The theme of this year’s Winter Ball was “Let It Snow,” even though it rarely snowed in Jupiter Point, and the town was experiencing a warm spell. Of course, none of that mattered to the Reinhards, whose motto came down to “money can fix everything.”

Julie had to admit it was magical. Sparkling fake snow was piled around the front entrance. A hidden fog machine created swirls of mist around the guests’ feet as they stepped into the portico. Inside, bare-branched potted birch trees transformed the great room into a winter forest. Filmy white fabric draped from the ceiling, lit by strings of twinkle lights, looked like floating clouds of snow. Huge bouquets of creamy flowers—calla lilies, white hydrangea, jasmine—filled every available corner. And then there were the ice sculptures melting on either side of the front entrance.

Even the security guards hired for the event matched the theme. They wore stocking caps along with their uniforms.

Most of the guests had flown in from out of town. Business connections, extended family, people the Reinhards wanted to impress. As a venture capitalist, Mr. Reinhard had a rolodex full of powerful and wealthy people. An invitation to the Reinhards’ Winter Ball was considered an honor, and no one turned down the opportunity to attend.

It was—no contest—the fanciest event in Jupiter Point every winter, but it didn’t benefit the town at all. The Reinhards flew in flowers from South America, bypassing everyone else’s favorite florist—Brianna Gallagher. Likewise with the caterer, and the decorator, both of whom came from San Francisco. The family only invited a few Jupiter Pointers—the mayor, the heads of the Chamber of Commerce and the Historic Downtown Business Association, the director of the Jupiter Point Observatory, and a few of the wealthiest residents.

Even though Julie and Savannah used to lobby hard for more of a local presence, Mrs. Reinhard had always refused. The only jobs she farmed out to locals were servers and cleanup. In the past, Julie had helped with both. She’d never been a “guest” at the party. She’d always worked the entire time, circulating with platters of appetizers, then cleaning up afterward.

This time, she’d refused to do either of those chores. She didn’t live with the Reinhards anymore, she didn’t need to work for her supper the way she used to. She could damn well dress up in a spangled, shoulder-baring dress for one night and drink champagne and enjoy herself.

Not only were the decorations breathtaking, but so were the guests. The men wore dress jackets and white tie, the women ball gowns and diamonds. Lots of diamonds. Apparently the rich-person interpretation of “let it snow” involved diamonds.

Julie felt underdressed in her simple vintage dress with its cheap crystal adornments. Not to mention her silver sandals, which barely had a heel. But at least she had the best-looking date, in her opinion.

Ben had his own offbeat interpretation of “Let it Snow.” He wore a cream cable-knit ski sweater, which showed off his wide shoulders and broad chest. A pair of ski goggles sat on his head, giving him a sort of winter steampunk look. His gray eyes sparkled every time someone gave him a thumb’s up and a smile for his outfit.

Sure, most of those smiling at him were women. Julie couldn’t blame them. He looked so much more handsome than any of the investment bankers in the crowd.

Of course, those same women barely gave her a glance, and if they did, she could read their disdain loud and clear.

“I don’t think I’m wearing enough diamonds for this party,” she told Ben ruefully.

He turned to her with a look of such heat, it would have melted whatever snow was in the neighborhood. “You look unbelievable. I’m not exaggerating. My heart nearly stopped when I first saw you.”

The best part was, he really meant it. Only Ben, her sweet man, could look at her with that much devout appreciation. She interlaced her hand with his. “Something tells me I could be here naked and you’d be just as happy.”

“Obviously. Well, not here here. In a bedroom here.”

“I happen to know where all the bedrooms are, by the way. Just for future reference.”

His eyes sparkled down at her. They looked so endlessly kind, so full of heart. “You know it was always one of my fantasies to get you alone here. We always hung out at my house, or at the beach, or in your car. Or my car. Never here. This was like the forbidden palace.”

“Oh ho, so you want to break the old no-boys-in-the-bedroom-or-anywhere-else rule?”

“Absolutely. Doesn’t even have to be a bedroom. Isn’t there a walk-in closet we could mess up? Or a library where we could shake some books off their shelves?”

