Chapter Four
“All I Want for Christmas Is You... Naked”
Pax
I woke to the sound of singing.
For a disoriented moment, I thought I was dreaming. No one sang in my cabin. Ever. Then the events of the past two days crashed back into my consciousness—the storm, the woman, the near-kiss by firelight.
Pepper.
Her voice floated down from the loft, slightly muffled but unmistakable as she belted out "Jingle Bell Rock" with surprising accuracy.
The shower was running. I'd heard her padding around upstairs earlier, had feigned sleep when she'd crept down for coffee, not ready to face her after last night.
Not ready to face what had almost happened.
What I still wanted to happen.
I sat up on the couch, running a hand over my face. The fire had burned to embers overnight, and the cabin was cooler than usual. I'd given her the only extra blankets I had, making do with my sleeping bag. Worth it, if she'd been comfortable.
The power had come back on sometime before dawn—I'd heard the generator kick in and the heat cycling up. One less thing to worry about, though I'd still need to check it was running properly later.
Christ, what was happening to me?
The shower shut off, but the singing continued. She'd switched to "Santa Baby," her voice dropping an octave into a breathy purr that slithered straight down my spine.
"...think of all the fun I've missed. Think of all the fellas that I haven't kissed..."
I needed coffee. Strong coffee. And possibly a cold shower of my own.
I hauled myself off the couch and stalked to the kitchen, fixing my gaze on the coffee maker instead of the steam billowing from the partially open bathroom door upstairs.
As I measured coffee grounds, her voice turned playful, lingering over words in ways that created vivid, torturous images in my mind.
"Santa baby, forgot to mention one little thing... A ring..."
I nearly broke the carafe.
This was ridiculous. I was a grown man, a former Marine, not some teenager unable to control his hormones because a pretty woman was singing in his shower. And yet...
When I closed my eyes, all I could see was Pepper's face in the firelight, those green eyes looking up at me, her lips parted, so close. All I could feel was her soft curves against me as she'd slept, the perfect weight of her nestled against my side.
The coffee maker gurgled to life, and I forced my attention to more practical matters. Like checking the weather and making sure the generator was functioning properly after last night's outage.
I pulled back the curtains to find a transformed landscape.
The relentless wall of white had given way to gentler snowfall, the kind that featured in Christmas cards and holiday movies.
Overnight, at least two feet of fresh snow had accumulated on top of what was already there, blanketing the forest in pristine white.
The wind had died down to occasional gusts.
I poured myself a mug of fresh brew just as Pepper's singing finally stopped. A few minutes later, I heard her footsteps on the stairs.
I kept my back to her, suddenly unsure what to say. Good morning? Sleep well? Sorry I almost kissed you?
"Looks like the weather's letting up," I said finally, settling for neutral territory.
"But we're still snowed in, right?" Her voice came from closer than I expected.
I turned to find her standing at the kitchen island, dressed in the same clothes I'd lent her—my flannel shirt now knotted at her waist and the sweatpants still rolled multiple times at the ankles.
She'd managed to make my clothes look deliberately styled rather than borrowed out of necessity.
Her hair hung in damp waves around her shoulders, and without makeup, her freckles stood out across the bridge of her nose.
She looked fresh and bright and heartbreakingly appealing.
"Roads won't be plowed for at least another day," I confirmed, pushing a mug of coffee toward her. "Longer for the access road to the cabin. We're still stuck here."
Was it my imagination, or did she look relieved?
She nodded, and we fell into an odd, charged silence. The air between us felt thick.
The satellite phone's ring shattered the tension.
"That's probably Rudy," I said, grateful for the interruption. I moved to my desk and picked up the phone. "Forrester."
"Morning, mountain man! Power back on your way yet? Half the county's still dark."
"It came back a few hours ago. Generator kicked in. We're fine."
"Good to hear. How's our whistleblower holding up? Get any cabin fever yet?" I glanced at Pepper, who was pretending not to listen while sipping her coffee. "We're managing."
"Put me on speaker. I've got info about her embezzling ex."
I hesitated, then hit the speaker button. "Go ahead."
"Morning, Pepper!" Rudy's voice called out. "Heard you're still playing hide-and-seek with the mayor."
Pepper moved closer, setting her mug down beside the phone. "Good morning, Rudy. Any news I should know about?"
