Chapter 2
February, 8 months later
Pulaski, Wisconsin
It was after one a.m. when Nina sloughed through six inches of snow in her comfy, definitely-not-made-for-winter ballet slippers, inserted the key to unlock the door, and wearily stumbled into the dimly lit foyer of her boss’s Wisconsin house. The whole place was hers for the next month, but after the last nineteen hours, all she cared about in this moment was a bed.
Kicking her wet shoes off, she hauled her suitcase up to the first bedroom at the top of the stairs, stripped down to her panties and silk camisole, and practically fell asleep before her head hit the pillow.
Next thing she knew, something warm and wet swiped across the corner of her mouth as a God-awful smell assaulted her nostrils. Slobbering and panting registered a split second before she shrieked and yanked the covers over her head.
Her sleep-foggy brain identified the logical source, but couldn’t fathom where the heck a dog had come from.
“Woof!”
The shrill, excited bark pierced her eardrums as the animal jumped onto the bed in a whining frenzy after Nina’s surprised cry. Paws dug into her stomach and side as the dog committed to breaching her puny shield.
“Kismet. Come.”
Instantly awake, Nina’s blood froze at the sound of the firm male voice from where she vaguely remembered the door being. The mattress bounced as the dog jumped off the bed with a muted thump, and then nails sounded across the hardwood floor.
But forget the dog—where in the world had the man come from? Why was he in the house? How did he even get in?
“Sit. Good girl. Stay.”
Stay? Was he coming into the bedroom?
Nina flipped the covers off her face as she jerked upright in protest. Her long hair whirled about her head in all directions, and she scrambled to brush it out of the way as she turned toward the door to demand he stay.
Her voice deserted her at the sight of a tall—very tall—figure filling the doorway. His broad shoulders nearly touched both sides of the doorjamb. Her heart jack-hammered in her chest, but thankfully, he didn’t make a move to step inside the room while she fumbled for her glasses off the nightstand.
“Sorry about that. She gets a little excited.”
Oh, sweet cupcakes. The rich baritone of his voice was something else. So was the rest of him. Now that she could see clearly, she darted her gaze down his long, denim-clad legs and took in the cute, medium-sized, multi-colored dog sitting at his booted feet. The animal gazed up at him with rapt attention, tongue lolling out the side of its mouth.
Nina raised her gaze once more. She noted the man looked somewhat familiar, but didn’t waste time with that as her stomach pitched like she’d just done a loop de loop on a roller coaster. Especially since he didn’t sound sorry at all—or look it as his gaze dipped below her chin. Remembering she’d gone to sleep in her skimpy camisole and underwear, she dragged the sheet back up with a mortified gasp.
Amusement twitched his lips and sparkled in his blue eyes. Even at this distance, they were startlingly bright in contrast to his dark, messy hair and the equally dark scruff on his jaw. A slate-gray sweater clung to every contoured muscle of his chest, arms, and lean torso.
Her stomach rolled with anxiety even as a stronger sensation of recognition assailed her memory. But her rattled brain wasn’t cooperative enough to provide a name just yet.
Careful to keep the sheet clutched up to her chin, she scooted back to lean against the headboard. Its solid support was small comfort, but she finally managed to ask, “Who are you, and what are you doing in this house? How’d you get in?”
“I was about to ask you the same thing, Goldilocks. I live here.”
What? No way. Then her eyes widened as a horrifying thought occurred to her. Had she walked into the wrong house in the middle of the night?
Common sense answered the question before humiliation could sink its roots in too deep. Of course she wasn’t in the wrong house—she’d used Peyton’s key.
Then what the heck was going on? She hadn’t noticed another vehicle or tracks outside in the snowstorm last night—or early this morning, as it was. Hadn’t noticed much of anything else when she’d stumbled into the house, either. But then again, she’d been exhausted when she’d finally parked her crappy little rental car and pried her white-knuckled hands off the steering wheel.
Blinding snow and unplowed roads were exactly why she didn’t travel in the winter. Actually, take that back. She was fine with travelling in the winter, as long as it was in the daylight, to someplace warm. Preferably with a beach, like the movie location her best friend was on in New Zealand right now.
Thanks a lot, Peyton.
