Chapter 1

Milly

With snowflakes turning the night sky magical, I flip on the windshield wipers of my rental and smile. On a normal day, I would be cursing the snow, but today is not a normal day. It’s Christmas Eve, my favorite day of the year.

I glance at the clock on the dash, seeing it’s thirty minutes till midnight, which means I’m right on time to meet Harry. When I see the darkened tree farm come into view, excitement fills the pit of my stomach, the same way it does every year.

“Milly,” Harry, the owner of Smith Farms, greets as I hop out of the cab of the truck. “You lucked out this year. I’ve got some real beauties for you.”

“Thank you.” I lean up to kiss his weathered old cheek. “How much do I owe you?”

“Every year, I tell you the same thing, honey. I’m not letting you pay me for trees that would go to waste,” he says, and tears start to fill my eyes as he sighs, pulling me in for a hug. “Don’t start crying on me.”

“I won’t, but you really are the best.”

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s get you loaded up so you can get on your way.” He lets me go, and for the next ten minutes, we fill the back of the truck with twelve beautiful trees that will make a few families’ Christmas a little more special.

Once we finish, I get back in the truck and roll down the window after I start the engine. “Merry Christmas, Harry.”

“You too, Milly.” He grins as I drive out of the lot blasting “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer.”

“We wish you a Merry Christmas. We wish you—” My singing ends on a squeak as the tires on the truck I rented skid. Hitting the brakes, I hold onto the steering wheel for dear life as I fishtail, and then I scream when I drive off the side of the road down into a gully.

Panting for breath when I come to a stop, my head falls forward to rest against the steering wheel then jump when I hear a loud pop.

“No, no, no, no,” I hiss when I see smoke start to hiss out of the hood. Not wanting to blow up with the truck if it does, I quickly unhook my seatbelt and push open my door. When I hop out, I groan. With the snow we’ve had the last few days, the white stuff is up past my knees, making it difficult to walk through.

After a couple of minutes, I finally make it to the side of the road, and then I freeze there when I see the truck and exactly how much damage it’s sustained. Tears fill my eyes. There is no way it’s drivable with the front right tire almost twisted sideways, and the car rental place is definitely not open. I pull in a breath then look both ways down the pitch-black road.

As I pull my knit cap farther down on my head, I then grab my cell phone out of my pocket. When I see I don’t have any service, my head falls back to my shoulders. I want to scream at the top of my lungs and cry out my frustration, but I know neither of those things are going to help me right now.

Righting my knit cap, I take my mittens out of my pocket and start to walk. If I can get phone service, I might be able to get a hold of a tow company, and if I’m really lucky, they might have a truck I can use, so I can deliver everything before the sun rises.

I thought I knew what cold was before tonight, but with the snow beating against my face and my wet hair plastered against my skin, I know I was wrong. I’m freezing, and I’ve only been walking for twenty minutes. When lights reflect on the snow around me, I turn to look over my shoulder, feeling my stomach drop. I know the black truck coming up behind me, recognizing it immediately as belonging to Tyler Speeds, the owner of Speeds’ Bar, and the one man in Port Huron who has the ability to press my buttons—both good and bad.

As he gets closer, I pray my white jacket, cap, and mittens make me blend in with the snow, making me invisible to him as he drives by. I know my prayers aren’t going to be answered when I hear the rumble of his engine start to slow then curse myself for my sudden bad luck when he yells my name. Knowing I can’t really avoid this—and pretty sure I might be getting frostbite on my toes even with my Uggs on—I stop to face him when he pulls up next to me.

“What the hell are you doing out here, Milly?” he bites out, making me cringe as he pushes open the passenger door, which turns on the light in the cab of the truck, illuminating his beautiful face. There are not many men I would call beautiful, but there is no other way to describe Tyler—with his perfectly groomed beard, full lips, deep-brown eyes, and dark hair that tends to fall whatever way it pleases. Since I can remember, I’ve had a crush on him, and he’s always been indifferent toward me, which really sucks.