"Only that your instincts about Wickett were spot on. I've been digging deeper—the guy's been running shell companies for years. The toy drive is just the tip of the iceberg."
"I'm not surprised," she said, a hint of bitterness in her voice. "He was always... creative with finances."
"Well, he's gotten sloppy lately. That evidence you have? It could be the key to unraveling the whole thing. His construction companies, the downtown revitalization, the resort contracts—it's all connected."
"How bad are we talking?" I asked.
"Millions," Rudy said flatly. "Skimmed from various town projects over the past four years. But here's the interesting part—he's got partners. People with serious juice."
"What kind of juice?" Pepper asked, her face paling slightly.
"The kind that carries guns and makes problems disappear," Rudy said. "Your mayor's in bed with some shady developers from Denver. That might explain the armed 'security detail' Pax mentioned."
I watched Pepper's reaction. She seemed more angry than frightened. "So now what? Do I take this to the police?"
"State police, not local," Rudy said. "And I have a contact at the Denver Post who's been tracking these developers for months. Between the three of us, we can make this stick. But first, you need to get out of there safely with that evidence."
"The roads—" I began.
"Will be cleared by tomorrow afternoon, according to county services," Rudy finished. "In the meantime, stay low. Wickett's been asking around town for Pepper. Saying she's 'unstable' and 'in need of medical attention.'"
Pepper made a disgusted sound. "Classic. Discredit me before I can expose him."
"Exactly. Listen, I've got to go. I'll call again tomorrow to coordinate. And Pax?"
"Yeah?"
"Try not to scare her off with your charming personality." He hung up before I could respond.
I looked at Pepper, who was staring at the phone with a troubled expression. "So Nolan's connected to organized crime. Perfect."
"Explains the weapon," I said, remembering the holstered weapon his goon had flashed.
"This is so much bigger than I thought." She wrapped her arms around herself. "I just wanted to protect the toy drive. Now I'm dealing with criminal conspiracies."
My jaw clenched, my protective instinct kicking in – the same one I'd felt countless times on deployment when civilians got caught in crossfire. "We'll handle it."
She looked up, meeting my eyes for the first time that morning. "We?"
"I told you before—I'm in this now."
The smile she gave me triggered a strange pressure behind my sternum. "I should check that generator," I said, needing space to clear my head. "There's eggs and bacon in the fridge if you're hungry."
Outside, the cold hit me like a blast from a tactical wake-up call. The generator was humming steadily, just as it had been since dawn. I cleared some accumulated ice around the housing and checked the fuel levels, confirming we had enough for several more days if needed.
While outside, I spent twenty minutes uncovering the hot tub and checking that the maintenance system I'd set up was still working properly.
I'd kept it running on a timer even though I rarely used it myself - old habits of maintaining equipment die hard.
The water was already heated and balanced, ready to go.
The snowfall had made the task harder, but something told me it might come in handy.
As I worked, I tried to make sense of what was happening to me. I'd spent three years building these walls around myself, mastering the art of needing no one. Then Pepper Prescott had blown in with the storm, and now my hard-won solitude felt more like a cage than a sanctuary.
I finished and headed back inside, stamping snow from my boots. The cabin was quiet. No singing, no holiday commentary. I found the kitchen empty, breakfast dishes washed and put away.
"Pepper?"
No answer.
I frowned, checking the living room, then the bathroom. Empty. The back of my neck prickled with unease. Had Nolan somehow gotten to her while I was outside?
Then I heard a soft rustling from upstairs. My bedroom.
I took the stairs two at a time, moving silently despite my size. The bedroom door was ajar. I pushed it wider to find Pepper standing on a chair, reaching up toward the exposed beam that ran across the ceiling.
In her hand was a small green sprig tied with a red ribbon. Mistletoe.
She froze when she saw me, caught in the act like someone crossing a line they shouldn't.
"What," I said slowly, "are you doing?"
She had the grace to look embarrassed, though not particularly sorry. "Decorating?"
I crossed my arms, leaning against the doorframe. "I thought we agreed you'd ask before adding more unnecessary embellishments to my cabin."
"Technically," she said, her eyes sparkling with mischief, "I'm not adding more. I'm simply... redistributing what was already approved."
"Over my bed."
Her cheeks flushed slightly, but she held her ground. "It's strategic placement."
"Is that right?"