I narrowed my eyes at him. “What kind of a gang did you say you joined? And what did she mean by animal?”

  The large man rubbed the back of his neck. “How about I get you out of here first. Then maybe you’ll allow me to explain a few things and help you make a plan.”

  When Wyatt suggested getting out, I thought he meant leaving the small police station and hiding out in the Break Room. Instead, he surprised me by taking me to his place. I stood in front of a rather impressively large log cabin isolated in the woods. Just like the interior of his business, the exterior of his house held no trace of Christmas.

  He fumbled with his keys, and I grew a little nervous. “Listen, I know we’ve spent more time together than most strangers do in the first twenty-four hours after they’ve met, but I don’t think I’m ready to—”

  “Relax,” he interrupted me, gripping the key fob in his hand. “I’m not gonna ask you inside.” With a press of a button, the garage door slid open. “I think you could use a real break from everything, and I have an idea of a way to let you lose yourself if only for a few moments. Wait right here, if you want.”

  He disappeared inside and left me alone with only my thoughts as company. The longer I stood by myself, getting colder by the moment, the more I started to freak out over the deal that I’d made…with Mrs. Freaking Claus! If I succeeded, I earned my life back. But my head came up with a thousand and one different ways I would fail. Glancing around me, I searched for the easiest escape route.

  Something electric hummed to life inside the garage, and I jumped a little at the sudden noise. A bright light aimed in my direction as Wyatt drove a great big snowmobile, with two skis underneath the front, out of his garage and slowly approached me. He lifted the helmet off his head, and I longed to brush my fingers through his mussed hair.

  “You wanna let the wind blow your troubles away for a little while?” he asked with the goofiest grin on his face.

  “Not too fast,” I said, clutching my arms about my waist. “Knowing my luck, I’d fall off the back and you’d be long gone before you ever noticed.”

  “Oh, I’d notice,” Wyatt declared. He dismounted and handed me my own helmet. “But you better wear this just in case you do.”

  I scrunched my nose at him in fake anger and place the helmet over my head. It covered my entire face, and for a second I felt a little claustrophobic.

  He placed his own helmet back on. “Can you hear me?” Wyatt’s voice crackled through some speakers inside.

  I jolted in surprise and giggled at my reaction. “Yeah. You’re coming in loud and clear.”

  “Good. Now, I can tell you about the things we pass,” he said, patting the seat behind him.

  With a huge lack of grace, I managed to straddle the machine and settle in behind him. “What do I hold onto?”

  “Here are the handgrips,” he pointed out. “You’ll want to pay attention to what I do. If I lean, you lean with me. Keep seated behind me at all times, and don’t extend your arms or legs out. Wouldn’t want them taken off by a branch.”

  “This sounds really dangerous,” I complained, debating whether or not to trust the big guy.

  He held his right hand over his heart. “I promise to take good care of you. And at any point and time you want to stop, you just let me know. But I have a feeling you’ll be begging me to go faster long before you ask me to stop.”

  “We’ll see,” I said, making sure to grab the handgrips firmly. “You’d better go before I lose my nerve.”

  With a low chuckle that filled my helmet, Wyatt got back on the front of the snowmobile. “Okay, here we go.”

  The vehicle lurched forward, and I gripped my hands even tighter, squeezing my eyes shut. The wind rushed past me, and a little shriek of fear squeaked out of me.

  “Open your eyes, Rory,” Wyatt commanded.

  “How do you know they’re closed?” I responded, trying my best to find my bravery.

  “Because if you were looking, you wouldn’t be making a sound like a scared little mouse. Just trust me,” he pleaded.

  I allowed one eye to see, but as soon as I took in the view, both of them remained wide open. Fresh snow covered every inch of the land we flew over, but in my short time in Holiday Haven, I’d never noticed how beautiful everything really was.

  We drove through untouched drifts, the tracks of the snowmobile’s skis the only evidence of any life. Instead of telling me what everything was, Wyatt allowed me to enjoy the ride all on my own. He slalomed through a grove of pine trees until my laughter filled his ears. We climbed up a large hill until we reached a cliff that overlooked the entire town.

