The worst part of the squirrel’s harangue? It didn’t even have a nest in that particular fir. None in the other three it freaked out about, either. It would seem Skippy had claimed the entire field as his own.

Ares crouched and continued sawing.

Grack. The agitated squirrel yelled before it dumped snow on Ares’ exposed neck.

“Bloody hell!” He rolled to his back and gave it a glare. The critter didn’t seem impressed, as it continued to harangue him.

Bullied by a rodent. The humiliation, his wolf lamented.

Honestly, more annoying than embarrassing. Ares bared his teeth and growled.

The squirrel proceeded to let loose a stream of pee, and Ares only barely managed to avoid getting drenched.

“Keep it up and I will eat you,” Ares warned. The squirrel gave him the critter equivalent of a “fuck you” and leaped to another tree, one better suited for the creature since it hadn’t yet reached the proper size for selling and Ares had no plans to take it down yet.

Once more, Ares crouched under the lowest boughs and finished cutting. Then, because there lurked a little boy inside him, he yelled, “Timber!” as it fell onto the frozen ground, puffing the thin layer of snow.

He got caught. His younger sister, Selene—who could sneak like nobody’s business—chirped, “For a second, I thought you might start singing that Timber song by Pitbull and Ke$ha.”

“Never. You know I don’t do that modern-pop shit,” he grumbled.

“Or Christmas music or anything with a fun rhythm,” his sister complained.

“I like the classics.” The classics being Kiss, Led Zeppelin, and AC/DC. He’d grown up listening to it because of his dad and found it more satisfying than anything put out today.

“You’re like an old man stuck in a twenty-seven-year-old’s body,” she said with a shake of her head.

“Not old, more like an enjoyer of the classics.”

“No wonder you’re still single. Maybe you should try hitting up the retirement homes. I’m sure someone there will appreciate your taste in music.”

“Ha. Ha. So funny. What’s up? Did you need something?”

“More like wondering if you need a hand at the market?” she asked.

“Depends. Are you going to complain it’s cold and wander off buying everything in sight while I do the work?”

Selene’s cheek dimpled as she smiled. “Probably. But I wanted to be polite and offer.”

“I’ll be fine. I’m just about done loading the truck, and the site is already prepped.”

“Sounds like Skippy is not happy with you,” Selene remarked as the squirrel dangled from a branch and shook a fist while chattering.

“Skippy needs to find another grove of trees to claim.”

Selene giggled. “I think it’s a game to him. Every year, you two have the same fight.”

They did. And every year his wolf wanted to eat Skippy. It should be noted, on the full moon, when he did run on four feet and in fur, his wolf didn’t come near Skippy’s field, nor did he eat squirrels, although he did like chasing them up trees.

“You and Mom ready for your trip?”

“Yes!” Selene clapped her mittened hands. “The countdown is on. You sure you don’t want to join us?”

“Nah, I’m good.” Ares had scored a last-minute cruise deal for his mom and sister that he informed them about early since it was their Christmas present.

“But you’ll be all alone for the holidays.” Selene’s perpetual smile drooped.

“Hardly alone. Athena will be around, and I’ve got an invite to spend Christmas Eve and Day with the Kennedys.” Athena’s new boyfriend, Derek, came with a set of grandparents that, while slightly crazy—and no he didn’t exaggerate, they had a full-on apocalypse-ready bunker and enough ammo to start a war—were actually pretty fun to be around.

Good treats, was his wolf’s addition.

“I’m a little jealous. Grams is probably going to have the best feast.” Selene rolled her eyes and smacked her lips. “Those sugar tarts she sent over were divine.”

“I wouldn’t know. You ate them all.”

“You snooze, you lose,” she sang.

“You ate all twelve before I even got home from work,” he complained.

“Oops. Anyhow, since you don’t want my help, I’m going to pop out for a bit. Got a few bunnies to deliver.” His sister raised rabbits both for chasing and selling to restaurants. Mom was the honey and pie queen, whereas Ares, who worked as a mechanic, spent his spare time crafting cheese and growing Christmas trees. Only Athena chose a job that didn’t involve the farm, working as a lab tech.