His naughty grin had her inner thighs clenching with desire. Really, it took only one sexy look from those playful eyes of his to make her want him. Right now, she wouldn’t mind sneaking behind a fake birch tree piled with fake snow and kissing the breath out of him.

Luckily, they were interrupted by a group of Jupiter Point Hotshots. “How did you get invited to this thing?” Ben teased them. “It’s supposed to be power players only.”

Sean Marcus jerked his thumb at Rollo, whose big, bear-like form was stuffed into a tuxedo. “Rollington Wareham the Third here made us come.”

“I wasn’t coming in here without backup,” Rollo muttered. “And Brianna refused because they don’t buy her flowers. She told me to take pictures of every different kind of arrangement they have here. I feel like a spy.”

“I’ll do it.” Julie smiled at the man, who she knew only slightly. Rollo came from a family of East Coast billionaires, so it made sense that the Reinhards would invite him. Of course, they didn’t know that he preferred hanging out with his firefighter buddies and camping and hiking—not to mention the love of his life, Brianna. “I’ll be your inside man.”

Finn was the only one of the crew who looked comfortable in this atmosphere, with his crisp white dinner jacket. Not even the scar that ravaged the left side of his face detracted from his smooth, sophisticated style. He’d grown up in Hollywood, so this was probably old hat. “Rollo promised us all burgers and beer if we came and held his hand.” He grinned at Rollo, who shrugged off his teasing. They were probably all used to it, since they were as close as brothers, at least according to Suzanne.

“Aren’t you all tough, strong firefighters?” Julie asked innocently. “What’s a party compared to a wildfire?”

Rollo ticked off reasons on his fingers. “A, the dress code’s a lot more comfortable at a wildfire. B, the trees are real.” He glared at the closest fake birch. “That thing just ain’t right.”

Sean picked up the thread. “C, it’s easier to make conversation when all you need to talk about is wind direction.”

“You guys are big whiny babies,” Finn said. “Are you saying you’d rather be in the black somewhere eating MREs instead of a portobello goat cheese puff?” He popped an appetizer into his mouth.

“Yes,” said Rollo promptly. “Do they have any MREs here?”

Ben and Julie shared a glance of amusement, the way they always used to when they witnessed something that tickled their sense of the absurd. “You guys are breaking my heart,” Ben told them. “At least I have my girl with me.” He hugged Julie with one arm.

She melted against him. His girl? She could never get enough of hearing that.

“Lisa’s here, but she had to help one of the catering crew. First-aid emergency.” Finn’s face lit up at the mention of his fiancée.

“Evie’s here too. She offered to take photos for Mrs. Reinhard,” Sean explained. “She’s focusing on candid shots, so don’t even think about relaxing. You might get caught on camera picking your nose or something.”

Everyone else chuckled, but Ben’s expression sharpened to hyper-alertness. “Any idea where Evie is?”

“No, but I can find out.” Sean dug in the pocket of his black trousers for his cell, then fired off a text. “She’s by the bar,” he said after an answer pinged. “She says the official cocktail of the ball is called a ‘Snowcone,’ basically a Slurpee with vodka.”

“Thanks, man. Julie, I think there’s a Snowcone with our name on it. See you guys around. Don’t burn anything down.” Ben tugged her in the direction of the bar.

“Ben, what are you doing?”

“If Evie’s running around taking pictures, maybe she’s seen my mother. It’s too crowded here, I’m afraid I’ll miss her.”

But when they found Evie at the bar, she said she hadn’t seen either Janine or Cassie. It broke Julie’s heart to see the disappointment wipe the smile off Ben’s face.

“You would recognize my mother, right?” he asked Evie as he ordered two Snowcones from the bartender.

“I think so. What I remember most about her was her eyes, a lot like yours. Can I take a picture of your costume?” Evie lifted her camera and snapped a photo.

Ben blinked, and Julie wished she could delete that one. It probably looked too much like a shot of someone in the process of getting his heart broken.

Evie must have thought the same thing, because she lowered the camera, her lovely face more serious now. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to make light of anything. Was your mother planning to be here tonight? I didn’t realize she was back.”

“It’s fine,” Ben said in answer. “She probably just hasn’t arrived yet. Come on, Juls, let’s dance.”

