Chapter 8
8
RONAN
M y sportscar comes to a screeching halt in the driveway, leaving tread marks on the gravel. I leap out of the car, snatch the shopping bags from the trunk and bolt across the driveway like I’m being chased by an ax murderer.
But instead of dashing into the main house, I take the bumpy, ice-covered path that leads around the back.
My guesthouse is a decent-sized log cabin with large windows looking out over the vast yard with nothing but snow-capped pine trees in the distance. I think the view is pretty dope. I heard that girls like nice views, so that’s good.
I burst into the cabin, scanning every corner as I toe out of my shoes at the door. My head is racing.
Fuck. This place is a mess.
Okay, not really. My cleaning and maintenance people were here last week, and with my hectic hockey schedule, I haven’t been home enough in the past few days to dirty things up. But I want everything to be spotless.
For Nicky.
She already has a poor opinion of me, for whatever reason. I don’t want her thinking I’m a slob, too. And regardless of how she feels about me, I want her to be comfortable here.
Most guys in my position would be pissed about being saddled with a live-in babysitter. Me? It feels like the stars are smiling down on me. All I know is, the woman I’m borderline obsessed with is moving into my house and it’s her literal job to hang out with me all day. Not gonna lie—this is my preteen fantasy come true.
What am I even doing? All of this is fucking weird. Since when do I work this hard to impress a girl? Especially a girl who’s made it clear she has no interest in me?
Then again, maybe that’s Nicky’s appeal. The woman is sassy and stubborn and electric. The whole cat-and-mouse vibe between us is fun for me. She’s a challenge. And I’m not used to women who challenge me.
Also…It’s been nineteen days and I still can’t stop thinking about those text messages.
No. Don’t think about the text messages .
Fuck. I totally can not stop thinking about the text messages. Not even a little bit.
I have to play it cool, though. I don’t want to creep her out. Because then she’ll quit. And if she quits, Darius will really send a polka dot bow-tie dude to replace her, and that won’t be fun at all.
I wonder if she’s still into that douchebag from Christmas. I hope not. He clearly didn’t deserve her. I don’t know exactly what they were talking about in the shadows of the back deck that night. But any guy who’d leave a woman like Nicky shivering and fighting back tears on her freaking birthday deserves to get punched in the nuts.
My knuckles tingle, just thinking about it. Geez—simmer down, Rocky Balboa.
Anyway, for now, I need to focus on preparing for Nicky’s arrival.
I grabbed some scented candles at the pharmacy. I artfully arrange those on the side table in the living room. Girls are supposed to like that shit, I think.
After packing the fridge full of groceries, I put fresh sheets on the bed and make sure the toilet paper dispenser is stocked in the bathroom. I dig the vacuum cleaner out of the storage closet to clean the rug and then I thoroughly steam-mop the floors.
Mom would be so proud of me.
Fists on my hips, I stand back and assess my handiwork. Not bad. I’m sweating bullets but I think I’ve done a pretty good job making the place cozy.
I’m busy fluffing and re-fluffing the couch cushions when the front door bursts open. My pulse somersaults in my neck and I turn around, expecting to see Nicky standing there.
Spoiler alert: It’s not Nicky.
My oldest brother, Archer, carelessly kicks off his muddy boots on the front mat before heading straight for the fridge. “Hey man,” he mumbles, barely sparing me a glance.
Felix follows him in. He tips his nose upward, sniffing at the air. “Mmm. New potpourri? Smells nice. Very floral.” Dropping a dirty basketball to his feet, he trails Archer to the kitchenette. “Could use a beer. Is there any beer?”
My panic starts to rise as I watch the basketball roll, leaving a slushy trail across the freshly-mopped hardwood floor.
“What the hell, assholes?” I bark, chasing after them with my microfiber steam mop. “What are you even doing here?”
“We were on our way over to see if you wanted to shoot some hoops at the community center. But then Darius called and said that your new live-in assistant starts work today. We wanted to come over and say hi.” Felix grins at me before his face disappears inside the pantry.
“Nicky doesn’t want to say hi to you,” I grouse.
Felix waves me off. “Of course she wants to say hi to me. Everybody loves me. I’m the favorite doctor in town.” He stalls. “But don’t tell Mason I said that.”
