It’s been nearly sixty years since San Diego last saw snow in the city, and of course history repeats itself my first Christmas working at the hospital.

Stressed, exhausted, and hanging on by a thread, the last thing I want to do in the weeks leading up to my favorite holiday is increase my hours, but it seems like every emergency in this city has come through our doors.

Doctor Lincoln Stokes is the thorn in my side and the reason my Christmas cheer is utterly tanked, even though he makes the sugar plum fairies in my stomach dance every time he’s near. He’s all work, no play, and for reasons unknown, can’t freaking stand me.

But that sounds like a him problem, because festive is my middle name, and if we all have to be stuck under these terrible fluorescent hospital lights this holiday season, the least I can do is add a little garland to the mix.

The last thing I expect on Christmas morning is to wake up at the hospital as a patient. And imagine my surprise when my eyes flutter open and the man sleeping in the chair beside me is him.

Now, I can’t help but wonder if the Christmas magic has made Doctor Stokes’ heart grow a few sizes for me.