Chapter 3
Three
I’m more than a little curious about what Noah is going to explain, but I’m temporarily distracted as soon as we step inside the farmhouse.
Holy cow, this place is amazing. My gaze skates past the reception area to an enormous living room full of comfortable furniture and soft lamplight. A fire crackles in the hearth, but it’s mostly just embers now, and I have a sudden urge to walk over and put another log on the dying flame.
I would delay the hot shower I desperately need if it meant snuggling up down here. I’ve never seen any place look so cozy.
“Wow,” I say as I take it all in. “This place is great.”
Noah nods toward a wide stairway hugging the side of the room.
“Your room is upstairs. Kitchen is that way, just past the dining room. You’ll have to do your own cooking, but a grocery service brings out the basics twice a week, so if there’s anything specific you want, you can add it to the list in the kitchen, and they’ll bring it next time they come. ”
I nod. All of this feels familiar, though I’m suddenly wondering where Noah will eat. If I’ll ever run into him in the kitchen—assuming he’s staying here too. Which, maybe he isn’t? Maybe he’s just here to drop me off? “Olivia explained,” I say. “I don’t mind cooking.”
He tugs his gloves off and shoves them into the pocket of his coat before moving into the living room, where he crouches in front of the fireplace and reaches for the stack of wood sitting on the hearth.
I don’t want to stand too close to him, but it’s hard to resist the pull of the fire.
On the side table next to the couch, there’s a book and an empty glass, and it suddenly occurs to me that Noah was probably here, enjoying this room, when he had to retrieve me from the side of the road. Someone clearly was, and who else would it be if not him?
I swallow against the sudden knot in my throat. Surely Olivia would have mentioned me sharing the farmhouse with someone else.
Then again, it’s a really big house. More like a hotel. I share hotels with strangers all the time, so maybe this won’t feel any different?
“So…are you living on the farm too? Or just working here?”
He looks up over his shoulder, dark blue eyes sparking in the firelight. “I have a room off the kitchen,” he says. “But I won’t be in your way.”
“I wasn’t worried about that,” I say a little too quickly, and he lifts an eyebrow.
Just one eyebrow. Which makes him look devious and devilish but also annoyingly adorable.
“Fine,” I say. “I’m a little surprised Olivia didn’t mention there would be someone else here. But it’s a big house. I’m sure it will be…fine.”
He’s quiet for a moment while he stokes the fire, shifting and poking until the flames have sizably grown, then he stands, stepping out of the way and motioning for me to move closer.
He pushes his hands into his pockets and watches me, but I don’t even care.
I’ll endure his inscrutable gaze if it means standing right here where the fire can thaw out the chill in my bones.
“Here,” he says, holding out his hand. “I’ll hang up your coat. You’re dripping snow.”
I look down, and, sure enough, there are water splotches all over the floor where I’m standing. “Oh. Thanks,” I say as I shrug it off my shoulders. He removes his own coat, then walks them both to a coatrack by the front door.
I’m not sure what happened when we came inside, but something shifted with Noah, the iciness to his demeanor melting away to reveal something a little different. It’s not like he’s suddenly emanating warmth, but he also isn’t glaring at me like he wishes he’d left me in the snow.
He walks back to the fire, standing beside me as he holds his hands out to the flames, warming his fingers much like I am. “I’m just guessing here,” he says, eyes locked on the flames, “but I’m pretty sure Olivia didn’t tell you about me on purpose.”
I glance over at him and take in his profile. I don’t always go for beards, but his is short and neat and it looks really good on him. “I don’t understand.”
He lifts his eyes to meet mine, and a spark of electricity races down my spine.
“I don’t want this to come across the wrong way,” he says, “but you don’t really need to be here.
There are a dozen different employees who could work a few shifts to cover the front desk and host the family reunion.
It’s easy work. There’s no reason to have someone here full time. ”
“Clearly there is a reason, or they wouldn’t have hired me,” I say. “They offered me a job, and I took it.”
“A job,” he repeats, making air quotes in front of himself for emphasis, “that I or any other number of employees could have handled. It’s a setup, Megan. My family made up a job and gave their regular employees time off so you could come here instead.”
My brain temporarily snags on the sound of my name on his lips, but I force myself to focus. “A setup for what?”
He rolls his eyes like he can’t quite believe we’re even having this conversation. “A setup with me,” he says, annoyance dripping from his tone.
I frown. “But why would they do that? That doesn’t make any sense.”
Noah steps away from the fire and sinks onto a nearby armchair. “Because they didn’t want me to be alone for Christmas.”
I hear myself scoff even as heat floods my cheeks.
A setup?
But Olivia made the job sound so official. And Evie didn’t say anything to indicate there was any ulterior motive. Which, she totally would have had she thought the whole situation was anything but straightforward.
I sit down on the chair across from Noah and tuck my feet up under me. “I really don’t think that’s what’s happening here. Olivia listed a bunch of reasons why people needed time off. It all sounded legitimate.”
“Then why didn’t they tell me you were coming?” he says.
