Chapter 1
CHAPTER ONE
~JORDAN~
T he snow is fresh.
After living in Phoenix for more than five years, I missed this the most: the snow. The change of seasons. Don’t get me wrong, being able to swim in the complex pool over Thanksgiving weekend is fun, but I’m a Montana girl through and through.
I missed big, bulky sweaters, hot drinks, and burrowing under blankets. I could do that in Arizona, but I had to crank the A/C to give the illusion of winter.
That’s not a problem here in Cunningham Falls, Montana.
I grew up here. My roots run deep. And I guess, way down, I always figured I’d be back.
I just didn’t plan on not having a job when I did.
I follow the GPS and turn my Toyota into the driveway of a house on Whitetail lake, then cut the engine and take a deep breath.
I’m a registered nurse. I worked my ass off to get through school, and I love what I do. But there are no available jobs right now, and I need work. So when my cousin told me her friend was looking for a caretaker for a few weeks, I inquired.
I’m ridiculously overqualified for this.
But it’s a job.
Not to mention, I’ll be staying in this killer house on the lake for a while, which means I won’t have to live with my mother.
I love her, but she gets on my last nerve.
I take one last deep breath, then get out of the car and retrieve my suitcase from the back seat, carrying it up the steps to the front door.
I ring the bell and wait. When there’s no answer, I ring it again and turn to admire the evergreen trees, heavy with snow. It’s like something out of a painting.
The door swings open behind me, and I turn. Then stop cold.
Holy crap.
This guy is my patient?
“Hi, I’m Jordan,” I say, holding out my hand to shake.
He looks at my hand and then back up at my face. He’s wearing dark-rimmed glasses, and his blue eyes behind the lenses narrow. His brown hair is messy as if he’s been running his hands through it all day.
He’s tall and broad. Lean. Certainly healthy.
“You’re a girl,” he says.
“A woman,” I confirm, wondering if he has brain damage. “Thanks for noticing.”
“I was expecting a man,” he says and still doesn’t let me through the door.
“Why?”
He doesn’t reply, just leans against the doorjamb and watches me.
“Because my name is Jordan?” He lifts a brow. “Yeah, I get that a lot, but it’s really unisex. My dad wanted a boy and named me Jordan. Would have named a male child that, too, actually. Are we going to stand in the doorway all day? If so, I’ll grab a scarf out of my car.”
He doesn’t say a word, just walks into the house. I follow him after I wrestle my suitcase over the threshold.
“This is a really nice place,” I say as I close the door behind me and slip out of my coat, hanging it on a hook. I toe off my boots and follow Nick into the kitchen—at least I assume this is Nick. I mean, who else would it be? “Should we talk?”
“What would you like to talk about?” he asks as he pours cream into a mug full of coffee and turns to me, sipping the hot beverage.
Okay, so he’s a bit rude and not hospitable at all.
I’ve worked with worse.
Hell, I’ve lived with worse.
And I have to admit, that accent gives me little shivers.
“We should probably go over what you need and want, and I can tell you what orders I’ve been given. You know, start with the basics.”
“I don’t want or need anything.”
I nod and boost myself up onto a stool at the kitchen island. I’m short. I’m always boosting myself up somewhere.
“Nina did tell me that you might not be super excited to have me here.”
“Don’t you have somewhere else to be? The hospital? A clinic?”
“Nope.” My voice is cheerful as I spin on the stool and offer him my brightest smile. “I’ve recently moved home from Arizona, and I’m between jobs. So, this works out great. I mean, it’s not good that you’re injured, but?—”
“I get it.”
“Anyway, I’m all yours for the foreseeable future.” His jaw firms, making me laugh. “Oh, come on. Don’t be so excited. I’m a likeable gal. Pretty agreeable. I’m an excellent conversationalist. And I can cook like crazy. Seriously, Rachel Ray has nothing on me. Or that Pioneer Woman. Have you seen the dimples on her? She’s just so pretty. And she can cook. I mean, is that fair?”
Nick pinches the bridge of his nose.
“Do you ever not talk?”
I slump on the stool. “Huh? Sure. I mean, if you don’t want to talk, that’s okay. I’ll just fill you in on what I know, and we can go from there. Nina wants me to cook and clean, and make sure you’re not overdoing it with your shoulder. If you have questions or concerns about your injury, I can take a look. You’re not supposed to go crazy with exercise, at least not for a little while yet.”
“I’m a grown-ass man, and I’ll do whatever the bloody hell I want with my shoulder.”
“Sure.” I nod and rummage around in my purse for my lip moisturizer. “I mean, you’re right. You can. Except your job is important, and if you don’t follow the rules, you can’t go back to work. Aha! There it is.” I pull out the tube and rub it on my lips before tossing it back into my bag and smiling at the surly Nick. “What do you want for dinner? I figure we can do takeout tonight, and then I’ll go to the grocery and stock up on some things later.”
“I don’t care.” He sighs and sets his empty mug in the sink. “Whatever you want.”
“Italian it is. I haven’t had Ciao since I got home, and I’m totally craving it. What room do you want me to take?”
His eyes narrow on me again.
“You’re staying here?”
“Twenty-four-seven,” I confirm. “And don’t look so scared. I won’t be in your way. I have stuff to do.”
