NICHOLE CURLED HER hands around her mug and paced in front of the fireplace. She’d woken up alone, the covers straightened and the pillow cold on Chase’s side of the bed. He’d kept the fire burning and the bedroom door closed to keep the heat inside and Nichole suitably separated from him. Like she’d asked. Like she wanted. She scowled into the steam streaming from her coffee.
Her phone lit up on the fireplace mantel. Congratulations and well-wishes from former coworkers and distant friends filled her text alerts. Two names weren’t on her missed call list or unopened texts: her mom or dad. Perhaps her parents would return home now. Her mother would love the media attention and the subterfuge. Certainly, her father would want to write a script to capture the storyline. At the very least, Nichole’s news of marrying a celebrity of sorts was worthy of a phone call, wasn’t it?
Nichole scrolled through her contact list and selected the one person who’d always understood Nichole’s long-standing wish for her parents to act like typical parents, even just one time. Nichole’s grandmother answered on the second ring. Nichole waited for her grandfather to pick up the other phone, launched into her apology and veered into an explanation. One her grandmother quickly and efficiently ended with: I always liked Chase. Such a darling boy.
Nichole started her explanation again.
Her grandfather interrupted with: About time.
Followed by a deep hum of approval. Nichole stared at her phone. Where was the disappointment about her secret wedding? About not being included.
Her grandmother jumped into the silence and insisted Chase join Nichole and Wesley the following week for Wesley’s weekend visit. And wished Nichole a memorable ski-moon as if she used that term regularly.
Nichole managed a stunned and awkward thank-you.
Her grandmother promised Nichole once her parents learned about their daughter’s marriage, they’d certainly be in touch. After all, they hadn’t missed important milestones in Nichole’s life growing up. Cards and presents had arrived early for Christmases and birthdays. I love yous exchanged, the call ended.
Nichole flopped onto the bed face-first and replayed the conversation. Chase was darling. Their wedding overdue. And Nichole’s parents suddenly reliable. Even though her parents’ visits had been less consistent and all too often unreliable. Chase and Nichole’s wedding a fake. And Chase...
The doorbell chimed throughout the house. Laughter rolled against the closed bedroom door like an invitation to join the merriment and ditch her self-imposed distance.
Nichole hopped off the bed, opened the door and stopped in the doorway. Chase stood near the massive stone fireplace. A lanky, tall technician in pressed jeans, a pin-striped blue work shirt and steel-toed work boots moved closer to Chase’s side. Both men tilted their heads up to look at the camera on the technician’s phone. The one he held at an angle high above their heads. Several selfies later, the pair broke apart and checked the photographs.
The technician—his name, Alden, embroidered above his shirt pocket—greeted her. His blond curls covered his forehead, brushed over his brown eyes as if reaching for his twin dimples. “The heat is not quite fixed yet, but it will be. I promise.”
“It’ll be warmer if you shut the bedroom door,” Chase said. His jacket hung on the back of a kitchen chair. A pair of gloves and a hat rested on the table. He appeared more than immune to the walk-in-refrigerator-level cold in the house.
Nichole leaned against the doorframe and crossed her arms over her chest. Her toes curled inside her thick socks, willing her to retreat into the bedroom and the welcoming warmth. But Chase gripped Nichole’s attention as firmly as Chase’s hold on his permanent marker. Chase signed everything Alden set on the counter.
“I think we’ve covered all my family.” Alden dug through his tool bag on the floor. The sheer joy on Alden’s face saturated his voice. “Could you sign these gloves for my cousin and a pair for his brother-in-law? They never miss a game.”
Chase appeared in no hurry to stop signing. His excitement rivaled Alden’s. He appreciated Alden’s reenactment of specific plays, added his own version, then steered the conversation back to Alden’s family. Always he brought the conversation back to Alden. Chase was kind, thoughtful and engaging.
“I really appreciate this, Mr. Jacobs.” Alden gathered his items like a kid collecting his winning prizes at the midway in the State Fair.
“Chase.” He grinned and swirled the marker across a work glove. “How long have you been working as a technician?”
“Little over two years.” Alden tucked his autographed merchandise away as if he’d never take it out. He brushed his hair out of his eyes, his voice timid. “I’m saving up to buy my girl a ring.”
“That’s special.” Chase handed the gloves to Alden. His smile genuine, his voice sincere. “She’s really lucky to have you.”
