1. Claire

CHAPTER ONE

CLAIRE

" D ammit, not again."

The spreadsheet froze mid-calculation as my screen blinked out. Darkness swallowed the room, save for the faint glow of my phone. I swiped it open, the sudden brightness searing my retinas.

Eight percent battery. Great.

My chair creaked as I leaned back, rubbing my eyes beneath my glasses. The power had flickered a handful of time since the snow started falling hours ago. The wind howled outside, rattling windows that hadn't been updated since they were installed while dinosaurs still walked the planet. I pulled my chunky sweater tighter, snuggling in against the draft.

"C'mon, power, don't fail me now."

Silence answered. No telltale hum of electricity springing to life. Just the whistling wind and my muttered curses.

Exactly the reasons why I'd held off on winter bookings. My friends had been the sacrificial lambs for the artist retreat I planned to run in small-town Colorado, and even they would have complained about freezing to death.

I fumbled for the flashlight in my desk drawer, nearly knocking over my cooling mug of tea in the process. The beam cut through the gloom, illuminating dust motes swirling in the air.

I nearly jumped out of my skin when I turned and caught a shadowy figure lurking in the corner.

Just decoration. Not a real intruder.

The chubby Santa had been Grandpa's favorite holiday decoration. For some strange reason, I thought the double fisted bottles of beer were the winning details, not old Saint Nick's penchant for reverse robbery.

A lump formed in my throat. This time last year, we'd been stringing up lights in his assisted living condo, his weathered hands carefully untangling the cords without breaking the bulbs. Now those same decorations sat in worn cardboard and his house—mine, now—felt empty without him grumping about something.

I shook my head, pushing the memories aside. No time for nostalgia when there was a power outage to deal with.

Navigating the creaky floorboards, I made my way to the frosty window. A blanket of snow covered the ground and weighed down the branches of evergreen trees. In the distance, the lights of Mill Creek twinkled like fallen stars.

At least they still had power.

A gust of wind sent a shiver down my spine and put my rear in gear. The staircase was a minefield of creaks and squeaks, each step groaning beneath my feet as I made my way downstairs.

Note to self: add ‘fix death-trap stairs' to the ever-growing list of renovations. Broken necks weren't exactly the welcome I'd promised my future guests.

The beam of light danced across the archway leading into the parlor, but I skirted around the corner into the great room. The big stone fireplace guided me like a beacon to future warmth and light.

Only, someone had forgotten to fill the log rack among the thousand other tasks that all popped into emergency existence at the very worst moments.

With a very deserved whine, I tugged on my boots and zipped up my coat. Time to brave the elements.

I opened the front door, wincing as the bitter wind slapped my face. The porch creaked under my feet as I made my way to the woodpile, now a lumpy, snow-covered mound. I brushed away the snow, and froze when I caught a flash of movement from the corner of my eye.

There, at the edge of the property, a familiar shape materialized through the flurries. The stray dog. I'd first spotted him the weekend I moved in, and every few days since. He was huge, and frankly, I wouldn't have minded if he came with a cask of brandy around his neck at that moment.

Snow dusted his shaggy brown coat, and his ears perked in my direction.

"Hey, buddy." I kept my voice soft. "Come here. It's okay."

The dog's tail wagged once, twice, but he made no move to approach. His eyes—the brightest green I've seen on a dog—watched me warily. I'd asked about him in town, but no one knew if he had an owner, or admitted to seeing him at all.

"You can't stay out here, buddy." I took a step forward. The dog retreated. "Dammit, come inside with me. I'll get a fire going, we can snuggle..."

He darted back into the trees, and I heaved a sigh. I hoped he had a warm spot to ride out the storm.

I gathered an armful of logs and hustled back inside, kicking the door shut behind me with more force than necessary. I piled kindling and logs in the fireplace just as Grandpa taught me, then struck a match.

Another. And a third.

"Come on, you stupid logs," I muttered. "Work with me here."

I blew gently on the embers, willing them to life. A tendril of smoke curled upward, teasing me with the promise of warmth. Then nothing. The wood stubbornly refused to catch.

"Screw this."

I rocked back on my heels and dug my phone out of my pocket. Eight percent battery life had dwindled to six.

Outside, the snow fell harder. Inside, the temperature steadily dropped.

If I turned my head just right, I could catch the warm glow of Tall Pines Diner beckoning through the window.

Decision made, I bundled up. Coat, hat, boots. I grabbed my keys, hesitating at the door. The thought of trudging through the storm made my bones ache, but the promise of hot coffee and greasy fries won out over pride.

The harsh wind bit at my exposed skin as I stepped out onto the porch. I flicked on the flashlight and stomped my way into the yard.

A pair of green eyes gleamed in the tree line, watching me.

"Hey, buddy." My voice barely carried over the howling gale. "C'mere."

The dog's tail wagged once, hesitant. His ears pricked forward, but he made no move to approach.

Dammit. I bit my lip, weighing my options. Leave the poor thing to fend for itself? Or...

"I must be losing it."

Back inside, I made a beeline for the kitchen. The fridge light illuminated a sorry state of affairs—wilted lettuce, dubious leftovers, and... bingo. I grabbed the bag of shredded cheese. There wouldn't exactly be any guilty pleasure late-night nachos when the power remained stubbornly inoperable.

Back on the porch, I waved the bag. "Look what I've got. Yummy cheese."

The dog cocked his head, those bright green eyes fixed on me. For a moment, I swore I saw amusement in that canine gaze.

"Don't judge me," I muttered. "I'm trying here."

I tossed a handful of shreds onto the snow. The wind caught most of it, scattering orange confetti across the yard. Fan-freaking-tastic.