  He cut the engine and hopped off. With strong hands, he helped me dismount, and then pulled off my helmet. The frigid air chilled my face, but the adrenaline coursing through my veins kept me from being too cold.

  “You were right,” I exclaimed, my breath coming out in puffs of steam.

  Wyatt put a hand to his ear. “I’m sorry, I didn’t quite catch that. Could you repeat it?”

  I smacked his arm in play. “I said you’re really annoying.”

  “Because I’m right.” He wiggled his eyebrows at me. “I knew you would like the ride.”

  “I really did,” I admitted to him and myself. “I guess I should have known a biker like you would have one of these.”

  Wyatt puffed out his chest. “Once a bad boy, always a bad boy.” He looked up at the sky. “We’ll head back before it gets fully dark. But first, there’s one thing I really want to show you. Oh, and once you see it, don’t run.”

  I wrinkled my nose. “Whatever it is you have to show me, I doubt anything will make me run at this point.”

  “We’ll see,” he said, placing his helmet on top of his seat and shrugging out of his jacket.

  “Uh…Wyatt?” I asked as he pulled his sweater up and over his head. “I take it back. If you get nekkid, I can’t be held responsible for my actions.” I blocked my view with my hand.

  “Just give me a moment,” he requested. “I didn’t bring a change of clothes with me, so I don’t want to rip what I’ve got. Count down from ten and then uncover your eyes.”

  For some reason, I did as he asked, saying the numbers out loud and ignoring the familiar sound of a zipper and pants being pulled down. As I got closer to the number one, a strange energy electrified the air, and I dared to peek just a second early.

  The man I’d been talking to threw his head back with his mouth wide open. With a grunt, he lurched forward, and massive amounts of black fur exploded out of his skin. Two enormous paws instead of hands hit the ground, and steam rose from the exterior of a very large and intimidating black bear standing where Wyatt used to be.

  The animal chuffed and stomped on the ground a few times. It wiggled snow off its body with one big head-to-tail shake. When it turned in my direction, deep green eyes stared back at me.

  “Wyatt?” I asked in a shrill voice.

  The bear chuffed and grunted again. It lumbered toward me, and all of my instincts begged me to move my feet.

  “Don’t run, don’t run, don’t run,” I kept repeating to myself through gritted teeth, squeezing my hands into fists in determination. “Even if there’s a great big black bear that could eat me in one bite coming over, Wyatt said don’t run.”

  The animal approached and stood right in front of me. It turned to its side, giving me a full view of its entire body. I reached out a tentative hand, wondering if I was breaking any etiquette by my great desire to touch him.

  As if sensing my hesitation, the bear shuffled closer to me until its dense fur rested underneath my palm. Taking a deep breath, I gathered up all my bravery and allowed myself to pet the giant beast. I stroked the thick, coarse hair as if the bear in front of me were a tame dog. And yet, I could swear I heard a rumble reverberate in his chest.

  “Silly boy,” I said, gaining more confidence. “Bears don’t purr.”

  The animal turned its head so he could look at me. I stared into its green eyes and found comfort in the depths of them. He moved his head until he nudged against my touch and rested under my fingers. With a soft chuckle, I gave his ginormous noggin a good scratch, earning grunts of satisfaction.

  With deliberate care, the bear padded away from me, putting some distance between us. The same energy I’d felt before crackled through the air, and I covered my eyes to give him a little privacy. The growls of the animal morphed into the groans of a man.

  After a few tense minutes, Wyatt spoke in a raspy tone. “It’s okay. You can look again.”

  I peeked through my fingers and found him pulling his sweater back over his head. The fitness of his body had me drooling a little before he hid it under his clothes.

  A little heat rushed through my body, and I tried to cover it up since he was watching me. “That was…”

  “Scary?” he asked, picking up his jacket from the back of the snowmobile.

