Candy Cassis was rolling out dough for sugar cookies. It was her favorite cookie to bake. It was simple, sure, and it was awfully strange to most folk that a baker like herself would like to make such a ‘boring’ cookie. Candy didn’t think sugar cookies were dull. She thought they held the promise of possibility. Each cookie could be cut into any shape imaginable — a Christmas tree, a Santa hat, heck, even a flying reindeer. With a little bit of imagination, the cookies could be anything she wanted them to be.

“Hey, I think the boss lady wants to see you outside, Candy,” said Brie, calling into the kitchen.

“Tell her I’ll be right there,” said Candy, putting down the rolling pin. She took off her apron, went to the small locker room, and got changed into her new winter jacket and snow boots. She plodded outside to find her boss sitting at one of the tables on the back patio.

“Hey, Avery,” said Candy, taking a seat across from her boss.

“Here,” said Avery, passing Candy a cup. “This should keep you warm. I wanted to talk to you about why I hired you.”

Candy took the cup and took a gentle sip. The cup had hot Christmas tea. It was a cup filled with orangey and spicy caffeinated goodness. Candy smiled. She just loved the holidays.

“I know you needed a Christmas temp worker,” said Candy.

“I need more than that,” said Avery. “I need someone with your unique…skillset.”

“My skillset?” asked Candy.

“Yes,” said Avery. “Your skillset.”

Avery took a set of photos out of her pocket and laid them out on the table.

Candy’s cheeks burned.

“Oh my gosh, where did you get those?” asked Candy, looking over the familiar shots. There was Candy, wearing a short bustle skirt in red, a bright green corset, and on her head, a bright red Santa hat. She had on a pair of heels designed to look like elves’ shoes. She was no innocent Mrs. Claus. She’d used a stage name, but somehow, Avery had gotten ahold of her burlesque dancing shots.

“Don’t worry about it,” said Avery. “This year, I needed someone who knows a little something about being sexy, someone who loves Christmas, to help me out with a little side project.”

“I may be from San Francisco, but that doesn’t mean I’m into weird jenky pervy stuff,” said Candy, crossing her arms.

“Nothing like that,” said Avery. “I was hoping you could help me coordinate a ‘Sexy Santana’ shoot.”

“‘Santana?’” asked Candy.

“I mean, uh, Santa,” Avery said quickly. “I thought that the bakery could use a new advertising campaign to boost business during the holidays. You’ve seen families come into the bakery. Who does the purchasing?”

“Ninety percent of the time, it’s the moms,” said Candy.

“By having some sexy Santa advertise our pastries, we’ll bring in more moms, and make more sales,” said Avery. “Trust me. Everyone can use a little Christmas magic. Given you know about burlesque, I was hoping you could help me arrange the photo shoot, find a model, all that fun stuff. I’m not exactly experienced in that area.”

“And here I was, thinking I was hired for my white chocolate peppermint biscotti recipe,” said Candy sarcastically.

“Does that mean you’re out? If you’re out, I’ll still pay you through the season,” said Avery. “I know I only have you ‘on loan’ from the SF Bear Claw Bakery until Christmas Day.”

“I’m in,” said Candy. “It’ll give me something to do in this town. The Wreath is nice and all, but…”

“…But there’s a reason it’s not a popular tourist destination in the winter, at least for hot young singles,” admitted Avery. “I’m glad to hear you’re in. First order of business is finding a model. Think you can handle that?”

“I’ll keep my eye out for talent,” said Candy. Candy stretched her arms out and looked over the lake. There was activity on the single island in the center of the lake, an island she’d thought was abandoned.

“Hey, Avery, what’s that?” asked Candy, pointing to the island. “What’s going on on the island?”

Avery turned around.

“Oh, that’s Camp Kringle,” said Avery. “Today’s December first, the first day that the new lumberjack is allowed off the island.”

“The what is what now?” asked Candy.

“Camp Kringle is…I guess you could call it a ‘rehab’ center for bad boys,” said Avery. “All shifters. All sent to the camp by their Clan, to learn some life lessons while doing hard labor as lumberjacks on that island.”

“Like a jail?” asked Candy.

“I mean…not unlike a jail,” admitted Avery. “They’re not dangerous or anything. They’re just…misguided.”

“Huh,” said Candy. “I’d expect a prison to look…scarier.”

“Their ‘warden’ is a man named Krampus, who’s plenty scary enough,” said Avery. “Get ready to see a lot more of Krampus and whoever his ward is for this Christmas season.”

