“You wanted to see me, Avery?” said Carol Carter, coming out to the patio behind the bakery, two coffees in hand and a big puffer jacket wrapped around her curves.

“Yes,” said Avery. “First off, I wanted to ensure you took your break. You work like a machine, girl! Second, I wanted to talk to you about why you’re here.”

“I answered the temp worker listing on the company website,” said Carol with a frown. “That’s all.”

“The reason I needed a temp worker at all is because of an event that we’re catering this year,” said Avery. “It’s called Secret Santana.”

“You mean Secret Santa, right?” asked Carol.

“Yes. That’s the game, but not the project,” said Avery. “My boss, Santana, wants to hold a Secret Santana — I mean, Secret Santa — themed party. We’d all open our gifts at the same time, together.”

“We?” asked Carol. “I thought you and I were in charge of catering.”

“We are,” said Avery. “We have to stock the dessert table, but that’s easy-peasy. He’s got staff that’ll serve. We just have to bake up a storm.”

“Okay, well, baking is what I’m good at,” said Carol. “When do we start?”

“I want you to think about what pastries we sell, not just publicly, but on our catering menu and for special orders,” said Avery. “I know sugar cookies are Christmassy, but my boss wants something he’s never seen before.”

“Never seen before?” asked Carol with a laugh. “Hope he doesn’t hold his breath. Hey…what’s happening over there?”

Carol pointed past the patio, which was nearly right on the local lake, The Wreath, which had the same name as the small town. In the center of the lake was a heavily wooded island. The island had a dock, but Carol had never seen it in use…until today. Somebody was lowering a metal rowboat into the water.

“Trouble,” said Avery. “Trust me.”

“Drama?” asked Carol. “Color me intrigued.”

“You’re not worried about some drama ruining your Christmas?” asked Avery.

“Nothing can ruin my Christmas,” said Carol. “I don’t care about Christmas.”

“Are you going to be able to help with the Secret Santana party?” asked Avery. “If you don’t like Christmas…”

“I didn’t say I don’t like Christmas,” said Carol. “I just don’t care about it. I’m getting paid extra to do what I love over the holidays. That’s a win in my book.”

“Why did you come up here?” asked Avery. “Was it just for the money?”

“Heck yeah it was,” said Carol. “Not everyone can afford to just up and leave whenever they want a change of scenery. I got to come up here, to this gorgeous town, and bake my ass off, and collect a big, fat check. My Christmas is very, very merry.”

“I guess being an adult makes it different,” said Avery. “Some people keep loving the holiday. For some people, the Christmas magic fades.”

“I never believed,” said Carol.

“Never believed in what?” asked Avery.

“Christmas magic,” said Carol. “It’s silly. A fat guy with a sack of presents? Some reindeer that can magically fly through the sky? Not real.”

“Didn’t you have presents as a kid?” asked Avery.

“No,” said Carol. “My parents sold them for drugs. That was before I was in the system. I used to joke Santa couldn’t find my house because he didn’t have my address. If Santa’s real, why doesn’t he deliver to poor kids, who need the joy the most? Riddle me that.”

“Can’t argue with that,” said Avery with a sigh. “You really never believed in Santana — I mean, Santa — Claus?”

“Never,” said Carol. “Trust me, I’m not about to start now. Look at this as a perk. A benefit. I won’t be asking to take any days off for ‘the holidays.’ Now, you were telling me about drama?”

“And why drama is rowing our way?” joked Avery, looking out at the familiar seasonal sight. “There’s a sort of…work rehab program, out there, on the island. It’s called Camp Kringle. It’s run by my boss, Santana, and his right-hand man, Krampus.”

“What kind of a name is Krampus?” asked Carol.

“I think his parents were European hippies,” said Avery. “Pagan bunch. Anyway. Every year, Krampus trains a bad boy, teaches him some skills, and sends him back out into the real world.”