“You didn’t know?”
He shakes his head. “Not until this afternoon when Olivia texted and asked me to get your room ready, then added something along the lines of ‘she’s single, she’s beautiful, and you’d better not screw this up.’”
“Oh, wow,” I say, my defensiveness deflating. “That does feel pretty pointed.”
“And you for sure didn’t know anything about me being here?” he asks. “Was your surprise that I’m living in the farmhouse genuine?”
“Completely genuine,” I quickly say. “I didn’t know there would be anyone else here until I was told you were on the way to pick me up.
But I still don’t understand why your family would do this.
” There is so much I don’t understand, honestly.
But I can’t think of a question to ask that doesn’t feel rude or invasive, so I bite my tongue and hope Noah volunteers something to help me out.
He leans forward and props his elbows on his knees. “My family is in Italy with the rest of the Hawthornes,” he says. “My uncle—my dad’s brother—is the one who owns Stonebrook. The two families usually celebrate Christmas together. This year, they’re celebrating in Italy.”
“You didn’t want to go?”
“Nope,” Noah says simply.
There is an emptiness to his response that makes my heart squeeze in my chest. Normally, I would ask why, but something about his tone—I can tell he doesn’t want me to ask. And he definitely doesn’t want to tell me.
“Look,” Noah says after another long pause, “I shouldn’t have been unkind to you, and I’m sorry I was.
When Flint called to tell me you were stranded, I was still frustrated about Olivia’s meddling, and I half-wondered if you were in on it.
But you clearly had no idea what you were getting into, so let’s just leave things be and agree to stay out of each other’s way.
My family is well-intentioned, but I don’t need them to force-feed me human companionship. I’m fine being on my own.”
I bite my lip and try not to process Noah’s words like they’re a rejection.
He isn’t rejecting me so much as he’s rejecting his family’s meddling.
Impressive meddling, really. Though I’m wondering if it wasn’t quite so blatant as Noah is making it seem.
The rundown of all the reasons Olivia’s employees need extra time off through the holidays sounded real and reasonable.
A new grandbaby, an ankle surgery, in-laws visiting from overseas. I doubt she’d outright lie to me.
“I just feel like Olivia would have mentioned…” I say, but I’m not sure how to finish the sentence. What would she have mentioned?
If she is trying to set me up with her cousin, do I really think she would have admitted it?
“What she should have mentioned is that I was going to be here,” Noah says. “You’re a woman, and you’re alone, staying in this big house—you deserved a warning there would be anyone staying in with you.”
“A warning? Are you dangerous, Noah?” I tease before I can think better of it. It’s the kind of flirty thing I would usually say, but I don’t know Noah well enough to guess how he’ll take it.
His eyes narrow, flashing with something that makes my heart pick up speed.
“Not to you,” he says, rather cryptically. “But that doesn’t matter. Olivia should have offered you that reassurance. What would have happened had you made it all the way here and let yourself into the house only to find me sitting by the fire?”
“Okay, that’s fair,” I say. “A heads-up would have been good. Maybe she just forgot? Now that I think about it, Olivia did mention other employees would be around the farm. Just not really…interacting with me.”
“Then we can still make this work and give us each the holiday we expected,” Noah says. “You stay out of my way, and I’ll stay out of yours.”
I fold my arms across my chest. Whatever softness Noah exhibited seems to have crawled back inside him and died because he’s suddenly prickly again. Maybe that’s his default setting, and kindness only happens when he really, really tries.
If that’s the case, it wouldn’t surprise me if this isn’t a setup at all and Olivia just didn’t want to tell Noah she doesn’t trust him to host a family reunion with a smile on his face.
I’ve been in the man’s presence for almost an hour already, and he hasn’t smiled once.
“Fine with me,” I say. “I have a lot of studying to do anyway.”
He lifts his eyebrows. “Studying?”
I’m not sure why he thinks he’s entitled to answers from me when he’s giving me so little information about himself, but I worked too hard in nursing school not to talk about it every chance I get.
On the way home from my very last exam, I told an entire subway car that I was officially finished and happily accepted their applause.
“I just graduated from nursing school,” I say. “I’m taking the NCLEX in January.”
Something passes over Noah’s expression, and he shakes his head, huffing out a disbelieving laugh. “Of course you are.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask. “Of course I’m a nurse? A college student?”
He stands without answering and walks toward my bags still sitting by the front door.
“It’s nothing,” he says. “Forget I said anything.” He picks up my suitcase.
“You’re in room five—top of the stairs and to the left.
I’ll carry up your bag. If you need anything else, just look for me. I’m usually around.”
I’m good enough at reading people to know that Noah Hawthorne hopes I don’t need him. Which is fine by me. He can keep his secrets and his angst and his broody demeanor all to himself, and I’ll be perfectly happy on my own.
Except, if that’s how I feel, then why, when I’m snuggled into my (fabulous) four-poster bed, am I still seeing the flash of his handsome blue eyes and plotting what it would take to finally make him smile?