Julie barely managed a sip of her Snowcone before he tugged her toward the dance floor. The ballroom—yes, the Reinhards actually had a ballroom—had been transformed into an enchanted fairyland, with shimmering streamers dangling overhead. They were cleverly constructed so the lights made them look like a sparkling snowstorm in motion. An a cappella group dressed in stocking caps and winter scarves were currently singing a peppy rendition of “Winter Wonderland.”

Ben swung her into the kaleidoscope of dancers. She didn’t have much experience with waltzing, or whatever this was. So she just held on to Ben and let him guide her movements. It should have been romantic and breathtaking, and it was, except for the anxious way Ben checked out every new arrival, every entrance and exit.

Maybe they should have just stationed themselves at the front gate and skipped the party.

They danced, then went back for more Snowcones. They chatted with Merry, who was taking notes for a story in the newspaper. No Janine Knight. They danced again. They ate dainty crepes filled with cream. Still no Janine. They had more Snowcones.

And the clock ticked toward midnight with no sign of the Knight women.

Julie sensed the hope leaking out of Ben’s heart. His pace on the dance floor slowed, his shoulders sagged. Every time someone walked into the ballroom, his eyes darted in their direction, but less eagerly, ready for disappointment.

Maybe Mrs. Knight had changed her mind. Maybe she’d tried to come, but discovered it was too difficult. Maybe her car had broken down.

She wasn’t coming. Julie knew it in her bones. And she couldn’t bear to see Ben get crushed all over again.

The a cappella group shifted to a slower song, “Baby It’s Cold Outside,” and she and Ben slowed until they were simply swaying in place. “How about we blow this Snowcone stand?” she whispered. “We could go somewhere and share some body heat.”

He looked down at her blankly. Beneath his goofy ski goggles, his gray eyes held such a bereft look that her heart tumbled end over end, down a rabbit hole.

And she knew, with a weird sense of homecoming, that she’d do anything for this man. That she loved him. That she’d never stopped loving him.

And that now, she had a chance to be there for Ben the way she should have been twelve years ago.

“I don’t…think she’s coming,” he said numbly.

“Come on.” She took his hand and threaded a path through the guests. “Let’s go.”

Outside, the sound of the party faded away as they ran across the lawn toward the makeshift parking area. She stopped to slip off her sandals, then raced barefoot the rest of the way.

“Toss me your keys,” she called to him. “I’m going to drive.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re toasted. How many Snowcones did you have?” She didn’t give him a chance to answer. “Besides, it’s easier to talk when you’re not driving. And you’re going to talk.”

He staggered a little on his way to the truck. She practically manhandled him into the passenger seat, then took the keys and slipped into the driver’s seat. She steered down the long cypress-lined drive, away from the twinkle lights and almost-melted ice sculptures.

When they reached the main street, a two-lane country road with no streetlights, she finally spoke. “Okay, Ben. What’s going on? I’ve never seen you like this.”

“There’s a lot you’ve never seen,” he muttered. “Because you left.”

She tightened her hands on the steering wheel. “Yeah, I left. But this isn’t about me, is it? I wasn’t the only one who left. You’re angry with your mother, aren’t you?”

“No.”

Julie didn’t believe that for a minute. “She left you guys behind. She left Aiden, she left you. Of course you’re angry.”

“I’m not fucking angry.”

“Then why do you sound so angry?”

“Because you’re holding me hostage in my own truck.”

She jerked the wheel to the side so the truck veered onto the shoulder. She leaned over him and opened the passenger-side door. “Fine. Then get out. You might as well, because if you’re not going to tell me what’s really on your mind, what’s the point of all this?”

He gave her a burning look, then flung himself out of the truck. He interlaced his hands behind his neck and tilted his head back. The night sky was so clear it seemed to be showering stars on him.

Right now, he was probably wishing he was up there, in the sky, where he was happiest.

And she was wishing she’d kept her mouth shut. What right did she have to demand that he talk? None. They were casual lovers and old friends. Former sweethearts. That didn’t mean he owed her anything, any explanation or baring of his soul.

She dropped her forehead onto the steering wheel. A black sadness filled her. What was left for her and Ben? She had no idea.

She felt a brush of air against her side, then his low voice sent a current of awareness through her. “It was that night. When Dad died. I let Mom down…and I hate myself for it.”