by Nash, Willa
“I’m going to keep apologizing. It’s who I am. I don’t like being a burden or a nuisance.”
“I’d say you are neither.”
I gave him a small smile over my shoulder and went back to work, setting out plates and silverware. “I’ll make a deal with you. I’ll attempt to stop apologizing if you let me take over meals. If I feel like I’m contributing, I won’t feel so guilty for invading. Besides, this kitchen is a dream.”
“Done.” He spoke the word with such authority, it was like he’d brokered a million-dollar deal, not meal assignments.
After breakfast was ready, we took our places at the island and dug in.
“This is delicious,” he said.
“It’s only eggs.” I shrugged. “Why are you back in Montana? Are you just here for vacation?” Nellie hadn’t told me why he was here, just that he’d be here all week.
“No, not vacation. Grandpa asked that I be the one to go through his belongings here.”
“Oh.” So I’d interrupted a personal week. This just kept getting better. Truly, my timing was epic. “I’ll stay out of your way.”
“Nah. I don’t really want to go through his stuff. Now that you’re here, I can procrastinate a bit longer.”
“If there’s anything I can do, I’m happy to help.” It wasn’t like he had anything else to keep me occupied.
“Hopefully there isn’t much. His office will be the worst and I’ll tackle that later.” He dabbed his mouth with a napkin and stood to collect our empty plates.
“How’s your headache today?”
He shrugged. “Still there but not as bad as last night. I’m sure I’ll be fine. What do you feel like doing today?”
“Whatever. You don’t need to entertain me.”
“Maybe I am hoping you’ll entertain me.”
The way he said entertain conjured images of lips and skin, and I ducked my chin to hide my blushing cheeks. If he took off those sweats, it would be entertaining for us both.
What was wrong with me? Would I have these thoughts about him if he hadn’t kissed me once? Yes. Pierce was the most handsome man I’d seen in my life. His appeal was undeniable and each time we touched, the electricity was palpable.
“Feel like watching a movie?” he asked as he did the dishes. “I haven’t sat down to watch a movie in ages.”
“Neither have I.”
“Work is my reason. What’s your excuse?”
“Same. I work a lot.”
“At the gym?”
“As of late, yes. I haven’t wanted to hire an employee to cover the day shift when I can be there myself.” That, and I couldn’t afford an employee at the moment. “Before we opened, I did a lot of remodeling work.”
“Yourself?”
“If possible. The friend of mine who bought my other building on First is a contractor. Whatever jobs I couldn’t manage on my own, he helped.” Kase was a good guy who did quality work, but he wasn’t exactly cheap, so unless it required more skill, able bodies or specialty tools than I had stashed at my house, I’d learned to do a lot myself.
“Impressive. Do you like it?”
“I do.” I nodded. “It’s very satisfying, working with your hands. Seeing a space transform because of your work. I’ve been exploring more and more ways to capitalize on it. There are quite a few influencers on social media who make a good living at remodels. I’m thinking of trying it.”
My phone was full of before and after photos I’d taken of various projects. The gym would have been a great one to start with, but I hadn’t really considered how I could leverage social media from small-town Montana.
“One of my vice presidents has a wife who started her own blog,” Pierce said. “She mostly does cooking videos and posts. Whole foods and vegan recipes. But she’s making quite a business of it.”
“It’s a lot of work, but it’s worth a shot. And in a way, I have you to thank for pushing me in that direction.”
“Me?” He grabbed a towel to dry his hands.
“You were honest the last time you were here. Brutally so.”
He winced.
“You were right.” I smiled. “I need to be in a better liquidity position. I don’t want to sell my properties when times are tough. And eventually, there won’t be any place to expand in a town the size of Calamity. There are only so many people. But there’s a whole world online and maybe I’ll have a message and platform that might ring true to others. And it could be a way to monetize what I’m doing already.”
He studied me, his gaze serious.
“What?” Oh, God, did I sound like an idiot?
“I don’t think you should give me any credit. I think it’s brilliant and you should own it.”
My chest swelled with pride. “Thank you.”
Pierce Sullivan was worth billions. Not millions, billions. That kind of money was unfathomable. For a man my age, he was by far the most successful person I’d met.
Yes, he’d probably had a leg up from his family’s wealth, but from what Gabriel had boasted, Pierce’s company and his success were not hand-me-downs. He was wealthy because of his own intelligence and work ethic.
“What will you do first?” he asked.
“I’ve spent the last few weeks getting my social media accounts established and picking the aesthetic I want. I’ve done a lot of research into affiliate programs and how to apply. I’m hoping to use my own place as the baseline.”
“Your own house that’s on the market?”
I touched the tip of my nose. “It’s coming off the market the second I get home.”
“And the farmhouse?”
“That one . . . I don’t know.” I sighed. “What would you do?” If I was stranded with Pierce, I might as well get his input.
“I don’t fully understand the Calamity dynamic the way you do.” He leaned against the counter and he looked so sexy, so relaxed, that a throb bloomed in my core.
I crossed my legs, willing it to go away. It didn’t.
“Do you think anyone who knows about the incident there will buy that house?” he asked.
