Page 2 of Tempted By the Mountain man

“Think I could hack it as a horse trainer?” I ask, browsing quicker now.

“Have you ever ridden a horse?” she asks as the door between the garage and the kitchen opens.

“That’s not a requirement—oh, wait. It is.”

I scroll quicker, and my gaze snags on a listing for a temporary appraiser. Because my real estate experience is limited to signing rental leases, I almost skip it. But the words historical items and Wildwood, Oregon catch my attention.

I have no idea how a listing halfway across the country ended up in my local search parameters, but I click into it anyway.

“I could go to Oregon,” I say with a laugh, skimming the details about a cabin in the woods filled with old items that may or may not be worth anything. Hence, the need for an appraiser.

“What’s in Oregon?”

“A weeklong position for an appraiser of historical items and antiques.”

“Really?” Natasha swings her legs to the floor, laptop still resting on her thighs. “Where in Oregon?”

“I’m not going, obviously. That would be crazy.”

“Wildwood?” Her fingers click along the keyboard.

“I just told you I’m not going,” I say as Josh enters the living room. I’m the first to notice him because Natasha’s back is to him. The man lights up like a Times Square Christmas tree at the sight of her.

I would kill for a man to look at me that way. Hell, I’d kill for a dog to look at me that way at this point.

“Oh my God this town is adorable. Do you know they have a coffee shop called Latte Da?”

“That is cute,” I admit, resisting the urge to look at her laptop screen. I’m not flying out to Oregon for a job I’m clearly not qualified to do. That would be ridiculous. What does she expect me to do? Show up at some stranger’s doorstep and beg him to let me have the job I’m one hundred and ten percent underqualified for?

“And there’s a taco shop called Guac and Roll.”

“Where is this?” Josh asks, his interest piqued at the mention of Mexican food.

Natasha’s laptop rolls right off her legs when she hears her hubby’s voice. Thankfully I’m close enough to catch it. Because they’re lip-locked faster than a NASCAR pit stop, I focus on the screen. A picture of the quaintest mountain town is on the screen, promising Wildwood, Oregon is akin to a Hallmark movie set. It looks like the perfect escape. It’d also not require me to sit on Natasha’s living room floor to avoid dirty looks from passersby.

“Doesn’t this town look just like Pine Valley?” Natasha says to Josh.

“Pine Valley?” I ask.

“My readers begged me to write a mountain man series,” she explains. “This could literally be the town I created.”

“We should go,” Josh says.

“You’re just saying that because they have tacos.”

I force a smile as they banter, but inside, my heart deflates. These two are the only ones still speaking to me in this entire town. If they took off for a last-minute writing research trip, I’d be forced to fortify myself in my apartment until they returned. It’s not safe here for me. Not until this whole mess is cleared up—if this mess ever gets cleared up.

“Jade needs to apply for the job first,” Natasha insists.

“What?” I look at my bestie, certain I’ve heard her wrong. “Why would I do that? I’m not remotely qualified.”

“You teach history. That man has an attic full of history. Doesn’t this seem like a sign to you?”

I skim the listing until I find the application instructions. I expect a request for a resume, along with three or more sources that can verify my credentials. What I find instead is a request for a short video—three minutes or less. It feels less like a job application and more like an audition.

When I explain as much to Natasha, she says, “Just three minutes?” in a tone that suggests the creative wheels are turning in her brain. The only thing I don’t know for sure is if this crazy scheme is related to me or some future book plot.

“Or less,” I say.