3. Aurora
3
AURORA
I wasn’t expecting this to be easy, but now that I’m here, it feels downright impossible. My stomach is in knots as I follow Nolan into the barn, trying to stop myself from staring at him. Lying is hard as it is, but lying to a gorgeous giant with intense blue eyes that seem to read all your thoughts?
Oh, God, what have I gotten myself into?
Nolan Thorne is the hottest man I’ve ever seen. He’s built like a mountain—hard as rock, with muscles that strain against his red flannel shirt. Tattoos poke out from beneath his sleeves and swirl up his neck, stopping at his thick black beard. Every inch of him is rugged and masculine, and the sheer size of him is enough to make my breath come fast.
But worst of all? Beneath his grumpy expression, he seems like a genuinely nice guy, just trying to keep his family business going after losing his dad. Maybe this would be easier if he were a jerk like Samuel. Instead, I feel like a horrible person.
I never should have told him I was a journalist. When he suggested it, I panicked and latched on. Now it’s too late to tell the truth, and if I did, Nolan would probably tell me to get the hell off his farm. And he’d be right.
Deep breaths, Aurora.
The barn is somehow even busier than before. Eartha Kitt has been replaced by Bing Crosby singing It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas, but the festive music only makes me feel worse.
“That’s my brother,” Nolan says from beside me, nodding toward a tall lumberjack in the corner. “He co-owns the farm.” His voice rises to a deep boom that makes me shiver. “Declan! Get over here.”
With a scowl, Nolan’s brother does as he’s told, keeping his arm wrapped tight around the pretty young woman beside him.
“Everything okay?” he asks as they approach.
“Everything would be a whole lot better if you and Margot stopped sneaking off into the backroom,” Nolan says, raising an eyebrow.
Declan grunts, pressing a protective kiss on Margot’s forehead. “Nothing wrong with getting into the Christmas spirit.”
Nolan rolls his eyes, then gestures to me. “This is Aurora. She’s writing an article about Christmas in Cherry Hollow.”
“Awesome!” Margot says, smiling at me. “I guess you’re going to include the farm?”
I nod, forcing a smile back. “Yep.”
“Nice to meet you,” Declan says, tearing his eyes away from Margot just long enough to nod at me.
“What paper are you writing for?” she asks eagerly. “It will be great to see the farm in print.”
My mouth goes dry, mind racing. Now that I’m being put on the spot, I can’t think of the name of a single local newspaper. And something tells me they won’t buy that I’m from the New York Times.
Crap, why did I have to go along with the journalist thing?
“Nolan,” a voice calls, sparing me from answering. I turn around to see a young man dressed as an elf hurrying toward us. “I need help shifting this fir. It’s a real giant.”
Declan is using the distraction as an excuse to pull Margot away toward the backroom, and I’m relieved to see her melting against him with a giggle, her attention diverted. As soon as I get out of here, I need to google local papers. If I’m going to lie, then I might as well make it convincing.
“Can’t Oscar get it?” Nolan asks, frowning at the elf.
“He’s busy hauling the spruce trees.”
I seize the opportunity. “I’ll let you get back to work. Thanks for your time, Mr. Thorne.”
“Nolan,” he says, his voice like a peal of thunder. “Call me Nolan.”
His intense gaze sucks the breath from my lungs, and the bustle of the barn melts away as those piercing blue eyes root me to the spot. I have to tip my head back to look at him, but I can’t stop staring. He’s so unlike any man I’ve ever seen before. Giant, rugged, a little bit wild. Despite everything, I feel a rush of warmth between my legs, my nipples hardening beneath my sweater.
Crap, I need to get out of here.
I don’t think I can last much longer beneath that piercing blue gaze.
“I’ll be right there,” Nolan says, talking to his employee but still looking at me. The elf nods and hurries back outside.
“Thanks again—” I say.
“How about we finish this up tomorrow?”
I blink at him. “Uh…sure.”
My stomach twists at the thought of having to keep up the charade for another day. If I had it my way, I’d get in my car and go straight back to Denver. I’d try to forget the way my heart pounds when Nolan looks at me. I’d try to forget I ever came here in the first place, and let him get on with running the farm in peace.
But I can’t.
Liz is relying on me. One word from my boss could make or break my entire career, and everything I’ve ever worked for depends on impressing her. As much as I hate the idea of taking this place away from Nolan and giving it to Samuel, this isn’t about who’s a nicer person. If Liz’s client has a legal claim on this land, it’s my job to help her build a case to prove it.
But Liz never told you to lie about your identity, I remind myself. That’s all on you.
It’s unethical.
Immoral.
But it’s too late to take it back now.
Swallowing hard, I step away from Nolan. “I’ll come back tomorrow, then.”
“Not to the farm,” he says. “Come to my cabin. I’ll tell you whatever you need to know.” He tells me his address and adds, “It’s in the forest, just behind the farm.”
I write the address in my notebook, my hand trembling slightly. “I’ll be there. How does three o’clock sound?”
“Sounds good.”
The thought of being alone with Nolan in his cabin fills me with a mixture of excitement and anxiety, but I force myself to smile politely, hiding the emotions battling inside me.
“See you tomorrow,” I say.
“See you soon, Aurora.”
My name sounds heavenly in his gravelly voice, the three syllables making me melt.
Okay, now it’s definitely time to go.
I don’t hang around. I head straight for the door and hurry to my car, breathing hard. Only when I’m driving away from the farm do I feel my muscles unclench. Now I need to find the Crave County Clerk’s office and dig into some records about the land. Musty old papers, digital archives, those I can handle. Solid, predictable work. No lies necessary.
As I pull over to program the destination into my phone, the screen lights up with a call. It’s a Denver number I don’t recognize, and I answer hesitantly.
“Hello?”
“Is this Aurora?”
“Yes. Who’s this?”
“It’s Samuel Thorne. Liz gave me your number. How is the case coming along?”
I roll my eyes, silently cursing my boss for giving him a way to contact me. I’ve barely been in Cherry Hollow five minutes and he’s already on my back.
“There are no updates just yet,” I tell him. “But I’ll keep you informed, Mr. Thorne.”
“Make sure you do. With the amount I’m paying, I expect regular updates. Got it?”
I force out a breath. “Understood, Mr. Thorne, but if I’m busy on the phone with you, then it means I’m not doing my job. Please let us handle it.”
He makes a noise of impatience. “Don’t give me your patronizing lawyer talk. Just give me regular updates. I’m sure as hell paying you enough for them.”
He ends the call before I can remind him that I’m a paralegal, not a lawyer, and that it’s Liz he’s paying, not me. I glare at my phone, picturing Samuel Thorne’s stubborn face. It’s hard to believe he’s related to Nolan, and for the first time in my career so far, I find myself praying that our client doesn’t get a damn thing.
With a sigh of frustration, I begin the drive to the Crave County Clerk’s office—but my mind is still on Mistletoe Christmas Tree Farm, swimming with images of a ruggedly handsome lumberjack with eyes like mountain lakes and a voice like thunder.