“My car broke down.” I wave my hand in the direction of the truck. “And I don’t have cell service, so I was walking toward town.” I climb into the passenger seat and hold my frozen fingertips up against the vents blowing out hot air.

“I didn’t see your Benz. The only vehicle I saw was a truck in a ditch a couple miles back.”

“That would be mine.”

“What?”

“I rented it.” I avoid looking at him as I wait for him to drive, and when he doesn’t, I sigh and turn to face him. “What?”

“Why would you rent a truck, and why the hell are you out after midnight on Christmas Eve?”

“Why are you out after midnight on Christmas Eve?” I return with a raise of my brow.

“I run a bar, Milly. We had our Christmas party tonight.”

Oh yeah, I remember hearing Tiffany talk about that when she came to the bank to deposit her paycheck. “Now why are you out, and what happened to your car?”

“Well.” I lick my lips, and his eyes drop to my mouth, making my belly dip. “It’s kinda a long story.”

“I have nowhere to be right now.” He taps his long fingers on the steering wheel, settling in like he really does have all night, when I definitely do not.

“Okay, then I’d rather not tell you.” I know the smart thing would be to tell him and ask for his help, but for four years, this has been my little secret, and I don’t want anyone to find out that I’m the person they dubbed Port Huron’s Santa.

“Milly.” His eyes narrow. “Are you in some kind of trouble?”

“Of course I’m not in trouble.”

“Then start talking, Milly.”

“Can you stop using my name like that?”

“Babe,” he growls, and I glare at him, which does absolutely no good whatsoever. “Start talking.”

“If I tell you, you have to swear not to tell anyone ever. Like, ever-ever.”

“Okay.”

“I’m serious; you can’t tell anyone.”

“I said I wouldn’t,” he replies, and I study his face for a long moment then lay it all out. I tell him that since I work at the bank, I know a lot of folks’ personal financial information and hear things while people are in my line. I explain quickly that I know I shouldn’t pry, but hearing people can’t even afford a tree or one gift for their kids makes my heart hurt, so I want to help. I tell him about the first year and how I couldn’t really afford to help more than a few families, but since then, I’ve found a way to save all year long to help a few more.

When I finish, I drop my eyes to my lap, rub my hands up and down my damp jeans, and let out a breath without looking at him. “So, this year, I have twelve families to deliver Christmas to. That’s why I rented a truck, but now that truck is in a ditch, so I need to go to town and see if I can find somewhere to get another truck from. Then I can hopefully make some magic happen in the next—” I glance at the clock, trying not to cry when I see the time. “—five hours.”

“Milly.” The way he says my name feels like a caress, and then his hand covers one of mine, engulfing it. “Look at me, baby.” I do, and my breath catches. “I don’t even know how you’ve managed to do what you’ve done.” He shakes his head. “Last year, Curt and Emilly we’re going to lose their house, and from what I head, they didn’t because of you.”

It wasn’t me. I mean, it was, but I had asked my father for money for a very expensive bag, and he gave it to me without even batting a lash, and since I already have a ton of purses, he never knew I didn’t use that money on myself. “You can’t tell anyone,” I plead, latching onto his hand.

“I won’t tell. I promise. Now tell me what we need to do.”

“We?” I repeat, feeling suddenly hot. I know I need his help, but the idea of spending the next few hours with him makes me feel anxious rather than relieved. “Umm…, you don’t have to.”

“Milly, it’s after midnight on Christmas Eve. The chances of you finding another truck to use are slim to none, so just let me help you.”

He’s right. I know he is, and if I have any chance of pulling tonight off, he’s my only hope. “Okay,” I give in. “We have to unload all the stuff in the truck. Then we need to hustle, because the sun is going to come up before we know it.”

“Right, let’s get this done.” He puts the engine in drive then spins the truck around. As we head back to my rental, I hope I can actually trust him with my secret.