“Jesus,” he mutters and pushes his hand through his already messy hair. “I’m in the master. You can take any of the others.”
“Okay.” I hop off the stool and return to the foyer to retrieve my suitcase. “I’ll just go get this settled, and then I’ll order dinner.”
He nods, and I wrestle my case upstairs, taking the bedroom farthest from the master. We’re both going to want our privacy.
If there was a bedroom on the first floor, I’d have taken that. But we’ll make do.
The house is smaller than I imagined, but it’s beautiful. All the rooms face the lake, and they each have huge windows so you’re sure not to miss the views.
Now that I think about it, this would be my dream house—something on the small side with an incredible view. It just doesn’t get any better than this.
I unpack my suitcase and store it in the closet. When everything is in its place and organized, I freshen my blond hair, slick more moisturizer on my lips, and skip down the steps. A quick search tells me that Nick is sitting in the living room, reading something on his tablet.
“All moved in,” I announce.
He grunts.
“Do you know what you want for dinner?”
“Just get two of whatever you want.”
I frown and sit on a chair across from him. “I’m getting all the carbs in the world. You don’t strike me as a carb guy.”
“Why not?”
“Well.” I look him over and feel myself start to salivate. “I mean, you’re lean and muscly. And I’m not flirting.” I shake my head. “I’m just stating a fact as a medical professional that you don’t look like you eat many carbs. In my professional opinion. Professionally.”
“So, you’re being professional, then.” For the first time since I got here, I see humor in his blue eyes, and it gives me hope that I won’t be living with Scrooge for this entire assignment.
“Completely. So, are you sure you want what I’m having?”
“Add a salad on the side,” he says and looks back down at the screen.
“Okay, but I warned you. I’ll order and go pick it up. Shouldn’t take long.”
He nods, and I leave the room to do just that.
By the time I’m driving into town to fetch the food, I’ve relaxed quite a bit. Nick might have a bark to him, but he’ll loosen up. He can’t be grouchy all the time.
Darkness has fallen, but the moon is high, reflecting off of the fresh snow. It’s just past Thanksgiving, so the town has already hung holiday lights and décor throughout the downtown area, making it look like the set of a Hallmark movie.
I freaking love it.
I don’t have to wait for the food, and when I get back to the house, I dish it onto plates, grab utensils and napkins, and deliver the meal to Nick, who’s still in the living room.
He did turn on the gas fireplace while I was gone, making the room cozy.
“Thanks,” he says and then raises a brow at me. “You weren’t kidding.”
“Bread, pasta, rich sauce. You’re welcome. But I did get your salad.”
“How do you eat like this and stay so little?” he asks before taking a bite of his bread.
“Wait. Are we having a conversation ?”
He chews, silently waiting for me to reply.
“I’m blessed with a crazy fast metabolism,” I reply with a shrug and moan in delight when the first bite hits my tongue. “Jesus God, that’s good. Mmm. I mean, I remember what it tastes like, but it’s so much better than my memories.”
I shovel more in and sigh in happiness.
“Oh, I also run for exercise,” I say, dabbing my lips. “So, luckily, I can eat pretty much whatever I want, and things don’t get too out of hand. How’s yours?”
“What? Oh, it’s fine.”
“Nick. Come on, it’s better than fine.”
“Okay, it’s pretty damn good.”
I nod in satisfaction. “Have you had their Italian nachos? We have to get them next time. I can’t believe I forgot them.”
“I’m going to gain fifty pounds,” he mumbles.
“Nah, we’ll just eat like this once a week. As a treat. I’m all about healthy meals the rest of the time, I promise. Except I have one very firm rule. And I will not bend it.”
“I can’t wait to hear this,” he says, his voice heavily laced with sarcasm.
“If I make tacos, and I will make tacos, we have margaritas with said meal. That is not up for discussion.”
His lips twitch. I almost got a smile out of him!
“I can live with that.”
“Good.” I set my empty plate aside. “I’ll make a grocery list tonight and leave it on the counter. Just add whatever you want to it.”
“I’ll go to the store with you.”
“That’s fine, too.” I sit back and pull my sock-clad feet up under me. “Oh my God, I’m full of carbs, and this fire is amazing. I could fall asleep.”
“Don’t. I can’t carry you upstairs.”
I smile at him. “Don’t worry. I won’t. Although, I’ve always been able to sleep anywhere. The car, the plane, the floor.”
“Not me,” he says. Just when I think he’s going to say more, he picks up his tablet and turns it back on.
I guess we won’t be chatting it up late into the night. Nick’s a man of few words, that’s for sure. I wonder if that’s with everyone, or just me.
Without another word, I carry our dirty dishes into the kitchen. I clean up, store the leftovers in the fridge, and start the dishwasher.
Then, I take the magnetic to-do pad off the fridge and start making my grocery list. I search the contents of the kitchen and discover that I’m pretty much starting from scratch.
Which is actually kind of fun. I’m sure I’ll forget something, but luckily, the store isn’t far away.
I shoot Nina a text, letting her know that I’ll be breaking the bank on groceries tomorrow. The fact that I have a princess’s phone number is still a foreign concept to me.
The whole situation is nuts.
But I’m home, and I have a job. That’s really all that matters.