“I’m familiar with that kind of program,” said Carol. “It was the kind of thing offered to me after foster care. Went once, never went back. The people training me looked at me like I was a criminal, a bad egg when I had a clean record, all because I was from the system. I said fuck that, looked for a job, found the Bear Claw Bakery in Seattle, and worked there. Finding a legit job, getting my life together — it probably sounds like small potatoes, but to me, it’s rags to riches, a real Cinderella story. I know — knew — people that couldn’t get it together, that got sent out to programs in the desert, the woods, all that. But this? This is real rural. The kind of guys who go to that rehab program, they got problems?”

“Big problems,” said Avery. “But at least we get to watch them row, row, row that boat.”

The boat was nearing. Carol saw that the boat contained two figures and a trash bag. One was wearing regular lumberjack clothes: some work pants, a flannel top. The other was shirtless. There was something written across his chest. Carol couldn’t quite make out what it was.

The boat rowed closer. Carol could see that the figure was handsome, muscular, but she couldn’t read the word.

The boat docked. The lumberjack looking man got out of the boat and walked up to the patio.

“Merry Christmas, Avery,” said Krampus.

“Merry Christmas,” said Avery. “Isn’t it a bit early?”

“December first is always the day we bring you your tree,” said Krampus.

“‘Always’ meaning two years in a row?” asked Avery. “Thanks.”

“Don’t forget to put my pickle up. I want everyone to look at my pickle,” said Krampus.

“His what?” asked Carol, confused.

“Forget about it,” said Avery.

She pulled out her tablet and clicked some buttons.

“Alright,” said Avery. “Secret Santana is a company tradition.”

“I’m not participating,” said Krampus.

“That’s where you’re wrong,” said Avery, punching Krampus’s name into the app.

“Really? Real mature,” said Krampus.

“Alright, and Carol, you’re doing this too,” said Avery.

“No use trying to argue,” said Carol.

“Smart girl,” said Krampus. “Trade you for my dumb boy. What’s taking you so long, boy?”

The figure at the rowboat was struggling to get the package out of the boat.

“Should I go help him?” asked Carol.

“No,” said Krampus. “He’s like a service dog. Best if you don’t touch him and interfere with his work. He’s got to learn to do things right.”

Carol watched as the man reached for the package and then, missed entirely, and fell off the boat. He rolled in mid-air to miss the boat, but fell right into the icy cold lake!

“Shit,” said Carol, getting up.

“Calm down,” said Avery. “He’s a shifter. He can handle it.”

The man got out of the water. At least he was near the rowboat now. He grabbed the bundle and trudged up the stairs from the shore to the patio.

As he approached, Carol took in his features. He was hotter than she’d thought. Much hotter. He had a crew cut and wild stubble. She wondered if the stubble was an early five-o-clock shadow. Maybe shifter beards grew fast. If the guy was a shifter, what was his shift?

The man was carrying the giant bag in front of his torso, hugging it as he moved it. Inside the bag was a freshly cut and trimmed Christmas tree.

“And what would your name be, young man?” asked Avery.

“Ethan,” said the soaking wet man in a low, commanding voice that turned Carol’s legs to jelly.

“And…done,” said Avery. “Tomorrow, everyone will get their Secret Santana assignments.”

“Their what?” asked Ethan. “I didn’t sign up for that.”

“If I have to do it, you have to do it,” said Krampus.

Ethan put the bag down, revealing the word written on his chest. Carol smiled to herself. ‘Naughty,’ in bright green, across his chest.

Carol had seen mate marks before. She knew what the deal was. Shifters had mate marks, given to them by Fate, marks that would lead them to their fated mates — the people they were meant to be with for the rest of their lives. Humans like her…well, they didn’t have them, but they could be claimed by shifters nonetheless.

