4. Nolan
4
NOLAN
Snowflakes are plummeting to the ground in thick sheets as I pace around my living room, waiting for Aurora to arrive. It feels like forever since she left the farm yesterday, and I haven’t been able to get her off my mind since. I was tossing and turning all night, trying to ignore the bulge in my pants, my blood pumping at the memory of Aurora’s thick curves. In the end I gave up on sleep and took a shower, fisting my cock to relieve the ache. But now that three o’clock is approaching, I’m more fired up than ever.
I force myself to sit down, letting the crackling fire warm my hands. But it’s no good.
“Goddammit,” I mutter, standing up and pacing again. There’s too much energy pulsing through me to stay still for long, and a moment later, I hear tires crunching through the snow as a car travels through the trees, approaching my cabin. Barely breathing, I listen as a door slams and footsteps approach, before a fist wraps against my front door.
“Hi,” Aurora says as I pull it open, my heart in my throat.
She looks even more beautiful than yesterday, wearing an emerald sweater that matches her eyes, and jeans that hug her thick thighs. Her hair is tied back in a messy bun, and her pretty face seems to glow as she smiles at me with those plump red lips. Part of me was praying that yesterday was a fluke. I hoped that the next time I saw her, my body wouldn’t go haywire. But fuck, now that she’s standing outside my cabin, it’s even worse. I’m all alone with this angel, and it takes me a second to make myself speak.
“Hi,” I say eventually, my voice hoarse like it hasn’t been used for a while. “Come on in.”
She’s covered in snowflakes, but they instantly melt as she enters the warmth of my living room. Her eyes widen as she takes in my cabin, looking from the overstuffed furniture to the giant windows with views over the forest. My home sits in a large clearing ringed with trees, and right now it looks like the damn North Pole outside.
“This place is beautiful,” Aurora says, spinning slowly to take it all in. “What a view!”
“Glad you like it.”
“I love it.” She smiles at the big stone fireplace, and I beckon her to sit in one of the armchairs in front of it so she can warm her cold hands. “My parents are staying somewhere like this for the holidays,” she adds wistfully. “Somewhere near Aspen.”
“You didn’t want to go with them?” I ask, taking a seat opposite her.
“Oh, I definitely wanted to go.” She pulls a face and shrugs. “Had to work, though. My boss can be kind of demanding sometimes.”
“That sucks.” I frown. “Would have been nice to spend Christmas with your folks.”
“Yeah, it really would. But you have to make sacrifices to get ahead sometimes.” She laughs hollowly. “That’s what I keep telling myself, anyway.”
“Journalism must be pretty cut-throat.”
She gives me a funny look, then focuses on the fire with a frown, avoiding my gaze as she says, “Yeah…I guess it is.”
I can almost see a wall rising up between us, just like yesterday. The same guilt is back in Aurora’s eyes, but before I can question it, she’s reaching for her trusty notepad and pen.
“I hope you don’t mind me writing stuff down like this,” she says as she turns to a fresh page. “I’m a little old-school. Prefer this to typing or recording.”
“No problem. You want some cocoa before we start?”
She smiles, the fire casting shadows on her face, softening her pretty features. “I’d like that. Thanks, Nolan.”
Fuck, I could listen to her say my name all day.
I head for the kitchen and make two mugs of cocoa before carrying them back into the living room. Aurora is leaning back in my armchair, and it strikes me how much I like having her in my cabin. Usually, the only person I let in my home is Declan. I guard my privacy fiercely, but it feels natural having Aurora sitting in my living room. It feels right.
Our fingers brush when I hand her the mug, and a bolt of electricity shoots up my arm as she takes it, thanking me. I flex my hand, my skin still tingling as I take a sip of cocoa to distract myself, sitting back down in my chair.
“So you wanted to ask me more about the farm?”
Aurora nods. “That’s right. I know you co-own it with your brother, but what about before that? Did your dad have a co-owner too?”