“Why would we be seeing a lot of them?” asked Candy.

“Because we make the best dang pastries and coffee on The Wreath, so that dock over there is where Krampus’ ward will be rowing every dang day for nearly the whole month,” said Avery. “Remember that order sheet I had you put together earlier? That was Krampus’ regular order.”

“He eats and drinks what, two full boxes of pastries and four carafes of coffee a day?” asked Candy. “Guess he’s a total caffeine fiend.”

“You could definitely call him a ‘fiend,’” said Avery. “Stay with me a while. Let’s see if Krampus’ newest lumberjack is easy on the eyes. He had a cute one year before last, but last year’s was a bit doughy for my taste…and I’m a baker, so, you know. I should love ‘doughy.’”

Candy moved and peered out on to the lake. There was a silver aluminum rowboat making its way across the icy lake at a surprisingly quick pace. Candy saw that there was a man in red plaid and jeans, sitting, without oars, and a man who was shirtless, with long hair past his shoulders, rowing the entire boat. It wasn’t difficult to figure out that the man who wasn’t rowing must be Krampus. There was something else in the boat, something lumpy. Were they bringing their laundry to the ‘mainland?’

There was a slash of red across the man’s shoulder. Candy was sure he was wounded. What else could cause his shoulder to turn blood red? As the boat approached, Candy realized a word was written on the man’s shoulder. She couldn’t make it out from her place on the patio.

The boat stopped at the dock. The shirtless man hopped out of the boat and tied it to the pier. The man in red plaid started walking up the stairs from the dock to the patio.

“Avery,” said the man curtly.

“Krampus,” replied Avery.

“I trust my order’s ready?” asked Krampus.

“I don’t see a tree,” said Avery, crossing her arms.

“I never should’ve brought you one in the first place,” said Krampus.

“Well, you did, and a woman has expectations, you know,” Avery sassed back. Candy was in awe of how confident her boss was. Candy and Avery had a similar body type — relatively average in height, way above average in terms of curves. Krampus, on the other hand, was tall, real tall, and broad-shouldered. There was no way he wasn’t a frikkin’ shifter.

“Speaking of expectations, that rule we talked about last year, well, Santana decided to try a year without it,” said Krampus. “Ooh — a ribbon!” Krampus picked a random ribbon up off the ground and put it in his endlessly deep pockets, tying one end of the ribbon to the loose end of the ribbon ball.

“What rule?” asked Avery.

“Really?” asked Krampus.

“Oh,” said Avery. “Oh.”

Krampus’s ward had made it up the stairs with the large parcel wrapped in black tarp wrapped with twine.

“Here,” said Krampus. “Cain, help set it up inside, will you?”

“Where should I put it?” asked Cain.

“Wait,” said Candy, looking up at the man. “Your name’s Cain?”

“Huh, guess it’s funny, Candy and Cain,” said Avery.

“No, you don’t understand,” said Candy. “Cain…you’re Cain Pellichero, aren’t you? The model? From all those romance novel covers? Like the Officer Larson police procedural romances?”

“Uh…in the flesh,” admitted Cain sheepishly.

“I didn’t recognize you without the billowing white shirt…or a female model being carried in your big, strong arms,” said Candy. “I mean — your arms. Your perfectly normal arms. Just arms.”

“He’s a what-now?” asked Avery.

“I’ll explain it all to you inside,” said Krampus, leading Avery into the bakery, one hand on the small of her back. “Cain. Tree. I want it set-up five minutes ago.”

“Got it,” said Cain. “Well, it was a pleasure meeting you, Miss…?”

“Candy, Candy Cassis,” said Candy, still looking over Cain. “Y-you need help with that?”

“Do you know where I should I put it?” asked Cain.

It took all of Candy’s willpower not to say, ‘in me, right here, and hard.’ After all, she’d fantasized about Cain before. She’d honestly thought that maybe, some fancy photo editing had made him look sexier on the covers of the romance novels, but the covers were trash compared to the sexy man standing in front of her. After all, covers couldn’t capture the way he smelled. He smelled like pine, like a lumberjack. He smelled of fresh water and snow, like a Viking. He smelled of pure man and pure animal, some kind of predator, at the same damn time, like a shifter.

A shifter lumberjack Viking.

He was like something out of a frikkin’ romance novel.

She knew how the love stories with shifters always ended — in the novels, and in real life.

Shifters claimed their mates.

Between the sheets.

Hard.