With a cheerful wave, Selene skipped off, a happy woman despite the recent trauma of being kidnapped by a mad doctor who wanted to announce to the world the fact they were werewolves—as in, all three siblings changed on the full moon into four-legged furry beasts.

A good thing Selene came out of it unscathed, or Ares would have found a way to kill the doctor a second time. Don’t mess with his family.

Ares twined the last tree before loading it with the others. He’d have to hustle. The market would be opening shortly. At least he didn’t have too far to go. Arnprior and the church hosting the holiday fair was just a short ride away from the family farm in Calabogie.

The parking area bustled with some vendors setting up outdoors, while others were inside the church with their tables. Ares had a section already roped off, and it didn’t take long to throw up his sign, Christmas Trees for Sale, with the pricing by height. Then he lay the bound trees against the sawhorses he’d set up the day before. In the past, Ares used to allow people to come and choose their own tree at the farm. However, there’d been too many incidents with idiots who didn’t listen to instructions and proved scary with an axe. Much better to provide them ready to go at the market. The quick and easy cash was for spoiling his mother and sisters. A little extra would come in handy as well, given Athena looked to be expecting a child with her firefighter boyfriend. Not that she’d announced it, but Ares smelled the change in her during their last moon run.

As Ares whirled from his leaning stack to grab another tree, he startled at the sight of a little girl eyeballing him, her cheeks rosy and framed by a woolen red hat. Her matching mittens clashed with her light blue snowsuit.

“Hi,” chirped the kid.

“Hey.”

“Your trees are squished,” she observed.

“They’ll fluff out nice once we undo the twine.”

The child cocked her head. “Mama says real trees are messy.”

“Sometimes, but they sure smell good.” Good enough he’d apparently pissed on them when he was little with no regard for the fact they sat in the living room. Drove his mom nuts, whereas dad always laughed and claimed, “Boy’s just marking his territory.”

“Greta, you better not be bugging that man,” a woman called out as she bustled over, her bright pink earmuffs holding back her dirty-blonde hair. She had smooth features, pink lips that matched her rosy cheeks, and bright brown eyes. Nice figure, too, the jeans hugging a curvy frame.

Mmm, she smells nice. His wolf approved.

“He has real trees, Mommy.” Greta pointed. “They’re squishy now, but he says they smell good and get fluffy. Can we have one?”

“We can’t get a tree this year, munchkin.”

The tyke’s lips turned down. “I know. ‘Cause we need food and not fri-vol-ussy things.”

Ares found himself tightening as the child inadvertently revealed the real reason they didn’t have one.

“One day, I’ll get you the biggest tree you ever saw,” the woman murmured as she crouched by the child.

“Okay.” Greta didn’t have a tantrum like some kids. She took it like a champ.

Mom leaned close to whisper, “I saw a snowman wandering.”

“Snowmen can’t walk,” snorted the kid.

“Well, this one is, and he has candy canes!”

“Oooh.” Greta glanced left and right before spotting the suited character. “I see him!” She bolted for the snowman with candy.

The woman rose. “Sorry if she disturbed you.”

“Nah, she was fine. Cute kid.”

Fine pup, wolf agreed.

“Precocious with no filter, you mean.”

His lips curved. “She is. She mentioned you guys don’t have a tree. Why don’t you take one, on the house?”

She eyed him, her expression suspicious at the offer. “I don’t need your charity.”

“Hardly charity. I already know I won’t sell all of these. Therefore, you taking one now saves me carting it back to my place.”

Her lips pursed. “While your offer is kind, I’m afraid I don’t have a way to get it to our place. But thank you.”

With that, the pretty woman turned, that sweet ass of hers mesmerizing—good enough to bite—and headed after her daughter.

Ares found himself glancing at the woman often as she strolled the Christmas market, not buying anything but managing to give her kid a fun afternoon that included face painting, a visit from Santa, and, of course, a fistful of candy canes. He even spotted her walking away, holding the tyke’s hand as they sang carols, not heading for a car but moving out of sight on foot. Probably lived in the area.

When Ares closed up, toting five trees back onto the trailer he’d used to haul them, he noticed a red mitten lying on the ground. A woolen one he recognized with a name stitched inside.

Greta Dawson.

