Chapter One

All I want for Christmas is to be alone.

That should be easy, considering I am alone–newly divorced, no kids, or really any other living familial relationships to speak of. But that's not good enough. No, I want alone-alone. I don't even want to risk the chance of running into a neighbor on Christmas day. So alone, someone would have to climb a mountain to find me.

If I'm going to be single for the rest of my life, I want to learn to enjoy it. And what a better opportunity than during my most favorite holiday–Christmas!

That's why I rented a cabin on top of Mount Winter Bliss, in the middle of nowhere, where someone does, in fact, have to climb a mountain to reach me.

Well, that's not the only reason I chose this particular location. It was the only rental I could afford with my meager teacher's salary. I"ve had to tighten my budget now that I have no one to split the bills with. Not that Jeremy ever "split bills" with me in the ten years we were married, but the few hundred dollars he brought in here and there from his short stints of employment was a good buffer. Now that I'm paying for everything by myself, including an overpriced apartment in the most expensive city in Idaho, I have to steal scoops of peanut butter from the teacher's lounge just to make it to payday.

I make a mental note to buy Mrs. Jones a whole Costco pallet of peanut butter once I'm financially stable enough to afford a Costco membership.

Sure,someone who can't afford a Costco membership probably shouldn't be going on vacation. Anyone who says money can't buy happiness has never had to live paycheck to paycheck. And considering how shitty my life has been lately, I need a lot of happiness to fill the void.

This place is straight out of a Hallmark movie,I think as I drive through Winter Bliss"s main street. The town is so small, I'll miss it if I blink. But what it lacks in size, it makes up for in absolute cuteness. It's decked out in holiday decor—Christmas lights, giant snowflakes hanging from lampposts, and paper maché flames to represent the upcoming demon holiday, the Advent of the Honest. I pass by a quaint brown-stone library and gasp.

"Turn right on Last Hour Road," Siri chimes, dragging my attention back to the road before I run over a townie.

I sigh. I want to pop into that library so badly, but I need to get to the cabin before it starts to get dark. It's only noon, but nighttime comes early in the winter. Boo.

I continue on my path, taking a right once the light turns green.

"Keep on this path for another mile."

After white knuckling my steering wheel for the past hour and praying a patch of black ice doesn't send me off the edge of a cliff to my untimely death, I'm finally here.

Rounding the bend, I prepare myself to be awe-struck by the scenery. The week before break, as I played Christmas movie after Christmas movie to keep my students entertained, I spent my time on the booking's website in between grading papers, gazing longingly at my cabin. The pictures were imprinted on my brain by the time school excused us for winter break.

The pictures inside the cabin were nice: floor to ceiling windows, heated flooring, a rain-head shower. Okay, nice is putting it lightly. It's freaking awesome. But it was the surrounding forest that captured my attention. So lush, so vibrant; it felt like I was staring at the cover of the National Geographic: Christmas tree edition.

So far, the drive has been pretty disappointing. The forest has been threadbare, and I know I shouldn't be so judgmental considering it's the dead of winter, but these trees have seen some better days—nothing like my National Geographic trees, not even distant relatives.

It's okay,I remind myself. You probably have to drive to the top where the cabin is to find the really stellar views.

My mouth widens into a grin as I round the corner. Here we go. Prepare to have your socks knocked off, Holly—

My heart plummets a thousand leagues. As my car creeps closer to my destination, the Douglas firs surrounding the road start to thin out and then disappear, until only blackened, naked tree trunks surround the road. Not a branch of green to be seen anywhere. This can't be right. I must have taken a wrong turn somewhere.

My heart hardens with icy dread as a cabin at the end of the road comes into view. No . . . No. This is all wrong. This is not the "luxury cabin with majestic mountain views" that I booked. The building at the end of the road sits somewhere between a shack and a fancy outhouse. Cabin is too generous of a word for whatever that thing is. The roof is uneven and sags a little too dangerously to the left. There's a foot of snow on the roof already, and I stare at it warily, as if waiting for it to cave at any moment.

I park in front of Krampus's vacation home. I don't bother turning off my engine. All I'm going to do is double-check my map, realize Siri glitched out and made a huge mistake, and carry on down the road to the correct location.

"You have arrived at your destination,"Siri intones a beat too late, thanks to the mountain's slow service. I ignore her and study the map pulled up on my screen, grateful I had the hindsight to download it before I left. She may be a supercomputer with infinite knowledge, but she doesn't know everything.

My entire body turns cold—colder than my toes shoved into my too-tight winter boots—as I study the map . . . Oh my gosh, Siri's right. This is it. This is the place.

I lift my head and scrutinize the cabin some more, trying to find the similarities with the one I booked online. But they look nothing alike.

I curse under my breath. I've been catfished by a cabin, haven't I? I've heard of plenty of people being catfished on dating sites, but being catfished by a rental property? That's new.

