“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 withme.”
“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,reallytries.
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 Idon’tneed 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?
Four
The next morning,there’s a text on my phone from Olivia, apologizing for the ordeal of my arrival. She also apologizes three different times for forgetting to let me know that Noah would also be staying at the farmhouse. She swears she meant to tell me and simply forgot, then she promised I absolutely do not need to worry because Noah wouldn’t hurt a housecat.
There is enough humility in her tone that I’m guessing she received a pointed text from Noah, which I appreciate. I reallywouldhave been freaked out had I shown up at the house and found Noah here without any warning. But Olivia has given me nothing but good vibes, so I take her words at face value and accept her apology.
I have to trust that her intentions weren’t malicious, even if shewastrying to play matchmaker. And I have to believe that she never would have set this up if Noah wasn’t a good guy. He may not want to hang out with me, but it’s nice knowing I can sleep easily, trusting he doesn’t want to harm me either.
I make fast work of showering, but I spend a few extra minutes taming my wavy brown hair into submission and putting on a little makeup. I’ve learned how to make my brown eyes pop over the years, and for reasons that have everything todo with my new housemate, I put those skills to good use. It’s only nine thirty when I make it downstairs, but my car is already parked in the employee lot behind the farmhouse, and there’s a fire crackling in the hearth.
Noah clearly had a busy morning.
I glance up at the sky, still laden with heavy, snow-filled clouds, and tug my oversized cardigan around my shoulders.
It’s not like it doesn’t get cold in New York. New York winters are nothing short of horrible. But something about the remoteness of my location makes the cold feel more threatening. Like there’s more danger of it sneaking its way inside the house and icing me over while I sleep.
I go in search of the kitchen, expecting a commercial space, but what I find feels more like a gourmethomekitchen than something equipped to feed a dining room full of people. Olivia did mention catering though, so there must be a second kitchen somewhere else. Maybe all the catering prep happens at the restaurant.
Next to the fridge on a small counter, I locate a fancy espresso machine and a regular coffee pot that’s half-full of cold coffee.
I open the fully stocked fridge, then turn and run my eyes over the rest of the kitchen. If Noah made himself breakfast, he put everything away and washed every dish he touched.
He could be a fastidious type, but it’s more likely he just hasn’t eaten yet. Or so I tell myself when I decide to make breakfast for two.
Maybe I’m a glutton for punishment. Or just an utter and complete idiot. But I like people too much not to at leasttryto be nice to Noah. I’m going to be here for a week. I was prepared for solitude, but since he’s here and I’m here, it would be stupid for us not to be friends. If not friends, then at least coexisting peacefully and with some degree of kindness.
I’m decent in the kitchen overall, but I’m a pro when it comes to bacon and eggs. And since Evie and I went on a baking spree right before I left Harvest Hollow, I have three loaves of homemade bread in my backpack. They are surprisinglynotsquished after the journey, so I retrieve one and cut it into hearty, thick slices. I’m just about to drop them into the toaster when Noah appears in the doorway.
“Hi,” I say brightly. “Are you hungry?”
