She shakes her head. “It was a pipe dream, thinking they would trade city life for a farm full of animals, but I tried anyway. We lived in a small town in Massachusetts until I was ten, and they never stopped longing for the fast-paced city life they’d left behind when I was born. So there was no chance they were giving that up again,” she explains with a shrug. “That didn’tstop me from begging for a border collie for months even though our Brooklyn Heights apartment didn’t have space for a herding dog. They did get me a hamster for Christmas that year.”
“That’s better than nothing, right?”
“Oh, absolutely. His name was Mr. Peanut, and he was obsessed with lettuce,” Noelle says brightly.
Fuck me. The way she looks my direction with her doe eyes, spilling her childhood dreams, makes me want to call Birdie and have her track down a rescue border collie—or hell, buy her a whole farm in Upstate New York. Rational? Not even close. I don’t know her well, yet she has me tempted to make promises I have no business making.
“I’d better go get that hay.” I don’t wait for her reply, hightailing it out of there.
Once I’m outside, I take a gulp of fresh air. No matter how drawn I am to Noelle, I have to keep my distance. When she showed up at my cabin, it was easier to keep her at arm’s length since she reminded me of my ex-fiancée. Both are city girls, have a weakness for high heels, and a habit of traveling on a whim.
However, I quickly learned that’s where the similarities end. Where Noelle finds the bright spot in the worst of situations, Danielle always focused on what she thought was missing.
Her family moved to Pine Haven when she was sixteen, and she never stopped comparing our small town to the city. We started dating in our twenties and were together for five years before getting engaged. Shortly after, I bought my property on the mountain and moved into the cabin, with plans to build a larger house.
I’d thought she was happy, but a month before our wedding, she told me she’d secretly been applying for jobs in Chicago and landed an offer she couldn’t refuse. She never asked if I’d move with her, having already decided our life together wasn’t enough for her.
I’d always wanted a family of my own, but after Danielle left, I resigned myself to solitude on the mountain with the animals, venturing into town only when work demanded it. No one wants to be tied to someone like that, particularly not a woman twenty years younger with her whole future ahead of her.
After I retrieve what I need, I head back to the barn, stomping the snow off my boots before going inside. I come to an abrupt standstill in the doorway when I see Noelle standing on an old milk stool. She’s balancing precariously on the death contraption, reaching for a bag of mealworms from a shelf above the feedbags.
“What the hell are you doing?” I ask, keeping my tone low so I don’t startle her.
She whips her head in my direction. “I used the last of the mealworms and wanted to refill the bucket so it’s ready when the chickens get their next snack.”
“I’ll take care of that. Get down from there,” I grit out, my heart rate climbing.
She rolls her eyes. “It’s okay. I’ve got it.”
“Noelle. I’m serious.” I drop the hay bale by the barn door to free my hands. “You could fall.” I try to remain calm, concealing the alarm in my voice.
She waves me off when I take a step toward her. “I’m perfectly capable of doing this on my own.”
Damn her stubbornness.
To make her point, Noelle sweeps her hair from her face and stretches her arm toward the bag of mealworms tucked farther back on the shelf. “Just a little higher,” she mutters as she leans forward, the stool wobbling beneath her.
She exhales in relief when her fingers catch the corner of the bag. Her triumphant smile is short-lived when the flimsy stool folds beneath her, and my stomach drops as I watch her fight to regain her balance.
I’m already striding toward her when a startled gasp escapes Noelle’s lips. Her eyes squeeze shut, bracing for the inevitable fall. I catch her around the waist before she hits the ground, lifting her into my arms. Her slender fingers cling to my shoulders as she rests her head against my chest. My pulse hammers in my ears as dread coils in my stomach, cursing myself for not acting faster.
I stride to the workbench along the opposite wall and set her down.
“Are you alright?” I question as I scan her from head to toe.
“Is now a good time to admit that I have terrible balance?” she laughs.
“Dammit, woman, you need to be more careful. Would it have killed you to listen to me?”
“Would it hurt for you to be less cranky?” she retorts.
I brace a hand on my hip. “If you weren’t so headstrong and constantly challenging me, maybe I’d be in a better mood.”
“That’s debatable,” she mumbles. “I appreciate the rescue, but I’m fine now.” She shifts in her seat, wincing when her ankle grazes my leg.
I crouch in front of her, taking hold of her right ankle. Even with the slightest movement, she flinches.
“Sorry, did that hurt?”
