Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE

WINTER

I stomp groggily into the kitchen in search of caffeine. I tossed and turned restlessly last night, so it’s going to take something strong to ebb the exhaustion I’m feeling. I fill the pod with my favorite coffee, then press start.

The machine beeps three times, indicating it’s out of water. I remove the reservoir and carry it to the sink, but when I turn on the faucet, nothing comes out. I turn the faucet off then on again. Nothing. After checking the faucets in the bathroom, I’m completely dumbfounded as to why the water isn’t working.

I have no way of calling the property manager until I have my phone replaced. As I’m getting dressed, I hear the strangest sound coming from outside, like someone is scraping metal against the ground. The sound gnaws at my nerves like nails on a chalkboard. I check that my keys are in my purse, then slip into my boots and make my way outside where that atrocious noise is even louder. The sharp pain in ass reminds me to be cautious walking across the ice. I round the cabin to find a man shoveling the driveway and assume it’s the property manager, Mike. “Hi, I’m just heading out to run some errands,” I begin, but the words fall short on my tongue when he turns around.

“Mornin’, Winter,” he calls over his shoulder as he continues shoveling snow.

“What the hell are you doing here, and why shoveling my driveway? Are you stalking me, Nick?”

He straightens and braces his hands on the shovel, a devious smirk tipping the corner of his lips.

I’ve somehow managed to avoid Nicholas Frost for the last decade, but I never forgot him.

I may have blocked him from my memory, but seeing him ignites absolute fury in my veins. He teased me relentlessly when we were kids.

“Are you always so grumpy?”

“When it comes to you—hell yes. I am always grumpy. You can leave now. I have things to do.” I don’t even realize I’m stomping through the snow, I’m so annoyed, until my foot slips on the damn ice again. Breath catches in my chest as I brace for impact against the cold ground, but strong arms tighten around my soft waist.

“Woah, careful.” Nick straightens me on my feet but keeps his arms braced around my waist as he turns me toward his body, and my palms lay naturally against his chest. His smooth, deep chocolate gaze locks on mine, but I quickly avert my eyes and take in the features of his face. He was handsome when we were younger, but I couldn’t see the attraction through my dislike for him. But now…

Nick is a very sexy man, with dark hair cropped close to the scalp, the perfect length to run your fingers through on top, and a thick beard framing his sharp jaw. He looks like the perfect book boyfriend—almost too good to be true. But looks can deceiving. I’m not one to judge a book by its cover, but I know all too well what ugliness lies within the interior of his character. My eyes trail down his neck to his broad shoulders and a strong chest that I suddenly realize my hands are touching. Alarm bells sound loudly in my mind, and I push against his chest to put distance between us. I shake my head and inhale a stuttering breath, completely taken aback by the moment I just experienced.

“Don’t touch me, asshole!” I shout as I swivel on my boot and stomp toward my SUV. Of course I stumble over my own two feet but right myself quickly before I crash to the ground.

“Why not? I obviously knock you off your feet. You can’t even stay upright around me,” he teases, a proud grin on his face.

I groan and shout, “Keep telling yourself that. I have shit to do, and by the time I get back, you’d better be gone. If my driveway needs shoveled, the property manager will see to it that it is done. You can’t get on my good graces with random acts of kindness just because you suddenly feel guilty for being a pompous jerk when we were younger.”

I climb into the SUV before and slam the door, blocking out whatever retort he’s spouting off. He watches me through the windshield as I start the vehicle, ranting to myself about how this day is off to a great start, and he has the nerve to actually look amused. I grit my teeth and scream internally as I put the SUV in reverse and back out of the drive. I glance toward the cabin to see Nick has returned to shoveling snow, despite my objection to his presence. I hope he falls on his ass.

Thirty minutes later, I’m greeted by the decadent scent of coffee and pastries as I enter Bluebird Bookstore and Café. Before I moved to the city, this was where I spent most of my days tucked away in the corner, writing. I place my order, then peruse the bookshelves while I wait for my coffee.