The kid would need it with snow in the forecast and mom tight on dough.

With a tree over his shoulder, and the mitten in hand giving him a scent, he retraced their footsteps. He almost missed the turn onto a side street. His wolf didn’t, though.

They went that way.

He pivoted and kept strolling, wondering what he’d say. After all, she’d probably wonder how he found her. He couldn’t exactly say he had a super sense of smell. What would sound plausible, instead? It hit him then. He’d seen her filling out a giveaway ballot with the lady who knitted stuffed animals. With the last name on the mitten, he could have easily matched them up.

Excuse found just in time as his wolf huffed, Here.

The townhome, which probably had seen better years since it had been built fifty years ago, looked tidy compared to its neighbors. The walkway clear of snow and ice. A wreath, which had obviously been made by a child using colored construction paper, hung on the door. The front window glowed, highlighting the hand-drawn picture of Santa—with a toothy smile a wolf would envy—taped in it.

Ares knocked and stood waiting, slightly nervous. Blame the fact he’d never done anything so bold before, but he couldn’t help himself. He could claim he did a good deed returning the mitten, but in truth, he kind of wanted to see the kid’s mom again.

When the door flung open, the woman exclaimed, “What are you doing here?”

Ares held up the mitten. “I found this.”

Before the woman could reply, there was a blood-curdling scream from inside.

The woman turned and bolted inside the house.

Save the pup!

Ares didn’t think. He dumped the tree and followed.

Chapter 2

“What is it?” Charlotte yelled as she rushed to find her daughter. Greta stood on a kitchen chair and pointed.

“Ugly bug!”

“Seriously?” huffed Charlotte, only to recoil as she caught sight of it. The bug truly was a hideous thing with many legs and waving antennas. And it moved fast.

“Kill it!” screamed Greta. “It’s getting away.”

Charlotte hesitated. The idea of squishing it with her sock-covered foot had her cringing.

It scuttled in Charlotte’s direction, and she yelped before leaping onto a chair.

The bug knew it had them cornered and stopped between the chairs, wiggling all its nasty body parts.

Stomp. The Christmas tree man, who’d somehow managed to find her, took care of the bug, then apologized. “Sorry for barging in with my boots. I heard the kid freaking and didn’t think. Just kind of acted.”

Before Charlotte could order him out of her home, Greta literally threw herself at the man, who luckily caught her. Greta wrapped her legs around his torso and hugged him around the neck, crooning, “My hero!”

“Uh…” Tree Man stood there awkwardly, looking unsure of what to do.

“Greta, get down. You can’t just maul people. Remember, we talked about personal space,” Charlotte chided.

Her daughter leaned her head on his shoulder. “But he saved me and he smells good.”

“Greta!” She injected a warning tone.

Did munchkin listen? “He doesn’t mind, do you?” Greta turned her gazillion-watt gaze on him, and no surprise, he couldn’t escape the cuteness, as evidenced by the smile he returned to her.

“It’s fine. I’ve carried much heavier, and I’m always happy to rescue ladies in need.”

“Ladies.” Greta giggled. “I’m a little girl.”

“Yes, you are. And I think you forgot this.” He still held the red mitten, which Charlotte had thought lost since they arrived home with only one.

“Ooh. Thank you.” Greta snatched it and waved. “See, Mama, not lost.”

She rolled her eyes. “You got lucky. Now say thank you to the man and goodbye, as I’m sure he’s got somewhere else to be.”

“Does he have to go?” asked Greta, using her best pleading voice and big, big eyes.

“I wasn’t planning on intruding. Just delivering the mitten and one other thing.”

“What other thing?” Charlotte asked suspiciously.

“I brought you one of the leftover trees.”

Again, Charlotte had no time to reply because Greta squealed. “A tree! A real one! For me?”

“Yes, for you.” He laughed. “If you give me a second, I’ll bring it in.”

“I don’t know if you should,” Charlotte stiffly replied. “I don’t have anything for it.” Not a pot, or a stand, or even decorations.

“Don’t worry. I’ve got you covered.” He winked at Greta. “You let me know where I’m putting it.”