So why did Cain make her feel like a fairytale princess, instead of a heroine from a romance novel?

Candy felt like the princess from Beauty and the Beast. After all, she was a BBW, and the man in front of her wasn’t just all man. He was all shifter, all beast. The only question was, was this the ‘Once upon a time’ that would lead to a fairytale ‘happily ever after?’

“You know, there’s this big burn mark on my floor, in the corner,” said Avery, giving Krampus the stink eye. “You can’t miss it — it looks like a demon made the mark. Put the tree on top of that, so the good folks of this town don’t have to stare at that demonic mark.”

“Miss,” said Cain, bowing his head to Avery.

“Oh, stop, nobody has called me ‘Miss’ in a century,” said Avery. “It’s a big one this year, isn’t it, Krampus? You did good.”

“What is it?” asked Candy.

“Go help him set it up and you can find out,” said Avery. “Krampus and I have much to discuss in the kitchen.”

Cain nodded at Candy. Candy made herself make eye contact with the big man in front of her. She was from a male-dominated tech center of the world. She was used to dealing with Type A personalities, alpha males, and heck, even twenty-something tech billionaire regulars who insisted her gluten-free avocado toast wasn’t really gluten-free. She wasn’t used to dealing with men who had primal energy about them, men who were big, strapped with muscles, and looked like they wanted to eat her up.

“I assume that Avery wants this set up in the main eating area,” said Candy. “Come on. Let’s go through the front door, rather than the back door. There are double doors in the front, and from the looks of that tree, we’ll need’m.”

“So, Candy, what did you do to get sent up North this Christmas season?” asked Cain as they walked around the building.

“Well, I’m from San Francisco, born and raised, but had never experienced a white Christmas,” explained Candy. “When I heard that the Bear Claw Bakery was looking for workers to do some temp work in Montana, I…I…”

Candy had been talking to Cain just fine. He had a voice as deep and rich as a cup of Christmas tea with extra honey. When Candy turned to face Cain as they reached the front doors, her verbal capabilities vanished into thin air. Cain had been holding a giant package in front of his body as he’d walked up from the dock to the patio. Now, there was a different package on display — a trouser snake, right in the lumberjack’s jeans. He was shirtless too, covered with a sheen of sweat, melted snowflakes, and icy lake water.

“You jumped at the chance to take a free vacation,” said Cain, finishing Candy’s sentence. “I get it. I’ve done the same thing. You know why I was on all those pirate themed historical romances last year? I was offered one Hell of a trip to Hawaii.”

As soon as Cain cursed, the mark on his shoulder burned. He’d forgotten it would punish him for bad behavior. He slapped his free hand up to his shoulder.

“What was that?” asked Candy.

“Uh, mosquito,” lied Cain, causing his mark to burn again.

“Uh-huh,” said Candy, crossing her arms. “In this weather?”

“Darndest thing, isn’t it?” asked Cain, looking over Candy. She was sassy. She wasn’t the typical fangirl that let him get away with being a bad boy. She was calling him out on his bullshizz – and she knew who the fuck he was and wasn’t afraid to rightfully insinuate he was a liar.

She was also curvy as Hell.

There’s an order to this, warned Vixen.

Look at her, said Cain. She has to be the one. She’s sassy. She’s curvy. She’s hot. She’s got the curves I deserve.

If you deserve those curves, where’s your mate mark? asked Vixen.

Candy looked at the spot Cain had slapped. It was the red spot she’d spied from the patio.

“Is that…” started Candy.

“No, it’s not,” insisted Cain.

“You’ve already lied about getting bitten by a mosquito. Maybe you’re lying about that not being your mate mark too,” said Candy. “‘Naughty,’ huh? You really hit the lottery with that one. I’ve never seen it on any of your covers.”

“A lot of airbrushing happens behind the scenes,” said Cain. It was technically true, so his mark didn’t burn.

“Alright, alright,” said Candy, opening one of the double doors for Cain. Cain opened the other double door and walked into the warmth of Bear Claw Bakery. He’d been to a few of their locations before, but he’d never been a regular customer. This location was like the ones he’d been to — cozy, comfortable, with a considerable pastry counter and a modest beverage menu.

“Where do you want it?” Cain asked Candy, brushing up behind her because there wasn’t much room for a large shifter, a Christmas tree, and a BBW in the entrance of the cafe.