“It’s unlikely. And anyone new to town and looking to buy it will inevitably hear the story. Gossip is Calamity’s favorite sport.”
He chuckled. “Then I’d use it as a vacation rental and a start for your blog.”
“Even though it’s done?”
“Is anything really done? Take an empty room and paint the walls. Stage it with different furniture. It doesn’t have to be a wreck to show an improvement. Content is content.”
“True.” I hadn’t thought about doing anything with the farmhouse, but it wouldn’t be hard to have some fun. Maybe I’d give it a modern cottage vibe by adding some bold colors to the walls or a unique wallpaper.
Now that I wasn’t trying to come up with a quarter of a million dollars, I could afford a few gallons of paint. Plus I had hundreds of before photos. Maybe I could work those into my feed too.
“I can practically see the gears turning,” he teased.
“I’m fighting the urge to whip out my phone and start jotting down ideas.”
“Do it.” He grinned and refilled his coffee mug.
“What about the movie?”
He jerked his chin to the windows and the snow that just kept piling up. “I think we’ll have all day. Besides, I’d better check in with Nellie.”
Pierce left the kitchen first, and the moment he was gone, I let the smile I’d been holding back stretch wide.
I loved my rental properties. And the gym, though taxing, had so much potential. But the last few years had drained me. For the first time in a long time, I was truly excited about a new adventure.
With my phone in hand, I made list after list, brainstorming ideas and blog post topics. An hour and two cups of coffee later, I left the kitchen and found Pierce in the living room. He’d built a fire and was once again lounging on the couch.
“Hey.”
He looked up from his phone. “Hey. I w
as just about to come and find you.”
My God, he was gorgeous. I swallowed hard and took my chair. “For what?”
“Nellie told me I wasn’t allowed to work all day. That it would be rude to ignore a guest.”
“I’m not really a guest.”
“Try telling that to Nellie. Besides, she’s right. Did you make your notes?”
“I did.” I held up my phone. “I’ll be busy when I get home.”
“And I bet you prefer it that way.”
“Most definitely. Ever since college.”
He set his phone on the coffee table and tossed an arm over the back of the couch. “Where did you go to school?”
“Montana State in Bozeman. You?”
“Harvard.”
We spent the next few hours talking about nothing and everything. Some facts I knew from what Gabriel had told me, but mostly, it was new. Discovering Pierce was like an adventure of its own.
The day passed without the awkwardness I’d feared. We ate lunch. We watched two movies. And after dinner, we retreated once more to the living room, where we talked in front of the fire and sipped a bottle of red wine that probably cost more than the most expensive car at my father’s dealership.
When Pierce had stoked the fire last, he’d also lit a candle on the coffee table. It and one small table lamp joined the yellow glow from the hearth. The scent of balsam fir filled the room.
“This candle smells exactly like this house should.”
He hummed his agreement.
The light from the fire flickered across his handsome features as he lay on the couch, his feet crossed at the ankle.
Not staring had been my biggest feat today.
Pierce groaned, shifting as a wash of pain crossed his face.
“Headache still?”
“Yeah. I’m just not feeling great. Started yesterday. Thought it was just from the drive and most of the day I felt a little better but . . .”
In the muted light, I hadn’t noticed the pallor of his face or the sheen of sweat on his brow.
I stood from the chair and walked over, putting my palm on his forehead. “You’re burning up.”
He shivered and crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m sure I’ll be fine.”
There was a first aid kit under the sink in my bathroom. I’d spotted it last night in my search for towels. I rushed down the hall and grabbed it, cracking it open and digging for a thermometer.
“Hold still,” I told Pierce when I came back to the couch, sitting at his side. Then I held it to his forehead, waiting for the beep and reading. No surprise, it was high.
“You’ve got a fever.” I stood and held out a hand to help him up. “Come on. You need rest.”
He didn’t argue. He simply took my hand and got to his feet. Pierce shuffled more than walked down the hallway and I kept pace, wanting to make sure he didn’t need anything.
We reached the door to his room and I hovered at the threshold.
He went straight to the bed and collapsed on the mattress.
“I’ll get you a glass of water.” When I returned, his face was buried in his pillows and he was already asleep.
I set the glass on the nightstand and tiptoed out of the room, turning off the lights. Then I returned to the kitchen for another glass of wine. My pour drained the bottle and I took it to the trash, tossing it in, but as it landed, there was a crack of broken glass.
“Uh-oh.” There was a frame in the mix. I reached in carefully and pulled it out, shaking the glass away from the photo.
It was of a woman with sleek brown hair and a wide white smile. She was laughing at whoever was holding the camera. In the background, trees towered overhead and the chair she sat in matched those around the firepit out back.
She was gorgeous. Carefree.
“Huh.”
Who was she? And why was this photo in the trash?
“Not my business,” I muttered, then returned the frame to the garbage, giving the can one last glance.
Putting the photo out of my mind, I went to the living room to kill some time on my phone. When midnight hit, I yawned and decided to check on Pierce.
I opened his door and inched toward the bed. He’d kicked off his covers and his forehead was furrowed. His water glass was empty too.