“My mom. He made her co-owner as soon as he inherited the farm. They ran it together.”
She jots down my words, then her eyes meet mine, gleaming like emeralds in the firelight. “Did you and Declan help out, too?”
I nod. “We grew up on the farm. The cabin by the lake was our family home—it’s my brother’s place now.”
“It must have been a great place to grow up.”
I take another sip of cocoa, buying myself time to get my emotions in check. Talking about my parents is hard, especially during the holidays, and for a moment, there’s silence except for the crackling fire and the roaring wind outside.
“It was the best,” I say eventually. “This place has so many memories. Playing hide and seek behind the Christmas trees, ice skating on the lake when it froze over. We decorated the barn for every holiday. Then, when I was about ten, Dad had the idea of turning the cornfield into a Haunted Corn Maze for Halloween. People loved it, so we kept doing it.”
I should stop talking. Aurora doesn’t need to know all this crap. But the words are flowing out of me, memories of days long past swirling through my mind.
“When my mom died, things were pretty tough. Dad was heartbroken, but he put on a brave face and kept this place going. All of us loved the farm, but my dad loved it most of all. Gave it all he had until the day he died.” I swallow hard, the memory of his passing like a poker stabbing my heart. “Honestly, I don’t know if Declan and I have what it takes. My dad was a people person. Happiest guy you ever met. He didn’t just have customers—he had friends. Knew people by name. Remembered them every year.”
I keep my gaze fixed on the fire, watching the flames dance. The heat stings my eyes, but dammit, it’s better than crying.
“We have to keep going, for Dad’s sake,” I grunt. “But right now, this place just feels like a happy memory. Something that used to be magical. It’s still home, but hell, it’s not what it used to be.”
“Oh, Nolan…”
Aurora’s voice snaps me back to reality. I blink away the past and focus on her, my heart sinking when I see the stricken expression on her face.
Dammit, why did I say all that?
“Sorry.” I run a hand over my beard, letting out a breath of frustration. “Please don’t print any of that.”
“I won’t. I promise.” She reaches out to squeeze my arm, and I’m shocked to see a sheen of tears shining in her eyes. “I’m sorry, Nolan. This is all so raw for you. I…I shouldn’t be here. I feel awful. This isn’t right.”
I can’t figure out why she looks so upset. That same guilty expression is clouding her face, and she can’t even look at me as she scrambles up from the armchair.
“Aurora, it’s fine,” I tell her, frowning as she pockets her notebook and pen. “I invited you here to interview me. You don’t need to feel bad just because I got all mushy.”
She opens her mouth to say something, then closes it again, shaking her head. I gesture to the seat she just vacated.
“How about you let me interview you for a little while?” I ask, raising an eyebrow. “You can tell me about yourself, and then we’ll call it even.”
She bites her lip, looking torn. When I invited Aurora here, I hoped it would be an opportunity to learn more about her. But her walls are taller than mountains, and she says, “There’s nothing to tell. I…I’m just a journalist trying to get my big break.” She shrugs, looking anywhere but me. “Anyway, thank you for your time, Nolan. I should go”
The wind outside is howling so loudly that she has to raise her voice to say the last three words, and I turn to look at the window, watching as thick flurries of snow billow through the air.
“I don’t like the sound of that storm,” I mutter more to myself than Aurora, standing up from my chair. She watches me as I head past her and open the front door a crack, the wind slapping my face through the tiny gap. The world around my cabin is nothing but a white blur. I can barely make out Aurora’s car in the swirling snow, and the trees surrounding us are nothing more than shadows.
“I don’t think you’re going anywhere just yet,” I call over my shoulder.
Aurora joins me at the door, her face falling as she peers outside. “Oh, crap.” The icy cold bites at our faces, and I start to close the door when Aurora’s hand shoots out, keeping it open. “Wait. Look!”