It was a warning label, but Carol liked to live dangerously – even if she claimed otherwise. Actions spoke louder than words. She was the kind of gal who could stay out past midnight without worrying her carriage would turn into a pumpkin. She’d spent years fending for herself, and she was good at it. The question was, was the mark meant to attract Naughty women or women who wanted to find a Naughty shifter stuffing their stocking on Christmas Day?

“Hey,” said Ethan, nodding to Carol.

“Carol, I need to set the tree up with Krampus,” said Avery. “Can you show Ethan where the order is?”

“What order?” asked Carol.

“There’s a big order, four coffee carriers, two trays of pastry, in the back,” said Avery.

“Two trays?” asked Krampus.

“New boxes,” said Avery. “Anyway, Carol, the boxes and coffee carriers are in the kitchen. Just show Ethan where it is, and don’t worry about carrying stuff to the dock. The boys can handle it.”

“Where do you want the tree again?” asked Krampus.

“How could you frikkin’ forget? I have you put it in the same dang place every year!” said Avery. “Put it over the stain you left on my floor, the same damn mark that you promise to get out of that same damn floor every year…a promise you never keep!”

“I am a simple man who can only handle one promise at a time,” teased Krampus. “Would you rather I keep my promise to fix your floor…or keep my promise to bring you this big, fluffy, fragrant Christmas tree?”

“‘I guess I’d rather have the tree,” grumbled Avery. “Carol! Ethan! Go get the pastries before I make you both go down to the creepy old basement to get the ornaments for the tree! You gotta make yourselves useful, you know.”

“Yes, ma’am,” said Ethan, looking back down at Carol. “Shall we?”

Carol got up from the table. She realized just how small she was compared to the shifter. Ethan was taller than her. That was a given. He was tall for a shifter, and shifters were taller than women. What surprised Carol was just how broad Ethan was. He wasn’t a skinny twig. While her curves were filled with juicy plump fat, Ethan’s were stuffed full of rock-hard muscles. His silhouette was still big and broad.

“Uhm, this way,” said Carol, leading Ethan to the back of the bakery.

“This is the kitchen,” said Carol. “And…I think that’s your order.”

“Is it, now?” asked Ethan, brushing up against Carol from behind.

“I’m pretty sure it is,” said Carol, turning, crossing her arms.

“You don’t wanna spend a little more time…finding it?” asked Ethan, brushing a hair out of Carol’s face with one finger.

“Uh-huh, and why do I feel like the time spent ‘finding’ it would be time you’d spend trying to claim me?” asked Carol. “After all…is that an ax in your pants, or are you just happy to see me?”

“It’s an ax,” said Ethan, undoing the holster and pulling the big wood and metal tool out, before putting it down on a freshly sanitized counter.

“Oh,” said Carol. “When you brushed up against me earlier, that wasn’t your dick?”

“No,” said Ethan. “That’s bigger. Much bigger.”

“Than an ax? With a huge metal ax head?” asked Carol.

“No, I mean, it’s thicker than the handle,” said Ethan blushing.

What are you doing? asked Prancer.

I don’t know, admitted Ethan. I’ve never met a woman like this.

A woman who doesn’t treat you like the privileged billionaire prick you are? asked Prancer.

Well, when you put it that way, yes, Ethan acquiesced. I’m used to getting what I want. It’s what I do best. And what I want…is her…

She doesn’t seem to want anything to do with you, said Prancer.

Then explain how I can scent out her arousal, growled Ethan.

“Hello? Earth to Ethan?” asked Carol, waving a hand in front of Ethan’s face. “I know my boobs won’t stare at themselves, but, your order won’t carry itself out to your rowboat. Come on.”

Carol loaded Ethan up with the two trays of pastries and carefully put the four carriers of coffee on top of the trays, which bent under the weight of the coffee. She watched him walk away. Ethan had made an enormous mess. He’d tracked mud into the kitchen. He’d put his dirty ax on the counter. Who was this inconsiderate bad boy, and why did his blasé attitude just make him so much hotter to Carol?