Pretty much anywhere, seeing as how they lacked furniture, the love seat in the living room being the only thing of size. Their small television sat on a battered dresser she’d grabbed from the curb on garbage day. Charlotte kept meaning to paint it.

Greta bounced and clapped in the small entryway. “Oh, Mama. Look. A tree. A real one. It’s a Christmas miracle.”

While Charlotte hated charity, and the fact this stranger had somehow found them, she wasn’t about to crush her daughter’s happiness. Time enough to put this man in his place. And if he tried anything… She wore a switchblade on her beltloop for a reason.

A woman couldn’t be too careful. Having been a survivor of violence, and hating that helpless feeling, she’d taken self-defense classes. She also went on YouTube and studied how to fight with more than just her fists. Because if he ever found her, she needed every advantage she could get.

“Where am I putting it, little princess?” asked the man as he returned with a tree much bigger than the scraggly remnant she’d expected.

“Right there. In front of the window.” Greta pointed.

“A most excellent spot. Let me park it here for a second, though, while I grab the stand. I’ll be a few minutes. It’s in my truck parked at the church.”

He must have jogged there and back because it took him less than five minutes to arrive with the stand. It proved to be a metal basin placed within a cube built of two-by-fours.

“How fortuitous you had all those things in your truck,” Charlotte drawled, not hiding her suspicion he’d carefully plotted his invasion of her home.

“Some people like the idea of a tree but don’t have the stuff to put it up. So I always make sure I’ve got a few stands and buckets just in case,” he tossed over his shoulder as he planted the tree in the contraption. “Fill the basin with water to keep it lasting longer. If it gets dry, the needles will start falling.”

“I’ll get some water!” Greta ran to the kitchen.

It gave Charlotte a chance to ask questions. “Exactly how did you find us?” Because she was unlisted for a reason.

“Once I found the mitten, Carrie, the lady doing the giveaway for a stuffie, kindly let me sift through the ballots to see if I could match the name. Didn’t find a Greta Dawson, but there was a Charlotte Dawson.”

A plausible explanation and more trouble than she’d have expected a man to go through just to return a mitten. What did he really want?

Greta returned with a bowl full of water, which slopped despite her careful steps. Charlotte used her socks to mop the spill rather than leave him alone in the room with her daughter.

The tree man helped Greta pour it in. “Okay, stand back now.” He pulled a knife, and Charlotte stiffened. The guy grinned at Greta. “Ready for the fluff?”

“Yesss.” Greta rocked on her heels with excitement.

The knife slashed the twine, and while it wasn’t a window-smashing event like seen in movies, the tree definitely exploded, branches springing out, bulking the tree.

“Oooh.” Greta’s eyes went wide, and Charlotte wished she could have been the one to bring wonder to her face. They just couldn’t afford anything more than rent and food right now. Given she couldn’t afford daycare, she could only work while Greta went to school or when the elderly neighbor next door watched Greta in exchange for Charlotte cleaning her house. She’d been scrimping just to make sure she even had a present for Greta on Christmas morning.

When they’d fled, it had been with nothing to their name. Charlotte hadn’t dared to hit her place to pack a suitcase of clothes. She’d left her furniture and life behind. Hightailed it clear across the country, from the Rockies to Ontario. She might have gone farther, only she had limited cash left by that point. Only enough to put down a first and last months’ rent. Hence why they stayed on the outskirts of Ottawa, in a small town called Arnprior, where a person who wasn’t too picky could rent a place that only took two weeks of pay to cover. The other two weeks went to food, which had gotten astronomical in price, plus essentials like clothes for a growing kid and a small emergency fund in case they had to run again.

Greta chatted with the man as he showed her how to fluff the branches. It was when he asked for paper and scissors, which sent Greta scurrying, that Charlotte crossed her arms and said, “What are you doing?”

“Bringing joy?” he offered with a crooked grin.

“Seriously?” She arched a brow. “Exactly what is your game? I have nothing to give you.”

“Not asking for anything.”

“I’m not putting out either. So if you’re expecting any favors because of that”—she pointed to the tree—“then you’ll be disappointed.”

