Page 7 of Bad Boy Bachelor Christmas
In her dreams.
“She’s Marge’s opposite in every way.” Justin looked up at me. “Literally. You owe the old broad a thank you for hooking you up with a designer like this. Look at thoselegs.And that—”
“Why are you still here?”
Justin laughed. “You think I’m going to leave now that something interesting is finally happening on this damn farm? No way, dude. No way.” He turned back, almost pressing his nose to the window. “Merry fucking Christmas to you, North. You lucky son of a bitch.”
CHAPTER4
WINTER
Holy crap.
House.
Big house.
Like, seriously big, sprawling, massive, timber house.
I couldn’t collect my jaw from where it hung. I was too floored by the extravagance of the property and the sheer size of the mansion sitting upon it. Beyond, and up a rise in terrain behind the home, was a massive field of what appeared to be trees that stretched for acres upon acres. The fields eventually gave way to the sheer rock face of a cliff that had to be about a hundred and fifty feet high or so. Atop the cliff was nothing but barren, exposed pieces of jutting rocks. This place felt rustic and remote, and a little intimidating.
A lotintimidating.
It was certainly a far cry from what I was used to in Oregon.
My suitcase dragged and hitched on the driveway paving stones as I struggled to bring it up to the front door, which was approximately three times my height and width. It was set back amongst a stone outcropping boasting fountains and native fauna. I imagined it looked quite beautiful in the spring and summer months. Right now it looked kind of desolate and lonely.
Finally at the front door, I sagged against my suitcase and struggled to catch my breath. My morning had been a journey already. I’d woken at the crack of dawn to catch an early flight from the west coast to the east, only for my flight to be delayed by two hours. I’d endured the wait and killed time by reading interior design articles on my iPad. Eventually, my flight boarded and took off, and to my dismay my seatmate was the most chatty, opinionated, hard-nosed New Yorker I’d ever met. He told me all about his upcoming holiday stresses, which mostly consisted of him hating that he had to spend the holidays with his own kids—God forbid—and how he wished he could just up and leave to Hawaii until the new year.
After the flight landed I made my escape, only for my luggage to be delayed coming off the plane.
Finally, after a forty-five-minute drive from the airport, I’d made it to my destination. The reward? I had a gorgeous place to stay for the month. Maybe missing a huge chunk of Christmas at home wouldn’t be so bad if I got to stay in a place like this. I could only imagine how beautiful it would be once it was all decorated and the lights were hung.
I smiled, squared my shoulders, and knocked on the front door.
Here we go.
Seconds later, the door swung inward, revealing a cavernous foyer with an antler chandelier hanging over the heads of two men. One was short and rather unremarkable looking with a small nose, auburn hair, a short beard, and narrow shoulders, and the other was something else entirely.
I tipped my head back to look at him.
He was six foot-something of muscle and power. His shoulders were broad, probably as broad as a normal-sized doorway, and he had the look of a man who didn’t smile often. His hair was black and swept back, and all of him was dark and brooding except for his eyes, which were a bright, golden hazel.
I found myself hoping the big beast was my boss, not the little mouse.
I looked back and forth between them before chiming, “Hi.”
Neither of them moved a muscle for a moment. They just stood there staring at me, looking at my hair, my heels, my nylons, and my skirt.
Suddenly self-conscious, I giggled nervously. “This is the Waylon Farm, isn’t it? Or did my driver drop me off in the wrong place?” Turning, I found the red taillights of my town car disappearing at the end of the long driveway. I swallowed. “There’s cell service out here, right?”
The short one nudged the taller one in the ribs.
The dark-haired lumberjack of a man cleared his throat. “You’re in the right place.”
“Wonderful.” I deflated like a balloon. “I’ve hadsucha morning. Let me tell you. My flight got delayed and then I got stuck sitting beside the most obnoxious man of all time. And then my luggage was temporarily lost. I couldn’t find my driver. My phone wasn’t working on the drive over. It’s been adayalready. Anyway,” I paused, thrust my hand out, and grinned, “I’m Winter Dodson from the University of Oregon.”
My hand hovered between us for a good five seconds before he closed his giant grizzly paw around it.