Nichole watched Chase. Surely Chase would advise the young guy to wait longer to get married. Have more fun before tying himself down. Surely the city’s favorite adventurer bachelor would dissuade Alden, discourage marriage and laugh off love.
“Could you sign something for her parents?” Alden scanned the living room as if the chateau was his personal Pioneers’ fan store. “They’re big fans too.”
“Absolutely.” Chase held up his hand, interrupting Alden’s search. “I’m pretty sure I have an extra jersey in my suitcase.”
Chase carried extra jerseys to give out to his fans? Had the sweatshirt Chase loaned Nichole been intended for a fan? And then she understood, his star power came from his ability to center his full attention on someone. To make that person feel valued and important, not a bother or an intrusion. He made her feel recognized. He made her feel noticed and appreciated. Nichole held her position in the doorway.
Chase slowed, squeezed around Nichole. Only his arm brushed against her shoulder.
For a breath, she wanted more of his undivided attention too. She turned and tracked his movements around the bedroom. “You enjoy this?”
“He’s a good guy.” Chase dug through his suitcase and held up a Pioneers jersey. “If this will help Alden win over his in-laws, then it’s time well spent.”
Would he consider their time together, time well spent too? “You’re a good guy too.”
“Don’t forget to shut the door to keep warm until the heat is fixed.” He slipped around her and glanced back. His gaze warm, thoughtful. “Did you make your calls to potential vendors like you wanted?”
Nichole pointed at her phone on the mantel, reminding herself more of Chase’s attention wasn’t what she needed. “Doing that right now.”
Chase handed Alden the signed jersey and followed him upstairs. He asked Alden a series of questions as if he intended to become a technician after his football career ended. Nichole returned to the master suite and her business.
Four phone calls concluded, heat poured through the in-floor vent, warming the master bedroom into sauna-level hot. Nichole rose, stretched her legs and walked out to the kitchen.
Chase and Alden headed toward the front door. Chase carried Alden’s tool bag as if it belonged to him, not the young technician. Alden lifted his 10-foot ladder.
“Thanks, Alden.” Nichole called out. “You’ve saved our vacation.”
Alden’s grin split across his face, his dimples anchoring it into place. “My pleasure, Mrs. Jacobs.”
Mrs. Jacobs. Nichole blinked, tried to cut off the swirl of delight curling through her. She was a fraud. An imposter. Her heart stretched against that caution tape and refused to listen.
Chase closed the front door, moved around the large island and opened the refrigerator. “We’ve got lunch and dinner to plan. Any ideas?”
Banning the use of Mrs. Jacobs would be a good start. Nichole swiped across her phone screen, pulled herself together and restored those boundaries. A new text from Brooke flashed on her phone, distracting her. “Brooke and Dan are coming up early. Wesley and Ben convinced them nothing was happening in school tomorrow since it’s the day before spring break. They’ll be here in about an hour. And everyone is hungry.”
Chase clapped his hands together. “What should we cook?”
We. No, they were definitely not a we. Couldn’t be. They had a business arrangement. Yet everything was starting to feel normal. Too natural. As if they always planned meals together. Always vacationed together. She had to break their connection. Remind herself they were opposites. And opposites could not attract. “I brought boxed mac and cheese and hot dogs just for times like this.”
“You’re serious?” He frowned at her.
“It’s a family favorite.” Nichole lifted her chin. “It’s one of Wesley’s favorites.”
He stepped closer to her. “Let’s make a deal.”
Deal? Nichole moved toward him and tipped her head to lock her gaze on his. The last deal she’d made with Chase had her married to him. How much worse could it get? “What do you have in mind?”
“You make your food.” He grimaced and recovered. His gaze warmed and searched her face. “I’ll make my version and we see which one everyone prefers.”
“What are you making exactly?” Nichole eyed him. He reached forward, brushed her hair off her shoulder. His touch light and swift. But the effect left her restless and wishful. She cleared her throat. “It has to be healthy, no ice cream or brownies to sway the vote.” No more tugs on her heart to sway her resolve.
“It’ll be something simple. Kid-friendly.” He opened the refrigerator and peered inside. Then turned toward her. His gaze lit up. “Baked ziti with fresh tomatoes, spinach and broccoli.”
“You might want to reconsider so many vegetables.” And she’d reconsider her urge to move closer to him. “It also doesn’t sound so simple.”
