of the Blackwells. Travis’s wife, Ruby, had a public page, and Honey creeped it from time to time. She would die if anyone found out, and even though she was in the safety of her apartment, she glanced over her shoulder.

She scrolled past a few new pictures—all three Blackwell brothers were together for the holidays—and stopped at the last one posted. John Blackwell, the patriarch, sat in an overstuffed brown leather chair, a small baby in his arms and a Santa hat on his head. The old man gazed down at the boy—Hudson’s little guy—with a look of wonder. His expression was unguarded and real. Honey studied the picture for a long time, her throat constricting so bad, it hurt. With a curse, she slammed her laptop shut and got dressed for work.

She headed downstairs to open the place and was surprised to find Tiny stocking the coolers behind the bar. The stereo blared as he rocked out to “Run, Run, Rudolph,” definitely prancing around like no one was watching.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, joining the bear of a man behind the bar. “You’re supposed to be off. Aren’t you headed to your parents in Detroit?”

“Sure am. I was just keeping busy until you came down.” He nodded toward the full coolers. “One less thing for you do to today.”

“You didn’t have to do that.” She shook her wryly. “I have a feeling I’ll have lots of time on my hands. Especially if this snow keeps up.” She frowned. “What do you mean you’re waiting for me? What’s up?” She grabbed a couple of lemons and limes from the fridge and prepared to cut up some garnishments just in case she got a few customers. Which, as a hard gust of wind shook the place, she kind of doubted would happen.

Tiny grinned from ear to ear and reached under his faded brown leather jacket, which was laid across the bar. He pulled out a crimson gift bag, tied expertly with a gold-and-green ribbon. A large candy cane was pasted to a card.

“Merry Christmas, Honey.”

“Tiny.” She looked at the present with dismay. “No.” Dammit. She wasn’t good at this stuff.

He scooped up his jacket and slipped his massive arms into the sleeves. After wrapping a knitted red-and-green scarf around his neck, he put his hands on Honey’s shoulders and smiled. It was a warm, heartfelt smile that crept over his face and sat in his eyes, making them crinkle in the corners. “Don’t be such a Grinch.” He winked. “Put it under your tree and open it tonight.”

“How do you know I have a tree?” she mumbled, feeling ashamed at her behavior.

He chuckled. “I saw you take it upstairs last week.” He nodded at the bag. “It could use some dressing up.”

“That’s an understatement.”

“I know.” He chuckled.

She looked down at the bag. “Thank you.” It was all she had.

“You’re welcome.” Tiny took a step back. “All right. I gotta go. I can’t be late, or my mom will have my ass.”

Honey hid a smile. She’d seen a picture of his mother. The woman was barely five foot and maybe one hundred pounds soaking wet. His dad wasn’t much bigger. How in hell they’d produced a child the size of Tiny was anyone’s guess.

“Drive safe,” she said gruffly, accepting the bag with as much grace as she could muster. “Will do.” Tiny nodded toward the kitchen. “Josh is in the kitchen, but he’s leaving at two. So if it’s dead, close up and enjoy your night.”

“Sure thing.” Nash wasn’t in and neither was Cam. Susie had already called in sick, which wasn’t surprising. She had herself a new boyfriend, and her late nights were catching up. This was the second time she’d called in sick in less than a week. No matter. Honey preferred to be on her own anyway. The busier she was, the faster the time would go. She could close up shop, hide out in her apartment for the next few days, and not be bothered with all the Christmas craziness.

She tucked the present from Tiny under the bar and began to cut up some fruit. She didn’t do much because she had a feeling it was going to be dead. When she was done with the fruit, she began to scrub out the sinks and draft beer dispensers. By the time two o’clock rolled around, the place was sparkling and not one customer had walked through the doors. She told Josh to go and cranked up the tunes, though she changed it up a bit from Christmas songs to Foo Fighters. She might be from the South, but country wasn’t exactly her thing.

Not one to sit on her butt and do nothing, she decided to rearrange some of the tables and open up the space near the stage. When that was done, she dusted and mopped the entire bar and then cleaned the neon signs that lit up the bar and stage. She didn’t touch the big moose head ’cause it was creepy as hell. By four, she was tired. Her back ached and her belly rumbled. She grabbed the burger she’d had Josh make before he left and then locked up. She turned off the music and lights, retrieved the red bag Tiny had given her, and headed up to her apartment.

And still the snow fell.

