Chapter 1

Chapter One

JOY

W hy didn’t I listen when Roy told me I needed new tires? Oh, that’s right, because I couldn’t afford to listen.

Snow pelts my windshield as I attempt to navigate to the address I scribbled down. How is it possible this place wasn’t even in Google Maps? What’s really unusual is that I'm unfamiliar with this location. I grew up in Mittenville, and I know everyone. I thought I knew every corner of this place, but there’s a lot of land around.

I was told it’s a ranch, so I suppose it could be secret. If someone built on the edge of town and hired builders from outside, nobody would know about it. It seems like whoever this person is must really want to be left alone. Or to stay out of town gossip. Working at the diner puts me in the center of the gossip circle, and I hear everything. It’s understandable if someone doesn’t want to be around that.

My car slowly rolls to a stop so that I don’t slide into the ditch as I double-check the address. I’m getting closer. I grab the sweater in my passenger seat and wipe away the fog on the inside of the windshield.

“Could you breathe a little less, Joy?” I huff, which isn’t helping the situation. I better get this job.

The sun has quickly faded, so I turn on my headlights. I can see in the reflection up ahead that one of them flickers and then goes out. Great. I need a whole new car at this point.

When I turn down the road and continue my search, I spot a fence running along one side. I’m sure that means I must be close. Someone has to live nearby if they have a cattle fence up. A very nice one at that. I don’t see any cattle, but that doesn’t mean that they don't have them.

“Yes!” I squeal when I see a mailbox, and I stop to check the number. My windows are still fogged so I have to roll down my window, but I’m relieved when it’s the right one. “Thank goodness.”

The problem is when I turn onto the driveway, there’s no house in sight. The driveway goes on forever and then disappears into the trees. I keep driving, telling myself that this has to be it. Luck is on my side when I finally make it to the end and a house comes into view. It’s truly tucked away, but the closer I get, the more I see how stunning it is.

Smoke is coming from one of the chimneys, and I can’t help but think that if this place were adorned with Christmas lights, it would be a sight worthy of a holiday postcard.

My curiosity begins to rise, and I'm wondering who could possibly live here and whether I've seen them around town. They are on the edge of Mittenville, outside the city limits, but Mittenville is still the closest town. It would take twice as long to get to Smithville from here, and that’s the next closest one.

I cringe as my car screeches loudly before sliding to a stop. There’s a bang and then it sputters and dies like a heap of junk. Oh god, this did not just happen. Roy clearly missed a lot of other things when he did my inspection. How can I commit to coming out here to help when I don’t have a reliable car? This interview is dead in the water. Or dead in the snow, I suppose.

Embarrassment and shame wash over me, but I’m here so I might as well go through with it. I grab the cinnamon rolls I brought to try and sweeten up the owner. They've been a big hit in town. If you ask me, they're the only thing keeping the Nutmeg Diner open these days. I'm sure George, the owner, would argue otherwise, but he's always been a bit of a jerk.

When I step out of the car, the wind hits me hard, and it almost makes me fall on my ass. For a second, I debate throwing in the towel and calling it quits. All of this has been a mess, but it’s not as though I can make an escape. Not with my car dead in the owner's driveway. The only thing left to do is hope this works out. So instead of trying to walk back home, I make myself head to the front door. My hand rises to knock, but before I can, the door swings open.

“About time,” Devin drawls, and I’m in shock.

This is the man who persistently haunts my dreams. I’m going with “haunting” even if I get turned on by the dreams because I don’t want to have them. Heck, Devin haunts me even when I'm not dreaming. I swear every time I turn around, he’s there, looming...judging.

“I’m not late,” I say and hold the box of cinnamon rolls close to my chest. There’s no way he's getting any of these. “I should just go.” I start to turn around, but Devin grips my elbow. “Hey!” I make a half-hearted protest as he pulls me into his home. As much as I don’t want him to, I kind of want to see the place.

It’s too bad his simple touch makes heat shoot through my body like I’ve touched a live wire. My mind is flooded with the numerous fantasies I've had about him and what I imagine he can do with that mouth. I want to kick my own ass. Am I really into grumpy, know-it-all jerks? Because that’s exactly what Devin is.

“We have an interview.”

“We hate each other,” I remind him.

Why would he want to hire me? I could really use this freaking job, and the pay is crazy good. But I should have realized that it was Devin. Booker was the one that referred me for this job, but the potential money I could earn clearly blinded me. I am planning to use my small savings to launch my own business at some point. But I guess that’s going to take another hit because of my damn car.

“Not sure what gave you that idea,” he says, and I stare up at him.

I have to look way up because he’s a freaking giant. A giant with a stupid face that isn’t handsome and gruff in a sexy way. Nope, not one bit.

“You’re always glaring at me,” I manage to say and not sound breathy.

“A man can’t have resting bitch face?” I don’t want to, but I snort a laugh. “And you’re always smiling.” He shrugs. “Come on this way.” Devin doesn’t release his hold on my elbow as he leads me deeper into his home. “We can do this in the kitchen.”

The way he says "do this" sends my mind straight to naughty places. I need to get it together. I’ve never had this problem before, and it’s all Devin's fault.

“I guess I don’t have much of a choice.” I wiggle my elbow, but he’s got a firm grip on it.

“Did that car die in my driveway?”

So he did see that. Great. “Yes, okay?” I roll my eyes, but he's so high above me that I doubt he can see it. “I don’t need the I told you so .”

Not only does he constantly glare at me, but he also makes his offhanded comments. He always has something to say so clearly thinks I'm inept.

“I wasn't going to say that.”

“Sure,” I say dryly as we enter the kitchen. “You always…” I trail off. “Holy crap.” The kitchen is a baker's dream. It’s got multiple sinks and ovens with all the counter space in the world. The gas stove is commercial size with so many burners.

When I helped Sabrina with the holiday tour, I thought she and Booker Pine had an amazing kitchen. The one in front of me blows theirs out of the water.

It’s tradition in Mittenville to have the holiday tour the week after Thanksgiving. I’d gone over to their house to make sweets since Booker hired the diner to cater the event. That’s where I first met Devin. He and Booker are business partners and ranchers. I believe their primary focus is cattle, though I'm not entirely certain. They are a bit of a mystery to the people of Mittenville, so we don’t know much about anything they do. But since the first time I saw Devin, he’s always at their house when I turn up. He’s usually there to glare at me and make his little comments.

“I take it that this kitchen will work for you?” Devin smirks.

“You really want to hire me as a cook?” Baking is my specialty, but I can cook anything. Honestly, I thought he didn't like my food. At least that was the impression I’d gotten the day of the tour.

"I'd like to hire you for a lot more than that."