Bad enough her flight had been delayed in Minneapolis, she’d landed to discover her original SUV reservation had been given to someone else hours ago. That left her with a compact car to handle not only the main roads, but the bumpy gravel driveway to Peyton’s portfolio diversification investment.
Who could blame her for stripping down and dealing with everything else in the morning?
Everything else was supposed to include a hot shower and a trip into Pulaski for groceries, not a dog and a really, really good-looking guy.
A guy who reminded her of someone who she couldn’t place.
Forget that already.
“You can’t live here,” she argued. “This house belongs to Peyton Riley.”
“But I do live here. Temporarily, anyway. I’m doing the remodeling in exchange for a place to stay.”
Nina shook her head with a negative sound. “She would’ve told me if she was in the middle of remodeling before giving me her key to stay here for the next month.”
Any sign of humor faded from his expression. “The next month?”
“Yes.”
Impatience flashed in his eyes. Or maybe annoyance. “Do you drink coffee?”
She blinked at the abrupt question. “Um…yeah.” And now that he’d asked, the fresh brewed aroma registered on her senses and made her mouth water.
“I just started a pot,” he confirmed. “Get dressed and we’ll have a cup while we figure this out.”
A practical suggestion even if he’d disguised it as an order. She’d overlook that since he’d promised caffeine. But first, that shower to wash away the travel grime from the day before.
“Where’s the bathroom?”
“Turn left into the hall. It’s the second door on your right.”
“Thanks. Give me twenty minutes.”
After a brief nod, he commanded, “Kismet, heel.”
The dog leapt to her feet and pranced out into the hall while he pulled the door closed.
She listened to the sound of his retreating footsteps, realizing he’d never given his name. Why did she have a gut feeling she knew the guy? And if she did, how could she forget someone that gorgeous?
With a combination sigh of release and groan of annoyance, she slid down into the bed, hugging the covers to her chest as she closed her eyes. A housemate and remodeling didn’t even come close to the “tons of quiet, writing time” Peyton had promised in exchange for Nina taking her place in the Veteran’s Valentine’s Day Auction at Whispering Pines Lodge.
Twisting her head to the side, she shot a quick glance at the clock. 6:52 a.m. sparked a frown as she pushed the covers aside. So much for sleeping in after the long day yesterday. She shot off a quick text to Peyton, even though it was in the middle of the night in New Zealand. A few more hours and she’d be up for hair and makeup before heading to the set. She’d respond first thing.
She better respond first thing. And it better be good. Because if this was some sort of elaborate set up, someone was going to get their butt kicked from here to Sunday.
Twenty-five minutes later, she was showered, teeth brushed, hair damp but combed, her contacts were in, and she’d paired dark, skinny jeans with an over-sized, cream sweater. She bunched a pair of cream wool socks at her ankles and slowly made her way down the stairs.
Kismet waited at the bottom, whining as her tail wagged. Nina blinked at the animal’s one blue eye and one brown, then forgot all about that when she noticed one of her ballet shoes sticking out of either side of its mouth.
“Come on, dog.” she muttered.
At the bottom of the stairs, she reached for the shoe. The happy little beast let go and dashed out of sight as Nina’s nose wrinkled in a grimace from her soggy shoe. Was it saliva, or still wet from her snowy journey between the car and the house last night?
She lobbed the shoe toward its mate near the door, and wiped her hand on her jeans while glancing around. Her feet came to an abrupt halt when she saw the gutted mess of the living room in the morning light.
Jeez.
Granted, she’d been exhausted last night, and hadn’t bothered turning on any lights other than the already-on foyer light, but how in the H E double hockey sticks had she missed all this?
The low sound of her unexpected roommate’s voice brought her back around and directed her to the left. It sounded like he was talking to his dog, and her nerves kicked up as she approached the kitchen. That at least appeared to be intact, though direly in need of updating judging by the yellow painted cabinets and lime green refrigerator.
The man was leaning back against the counter with a green mug in his hand, his dog once again at his side as he spoke to the animal. He’d pushed the sleeves of his gray sweater to his elbows, and on the inside of his right forearm, she saw he had a colored tattoo. She was surprised to find herself curious what it was because she didn’t normally like them.