His lips pursed. “I’m not that kind of man. Listen, I know this might be hard to believe, but I genuinely just wanted to spread some happiness. It’s how I was raised.” He stood and held out his hand. “It occurs to me that we’ve never properly met. I’m Ares McMurray, and before you think I’m lying or a serial killer, here’s my card.” He handed over a black-embossed business card with the title Ares Artisanal Cheese, a website address, and a phone number.

“You make cheese?” She couldn’t help sounding a little incredulous.

“Yeah. The best you’ve ever had,” he boasted. “But since it’s not exactly bringing in the big bucks, I also work at a garage.”

“How do I know this is real?”

“Google it. I’m legit. If you want, you can call my mom and sisters too. They’ll vouch for me.”

Greta returned, waving paper and scissors, the paper technically already used; one side had flyer info on it. Charlotte’s work had printed too many for a sale they were having, and rather than dump them in the garbage, she’d brought them home for arts and crafts.

“I gots it!” Greta squealed. “What are you gonna do with it?”

“Well, this tree is kind of naked, little princess. What do you say we give it some snowflakes?”

“Yesss.” Greta plopped down and watched as Ares joined her, showing her how to fold the paper accordion-style before trimming bits and pieces and then expanding it with a “Ta-da!”

“Pretty.” Greta fluttered it to the tree and draped it. “Let’s make another.”

“Your turn.” He guided Greta without touching, which Charlotte appreciated, and soon her munchkin had her own snowflakes on the tree.

It led to Charlotte murmuring, “I think we have some popcorn we can string too.” Might as well join in since the tree was staying.

An hour later and the tree had paper snowflakes, macaroni and popcorn garland, and Greta’s prized knock-off Cinderella princess sitting at the very top, courtesy of Ares, who finagled a way for her to stay up there. It was just missing lights, and her work had those for five bucks a strand. She’d just skip buying meat for a few days.

Greta rubbed her tummy. “I’m hungry, Mama.”

The late afternoon had turned into dinnertime, and Charlotte gnawed her lower lip because the right thing to do would be to invite Ares to stay for dinner, only the leftover casserole was barely enough for two.

“Why don’t you wash up, munchkin, and Mama will fix something.”

As Greta skipped out of the room, Charlotte’s cheeks heated as she mumbled, “I’m sorry, but I haven’t done groceries and—”

“No need to apologize or explain. I know I’ve overstayed my welcome, or should I say, barging in? You’ve got a sweet kid.”

“I know.”

“Thanks for not poking me with your knife. I know I kind of took you by surprise.”

Her eyes widened. So he’d noticed it. “Thank you for not being a psychopath.”

His lips curved. “Just a weird dude who sells Christmas trees and makes cheese. I should get going now. Mom’s usually got dinner on the table by six-thirty, and it will take at least a half-hour to get home.”

“You live with your mom?” It came out a little judgey.

“Me and my baby sister. We don’t like Mom being alone, especially since the farm always needs something done. My older sister, Athena, moved out, but she comes by often.”

A man close to his family. Sweet and rare these days.

Greta skipped back in and saw Ares putting on his coat. “You’re leaving?” Her lips turned down.

“Yeah. But I had a fun time. Thanks for letting me help decorate your tree.”

“You’re welcome. When are you coming back?”

“I’m not sure, princess. I think that will depend on your mom.”

Charlotte hadn’t been interested in any man since the sour experience with Greta’s dad, so it surprised when she muttered, “Maybe he can come back for dinner another time.”

The smile he beamed her way almost impregnated her. Her ovaries certainly did a little jiggle. Jeezus, no way was he single. Or if he was, definitely a player.

“I would love to come back for a visit. ‘Til next time, little princess.”

Greta threw herself at his legs and squeezed. “Bye, Ares.”

Charlotte saw him to the door and murmured, “Have a good evening.”

“You too, Charly.”

Wait, Charly?

She was still blinking at the nickname as he crossed the street to a pickup truck. Stared at his ass in his snug jeans and wondered why a man like him would even be interested.

At twenty-five, with a six-year-old, and a few pounds too many—"you fat cunt, you disgust me”—she had no illusions about how men saw her. Maybe he really just was a nice guy trying to spread joy.

Not that it mattered. She’d most likely never see him again. Still, she didn’t toss his card but stuck it to the fridge. After all, she did love cheese.