Chapter 7
It’s Beginning to Feel A Lot Like Christmas
Bringing Noelle to the barn was a bad idea.
I figured letting her tag along would keep her out of trouble or from attempting another experimental recipe that I’d inevitably have to eat.
The problem?
I didn’t account for how much I’d enjoy her company or how her sunny disposition would have a way of getting under my skin. No matter how hard I’ve tried, her presence has found cracks in my walls.
“Am I doing this right?” Noelle calls over her shoulder.
Once I’d shown her all of Maple’s tricks, she offered to help with the chores.
I glance up from where I’m changing out Maple’s water. Noelle is leaning over the cow, brushing her coat, but her strokes are so light they barely skate over the top coat.
“Try a little more pressure so you’re lifting the hair,” I suggest.
She gasps. “I’ll hurt her.”
“You won’t,” I promise.
She nibbles her bottom lip, her eyes flitting back and forth between Maple and me, still doubtful.
I’m about to lecture her for overanalyzing but think better of it.
She’s likely never handled farm chores or brushed down a cow before.
What’s routine for me is probably intimidating to her.
It’s evident that she has a big heart, and her compassion extends to people and animals alike.
If she’s worried about hurting Maple, I have to be patient and reassure her by guiding her through how it’s done safely.
“Here, I’ll show you.”
I step behind Noelle, my chest brushing her back as I take her hand.
Her breath hitches at the contact, but she stays put.
I lean closer, breathing in the sweet smell of vanilla and sugar cookies.
It must be the holiday body wash I found in the shower this morning.
I take in another deep breath, her scent wrapping around me—sweet, warm and addictive.
It takes me back to the snowmobile ride when her chest was flush against my back, her hands roaming to keep warm.
Christ, get a grip, Shep.
She’s barely half my age and will be gone as soon as the storm passes. All the more reason I shouldn’t entertain the thought of spinning her around and claiming her mouth.
My hand remains over Noelle’s as I guide the brush down Maple’s side, pushing firmly enough to get through her thick coat.
“Keep the strokes long and steady.” My voice is tight as I repeat the motion.
I can feel Noelle’s fingers relax beneath mine as she matches my rhythm. Eventually, I let her take over. I glance at Maple, who’s lazily chewing on hay, entirely at ease.
Noelle glances back at me, her eyes shining with pride. “Maple really enjoys having her coat brushed.”
Her magnetic joy brightens her expression.
“You’re doing so well with her, Sunshine.” The nickname leaves my mouth before I can wrangle it back.
Where the hell did that come from?
I’m not the type to hand out nicknames, least of all to blue-eyed city girls blowing through town. Getting attached is the last thing I need. I’m starting to think the old rule about never naming a puppy if you don’t plan to keep them applies to people and nicknames, too.
I take a measured breath and step back. “I’m going to bring in another bale of hay from the shed out back.”
She turns around to face me. “Is there anything else I can help with once I’m finished brushing Maple?”
“Want to feed the chickens some mealworms? They’ll never say no to a snack.”
Her lips curve into a smile. “I’d love to.”
“Great.” I move toward the stall entrance. “There’s a bucket with a scoop next to the feedbags on the bottom shelf.”
“Perfect. I visited a rescue farm in Upstate New York on a field trip in junior high, and feeding the chickens was my favorite part—though the horse ride was a close second.” I glance back to see her smiling fondly at the memory.
“The whole experience was so memorable that I spent an entire year begging my parents to move to a farm. I even made a posterboard presentation, complete with a detailed chart of when I’d feed the livestock before and after school. ”
“Did they go for it?” I ask, curiosity getting the best of me.
She shakes her head. “It was a pipe dream, thinking they would trade city life for a farm full of animals, but I tried anyway. We lived in a small town in Massachusetts until I was ten, and they never stopped longing for the fast-paced city life they’d left behind when I was born.
So there was no chance they were giving that up again,” she explains with a shrug.
“That didn’t stop me from begging for a border collie for months even though our Brooklyn Heights apartment didn’t have space for a herding dog.
They did get me a hamster for Christmas that year. ”
“That’s better than nothing, right?”
“Oh, absolutely. His name was Mr. Peanut, and he was obsessed with lettuce,” Noelle says brightly.
Fuck me. The way she looks my direction with her doe eyes, spilling her childhood dreams, makes me want to call Birdie and have her track down a rescue border collie—or hell, buy her a whole farm in Upstate New York.
Rational? Not even close. I don’t know her well, yet she has me tempted to make promises I have no business making.
“I’d better go get that hay.” I don’t wait for her reply, hightailing it out of there.
Once I’m outside, I take a gulp of fresh air.
No matter how drawn I am to Noelle, I have to keep my distance.