Actually, he’s not wrong. Felix is Mr. Congeniality. Mr. Friendly. Mr. Happy. And he’s been even happier since Daphne accepted his marriage proposal a few days ago. I’m a pretty easygoing guy. But Felix? My 31-year-old brother is almost intolerably happy since he got engaged.
Meanwhile, Archer is the polar opposite of that.
I hear him grumbling from where his head is buried deep inside the refrigerator. “Why the hell do you need a live-in assistant anyway?” He shudders violently at the idea. I imagine that the mere thought of having someone in his house gives him the hives.
He’s not a people person. In fact, the 36-year-old former military man is a borderline recluse. Saying that he likes his space is an understatement. And sometimes it seems like the only people who can get him to crack a smile are his neighbor, Layla, and her toddler son, Skylar.
My brothers are staring at me now, waiting for an explanation. “Nicky’s, uh, she’ll just be helping, uh, helping me stay focused for the rest of the season.”
Felix hops up, taking a seat on the countertop. He watches me as he digs into the new box of vegetable crackers I just packed into the pantry. I think girls like vegetable crackers. Right?
“You mean, Darius hired her to keep your ass from getting arrested again,” he says knowingly.
Archer shakes his head, sliding a water across the counter to Felix before cracking his own bottle open. “Poor girl. She has her work cut out for her.” He empties his bottle in two gulps.
“Yeah, whatever.” I grab a wet rag, frantically wiping up the mess Felix is making with those damn crackers. I’m quickly turning into a high-strung, clean freak psycho.
My brothers need to get out of here. I’ve got to take a shower before Nicky shows up. And I want to make her a snack. Maybe a fruit and cheese charcuterie board.
“I’m trying to make a good impression here. You idiots need to leave.”
Felix’s eyebrow climbs up. “A good impression? Isn’t this supposed to be a punishment? Why are you cleaning like your guesthouse is about to get featured in a home decor magazine?”
I don’t bother to respond to that. Instead, I check the time. It’s getting late. Nicky will be here soon. I hope.
“You’re dropping crumbs on the counter. Leave.”
Felix reads the label of the box in his hand and gags. “Eesh! What’s in this shit? You got anything else? I’m feeling snacky.”
I yank the box away from him, carefully sealing the package and stuffing it back into the cupboard. “Stop by the grocery store on the way home. Leave.”
Archer furrows his brows, eyeballs focused on me. He blindly reaches into the fridge, grabbing another bottle of H2O. “Um, are you blushing? You’re blushing. What’s going on with you?”
I snatch it out of his hand and use my body to barricade the fridge. “There’s perfectly good water in the tap. Stop drinking my bottled water. Better yet, leave.”
“Ugh. What kind of host are you? I don’t feel welcome here,” Felix complains.
“You’re not.” I lead the way to the door, swinging it open for my annoying brothers.
“Fuck you. You’re mean.” Archer huffs.
“You know what they say—go where you’re appreciated,” I tell the growly lumberjack with a solemn nod.
He drops a string of lewd curse words and slaps the back of my head as he stomps out.
Look. I love my brothers. I do.
But I don’t want them making me look like a dumbass in front of Nicky. Which is exactly what they’ll do if I let them get anywhere near her.
As I hustle them back to where their vehicles are parked, I’m about to breathe a sigh. But my relief is short-lived. I hear the tired rumble of a piece of shit engine clunking up my driveway. Then through the trees, I see a familiar beat-up old car that’s barely holding its shit together with duct tape.
I almost cry in defeat.
Archer’s boots crunch on ice and twigs and rocks as he walks up the path, back to the main house. “Nice. Nolan’s here.” He nods solemnly.
“We’re halfway to a family reunion!” Felix exclaims. He’s like a little kid happy to see his parents after a day at school. He reaches into his pocket for his phone. “Think we should invite Karli and Darius? Really get the party started?”
That suggestion earns him a hard shove. I snarl at him. “Make that phone call and I will assassinate you right this minute and bury your body under my back porch.”
He pushes his device back into his pocket then holds his palms up in surrender. “Sheesh! What’s gotten into you?”
I check the time on my phone. Nicky will be here any minute. No way am I getting rid of these knuckleheads now.
Forget making a good impression. This is about to be a disaster.