  I shook my head. “New, but not scary. I should have guessed you were a shifter when you told me you helped take down that gang. Why else would wardens and the IMP get involved? Plus, I’m learning that Holiday Haven is really living up to its name. It’s a sanctuary where anybody with an ounce of magic is welcome.”

  He broke into a wide grin. “Now you’re getting it!”

  Taking my hand, he dragged me out to the rocks at the edge of the overlook. He found a perfect spot where we could both sit down and look over the entire town. As the afternoon sun set, some of the lights from the houses and businesses twinkled back at us.

  “Worth it?” Wyatt asked, bumping against me with his shoulder.

  “Totally,” I replied, nudging him back.

  We sat in companionable silence, watching the colors change in the sky and more lights illuminate in the town center. The big Christmas tree with the star on top stood out in all its glory.

  “I thought you could use a visit to my personal thinking spot,” he said. “I used to come here to sulk when I was new to Holiday Haven. Thinking about the choices I’d made and how I missed my family. But little by little, I saw that I was the one isolating myself from all of them.” He gestured at the town in front of us.

  “How long did it take you?” I asked in an almost whisper.

  Wyatt grunted. “Looking back on it, I think a little too long. I’m grateful for the friends I have now.”

  Looking out at Holiday Haven, I thought about my life up until this very moment. “I’ve been alone for so long,” I admitted, sniffling a little.

  He pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and handed it to me like a true Southern gentleman. “I find that hard to believe since you’ve already got some loyal buddies in such a short time.”

  “Just one. Vale’s really awesome. I think she’s kind of adopted me,” I said, wiping the tears from my face. “She has the kind of family I’ve always dreamed about.”

  “The Sugarplums are good people,” Wyatt agreed. “But I wasn’t talking about just her.”

  I frowned. “Who else?”

  “Girl, I don’t take shots of my moonshine with just anybody. And your roommate is pretty soft on you, too.” He pushed a strand of my hair out of my face and tucked it behind my ear.

  “What about Amos?” I asked, raising my eyebrow.

  “Well,” Wyatt drawled. “He’s a tougher nut to crack, no matter how hard Nutty and me have tried.”

  I snorted. “So, a half elf, a bear shifter, a crazy squirrel, and a moody old man?”

  “Welcome to the Humbugs!” he declared with a chuckle.

  Thinking about each of them, a warm fuzzy feeling grew in my heart. “Oh my goodness, I’ve got friends. Plural.”

  “So, now you know you’re not all alone in this new challenge you’ve taken on.” Wyatt stuck his fist out for me to bump it. “Come on, don’t leave me hanging.”

  I knocked my own fist against his. “Go Team Humbug.”

  We devolved into silly laughter and continued to watch the sun set on our town. Despite the chill in the air, the thrill of excitement and anticipation kept me warm. Or maybe it was the presence of a hot bear shifter sitting next to me.

  Wyatt pointed at something above us. “Look up.”

  Tilting my head back, I gasped at what filled the sky. The first hint of the Northern Lights flickered like waves of color crashing above us.

  Shivering, I gazed up in wonder at the awesomeness of their beauty. “I can’t believe I live here.”

  Perhaps thinking I was cold, he placed an arm around my shoulder and pulled me closer against his warm body. “But you do,” he said. “And ain’t it grand?”

  I leaned into him, reveling in his touch and in the moment. Wyatt had made me realize that if I ran away now, I’d be leaving a whole lot behind. Maybe that had been his plan all along, but I couldn’t be mad at him for helping me see my potential for happiness. And for the first time in forever, I allowed myself to consider what I might have to run towards instead.

  Chapter Eight

  Wyatt had been right when he said I didn’t need to figure out who stole the sleigh alone. I held a meeting at the Break Room with all of my friends and a few new ones to ask for their help.

  “Let me get this straight.” Amos slammed his drink down on the table. “You think you saw Santa’s wife and that she asked you to find out what happened to his sleigh?”

  “We didn’t think we saw her. We talked to her and everything,” I insisted.

