Chapter 6
CHAPTER SIX
~NICK~
S he presses her hand over her mouth and takes a deep breath.
“Whoa, easy there.” I rub big circles over her back, but she stands like she’s going to make a run for it, so I pull her into my arms and continue rubbing her back as I kiss the top of her head. “Just breathe, sweetheart. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Nice and easy.”
She does as I say, several times, and then lets out a long sigh.
“Okay. I think it’s over.”
“Did you have a nice time tonight?” I push aside the thought of her talking about sex and taking all of her clothes off. Those thoughts will only lead to an uncomfortable night because she’s in no shape for sex.
“Yeah.” Her voice is small against my chest. “It was fun. Even the walk home.”
That’s something we’ll talk about again tomorrow. I don’t care if we are in the middle of a safe, rural town, I don’t want her walking alone, especially late at night.
“Let’s get you into bed.”
She looks up at me with tired eyes. “I can’t do the sex tonight. I thought I could, but I’m tired. And not sexy.”
“I always think you’re sexy.” I lift her easily into my arms, pleased when my injured shoulder doesn’t sing in pain. She’s a tiny little thing. Jordan presses her face to my neck as I climb the stairs and walk down the hall to her bedroom. I set her on the bed and turn to the dresser to snag some kind of nightshirt. “Can you change by yourself?”
She blinks her eyes open. “Sure.”
“Good.” I pass her the shirt and walk into the bathroom, where I make myself useful by wetting a washcloth. I take my time, wanting to make sure Jordan’s changed by the time I return to her room.
It’s just my luck that she’s bent over the bed, pulling the covers back. She’s in her little red T-shirt and black knickers, and I have a perfect view of her arse.
My dick gives zero fucks that we aren’t having sex tonight.
I close my eyes and think of spaghetti. My grandmother. The London Eye.
And when I open them again, Jordan’s in bed, frowning at me.
“What are you doing?”
“Meditating,” I reply. It’s not a lie. I cross to her, sit near her hip, and press the cold cloth to her forehead.
“Oh, that’s nice.”
“It should help with the nausea.”
“I never knew this trick, and I’m a nurse.” She swallows hard. “You shouldn’t have carried me up the stairs.”
“Why?”
“Because you have an injured shoulder. That’s the whole reason I’m here, to keep you from doing things like that. It was totally irresponsible of me.”
“My shoulder did just fine.”
Her eyes are closed, but her legs are restless, moving under the covers.
“Are you hurting?” I ask.
“No, I like the way the cool sheets feel against my skin.”
I want to climb in there with her. I want to hold her close and protect her.
And if I’m being brutally honest with myself, that scares the ever-loving shite out of me.
I hardly know this woman. I want to know more. I want to learn more. I’m drawn to her, and I don’t understand why, but I’m not willing to stop now.
She looks so small, so beautiful against the white sheets in the moonlight.
I refold the cloth and press the cold side against her skin.
“I don’t like to be too hot,” she continues. “Arizona is too hot.”
“Get some sleep, beautiful girl.”
Her eyes open and find mine. “You’re a nice person, Nick. Sometimes, you’re grumpy. But mostly, you’re genuinely nice, and I think that’s way sexier than your muscles for days.”
I feel my lips twitch in response. “I think that’s the alcohol talking.”
She just smiles and closes her eyes again. I lean over to press my lips to her forehead. By the time I leave the room, she’s breathing deeply and evenly.
I jog down the stairs to the kitchen, grab a beer, and then walk into the living room to stare into the fire.
I’ve always put the job first. Since I was a child, it’s been the only constant in my life—and my biggest passion. I’m still looking forward to getting back to my position.
But for the first time in my life, something has distracted me. That makes me think maybe there’s something more for me than work. Liam made it work. Yes, he had to leave the job, but I wouldn’t be with a princess. Other guards that work for the royal family have spouses and children.
Children.
I drain the rest of my beer and drag my hand through my hair.
Christ. I need sleep.
The noise coming from downstairs is loud and constant. I roll over, the sheets tangling around my hips as I check the time.
Nine.
I don’t remember the last time I slept this late. Usually, I only catch a couple of hours at a time. It’s a force of habit and a consequence of the job.
I push to the side of the bed and reach for my jeans. I pull them up over my bare hips and, without fastening them, walk over to the closet to find a shirt.
After I use the facilities, I go to investigate the sounds coming from down below. I stop at the entrance to the kitchen and watch in fascination as Jordan pulls a sheet of cookies out of the oven and sets them on a wire rack to cool. The entire kitchen is covered in bowls and pans, flour, and eggs.
It looks like a bakery exploded.
“Good morning,” Jordan says with a big smile. “I hope I didn’t wake you. I didn’t turn any music on or anything, even though I normally would while I bake. But I figured you must be really tired because we were up so late last night.”
“I don’t usually sleep much,” I admit as I sit on a stool and watch her bustle about. It smells good in here.
“I made you muffins for breakfast,” she says and reaches for a platter. “Huckleberry. As a thanks for last night. You really shouldn’t have carried me, by the way. But I appreciate you being so nice.”
