Chapter 2
Two
It can’t be more than ten minutes after I hang up the phone with Alec that I finally see headlights flashing in the distance, but it feels more like a hundred.
I’m not particularly afraid of the dark, and I don’t mind being by myself.
But I’ll still choose company and sunshine at every opportunity, so hanging out in the dark, alone, clinging to the side of a mountain is triggering my discomfort on multiple levels.
I sit up a little taller, watching as the vehicle slowly inches toward me, then pulls to a stop directly beside my passenger side door. There’s a Stonebrook Farm logo emblazoned on the side of the truck, and I breathe out a sigh, letting the tension drop out of my shoulders.
I’m more than a little anxious to catch a glimpse of the Hawthorne-brothers-handsome Noah, but mostly I’m just happy to be rescued.
I turn off my car and climb over to the passenger side, tucking my keys into the pocket of my coat before grabbing my purse and pushing open the door. The car is angled enough that it’s difficult to keep the door open, but then a gloved hand appears at the top of the doorframe, holding it steady.
In my semi-crouched position halfway out of the car, my eyes are angled down, so at first, all I can see are his boots.
I slowly lift my gaze, trailing up his form.
Dark pants. Flannel peeking out from under an unbuttoned Carhartt coat.
Trim waist. Broad shoulders. And another gloved hand extended toward me.
“Careful,” he says, his deep voice sending a shiver through me. “The ground is slick.”
I still haven’t looked up to his face. Partly because of my awkward position. Partly because the hot Hawthorne warning left me feeling weirdly anxious.
Which is so unlike me.
I am not the kind of woman who is intimidated by a pretty face. I’m the confident one. The one my girlfriends send across the bar to ask the cute guy if he’s seeing anyone and would he be interested in getting my friend’s number?
But tonight, I’m all out of sorts.
Maybe it’s the snow. Or the half a dozen minutes I spent contemplating what it might feel like to freeze to death. Or maybe it’s just that for the first time, I’m in an unfamiliar place and I’m entirely on my own.
I might be the confident one, but that doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate having my friends standing behind me, holding the safety net to catch me should I crash and burn.
I take a steadying breath and slip my fingers into Noah’s gloved hand. Well, I assume this is Noah. I should probably make sure before I climb into his truck.
“You’re Noah Hawthorne?”
“Last time I checked,” he grumbles. There’s a quality to his voice that immediately sets me on edge. He doesn’t sound angry, exactly. But his tone is as chilly as the snow collecting on the shoulders of my pea coat.
Once I’m on my feet, I finally lift my gaze.
Oh. Oh, he is handsome. Strong jaw. Thick brows over stormy blue eyes. Wavy brown hair and a close-cut beard.
And a scowl that makes my heart shrink inside my chest.
“I’m Megan,” I say. “I’m—”
“I know who you are,” he says dryly. “Are you good?”
“Am I good?” I repeat. Whatever confidence I usually have must not like cold weather, because it’s all I can do not to shrivel under his icy glare.
“Steady on your feet,” he clarifies.
When I nod, he tugs his hand out of mine and tilts his head toward the trunk. “Do you have bags?”
I’m half tempted to say no just to avoid inconveniencing him further. But the thought of my favorite leggings and the oversized hoodie I know are inside my suitcase is too tempting.
“Yeah. Just one…and a backpack,” I manage to say. I pull out my keys and use the fob to pop the trunk.
Wordlessly, Noah moves around the car and retrieves my bags, then carries them to his truck, sliding them into the extended cab. He leaves the door open and turns to face me.
I’m still standing beside my car in the triangle of light pooling out of the open passenger door.
“Are you coming?” he asks. “You’re getting snow in your car.”
I turn and stare at the snow gathering along the edge of the seat like I’m surprised this is happening. But of course there’s snow in my car. It’s snowing. And I left the door wide open. “Oh,” I say, stupidly. “You’re right.”
What is wrong with me? I have no idea why this man has me so out of sorts. But the way he’s glaring, I can’t tell if he’s bugged he had to come pick me up or simply annoyed I exist at all.
He has the look of a man annoyed that anyone exists. Like all he wants is to go back to his cabin in the forest where he can chop wood and eat beans out of a can and bask in his own solitude.
Either way, he’s my ride, so I quickly shut the car door and make my way toward his truck.
Noah waits by the passenger door and watches, his expression almost bored. He offers me another hand, and I almost take it—the truck is very high off the ground—but I’m feeling a little salty over his less-than-friendly greeting, so I ignore it and use the frame of the door to give myself a boost.
Noah tilts his head, eyebrows lifting, and for a second, he almost looks impressed.
See, Mr. Mountain Man? I’m not as helpless as you think I am.
Noah shuts the passenger side door without a word and makes his way around the truck.
I breathe deeply while he’s gone, an attempt to calm myself and gather some sense of composure, but it backfires, because the inside of the truck smells manly and a little spicy and I’m pretty sure that has everything to do with the man driving it.
I glance his way as he climbs behind the wheel, then force myself to focus on the road ahead.
Otherwise, I’m not sure I’ll be able to stop myself from staring.
This is ridiculous. It’s not like I’ve never seen men this handsome.
