What a way to spend Christmas Eve.

Sheriff Red LeClair tucked his chin into his chest, the fresh assault of stinging snow enough to take his breath away. He crunched through the ice-crusted path to the field where a small band of wild mustangs waited patiently, barely visible as shadows against the nighttime backdrop of cedar and fir.

“Carson spoils you, you know,” he called to them, tossing a bale of hay onto the ground beyond the beam of light thrown by his pickup. The weather forecast had predicted a dump of snow over the next few days, but the wind had caught them all by surprise. The livestock would be burning a lot of fuel just to stay warm.

Red threw down a couple more bales, and with a quick flick of his utility knife, cut the twine, spilling fragrant splits of summer over the snow. Beneath the heavy-duty leather gloves, his fingers were stiff with cold, but he wasn’t really complaining. In fact, he’d leaped at the chance to look after Three River Ranch while his friend was away. Tramping through the snow, freezing his butt off, was a damn sight better than watching endless Miracle on 34th Street reruns in his empty Lutherton apartment.

Whoever said there’s no place like home for the holidays obviously didn’t buy groceries in single-serve portions. Christmas was a hell of a time for a guy with no family to speak of, who’d signed his final divorce papers less than a month ago. He climbed back into the truck and pulled away from the corral. At least this year was better than last year.

He pushed the thought out of his head and forced himself to focus on his chores. Work hard, be friendly, but don’t let anyone get close enough to hurt you. That was his mantra now. Every howl of wind made the walls shriek and groan and he could feel the temperature dropping by the minute. He added an extra measure of kibble in case he had to hole up inside and wait out the storm. Water lines clear, check. Fresh feed for the saddle horses, check. Clean stalls, check. Gates, doors and latches secure, check, check and check.

He slogged back to the truck, thinking about the casserole Rory’s housekeeper Bliss had left in the refrigerator for him, wishing he’d remembered to bring beer. And some action movies on DVD. Lord knows it would be slim pickings on TV. He’d spent last Christmas watching the tube blindly, letting tinny laugh tracks and remixed music wash over him as he sat numbly in the debris left by Kayla’s departure. This year, he had the lights and decorations on Rory’s pretty tree sparkling in the corner. Second-hand joy was better than none. But those old favorite movies and carols still hurt too much. He pulled the truck door open against the wind but before he could step in, the gale yanked it from his hands. He barely managed to haul it shut behind him. This storm was really working itself up. He couldn’t wait to get indoors again. He’d nuke a heaping plate of that Bliss special, bum a couple of beers off Carson and channel surf until he found Dexter or Sons of Anarchy. Even CSI or Criminal Minds would do. But just before he turned the ignition, he heard a sound he shouldn’t have. An engine revving, tires spinning on ice and the bone-jarring sound a clutch makes beneath an impatient foot. Three River Ranch had a trespasser. …

Thank goodness she’d had time to switch out the black plastic boots for proper footwear, thought Frankie Sylva, looking down at her ridiculous elf suit. It was hardly suitable for being stuck in a truck and buried in snow. But teachers-on-call couldn’t let any job go by, however short or humiliating. Especially when that job dove-tailed with the other passion in her life: animal rescue. She’d succeeded, and that gave her a glow that even the stinging snow couldn’t erase.

Score one for the good guys! The precious creatures she’d transported to the Three River Ranch sanctuary would now have a chance to live as nature intended, rather than being turned into Christmas dinner. Or trophies on a wall.

She shuddered. Focus! She tugged the ridiculous puff- ball- topped toque further onto her head but it did little to protect her from the frigid wind, which seemed to get stronger every second. Frankie stood on the upside of the gentle slope into which the rear tires of the trailer had slid when she’d attempted to pull it from the corral gate.

Invisible ditch. Good one, Universe.

The snow around her was dirt-spattered and hoof-trampled but she couldn’t help that now. She needed a tow truck. Unfortunately, she found her cell phone lying on the floor of the cab in a puddle of melted snow, dead as a doornail.

No blaming that on the universe. If only she’d told someone where she was going over the holidays, maybe there would be a chance a friend would come looking for her. But this year was an aberration. Normally, she roasted a turkey and invited everyone and anyone she knew who would otherwise be alone.

Then, she’d serve meals at a soup kitchen, clean cages at the animal shelter, sing in the community choir, whatever she could to help. There were plenty of causes that needed her, and she’d learned to love volunteering at Christmas. She’d made tons of friends this way.

But they were, as the saying went, the kind of friends who help you move, not the kind who helped you move a body.

Or in this case, five bodies. Independence, it seemed, had its down side. But this kind of thinking, she admonished herself, wasn’t the least bit helpful.

Her second-best plan was to unhitch the trailer and leave it until the storm blew over and she could dig her way out. She shone her flashlight over the connection between her boss’s now-empty truck and trailer. The rig had been prepped, loaded and idling when she’d told the driver he didn’t have to make the haul to the slaughterhouse after all, that she’d do it for him. He’d tossed her the keys so fast her cover story was pretty much wasted.

Unfortunately, he’d also assumed she knew how a hitch worked. Or how to back up on a single-lane road. Or how to craft a contingency plan. The animals were free, that was the important thing. Her evil boss wouldn’t be barbequing them as burgers next summer.

So she’d miscalculated the storm. So she’d spend the night in the truck. She had trail mix. She had a flashlight. She’d be okay. It would be fine. And once the sun was up, she could dig herself out.

“Help you?” Frankie jumped and dropped her flashlight. Bone- deep instinct kicked in, a primal watch out, honey! Not necessarily danger…but maybe. Two words, and oh, baby. No gruff old-timer, his voice sounded young, strong…and smoky, full of…campfire stories… and marshmallows roasted on fresh-cut branches…

She gave her head a shake. Don’t be an idiot, Frankie. He was a man with a truck.

“I’m stuck.” She put on her most innocent grin and faced the headlights. She couldn’t see a thing through the snow. “Can you help me out?”

Three River was supposed to be empty over Christmas. At least, the ranch’s Facebook page had indicated the family was in Maui. The mustang sanctuary was well-known among animal lovers and Frankie felt certain they’d have helped her cause, if she could have asked them. So she’d taken a chance that they wouldn’t mind. That in fact, they’d never know.

Yet here was a man, from what she could hear over the snarl of engines and wind. A man unexpected, in every way. But what if he was private security? Or worse, a game warden. Stop it! Think positively, Frankie! Maybe, despite the little mishap with the ditch, the universe was on her side after all.

Maybe this was just a kindhearted local who’d be delighted to help out a damsel in distress. The man stepped out, leaving the engine running and the driver’s door standing open. This time she caught a glimpse of a cowboy hat and beneath it, a stubbled jawline. Broad shoulders. And tall. He held up a much better flashlight than the one she had, shining it high, scanning the truck, the listing trailer. Then scanning her. The beam of light traveled over her body, up and down, leaving no inch untouched. Warmth rose to her cheeks, prickly in the winter air.

“Wanna tell me who you are and what you’re doing here?” He cleared his throat and she thought she heard the glimmer of a smile. “Lost on your way to work?”

“Ha-ha.” She sighed and stamped her feet, aching with cold now that she was standing still. “Yes, I’m wearing an elf costume. Can you pull me out or what?”