“Did you expect me to let you fend for yourself?”
“Oh, that’s what I’m used to,” she says. There’s no censure in her voice, it’s just a simple statement of fact.
It makes me want to punch the bloody wall.
“Oh, and here, I’m making you some coffee to go with your muffins.”
She hustles over to the single-cup coffee maker and pops in a pod. When it’s finished brewing, she pours just the right amount of cream in and passes it to me.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” she asks with a laugh.
“Are you the same woman who was pissed last night?”
“Yeah.” She cringes. “Sorry.”
“How are you not hungover?”
“I never get hungover,” she says and wrinkles her nose. “I know, it’s not fair. I also don’t drink much, so just a couple of drinks make me completely tipsy. It’s ridiculous. I’m a cheap date, and I feel great the next morning.”
I bite into a muffin and almost fall out of my chair. This might be the best thing I’ve ever put in my mouth.
Until I taste her.
“Well? What do you think?”
“I think I’ll be eating this whole platter.”
She laughs and goes to work rolling out cookie dough.
“That’s okay. I have more set aside for tomorrow. Do you have plans today?”
I sip my coffee and watch her move about the kitchen. Her movements are concise. Sure. When she reaches above her head for another bowl, I catch a glimpse of pale skin at her stomach, and it’s almost enough to bring me to my knees.
“Nick?”
“Yes?”
“Do you have plans?”
“No.”
“Good. You can help me decorate all of these cookies. Then we’ll take them and deliver them to people.”
“Why?”
She frowns. “Because it’s fun.”
I reach for another muffin.
“Haven’t you ever made Christmas cookies before?”
“No.”
“Never?”
“Never.”
She wiggles a cookie cutter in flour and then pauses, looking at me. “Did your parents die in a fire, leaving you to be raised in an orphanage?”
I bark out a laugh of surprise. “No.”
“Good.”
“My parents died in a car accident when I was a boy. I was raised by my grandmother.”
Her face pales. “Shit. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.”
“Your grandmother didn’t believe in Christmas?”
“She worked long hours. She’s a good woman. And she did what she could. But I can’t say that holidays were at the top of her priority list.”
“I think that’s sad.”
“I don’t.”
I pop the last of the muffin into my mouth and lean back, watching her. “Listen, there’s no need to feel sorry for me. I had a good childhood, and then I went into the military. Special Forces. After I got out, I started working for the royal family. I’m able to help my grandmother, and I like my job very much.”
“Well, that’s good.”
“And what about you?”
She starts cutting shapes into the cookie dough. “What about me?”
“Tell me about your family.”
“Oh. Sure. Well, my dad died when I was twelve—massive heart attack at forty-five. It was completely out of the blue. So, it’s only been my mom and me for a long time. No siblings. I do have a lot of cousins, as I mentioned, and a huge network of people in this community. My family has been in Cunningham Falls for generations.”
“So you know Liam Cunningham?”
“I know his family, but I’ve never met him. Didn’t he just marry the princess?”
“Earlier this year,” I confirm.
“It’s a small world,” Jordan says. “And now you need to come over here and help me. I’m not going to do all the work and let you take the credit when we deliver these.”
“I think watching is safest.”
“No way.” She comes around the island, takes my hand, and drags me back around with her. “Come on. You’re not afraid of some hard work, are you?”
She wasn’t kidding. We spent all day baking and decorating, and when it was time to run around town with our goods, I was covered in flour and sugar and tired. But it was fun to see the reactions when we surprised people with the cookies. We even took a big box to the royal house and delivered some to Sebastian, Nina, Ellie, and Liam, then more down at HQ.
Jordan was bubbly and happy and made sure to tell everyone that I helped her.
Liam will never let me live it down.
But now, we’re back at the little lake house, sitting with a pizza by the fire.
“Oh my God, this tastes so good,” she says. “Ciao makes some damn good pizza.”
“I’m exhausted,” I admit, and Jordan narrows her eyes at me.
“You overdid it. Is your shoulder hurting?”
“No, all of me hurts.” I laugh and shift in my chair. “How is it possible that I work my ass off and feel fine, but one day of baking has me aching?”
“Because you’re not used to it,” she says. “Totally normal. You need a hot shower.”
“How do you feel?”
“Tired, but good. It was fun to deliver the cookies today. I had a good time. You did a great job, by the way.”
“Oh, I think it was pretty obvious which ones I decorated, and which ones were yours. But I tried.”
“You didn’t do too bad for a newbie.”
“You’re always so upbeat. Happy.”
“Being sad is a waste of time,” she says with a shrug. She takes a bite of her pizza. Sauce lingers at the corner of her mouth. Before she can lick it away, I reach out, swipe at it with my finger, and then lick it off. Her eyes dilate.
My dick stiffens.
“Jordan, if you don’t want me to kiss you, you’d better say so now.”
She sets her plate aside, and I drop my slice back into the box.
She straddles my lap, wraps her arms around my neck, and plants those gorgeous, plump lips on mine.
Mind. Blown.