I’ve dated men this handsome. But Noah is—I have no idea what Noah is.
Or why sitting beside him makes me feel like my mouth is full of gravel.
“I’ll come back for your car tomorrow,” he says as he slowly eases the truck forward, windshield wipers fighting against the snow. “The weather will have cleared by then.”
I lift my fingers to touch the tip of my very cold nose. “Thank you,” I manage to say. “And I’m sorry you had to come rescue me in the first place.”
He grunts. “It happens.”
His icy delivery gives me little reassurance, but I decide to take his words at face value and push on with the conversation.
“So,” I say, a little too brightly, “you work at Stonebrook Farm?” I wince as soon as the words are out of my mouth.
Of course he works at Stonebrook Farm. That’s why he’s here.
Driving a truck with a big “Stonebrook Farm” logo on the side.
“I mean, of course you work at the farm,” I add before he can answer.
“That was a dumb question. I meant to ask what you do at the farm.”
I’m itching to look at him, to read his expression, but I won’t let myself do it.
Instead, I lift my eyes upward and stare at the ceiling of the truck, a question suddenly popping into my mind.
If the Hawthorne family already has a cousin living on the farm, why do they need me?
It’s not like they’ve asked me to do anything particularly difficult.
If Noah Hawthorne is capable of driving through the snow to retrieve me, he’s capable of answering phones and making sure the Peterson family has enough spiced eggnog for their family reunion.
Noah’s quiet for a second, but I feel his gaze on me, and it’s all I can do not to look over. Finally, he clears his throat and says, “Whatever they need me to do. Mend fences, tend animals, muck stalls.”
Ah. Well, that answers my question, at least. Noah is doing outside work. And they brought me on to cover the inside work.
“Right. That makes sense.” I tug my coat a little tighter around me, then lift my chilled fingers to the warm air blowing from the vents.
“Why does that make sense?” Noah says. “I look like a farmhand?”
“No!” I quickly say. “Not at all. I mean, you could look like a farmhand. I don’t think there’s any kind of rule that says farmhands can’t also be h—” I swallow the end of my sentence before I let Noah hear me call him hot, but I doubt he’s an idiot.
He has to know where I was headed. I finally shift my gaze across the truck and see a tiny smirk playing around his lips.
Okay, he definitely knows.
I narrow my eyes. Did he do that on purpose? Set me up to say something about his appearance?
The cocky jerk.
“What I meant was that it makes sense you’re doing farmwork because they hired me to watch the desk and take care of things inside the farmhouse.
Which, they made it seem like there wouldn’t really be anyone else around, so I was just acknowledging that if you were doing that sort of thing, they wouldn’t need me, so it makes sense that you aren’t. You’re doing outside work instead.”
Noah slows and turns onto a wide drive, easing the truck between two massive stone pillars that I assume mark the entrance to the farm.
I see a sign, but it’s difficult to make it out through the falling snow.
“It’s a five-hundred-acre commercial operation,” he says.
“Did you think you were going to be the only one here?”
Five hundred acres? I’m not sure I realized Stonebrook was quite so large.
“Of course not,” I lie. Olivia did tell me that during the family reunion, catering staff would come in to handle the meal. But that’s just one day, and she hired me to be here for a week. I assumed that outside of Christmas Eve, when the reunion is scheduled, I really would be on my own.
“Even in the off season, there’s always a skeleton staff to keep things running,” Noah continues. He shoots me a look before shifting his eyes back to the road. “Even people who could watch the desk.”
I frown, a sense of unease pooling in my midsection. Olivia might have said this would be an easy gig, but she definitely made it seem necessary. Like I would be doing the Hawthornes a huge favor by staying at the farm.
And honestly, it feels like a favor. It’s December.
Christmas is a week away, and I’ve given up time with friends, time with Alec and Evie and Juno and my parents.
That’s no small thing, and Noah is making it seem like me being here is completely superfluous.
Which, after the ordeal it’s been to get here, driving through the snow, getting stuck, having to be rescued, it grates on my nerves to think it’s all been for nothing.
“Are you saying I don’t need to be here?” I ask. “They’re paying me to be here for an entire week. I don’t think they’d do that if they didn’t need me.”
Noah stops the truck in front of an enormous white farmhouse, porch lights glowing through the snow. He unbuckles his seatbelt and opens his door. “I’ll get your bags. Try not to slip when you’re getting out.”
His lack of response has me huffing in indignation as I climb the porch stairs behind him, gripping the snow-covered railing despite the cold because I will not, under any circumstances, let myself fall in this man’s presence.
“Am I missing something?” I ask when I finally reach the top of the steps.
A sharp gust of wind blows past, and I suck in a breath.
Maybe it’s that the adrenaline that’s compelled me through the last thirty minutes has finally waned, but I suddenly feel exhausted.
Exhausted and freezing. “I feel like you’re annoyed that I’m here.
But it’s not like I’m crashing a party. I was hired to be here.
Are you just bugged that you had to rescue me? ”
Noah’s expression shifts, and what looks like a hint of remorse passes behind his navy eyes. He breathes out a sigh. “Let’s get you inside, then I’ll explain.”