Maybe it looked better when it was first built? I squint at the building until it blurs into a brown blob, trying to imagine what it might have looked like in the beginning, without years of bad weather eroding away at the wood, turning the cedar splotchy. I wrinkle my nose. I can almost smell the wet rot from here.

I open my phone screen and try to message the host, but after thumping the screen for a few moments, waiting for the rotating circle to spin faster, I realize it's pointless. How am I supposed to complain to this guy with no cellular connection?

I rest my head against the steering wheel as the words "No Service" flash across my screen. I could drive back down the mountain, call the host, and demand a refund. That is, if he answers. I'm too far away from Boise to drive home, and considering how crowded the streets were in Winter Bliss, I doubt there are any hotel rooms available.

I close my eyes against the burn of tears. I am smart, or I like to think I am. I'm smart enough to teach English to a room full of high schoolers, and yet, why hadn't I been smart enough to notice the giant red flag? Of course I can"t afford a four-night stay at a luxury cabin in the mountains. I can barely afford to live. I should have known this trip was too good to be true when I told the young faerie bagging my groceries just a few hours earlier I was staying at Mount Winter Bliss for the holidays, and he stopped and asked, "You mean Mount BZB, right?"

The little town sits nestled between two mountain ranges, Mount Winter Bliss and Mount BZB. The name makes me think Mount Winter Bliss is a winter wonderland. The name, BZB, sounds like a place where nightmares are born. Of course I"m not staying there.

"No? It"s Mount Winter Bliss," I replied.

He grimaced as he handed me my plastic bags. "Good luck, lady."

I should have known. I"m such a dummy! Mount Winter Bliss is a barren wasteland with no cell service. A place where all Christmas dreams go to die. Specifically, my Christmas dream.

Well, looking on the bright side, I still got my wish. I'm alone-alone. If that"s my only silver lining, then I"m clinging to it.

So alone that no one will hear your final scream when the roof collapses on you in the middle of the night—

I open my car door and climb out before I lose my nerve. I don't have any other options at this point, do I? I have to stay here, at least for one night. I can drive back to town in the morning and figure out a plan then. As long as I survive the night.

I head to the back of the car to grab my suitcase, slamming the trunk shut. I'll grab the groceries in the backseat later. They might keep better in the car, anyway. I doubt this place has electricity.

Outside of my Honda, I take in my surroundings. I notice how charred the trees around the cabin are, more so than the ones leading up to the property. Everything is scorched, except for that poor excuse of a cabin. How that upgraded outhouse survived a forest fire is beyond me. I'm sure there's some explanation. I spent a lot of time camping with my dad growing up—we were too poor to do anything else—and when he wasn"t busy getting drunk by the campfire, he was spouting nature facts like a walking-talking encyclopedia with no off-button. He taught me everything about the outdoors. How fires burn faster uphill rather than downhill, or how you should always tie your food and garbage up in a tree at night so it doesn"t attract bears, but nothing to explain why the cabin was left without a mark. It makes no sense.

Something grunts behind me and the small hairs on my neck stand at attention. I whirl around, expecting to see an elk or even a bear. I let out a small breath of relief when I whip around and see the creature behind me only has two legs. He steps out of the tree line, and I get a better look. Not an animal, but not another human, either. Too tall and broad to be human. He's a demon; the large sweeping horns and deep red skin are a dead giveaway.

As he approaches, my heart stops and then stutters back to life. He"s . . . hot. I take in his body before I register his face, which makes sense since I need to crane my neck all the way back to see anything above his neck. He's wearing an open flannel, revealing his bare torso and a patch of dark chest hair. His pecs are so defined, his chest is bigger than mine, and although he's got a soft stomach, I can tell this demon is hardy. Not strong, but hardy. These aren"t showy gym muscles. This is a man who works in the woods, and it shows. His arms and thighs are almost as thick as the tree trunk he's carrying on his shoulder.

I think he's got a handsome face to match that hot bod, but it's honestly hard to tell. Most of his head is hidden under a dark, bushy beard and long, tangled hair that falls around his shoulders. The only features I can make out are the glossy ram's horns sprouting out of his head and his long, crooked nose.

A shiver skitters down my spine once he reaches me. He gives me a once-over as well, and a million questions run through my mind.

Who are you?

What are you doing here in the middle of the woods?

Why are you so hot? Am I attracted to you because you're the first man I've seen half-naked since my ex-husband? Because if I'm being honest, I usually don't go for the rugged, mountain-dweller type.

And most important: Are you going to kill me with that ax looped in your belt?

When I open my mouth, the teacher in me blurts out: "Where's your coat? It's freezing out here!" I'm wearing two layers of socks, and I'm still cold.

He doesn't respond.His eyes narrow with disdain, like I parked in his teacher of the month parking spot.

I swallow hard. Okay, awkward. "Can you tell me if I'm in the right place? I rented a cabin and—"

The demon shifts the giant log on his shoulder. "Holly?" he asks in a gravelly voice, like he just learned to speak and his vocal cords are still getting used to the strain.