“Don’t underestimate a kid’s palate. I’ll add sausage too.” He held out his hand. “Do we have a deal?”
Chase could cook. Very well. Nichole hardly knew her way around the kitchen. She kept her hands in her pockets. “What happens when you lose?”
“The loser has to cook breakfast for everyone for the rest of the weekend.” He grinned at her.
“Done.” No way would she lose this. She knew both the boys too well. Spinach would stop the conversation before it started. Nichole set her hand inside Chase’s.
A jolt of awareness bounced between their palms and vaulted toward her chest. And she wondered if she’d made a different sort of bargain. One that had nothing to do with cooking and everything to do with distance. And not keeping hers.
Chase filled a pan with water, turned on the front burner, then adjusted the oven to preheat. Vegetables and several cheeses shared space on the large island with mixing bowls and cutting boards. “Don’t you want to prep anything?”
“I have time.” Nichole poured herself another cup of coffee and slid onto the barstool to give herself a good view of Chase’s prep station. In minutes he had sausage cooking and a red sauce simmering. The scent of spices and good food filled the air. But she still had the advantage—comfort food was a family standby. “I need to boil water and open a box.”
Chase laughed and chopped broccoli like a trained chef, at ease and confident. He worked without a recipe. Relied on taste and patience.
Nichole preferred exact measurements and directions more specific than Mix a little. Add a dash. Their cooking styles hardly meshed. She motioned toward the dishes gathering in the sink. “If I cook the hot dogs in the pasta water, I only need one pan.”
“This is part of the joy in cooking.” Chase added the cooked sausage, noodles and chopped vegetables to his sauce. Then inhaled the steam from the pot. “Creating is fun.”
Watching Chase cook was fun. More than fun. He made her want to take more risks like asking if she could help. Like testing the boundaries of that we. Opposites could balance each other.
She remembered his favorite things. He’d loaned her his sweatshirt and kept the fire going all night. He’d also respected her wishes about Wesley. That hardly made him right for her. Even if her heart tumbled more than once, tugging her ever closer to the pillow wall and Chase last night. And tempting her even now. “You don’t really think eleven-year-old boys are going to willingly eat spinach and broccoli, do you?”
“I do. It’s all in the preparation.” He waved his hand over the casserole dish he’d started to assemble and smiled at her. “Want to taste a sample?”
She wanted... Her mouth dried. “I’ll wait.”
“Probably for the best.” He nodded. Grated more cheese, sprinkled it over the casserole, then slid the dish into the oven. “One taste and you’d probably be tempted to cheat later.”
Nichole sputtered on the coffee she sipped. “I’ll have you know that’s the bestselling mac and cheese in the nation for a reason.”
He drew a spoon around the empty pot, scraping up the last of the sauce and held it up. “And this is the best-tasting baked ziti sauce for a reason too.”
“Why’s that?”
“It’s made from the heart.” He stuck the spoon in his mouth and grinned. “Just like Nonna’s.”
“Now you’re cheating.” Nichole jumped off the stool and rounded the island, closing the distance between them.
“How am I cheating?” He tossed the spoon on the island counter and locked his gaze on her.
She had his full attention now. All she’d wanted the entire day. She charged forward, straight through every caution sign. “You’re using Nonna’s recipe.”
He held up his hands. “Those are all I know.”
And all she knew was that she’d displaced her common sense. All she knew was the heat from Chase’s gaze encouraged her to cross all kinds of boundaries, pillow walls and defenses. Nichole stepped into his space, placed her hands on his chest and forgot to be practical. She leaned forward. Chase met her halfway. Their lips came together.
And their kiss intensified into something beyond strangers. Beyond friends. Something meaningful and lasting. That lingered and searched and learned. Both gave and received. Something that sent hearts soaring above the clouds.
Nichole surrendered completely.
A pounding echoed on the front door. The doorbell chimed as if set on repeat.
Nichole jumped back, flattened her hand over her racing heart. “They’re early.” And she was caught.
Chase held on to her waist and her gaze. “You have to get the door.”
And catch her breath. Her gaze dropped to his mouth—only a quick dip—and kick-started her heart again. “That was...”
“Something we’ll definitely be discussing later.” Chase gripped her shoulders, turned her toward the door before she could finish her thought. He whispered, “We might need to add new options to our agreement.”
Or not. And kissing definitely could not be repeated. No matter how much she wanted to. Nichole opened the door to two excited boys and Brooke, holding twin grocery bags.