“Did you really think you could sneak in here incognito and nobody would notice you?” I turn at the sound of Rachel’s voice, and she opens her arms to hug me. I’m not a touchy-feely kinda person, and Rachel knows this—she simply doesn’t care.

“Hey, Rachel.”

“I’m glad you could make it home for the holidays.”

“I’m not home for the holidays. I’m home to relax and reset before I dive in to finishing my book. I’m on a tight deadline, and the peace and quiet will help my focus.”

“I see, and is that deadline the reason you look like death? I’m not sure if it’s exhaustion or a hangover, but girl, you look rough.”

“Oh, that’s exhaustion—the hottest look of most authors and publishers.” I shrug. “I didn’t sleep for shit last night, then I couldn’t make coffee this morning because the water isn’t working at the cabin. Hence, why I’m here. Not to mention the series of unfortunate events I endured just trying to get to Whispering Peaks. It’s going to be a busy day.”

“Have you called your property manager?” she asks, a mischievous smile teasing at the corner of her lips.

“Not yet. Unfortunate event number two—broken phone.”

“Eh, what was unfortunate event number one? Do I even want to ask?”

“Flat tire. Then I fell and broke my phone—and my ass”—I twist my hip to the side to accentuate my bruised booty. “The list goes on…”

“Bet you wish you’d have stayed in the city.” Rachel laughs.

“It has all been downhill since the moment I arrived. I should have turned around and gone back to the city once my tire was changed, but it was late, I was tired, and it’s just a spare.”

“ You changed a tire?” she asks, doubt lacing her tone.

“Never said that. It got changed; that’s all that matters.” She does not need to know Nick changed the tire. “Now, I’m gonna grab my coffee and run errands. I have a lot to do. Maybe we can have lunch together while I’m in town,” I suggest, quickly changing the subject.

Rachel quirks a brow at me suspiciously.

“I thought you said you’re on a deadline?” she challenges, calling my bluff.

“We’ll chat soon. Gotta go!” I give her a brief hug—compliance is nicer than force—then make my way to the counter, opting to take my coffee to-go.

I hate wasting valuable time with errands, but once I get back to the cabin, I should be able to focus solely on writing. I’m in and out of the phone store in record time, and the tech was even able to back up my content.

Next stop is Danny’s Tires. While the tire is being repaired, I call the property manager.

“Whispering Peaks Property Management, this is Jen; how can I help you?”

“Hi, this is Winter Snow. The water isn’t working at my cabin. Could Mike come out and check it please?”

“Mike?”

“Hmm, yeah? My property manager?”

“Oh, Mr. Hatfield. He retired in the spring.”

What? Who the hell is managing my cabin? I think back through my memory quickly and don’t remember being notified about a change in management.

“I’m sorry, did you say he retired?”

“Yes, ma’am. He sold the firm and all its accounts to Mr. Frost. I’ll text him now and let him know the issue; he handles all maintenance requests himself.”

Mr. Frost?

This cannot be happening.

“Jen, is it?” I ask, trying to rapidly process this shocking news.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Who is Mr. Frost?” I know what she’s going to say before she confirms it.

“Nicholas Frost, Ms. Snow.”

“I see… Why wasn’t I informed of a change in ownership?”

“I actually sent two forms of notification, Ms. Snow—mail and email. Is it possible you overlooked it, or it could have even gone to spam?”

“Perhaps you should have called if you didn’t hear from me?”

“We assumed if we didn’t hear from a client, they didn’t have any concerns with the transition.”

“Well, I certainly have a problem with the transition, Jen!” I refute.

“I’m very sorry, Ms. Snow. I will have Mr. Frost call you as soon as possible so we can resolve this matter promptly.”

“Oh, he doesn’t need to call. I know exactly where he’s at, so I’ll resolve this matter myself.”

Before I can press end on the call, I hear Jen say, “Happy Holidays, Ms. Snow. Have a great day!”

Oh, I’ll have a great day, alright. As soon as I get my hands on Nicholas Frost.