When she showed up at my cabin, it was easier to keep her at arm’s length since she reminded me of my ex-fiancée.
Both are city girls, have a weakness for high heels, and a habit of traveling on a whim.
However, I quickly learned that’s where the similarities end. Where Noelle finds the bright spot in the worst of situations, Danielle always focused on what she thought was missing.
Her family moved to Pine Haven when she was sixteen, and she never stopped comparing our small town to the city.
We started dating in our twenties and were together for five years before getting engaged.
Shortly after, I bought my property on the mountain and moved into the cabin, with plans to build a larger house.
I’d thought she was happy, but a month before our wedding, she told me she’d secretly been applying for jobs in Chicago and landed an offer she couldn’t refuse. She never asked if I’d move with her, having already decided our life together wasn’t enough for her.
I’d always wanted a family of my own, but after Danielle left, I resigned myself to solitude on the mountain with the animals, venturing into town only when work demanded it.
No one wants to be tied to someone like that, particularly not a woman twenty years younger with her whole future ahead of her.
After I retrieve what I need, I head back to the barn, stomping the snow off my boots before going inside.
I come to an abrupt standstill in the doorway when I see Noelle standing on an old milk stool.
She’s balancing precariously on the death contraption, reaching for a bag of mealworms from a shelf above the feedbags.
“What the hell are you doing?” I ask, keeping my tone low so I don’t startle her.
She whips her head in my direction. “I used the last of the mealworms and wanted to refill the bucket so it’s ready when the chickens get their next snack.”
“I’ll take care of that. Get down from there,” I grit out, my heart rate climbing.
She rolls her eyes. “It’s okay. I’ve got it.”
“Noelle. I’m serious.” I drop the hay bale by the barn door to free my hands. “You could fall.” I try to remain calm, concealing the alarm in my voice.
She waves me off when I take a step toward her. “I’m perfectly capable of doing this on my own.”
Damn her stubbornness.
To make her point, Noelle sweeps her hair from her face and stretches her arm toward the bag of mealworms tucked farther back on the shelf. “Just a little higher,” she mutters as she leans forward, the stool wobbling beneath her.
She exhales in relief when her fingers catch the corner of the bag. Her triumphant smile is short-lived when the flimsy stool folds beneath her, and my stomach drops as I watch her fight to regain her balance.
I’m already striding toward her when a startled gasp escapes Noelle’s lips.
Her eyes squeeze shut, bracing for the inevitable fall.
I catch her around the waist before she hits the ground, lifting her into my arms. Her slender fingers cling to my shoulders as she rests her head against my chest. My pulse hammers in my ears as dread coils in my stomach, cursing myself for not acting faster.
I stride to the workbench along the opposite wall and set her down.
“Are you alright?” I question as I scan her from head to toe.
“Is now a good time to admit that I have terrible balance?” she laughs.
“Dammit, woman, you need to be more careful. Would it have killed you to listen to me?”
“Would it hurt for you to be less cranky?” she retorts.
I brace a hand on my hip. “If you weren’t so headstrong and constantly challenging me, maybe I’d be in a better mood.”
“That’s debatable,” she mumbles. “I appreciate the rescue, but I’m fine now.” She shifts in her seat, wincing when her ankle grazes my leg.
I crouch in front of her, taking hold of her right ankle. Even with the slightest movement, she flinches.
“Sorry, did that hurt?”
She grits her teeth, nodding. “I must have twisted it when I fell. It’s tender, but I don’t think it’s broken.”
“At least let me check.”
“No, that’s okay.” Noelle pulls her foot from my hands and attempts to stand, hissing as she sways.
And that’s when my patience snaps. “That’s enough.”
I refuse to let her hurt herself any further. I lift her into my arms and head for the exit.
“Where are we going?”
“I’m taking you back to the cabin so you can rest. Ice and elevation will help with the swelling.” I haven’t seen her ankle, but her death grip on my shoulder tells me she’s in pain.
“Admit it, you’re just using me for an impromptu arm workout,” she murmurs, her voice strained.
“Woman, I swear I’ve aged a year since you’ve been here,” I say with a hint of amusement.
I’m hit with a sharp pang of guilt as I carry her out of the barn. She rests her head against my chest, and I breathe in the sweet mix of sugar cookies and vanilla, both quickly becoming two of my favorite scents.
I’d forgotten what it feels like to care for someone else, to put their needs before my own, and seeing Noelle vulnerable in my arms stirs a part of me I thought had long since been lost.
When we reach the snowmobile, I lift her onto it, swinging her uninjured leg across the seat.
I tell myself my reaction to her is normal, simply the concern of a man looking out for a woman in his charge—but the quick thrum of my pulse as she wraps her arms around me suggests otherwise.