Shifting her gaze, she focused on the dog. With her different colored eyes, and pretty black, brown, and white fur, Nina pegged her as an Australian Shepherd. She jumped up to brace her paws on her owner’s thigh and he rubbed the underside of her neck with his free hand. She wasn’t very big. Standing just below the man’s knees while on all fours, her head now reached about to his waist.
He glanced up when Nina entered the arched doorway and murmured a firm, “Down.”
Kismet dropped back to the floor as he straightened to set his mug on the butcher block in the center of the kitchen. As the happy dog came to greet her again, Nina bent to pet her soft head. She noticed the man’s lashes lower, his gaze sweeping down the length of her, and back up. Then she was left to stare at his back when he turned toward the coffee pot.
Broad shoulders, nice butt, muscular legs.
“Cream or sugar?” he asked.
“Both, please.”
She straightened from when he turned back to hand her a full mug. With his arm extended, her gaze locked on the intricate detailing of his eagle, flag, and world globe tattoo. Before she could really form an opinion, her fingers brushed his during the handoff. A spark of electricity between them triggered her reactive recoil.
Coffee sloshed over the rim onto the wood, next to a sugar bowl and spoon. His grimace sent a rush of heat to her cheeks. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”
“It’s fine. Sugar’s here. I’ll get the cream.”
He thumped the mug down and moved over to the refrigerator to pull out a pint of half and half. Nina dumped a teaspoon of sugar into her coffee, then watched his movements from beneath her lashes, spoon clinking against the inside of the mug as she stirred.
After quietly instructing the dog to go lay on her bed by the door, he scooped a dishcloth off the edge of the sink on his way back from the fridge. Her brow furrowed when she noticed the slight hitch in his step. A quick peek at his expression didn’t seem to convey pain from a sprain or pulled muscle, which left her all the more curious.
He set the cream off to the side, then wiped up the spill. He even reached to lift her mug, wipe the bottom, then set it back down. She eyed his tattoo as his arm moved back and forth. The beauty of the artwork over the flex of his thick forearm unexpectedly stirred a flutter deep in the pit of her stomach.
“Thank you,” she murmured absently.
“No problem.” He turned to toss the cloth back into the sink, and she enjoyed watching the smooth, sensual play of muscles beneath his sweater.
Realizing she was in danger of drooling, she quickly lifted the mug to her lips for a sip. An involuntary, “Mmmm,” escaped when the bold, sweetened flavor flooded her mouth and warmed all the way down her throat.
In the middle of reaching for his own mug, her barista’s raised eyebrow glance made her quickly avert her gaze. As her face warmed yet again, she prayed he didn’t think that vocal appreciation was for him.
It’s the coffee, not the guy—or his tattoo, or his muscles.
Riiight.
“So…” he said. “We should probably start by introducing ourselves. I’m Finn Regan.”
Nina fought to keep from getting that deer in the headlights look as her heartbeat stuttered and then took off racing. Of course. Now she saw it.
Wow. He’d changed, grown up—literally—and now that she heard his name, there was no mistaking the Pulaski hotshot jock she’d mooned over all through tenth grade. If her family hadn’t moved away just before her junior year, she might’ve seen some of the transformation from boy to M.A.N.
Realizing he’d extended his hand, she reached to accept the greeting before she could even consider the stupidity of such a move. When her palm slid against his, warmth flooded her entire body as strong fingers engulfed hers in a firm but gentle grip. Tiny tingles erupted in her extremities, and calluses on his palm registered as she managed a bemused, “Hi.”
“Hi.” Still holding her hand, he smiled and leaned forward, his stunning blue eyes mesmerizing. “Okay then…are we sticking with Goldilocks for you, or would you prefer I call you something else?”
Oh, boy. He hadn’t lost his charm, had he?
She’d crushed on him bad back in high school. But he’d been a year ahead of her and had no clue she existed as he dated his way through half the girls in his junior class. Peyton had told her during one of their video chats that his senior year had been more of the same. Probably the other half.
That’s right. Remember that, Nina.
Right. Charming or not—drop dead gorgeous or not—she had no time or use for playboys. Didn’t matter she was going off the Finn from ten years ago, she’d been burned ten too many times. Or it certainly felt like that many times.
Besides, leopards didn’t change their spots, and the man in front of her was walking, talking proof.