The boys asked to pick out their bedroom first, tossed their snow boots on the deck and raced upstairs. Nichole led Brooke into the kitchen.
Chase dried his hands on a towel and greeted Brooke. “I’ll go help Dan with the rest of your stuff.”
Brooke hefted the bags onto the counter and nudged her elbow into Nichole’s side. Her eyebrows raised. “Did you celebrate last night?”
“No.” Nichole shook her head. Not last night. And right now, she’d lost track of their business arrangement and broken her own rules. She’d warned Chase to keep his distance. He’d listened. Now she had to heed her own demands. “We had no heat.”
“Sounds like the perfect time to make your own together.” Brooke laughed.
Dan wrapped his arm around Brooke’s waist, Brooke leaned her head against his shoulder. Both nodded in unison and worked to keep their own grins restrained. They were a couple—united and in love. Chase and Nichole were united in their business arrangement.
“Make your own what?” Chase stood in the doorway leading to the laundry room, snow in his hair and a one-sided grin on his face.
“Never mind.” Nichole filled a pot with water, turned the burner on high and blamed the warmth in her cheeks on Alden. He’d fixed the heater too well. “I need to make the mac and cheese.”
Wesley slid across the hardwood floors in his socks and grabbed an apple off the counter. “Don’t forget the hot dogs.”
“Already on it.” Nichole smoothed out her smile, squashed the triumph in her voice. “We have two options for dinner. Mac and cheese with hot dogs. Or...”
“Baked pasta with a meat sauce,” Chase said.
With her next words, Nichole would wipe away Chase’s expanding grin. “With broccoli and spinach.”
Wesley scowled as if his apple suddenly turned rotten. “There’s spinach in the pasta?”
“And broccoli?” Ben stepped beside Wesley and wrinkled his nose.
“Vegetables are good for you,” Chase offered. “And you won’t even know they’re in there.”
Wesley bit into his apple, chewed slowly. His gaze remained fixed on Chase as if he’d suddenly turned into one of his puzzles. “How do you know?”
“You’ll have to trust me.” Chase closed the distance and held out his fist. “At least try it and if you don’t like it, your mom will finish it.”
“Cool.” Wesley fist-bumped Chase. Both wore matching grins as if they were suddenly united.
She wasn’t helping Chase win. Nichole pressed her hand over her stomach. “I don’t know. I’m going to be pretty full after eating all that yummy mac and cheese.”
“What’s going on?” Dan looked at Nichole, then Chase and back to Nichole. Suspicion wove through his voice. “What are we missing?”
Brooke tapped her finger on her mouth. “We’re definitely missing something.”
“Nothing is going on.” Nichole spread her arms wide and added a more lighthearted note to her words. “We just have options for dinner. Everyone likes options.”
“Like at a restaurant,” Ben added.
“Only at this one, you can eat all you want.” Chase fist-bumped both boys, then opened the oven to peer inside. “How’s that mac and cheese coming, Nichole? Baked ziti is just about ready.”
“Only need seven minutes and the feast can begin.” She poured the noodles and hot dogs into her pot and grinned at Chase. “Funny. I’m already considering what sounds good for breakfast tomorrow.”
“Who’s cooking?” Wesley asked. “’Cause if it’s Mom, you can have toast or cereal. Those are her specialties.”
Chase swiped his hands over his mouth as if catching his laugh.
Ben stuffed his hands in his back pockets. His toes wiggled inside his socks. “My dad’s specialty is funny-shaped pancakes.”
“With chocolate chips,” Dan added. “Those are the best part.”
Nichole drained the noodles and prepared the mac and cheese according to the directions on the side of the box.
Chase pulled his casserole out of the oven and set it on the counter. “We haven’t determined who’s cooking breakfast tomorrow.”
“We’ll know soon enough.” If cooking breakfast meant another stolen kiss, Nichole might not object. But kisses and cooking together had never been part of their original agreement. And amendments had to be avoided. Other options need not be discussed. After all, Nichole’s heart had no veto on their agreement.
Brooke handed out plates to the boys. Dan located the silverware and napkins.
“Remember, it’s all you can eat. Don’t stop until you’re full.” Nichole pulled a serving spoon out of a drawer and waved it over the dinner options like a wand. But there was nothing magic in her and Chase cooking together or their kiss.
How many lies could she tell?