A chill went down Candy’s spine. Had Cain just asked her where she wanted ‘it’? Cain was a dreamboat, a dreamboat who’d come over to her bakery in a rowboat, from an island he was basically banished to for bad behavior, but a dreamboat nonetheless. She’d seen his body on covers of books in the grocery checkout line, but in person, well…he was hotter than she could’ve imagined. Heck, she could just imagine his thick, strapping arms wrapped around her body, rather than the Christmas tree.

Again, it took Candy willpower to not answer, “Wherever you’ll put it.”

She’d learned things from romance novels, after all.

Shifters had marks on their chests, given to them by Fate, that would lead them to their fated mates — their true loves.

Candy had imagined herself as the heroine in those stories each and every time she read a spicy scene, and often times, Cain had been the man in those scenes. It was surreal to be face to face with the man she’d had those sorts of Naughty thoughts about before.

Maybe that was the reason his mate mark said ‘Naughty.’ After all, most toys found under the tree come Christmas Day came with warning labels, like ‘choking hazard,’ but Cain’s warning label…well, that was the kind of warning label she’d expect to see on Christmas Day, but, not on a toy. She’d find it on a power tool, in the garage — but not just any power tool.

She’d find it on a big, fat drill.

“Where do you want the tree, Candy?” asked Cain.

Candy snapped out of her dream. Of course, Cain had been talking about the tree. How could she have been so silly?

“Oh, uh…I think in the corner,” said Candy. “There’s a Christmas tree stand over there.”

“Smart woman,” said Cain, following Candy to the corner.

“Wish I was a lucky woman, like Avery,” said Candy, checking underneath the stand to make sure that it was on top of the big stain described by Avery — and it was. “I’m kinda jealous she managed to get Krampus to bring her a big tree like that. I wish I had one at my place. I love Christmas trees. I love’m tall, small, wide, thin, bushy, heck, even prickly and curved to one side. I even like them out in the wild, uncut.”

Candy cleared out light chairs and tables. She’d deal with rearranging furniture later. Cain opened the Christmas tree bag and grabbed the tree.

“Hey, Candy, you mind helping me get the trunk in the hole?” asked Cain.

“The what in the…oh, right,” said Candy, getting on her knees to help slide the Christmas tree’s base into the top of the Christmas tree stand. “Here. I’ll screw it in when it’s in. It looks like the stand’s already wet, real wet. I guess Avery put some water in here earlier. The hole’s pretty wide, so I think that thick tree should fit in. I know we’ll have to screw the trunk in, screw it in tight, so it can barely move an inch.”

“That’s right, give it a good, hard screw,” said Cain. “You want to take as much of the tree’s length into that hole as you can. Start with the tip. Be gentle. You don’t want to break the tip or any other part of the shaft. I made sure to ‘shave’ the base, make it easier to take its whole length in, but if it’s too prickly, be careful. Wouldn’t want that thick, prickly shaft to hurt you.”

“Well, not all the way,” said Candy. “Got to leave the last inch or two clear.”

“That’s right,” said Cain. “Is it in? I’m trying to get it in.”

“It’s in,” said Candy. “Don’t let go of the trunk yet. I still need to screw it in, hard.”

“Got it?” asked Cain, looking down at Candy. The woman was working hard to get the tree in the tree stand, but, from his angle, he could see her cleavage. He could tell what color plus-size bra she was wearing. He could tell what color lace was on the outside and what color satin lined the dang thing. He tried to look away, but, her boobs were in the line of sight of the tip of the tree trunk.

“No, so stop moving it back and forth, or I’m going to get a face full of sap,” said Candy. “I just need to keep a tight grip on it. Ahh…fuck.”

“You got it?” asked Cain. “That hole feels tight, real tight.”

“Almost,” said Candy. “It’s almost there…oh, fuck!”

“What?” asked Cain.

“I pinched my finger,” said Candy. “Fuck, I’m so close. It’s just so hard, you know?”

“Oh, yeah,” said Cain, who had read the innuendoes in what Candy had said. Apparently, Candy wanted him as badly as he wanted her. Why else would she be using dirty talk to talk about putting a frikkin’ Christmas tree in a tree stand?

“Okay, one, two, and…we got it,” said Candy. “Whew. I thought we’d never get there.”

“Cain!” called a voice from the back of the bakery.

“Thanks for the help, Candy,” said Cain. “I really owe you one.”

As Cain walked away, Candy wondered just what Cain could ‘owe’ her. He was a bad boy, sure, but could he be like that sugar cookie dough she’d been rolling out before? Could he still be turned into something sweet, just in time for Christmas?