  Vale worked on opening a peanut shell from the bowlful sitting in front of my roommate. “Oh, Ms. Clara is definitely real and was there at the jailhouse. Mama called her as soon as that unpleasant security elf tried to arrest Rory.”

  I had yet to thank Vale and her family for their immediate support since I wanted to come up with something special and hadn’t thought of anything yet.

  “Putting aside whether or not you believe Mrs. Claus wants me to solve things,” I said, addressing the rest of the people sitting around. “I’ve been pondering things, and I think Clara’s right. Because of my status as an outsider, I might be able to observe more than those who are already a part of the community. And since many of you are kind of on the outside, too, I thought maybe you could help out.”

  A rock troll, appropriately named Rocky, spoke up, his voice grating like gravel. “Most everybody ignores me when I’m around, so it’ll be easy for me to listen in on conversations. Count me in.”

  Vale popped one lone peanut in her mouth and passed the other two in the shell to my roommate. “You know you don’t even have to ask. And my parents will pass on anything they overhear at the Gingerbread General.”

  Nutty stopped stuffing his face long enough to utter his usual, “Yeah, yeah, I’m in.”

  “Do you even need to ask?” Wyatt winked at me, and the eternal butterflies that kept flapping to life in my stomach ever since our snowmobile ride together flew back to life.

  Amos leaned back in his chair. “Well, I typically would keep my nose out of things. But since our debauched night out that landed us in jail—”

  “But not charged with anything,” I quickly clarified.

  “Right. Since that time,” the old man continued, “I have decided that it’s way more fun getting into trouble than staying home alone. And besides, it might be a hoot playing the role of a spy.” He stood up and tipped his finger at the top of his head like he was wearing a hat. “Call me Pine. Amos Pine.”

  Wyatt snapped a towel at him. “You know, it might be helpful if you opened up your store on a more regular basis. That way, you can listen in on the customers.”

  Amos stuck his tongue out at his friend. “Only if you bring in more of your carvings.”

  His statement got my full attention. “What carvings?”

  “You know those two big bears that stand outside the front of the store?” Amos pointed at Wyatt. “He carved those. My work is more refined, but everyone loves those log statues.”

  I had noticed them. Every time I walked past the wooden sculptures, I stopped to marvel at how much life had been captured in the subtle lines and strokes down the face of the wood. They had even given me a thought about what I might be able to do if I could just master my own magic.

  The bar owner’s cheeks got a little pink under his facial stubble. “I just took the whittling my grandpappy taught me how to do and turned it into a bigger hobby, ’s’all.”

  “Well, that hobby of yours tends to bring in the customers and a pretty penny, which I give to you, minus my commission.” Amos crossed his arms. “I’ll open up if you bring me whatever you’ve been working on lately.”

  Wyatt thought about the offer for a moment. He slung the towel over his shoulder and extended his hand. “Deal.”

  The two men shook on it. I clapped my hands together, happy to have extra eyes and ears added to the cause, but the next problem was what to do with all the extra help. Where should we focus our efforts?

  “Motive,” Rocky grunted, interrupting my thoughts.

  “What was that?” I asked, confused.

  The rock troll cleared his throat. “Was just thinking we needed to narrow down who we were watching or listening to based on what we think the motive would be of the person—or persons—who messed with the sleigh.”

  Everybody stopped what they were doing and stared at him.

  “Well, I’ll be. That’s the most words I’ve ever heard come out of your mouth. And they ain’t half bad,” Amos complimented.

  Rocky shrugged his massive shoulders. “I like reading mystery books. It’s what the hero detective always does. Figures out who has motive and then questions the suspects.”

  “Okay, this is good. So…why would someone want the sleigh? What’s special about it?” I asked.

  Vale raised her hand. “Santa uses it to deliver gifts.”

  I pointed at her. “Good. So, how does that translate into something someone wants to take?”

  My friend bit her lips as she considered my question. “Um, maybe whoever took it wanted to deliver something themselves?”

  Wyatt took a towel from behind the bar and wiped down the chalkboard with the list of drinks on it. Picking up a broken piece of chalk, he wrote down the word Delivery on it.