I follow her gaze, staring into the blizzard. For a moment, I can’t figure out what she’s talking about. Then, a small dark shape emerges from behind her car, sniffing around the ground. It’s the stray dog from the farm. His black and white coat is wet, and he’s shivering in the snow, his whines barely audible over the wind.
I open the door wider and let out a loud whistle. The dog’s head whips to look at me. He takes a few steps forward, still wary.
“Do you have anything he can eat?” Aurora asks.
I nod. “There’s some leftover roast chicken in the fridge. I’ll get it.”
“No, it’s okay, I can go. You keep trying to call him.”
Aurora disappears into the kitchen while I whistle once more, crouching down to the dog’s level. He’s still edging closer, walking hesitantly.
“Come on, boy,” I call, my voice vanishing into the wind. I don’t dare go out and get him—he’ll bolt for sure. Instead, I whistle again. He’s only about ten feet away, but he freezes when Aurora appears in the doorway again, the movement making him jumpy. She sets the plate of chicken down, along with a bowl of water.
“We should stay back,” I say. “He might not eat if we’re standing here.”
Moving farther into the living room, we wait with our backs to the fireplace, watching the open doorway.
“Do you think he’ll come?” Aurora asks, her voice catching. “He could die out there.”
“Don’t worry.” Instinctively, I rest a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “He’s a fighter. I’ve seen him around the farm a few times.”
The dog doesn’t keep us waiting long. Less than a minute passes before he pokes his head inside the cabin, sniffing curiously. Once he reaches the chicken, he gobbles it all and laps up the water. Aurora and I stay quiet, neither of us daring to move in case he turns tail and darts out of the front door.
Once the dog is fed and watered, he moves deeper into the cabin, sniffing the furniture, his eyes darting toward us now and then. When he disappears into the kitchen, I quietly cross the room and close the front door, shutting out the violent wind. The floor is wet with melting snow, and the fire is dying down, so I crouch down and stoke it until it’s roaring once more.
“Nolan,” Aurora whispers. “Look.”
I turn. The dog is sniffing at her legs, his shaggy head lifting to her hand. Gently, she strokes his head. “Good boy. Oh, you poor thing, you’re so wet and cold.”
The dog seems to remember human touch. He nuzzles his head against Aurora’s hand, following her as she draws him closer to the fire.
“We need to warm you up,” she says, biting her lip with worry. She looks so fucking adorable that my mind goes blank for a second.
“I’ll, uh…I’ll grab a towel,” I say.
The dog lets me dry him, and Aurora brushes his fur, untangling the matted parts. He eats a little more chicken and finally curls up on the rug by the fire, his eyes flickering open now and again to look at us. I sit on the couch and Aurora joins me, her thigh brushing against mine. It’s a feathery light touch, but enough to make me want to pull her closer.
“He’s an adorable dog,” she says sadly. “I wonder how he ended up all alone.”
“When the storm ends, I’ll take him to the vet. See if he has a chip.”
Aurora nods. “We should give him a name in the meantime so we don’t have to call him ‘the dog’.”
“Sure. Any ideas?”
Her brow furrows, deep in thought, and I watch her in my peripheral vision. This girl might be a mystery to me, but she’s sweet as hell. There’s so much tenderness in her expression when she looks at the dog, and it’s making my heart melt in my chest.
“How about Rudolph?” she says eventually. “Tis the season and all that.”
“Rudolph it is.”
She beams at me, and that’s when it finally hits me…
I’m snowed in with this gorgeous angel.
Helping Rudolph distracted me from this before, but now it’s like an avalanche tumbling down on top of me.
Aurora is staying in my cabin.
God knows how long the blizzard will last. She could be stuck here for days sleeping under my roof. If it was anybody else, I’d be praying for the storm to end. But fuck, I never want Aurora to leave. She’s like a shot of adrenaline to my heart, making me feel things again after months of grief. Things I’ve never felt before.
It might be wrong, but I silently hope this blizzard won’t slow up just yet.