I blink. His voice is so raspy, I almost don't recognize my own name. Crap. This means I am in the right place. My shoulders sag forward. "Yeah. That's me. Did the host ask you to meet me here?" I don't remember the owner's profile picture, some old human dude, definitely not a gruff, sexy demon. I tend to remember those sorts of things.

The demon grunts. Neither a yes nor a no. Without another word or grunt, he heads past me, towards the cabin, so I take that as a sign that yes, the host did in fact send him, and I start to follow him as fast as I can while pulling a rolling suitcase through two-foot high snow.

By the time I reach him waiting on the porch, I'm exhausted, and my entire back is sticky with sweat. He drops the log next to him on the ground and I wince, expecting the floor beneath us to cave in. He turns his back to me and unlocks the door.

"You know, when I've stayed at other rentals," I say between huffs as I catch my breath, "they usually just leave their key under the mat for me. I've never had someone meet me at the property before." Not that this place needs a key. It's so unsturdy, all it needs is one huff and puff from a big bad wolf to knock it down.

He gives me another noncommittal grunt as he opens the door.

"Don't get me wrong, it's a nice touch," I backpedal. I don't mean to offend him. I doubt he wants to be here either. "Makes it more personable. That's why I prefer to stay in rentals rather than hotels . . . They feel homier, you know?" He turns back, and I smile, hoping it's enough to smooth things over.

His frown deepens as my smile slowly wanes. He glares at me like I just cursed him and his entire family. Did I accidentally offend him? I rack my brain, searching for an explanation. I teach plenty of demon students, and we take a seminar at the beginning of school every year to review different cultures and customs, but nothing comes to mind. If anyone should be offended, it's me.

"The bathroom is there," he says, jerking his chin somewhere in the distance. Somewhere not inside the cabin. I follow the direction with my eyes and my mouth falls open when I see an outhouse tucked away behind some trees which, not to my surprise, is a smaller version of the cabin. The website failed to mention that under the cabin's amenities.

He enters the cabin, and I reluctantly follow, picking up my suitcase so it doesn't catch in the doorway. It's cramped, dark, and colder in here than it is outside. I can't help but feel like I'm walking into the first act of a horror movie. The nerd always dies last, at least.

"Why is it so cold?" I ask. "Does the heat not work?"

The demon motions to an empty, dusty fireplace filled with cobwebs. I cringe. How does anyone live like this?

As I move closer inside and my eyes adjust to the dark, I realize the place isn't so bad. Not as cute as the pictures, but the handmade furniture and bear-skin rug in front of the fireplace is charming in a rugged way. Maybe this trip won't be completely miserable.

"You sleep here," he says, gesturing to the twin bed pushed up against the wall. He points to a closed door on the other side of the room and glances at me. "I'm in there. That room is off limits to guests."

My suitcase slips out of my arms and falls in front of my feet with a loud thunk. The latch snaps open, vomiting clothes, underwear, and vibrator all over the floor. But I don't care. I'm ready to bludgeon him with said vibrator. I square my shoulders and stalk over to him until our chests are almost touching. I crane my neck up. "I'm sorry, I didn't hear you correctly," I say in my most teacherly voice. The one I use before I'm about to lose my shit on my students. "What did you just say?"

His features soften enough for the animosity to disappear. He blinks down at me. "You sleep in here. I sleep in there."

"No. Just no."

The demon arches an eyebrow at me. "No?"

I point an accusatory finger at him. I'm fun-sized compared to him, my finger only reaches his neck. "Indoor plumbing is one thing, but I am not sharing my cabin with you. I wouldn't have booked it in the first place if I knew I'd be sharing a room with a stranger. The whole reason I booked a cabin in the middle of the woods was to be alone! This is not alone! I didn't agree to stay in a hostel like some—like some college student!"

He studies my finger for a moment, like an annoying fly buzzing around his food, but he's too lazy to grab the fly swatter. He takes a step back away from me and lifts his huge hands in defense. "Don't yell at me, lady. I'm just the groundskeeper. I didn't write the ad. And we're not sharing a room. There's a door. With a lock."

I lower my finger and exhale a shaky breath. I don't remember ever feeling this mad before. All I can see is red, but maybe that's because he's red and his body takes up two-thirds of this cramped room. I step away, bending down to pick up all my stuff.

"Unbelievable," I murmur, as I shove everything back into my suitcase. I slam it shut but the latch doesn't click. Just my luck. It's broken. I pull myself off the ground, balancing my half-open suitcase under my arm as best I can without dumping all my stuff on the floor again. There's still a sock on the floor, but I don't care. I give the demon one last hard look. "Well, you don't have to worry about it because I'm leaving. I would rather freeze to death in my car than stay a night here. Merry-freaking-Christmas." I turn on my heels, and start marching towards the exit.