Page 1 of Tempted By the Mountain man

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JADE

“You know you don’t have to sit on the floor,” Natasha says, returning to her living room with two full glasses in hand. The ice cubes clink against the sides of the wine glasses as she settles on the couch.

“Down here, no one can see me,” I mumble, accepting the glass. I take a sip, and all the tension in my life immediately melts away. At least for a few blissful seconds.

Natasha’s sangria is like a magic elixir. I just wish it granted one the ability to time travel. If I could go back one week ago, maybe I could’ve prevented this whole damn mess from happening. If only I hadn’t been in the wrong place at the wrong time…

“Is this your plan?” she challenges. “Hide out on my living room floor until this all blows over?”

“You have soft carpet,” I answer with a shrug, picking up my phone to continue browsing for teaching jobs in the county. Because there aren’t any openings for a history teacher—or any other kind of teacher—in this too-small-for-its-own-good town. Why would there be? We’re hardly a month into the fall semester.

And even if there was, there’s no way anyone would hire me.

This town loves Principal Collin Seymour. To them, the man can do no wrong. So of course they believe his story over mine.

And in a town of less than ten thousand people, word travels frighteningly fast.

“Maybe you need to broaden your search,” Natasha suggests.

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve taught history for three years. That has to count for something, right?” Natasha crosses her legs on the couch and sets her laptop over a blanket in her lap. Never mind that it’s still eighty-five degrees outside—thank you, Midwest weather. My bestie can create any season or environment for herself on a dime. It’s a talent that comes in handy when she has to write a Christmas romance in summer.

“I thought it did,” I murmur, taking another sip of sangria. My glass is nearly empty, but retrieving the pitcher in the kitchen would require me getting up off the floor. So I scroll through Craigslist ads instead.

“Rodman Antiques is looking for an assistant to help with antiques,” Natasha says.

“I’m not an antique expert.”

“You spent a summer antique shopping with your grandma.”

“I was twelve.”

“You could be a tour guide.”

I perk at the possibility of giving tours at the local museum. Though it’s not the most prestigious museum, I enjoy taking my students on field trips there. At this point, I probably could recite most of the town’s history by memory.

Enjoyed. Past tense, Jade.

“I didn’t realize the museum was hiring.”

“Oh, it’s not the museum.”

“Where is it then?”

“Waverly House.”

“The haunted one?” I shake my head. “No way.”

“Why not? It could be fun.”

“I’m not antagonizing ghosts for the sake of entertainment, especially this close to spooky season. I have enough troubles without adding a haunting to my list.”

The faint roar of the garage door opening causes us both to pause. A smile slowly spreads across Natasha’s lips. Her hubby is home. Though I love Josh like a brother, I know better than to overstay my welcome without noise-canceling headphones.

I need to find a listing—just one viable listing—before the two of them excuse themselves for just a quick minute.