While her microwave hummed, Honey checked her phone, but there were no messages, and she frowned. Simone usually sent her something silly on Christmas Eve. But then this year was different from before. Simone was in love and had moved to Florida. She probably forgot. Honey tossed the cell and, restless, eyed up the bright, shiny bag on her counter.

The microwave pinged, but she ignored it, cheeks burning with shame. Why had she been such an ass when Tiny gave it to her? Why did she have such a problem when someone did something nice for her?

Because they usually want something in return.

Angry with herself, she grabbed the bag before she could change her mind. Tiny wasn’t like that. Hell, no one she’d met in all of Crystal Lake was like that. She ripped open the card and laughed. It was perfect. A very naughty Santa four mugs deep at a bar, looking at the barkeep with a priceless expression on his face, while a half-empty toy bag lay at his feet. The guy looked disheveled, but more importantly, this Santa bore a striking resemblance to Tiny. No doubt the reason for this particular card. She then had a look at what was nestled in the gold tissue paper and felt her heart turn over.

With careful fingers, she extracted the most exquisite hand-blown glass decoration she’d ever seen. It was black, gray, and white—an abstract design that was intriguing, beautiful, and unique. She held it up to the light, a knot in her throat. She’d made one off-the-cuff remark about the boutique downtown and how much she’d loved the glasswork she’d spied in the window. Tiny had paid attention.

Honey stared at it and felt her eyes water. God, she was turning into a sap. She walked over to the saddest-looking Christmas tree on the planet, Earl was what she called the damn thing, and hung the ornament dead center. It wasn’t hard to do since there was only one other decoration, the doves from secret Santa, and a skimpy strand of lights she’d taken from the moose head in the bar. She plugged in the lights and stood back to admire the glasswork.

It was exquisite.

Honey grabbed her burger from the microwave and was just about to settle onto the sofa when her phone rang. She eyed the burger and then jumped up to answer it. It was probably Simone, and she didn’t want to miss the call. The fact was, she was out of sorts, and her friend’s voice would put things right. Before she could say hello, Honey heard a shaky voice on the other end—one that was definitely not Simone.

“Honey?”

Honey glanced at the caller ID, but it was unknown, and she didn’t recognize the number. “Yes, who’s this?”

“Brooke.”

Alarm bells sounded immediately. “Brooke, where are you? Are you okay?” The girl wouldn’t call unless she was desperate. She hated asking for help. Something they shared in common.

“I’m…no, not really.” Her voice trembled. “I got in a fight with Marcus. A bad one. But I don’t want to go home. Mom is drunk by now, and her new boyfriend is there. I can’t handle them.” Her voice quivered. “I went to the drop-in, but it’s closed. I forgot it was Christmas Eve.”

What teenager forgets about Christmas? But Honey knew. She was that kid. The one with no tree or presents or turkey dinner. The one who had a hell of a lot more to worry about than wondering what Santa was bringing.

“Where are you?” Honey grabbed her jacket off the island and slid her feet into her boots.

“At the coffee shop downtown. The one by the bank. But it’s closed. I’m just so cold, and I didn’t know who else to call.”

“I’m coming to get you.” Honey was out the door and took the stairs two at a time. “Just stay there. Don’t go anywhere, and I’ll be there as soon as I can. Might take a bit to clear the snow off my car.”

“Are you sure?”

“One hundred percent. I’m glad you called.” Honey’s throat was tight. She’d been where the girl was. She knew how hard it was to ask for help sometimes.

“Okay.” The young girl sounded so sad and defeated, it broke Honey’s heart.

Honey pocketed her cell and went out the back door that faced the employee parking lot. As soon as she got outside, she was hit with a bitter wind, a gust of snow, and a smattering of ice pellets. She turned in a full circle. The lot had been plowed hours ago, but with the steady snowfall and now the freezing rain, it was not good. She eyed her car in dismay.

If she could get through the snow and ice to actually open up her vehicle, she doubted she’d be able to navigate the snow. Nash had been bugging her since November to get snow tires, and she hadn’t listened. Hell, part of her was surprised she was still in Crystal Lake, and she didn’t need them where she was headed next.

Another blast of wintry weather hit her in the face and galvanized her into action. She yanked out her phone and called the one person she knew she could count on. One ring was all it took.

“Hey, what’s up?” Nash’s warm voice filled her ear, and in the background, she heard voices.

“I need help.”

He didn’t hesitate. “Where are you?”