Teri Wilson - Sleigh Bell Sweethearts

Not that it mattered. When it came to men, Zoey had a way of making sure things never got too out of control. Sure, she’d dated. Some. But never the same guy more than a handful of times. Relationships led to attachment. And in her experience, attachment eventually led to loss and pain. She’d been down that road before.

No, thank you.

“And now that you’re an heiress, who knows?” Anya gave her a playful hip bump. “Half a dozen marriage proposals will probably come your way by lunchtime.”

Before Zoey could utter a word of protest—and she had plenty of them at the ready—a rumbling noise came at her out of nowhere. Beneath her feet, the snowy ground quaked. If she hadn’t known better, she would have thought an avalanche was tumbling down the mountainside. But Anya’s face showed no signs of alarm. And as a member of Aurora’s Ski Patrol, Anya was something of an expert on avalanches, so Zoey exhaled a relieved, albeit curious, sigh.

“What is that?” Anya frowned as a cloud of snow on wheels came barreling toward them.

Zoey hopped backward out of its path, yet still managed to be on the receiving end of an onslaught of fine white powder. A chill ran through her as tiny pinpricks of cold sprayed her cheeks.

“Hey,” she squealed.

The rumbling noise came to an abrupt stop.

Zoey blinked cold eyelashes against the sudden stillness. The white dust settled, revealing a rider clothed head to toe in black sitting astride a motorcycle. A large, powerful-looking motorcycle. Also black.

He parked directly beneath the reindeer farm’s arched sign. At least she assumed it was a he. The rider’s gender was impossible to discern, given all the protective gear—glossy helmet with an impenetrable jet-black face shield, sleek slim-fit parka and black leather gloves that covered not only his hands and wrists, but half his arms. Not a fraction of skin was visible.

Still, the thought of riding around on that thing sent a shiver up Zoey’s spine.

A motorcycle?

In Alaska?

In December?

Man or woman, clearly the rider was insane. Insane and possibly suffering from frostbite.

Zoey cleared her throat as she took in the rider’s broad shoulders and powerful build. Male. Most definitely. “Can I help you?”

The masked man swiveled his head in her direction.

Masked man? Really, Zoey...get a grip. He’s not a superhero. Although all the black reminded her vaguely of Batman.

The Dark Knight lifted the helmet from his head. A fleece neck gaiter—black, of course—was pulled up over his mouth and nose, revealing nothing but a pair of frosty gray-blue eyes set below a head full of wildly disheveled dark hair.

He didn’t look at all familiar. First the reindeer, and now a dangerous-looking biker. What else had Gus been hiding up here?

“I said, can I help you?” Zoey repeated, squaring her shoulders in an attempt to look authoritative. This was her reindeer farm, after all, even though she’d yet to lay eyes on a single antler.

Mystery Man gave Zoey a cursory once-over before pulling down the gaiter and exposing the rest of his face—high, sculpted cheekbones, an ultrastraight nose and a square jaw so firmly set that he looked as though he made a regular practice of grinding coal into diamonds with his teeth.

His gaze flitted to Anya briefly and settled once again on Zoey. “That depends.”

“Depends?” She unzipped her parka a smidgen. Her neck was growing warm for some strange reason. “Depends on what?”

“You’re not the new owner of this place, are you?” He lifted a single, threatening eyebrow.

She lifted her chin. “As a matter of fact, I am.”

“Well, it’s about time,” he seethed.

Zoey’s mouth dropped open. Who was this guy? “Excuse me?”

“Perhaps introductions are in order.” Anya stepped between them.

Zoey sent up a silent prayer of thanks for Anya’s presence. Facing the irritable Man in Black wasn’t exactly something she would have liked to do alone. Not that she was afraid of him. She’d certainly faced more frightening things than a biker in the wilds of Alaska. He was just a bit intense. And she still had no clue what he was doing on her reindeer farm, acting as if he owned the place.

Anya thrust a mittened hand at him. “I’m Anya Parker, and this is Zoey Hathaway. And you are?”

He pulled off one of his gloves and shook Anya’s hand. “Alec Wynn.”

His gazed shifted back to Zoey. She reached for his hand and shook it. It was surprisingly warm given his chosen method of transportation.

“Hi, Alec,” she said, offering him a polite smile. Perhaps they’d simply gotten off on the wrong foot.

He smiled right back at her. Even his smile possessed an edge. “You owe me a thousand dollars.”

Um...what?

She blinked. Once. Twice. Three times.

Alec’s smile faded as he crossed his arms and leaned back on the seat of his bike, apparently waiting for her to say something. Or whip out her checkbook.

Zoey’s throat grew thick. “Perhaps there’s been a misunderstanding...”

“Nope. No misunderstanding.” He shook his head. “This is your reindeer farm, is it not?”

“Well...” She glanced at Anya, who could do nothing but shrug, then back at Alec. Zoey still had no clue who he actually was, other than a purported creditor. “...yes. But I’ve only owned it for a day. Less than twenty-four hours, actually.”

She couldn’t possibly owe him a thousand dollars. For starters, she didn’t have that kind of money.

Technically, she did, she supposed. But that money was part of the down payment for the airplane she was buying in five days. The airplane that was to be the start of her new career as a professional pilot. She’d worked eight years as a barista, scrimping and saving for that down payment. It took a lot of lattes to buy a plane, even a small one.

Her plane money was off-limits. She’d already given notice at the coffee bar. Next Monday was to be her first official day as a charter pilot, and she couldn’t very well fly without an airplane.

Alec’s gaze narrowed. He was looking less and less like a superhero with each passing second. “Twenty-four hours?”

“Thereabouts.” She glanced at Anya again, eliciting a hearty nod of agreement.

“Maybe you could provide Zoey with some background information,” Anya said.

“Yes. Background information would be delightful,” Zoey muttered under her breath.

At least she’d thought it was under her breath. The storm clouds gathering in Alec’s eyes told her differently. “As I said before, my name is Alec Wynn. I work here. For you, apparently.”

So she’d inherited both a reindeer farm and a surly man on a Harley. Perfect. “How odd.”

“Odd?” He angled his head, and a lock of unruly hair fell across his forehead.

Why am I looking at his hair? Surely that violated some sort of employer/employee boundary line. But how would she know? She’d never been anyone’s boss before. “Yes. I mean, what exactly do you do for Gus? I mean, me.”

This was beyond surreal. If her nose wasn’t so cold, she’d wonder if she were dreaming.

“I care for the reindeer,” he said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “And generally keep things running around here.”

“Aurora’s a small town. I’ve never laid eyes on you before. Where have you been hiding yourself?”

“I’ve only worked here a week. I spent my first day on the job giving my employer CPR. Unsuccessfully.” Alec’s gaze dropped to his hands. He paused a beat before continuing. “And now I’ve been feeding a herd of reindeer—on my dime—while I wait around to see what’s to become of this place. So, forgive me if I haven’t had time to make the social rounds.”