The dog huffed, a sound almost like laughter, then turned and trotted toward the tree line.

"Hey, wait!"

Before I could think better of it, I stalked after him. The wind whipped at my face, the snow crunching beneath my boots as I stumbled into the forest. I tugged my scarf higher and swiped the hair from my face.

"When I catch you," I muttered, "you're getting a bath. And a flea dip. Then probably all of my good cheese, you little shit."

The beam cut through the darkness, catching glints off the dog's eyes as he looked back at me. As I drew closer, he darted deeper into the woods.

"Seriously?" I muttered, pushing through low-hanging branches. Snow showered down, finding its way into the gap between my collar and neck. I shivered, gritting my teeth. "You better appreciate this, Fido."

Silence. Just the howl of wind creaking through snow-covered branches.

I plowed forward, snow crunching under my boots. My breath misted in front of me, my heart thumping in my chest as I struggled against the wind. The trees seemed to close in, dark shadows dancing at the edges of the light.

The beam of my flashlight caught glimmers of paw prints, rapidly filling with fresh powder. I trudged onward, following the vanishing trail deeper into the woods.

"Here, boy!" My voice barely carried. "Free food, warm bed. Can't beat that offer!"

No playful bark answered. No wagging tail emerged from the gloom. Just an endless sea of white.

"Fuck."

I sagged against a tree, the rough bark biting into my shoulder. This was insane. I was chasing a stray dog through a blizzard, armed with nothing but a dying phone and a bag of shredded cheese. If Grandpa could see me now, he'd laugh himself silly and order me back indoors.

"Screw it." I shoved the cheese back into my pocket. "Sorry, pup. Stay warm."

I turned, ready to retrace my steps. But where moments ago there had been a clear path, now there was only pristine snow. My heart rate kicked up a notch.

It was fine. I'd only been walking for what, fifteen minutes? Twenty, tops. I just had to head back the way I'd come and follow the lights into Mill Creek as soon as I spotted them. Simple.

I trudged forward, my legs growing heavier with each step. Cold seeped through my jeans, my coat, my gloves. The wind seemed to shift, blowing directly into my face no matter which way I turned. Snow plastered my glasses, rendering them useless.

Disoriented and chilled to the bone, I stumbled. My foot caught on something—a root, a rock, who knew—and I pitched forward. I threw out my hands to catch myself and plunged elbow-deep into the snow, pain jolting through my wrist.

"Shit!" I pushed myself to my knees, cradling my throbbing hand against my chest. Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, immediately freezing on my lashes.

This was bad. This was very, very bad.

I fumbled for my phone with numb fingers. The screen flickered to life, revealing a measly four percent battery. And of course, no signal.

Panic clawed at my throat. I spun, searching for any hint of my path. The snow had erased it all, leaving a blank canvas of white. The beam of my flashlight lit up exactly nothing but swirling flakes and more trees.

"Shit." The word escaped in a puff of vapor. "Shit, shit, shit."

I stumbled forward, breath coming in quick gasps. Which way was Briar House? The diner? Any sign of civilization?

This couldn't be happening. I wasn't going to die in some ridiculous, self-inflicted Lifetime-movie moment.

A branch snapped nearby. I whirled, nearly losing my balance again.

"Hello?" My voice came out as a pathetic croak. "Is someone there?"

The heavy crunch of footsteps in the snow drew closer. I squinted through the flurries, my glasses nearly useless.

A shadow loomed, materializing from the whiteout. Tall. Broad-shouldered. For a heart-stopping moment, I imagined Derek's dealer coming to finish me.

The figure approached with his hands out placatingly, and I stared into a pair of familiar warm brown eyes. I knew him. Or at least, I knew of him. I'd spotted him around town. At the gas station, filling up a beat-up SUV. In Tall Pines, nursing a coffee for hours. Even at the hardware store, hefting lumber like it weighed nothing.

And always, always watching me.

"You shouldn't be out here," he said, his voice a low rumble that felt like a finger trailing down my spine. "It's not safe."

I opened my mouth to respond, but my teeth chattered too hard to form words.

He frowned, concern etching lines across his forehead as he shoved a dark lock of hair out of his eyes. "You're freezing. We need to get you somewhere warm."

Without waiting for a response, he shrugged off his coat and draped it over my shoulders. The residual heat from his body enveloped me, and I fought the urge to burrow into the fabric.

"T-thanks," I stammered. "My power went out, and I was trying to get to the diner, but I got turned around."

He nodded, his gaze sweeping over me. "You're a long way from Tall Pines."

"I, uh... got lost," I mumbled. Heat crept into my cheeks. How could I explain I'd been chasing a stray dog with a bag of cheese?

His lips twitched, amusement dancing in his eyes. "Happens to the best of us. Come on, let's get you out of this storm."

I felt a rush of relief mixed with a twinge of apprehension. On one hand, getting out of this storm sounded heavenly. On the other, following a stranger to his home wasn't exactly the smartest move.

Another gust of wind whipped around us, and I drew my coat and my rescuer's tighter around my body. I'd share a big, slobbery kiss with my worst enemy if it meant we got out of the cold.

"I'm Claire," I said, teeth chattering. Still, polite is polite, and I held out my hand. "And you are?"

He hesitated, his gaze flickering between my face and my outstretched hand. For a moment, I saw… I don't know. Longing? Wariness? Then it was gone, replaced with a crooked smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

"Kai," he answered, taking my hand. I swore I saw him draw in a sharp breath, his pupils blowing wide. He jerked his chin over his shoulder as he continued, "My place isn't far."