I reached for it just as he shifted, cracking his eyes open. “Sorry.”
“I was awake.” The man looked miserable.
I put my hands to his cheeks, finding them clammy. “Shit.”
We’d never make it to a hospital. Fevers broke, right?
“Why can’t I stop thinking about you?”
I froze and met his gaze. “I don’t know. But it’s probably the same reason I can’t stop thinking about you.”
My confession came effortlessly. Too effortlessly. Tomorrow I’d probably regret it. With any luck, Pierce wouldn’t remember.
“Why did you kiss me at the motel?” I whispered.
He lifted a hand and skimmed his fingers across my mouth. “You have the most perfect lips I’ve ever seen.”
Had he not been delirious, I might have questioned the sincerity behind that compliment, but it was so candid, all I could do was smile. No man had ever praised my lips before.
“It was the best kiss,” he murmured, his eyelids fighting a losing battle.
“It was.”
His dark lashes fluttered shut and I waited a heartbeat, thinking he’d passed out again. I eased away from the bed, but before I could leave, his hand reached out and caught me.
“Kerrigan?”
“Yeah.”
“Stay.”
I sat by his side and brushed his hair off his forehead. “For a little while.”
Chapter Nine
Pierce
I shoved off my pillow and peeled my eyes open. Waking up felt like crawling out of a black hole. When was the last time I’d slept that hard? There was a dull throb at my temples but nothing like the pounding headache I’d had last night on the couch. Whatever I’d caught had hit hard but hopefully a long night’s sleep had knocked it out of me.
It took me a few moments to summon the strength to climb out of bed, and after a few dizzy steps, I made my way to the bathroom.
A steaming shower chased away most of the fog and the stench of a hard, sweaty sleep. My forehead didn’t feel hot, so my fever must have broken. And finally, I didn’t feel like there was a jackhammer in my skull.
Dressed in my last pair of clean sweats, I headed downstairs to find Kerrigan. The glare from the windows made me squint. Beyond the glass, the world was nothing but white. Snow was piled up against the house nearly three feet tall, but the storm had passed. The sky was a cheerful blue and the sun was blinding.
Kerrigan was in the kitchen, standing in front of the stove wearing my gray sweats. Her back was to me and her hair was piled into a messy bun. A few tendrils tickled the long line of her neck.
She was beautiful.
I rocked on my heels as she moved with such grace and elegance, she could have been dancing, not cooking. And like I had too many times, I let myself drink her in. Last night, had she not been on the other end of the living room and had I not felt like complete shit, I would have kissed her again. I would have kissed her and never stopped.
She moved, half turning my way, and I tore my feet from the floor before she could catch me staring.
“Morning.”
Kerrigan spun away from the stove where a pot was steaming. The scent of spices filled the room. “Afternoon.”
“Uh . . .” The clock on the microwave showed it was nearly two. Grandpa hadn’t had an alarm clock in the master because when he’d come here, he’d refused to be on a schedule.
I, on the other hand, couldn’t afford to sleep an entire morning away.
“I didn’t realize I’d slept so long. I don’t even remember going to bed last night.”
“It’s actually Tuesday.” She turned down the stove’s burner and faced me. “You slept Monday a
way.”
My jaw dropped. “Seriously?”
She nodded. “You were in bad shape.”
“Hell.” I shuffled to a stool at the island and sat down. My phone was on the counter, plugged into a charger. I picked it up and scrolled through a mass of unread emails.
“How are you feeling?” Kerrigan braced her hands on the island.
“Not that bad, actually. I guess I just needed to sleep.” For almost two days.
“I talked to Nellie yesterday and told her you were sick. She said she’d run interference on your calendar and clear it for the rest of the week.”
I raked a hand through the damp strands of my hair. “Thanks. I’ll have to check in with her.”
“Go ahead. I was just making some soup in case you woke up.”
“Give me five.” I slid off the stool but paused. “You stayed.”
The storm had passed. The roads were probably being cleared. It was Tuesday yet she was still here.
“You, um . . . asked me to stay.”
“I did?”
“It was no big deal.” She lifted a shoulder. “The roads are still closed, and I didn’t want to leave you alone. When your fever didn’t break yesterday, I was worried that I’d have to load you on a sled and pull you to a hospital. But it broke this morning.”
She’d checked on me. Often, it seemed. When was the last time someone had taken care of me? Not since I was a kid, and even then, it had been a nanny.
Something twisted in my chest. It was a feeling I hadn’t had in a long, long time.
“Thank you. For staying.”
“Of course.”
“And for cooking.”
“Don’t thank me yet. It’s sort of an experiment given the ingredients in the fridge so I hope it tastes all right.”
There were emails waiting. I needed to talk to Nellie. But I set my phone aside because the woman in this kitchen had my complete attention.
“Are you going to call Nellie?” she asked.
I shook my head. “It can wait. I’d rather try your experimental soup.”
She smiled, then went about ladling her creation into two bowls, setting them out. Then she poured me a huge glass of orange juice before taking a seat at my side.
I moaned at the first spoonful. “You’re giving my chef a run for his money.”