Honor (Heroes of Big Sky 0.50)

And perhaps pigs will fly through the window and do the cha-cha on the dining room table.

I smirk and finish my wine, then pour another glass.

Who knew that moving home would prove so interesting?

Chapter 4

~Nick~

“We turned a member of the press away from the gate yesterday,” Aaron, one of the property’s security men, says. We’re about to wrap up our daily meeting at HQ.

“Was he paparazzi?” I ask.

“He said he was from a newspaper in Missoula,” Aaron replies, shaking his head. “But who knows for sure? I sent him on his way, of course.”

“Is anything else going on?” I ask.

“Princess Ellie and Liam arrive this afternoon,” Randall says. “We’ll have a full house again until after the holidays.”

“Nina’s excited,” Sebastian says with a smile. “And Liam will most likely want to confer with you. Taking the security guard out of the man isn’t an easy task.”

“I’ve already been in touch with him,” I add. “In fact, he’s coming down to the lake house for pizza and football this evening. Any of you are welcome to join us.”

The other men nod, and before long, we’re wrapping up the meeting, and it’s time for me to go back to the lake house.

It’s not that Nina’s old place isn’t nice or comfortable. But it’s not HQ. My quarters in the former guest house on the royal property are in what used to be the master bedroom. It’s large enough to consider it a studio apartment. I prefer to be onsite, to be at the ready if anything should happen.

And I know that I’ll get back here—hopefully, sooner rather than later. But damn if it doesn’t put me in a shitty mood every time I have to leave and go back to the lake house. Because as sweet and sexy as Jordan is, I should be working.

I pull into the driveway and walk into the house. My eyebrows climb at the blaring sound of Mariah Carey’s rendition of All I Want for Christmas is You.

I find Jordan in the living room, singing into the head of a nutcracker as if it’s a microphone.

Her voice, or what I can hear of it over what’s blasting through the speakers, isn’t great. But she’s confident.

I lean my good shoulder against the doorjamb and watch with amusement as Jordan begins the choreography part of her show, pointing to the tree she added in the corner. It’s lit with small, white lights, and is about half full of ornaments.

It appears that today is the day Jordan’s decided to decorate the house.

She does a quick spin and, with the flick of a wrist, hangs a gold ornament on the tree, then turns and sees me.

She doesn’t flush. She doesn’t look embarrassed or unsure of herself.

No, she freaking throws her head back and laughs. It’s the sexiest damn sound I’ve heard in my life.

She picks up her phone and taps the screen, and the music quiets.

“Sorry, I didn’t see you come in. What do you think?”

I stare at the tree, wishing she hadn’t seen me. I would have liked to keep watching the free concert.

“Why did you put up a tree?”

“We went over this the other day at the store,” she says and fusses with an ornament already on a branch, moving it to another location. Why? I have no idea. It looked just fine where it was. “It’s December, Nick. Or should I call you Ebenezer?”

“It’s a waste of time,” I reply. “We’ll be out of here before Christmas, so what’s the point?”

“You hope you’ll be out of here by Christmas,” she says, but there’s no tension in her voice. “And, in the meantime, it’s the holidays. And I like the holidays, and I have to live here, too.”

“Suit yourself.”

“What’s wrong with you?” she demands, her patience seemingly gone as she sets a box of ornaments down. She props her hands on her hips and scowls at me. “You’re always so unhappy. I get it, you’re pissed that you can’t work, but you were injured while doing that job. And it’s not like you’re out on the streets while you heal up. You’re in a gorgeous house, and you have freaking royalty looking out for you. I mean, it’s not ideal, but it doesn’t suck that bad. So, stop sulking. And stop being so damn grumpy all the time.”

I glare at her, irritated mostly because she’s not wrong.

I’m being a wanker.

And she doesn’t deserve it.

I sigh and push my hand through my hair. I need a bloody haircut.

“You’re right.” I glance at the tree and admit that it looks nice in the corner where the windows meet. “I’m a moody jerk since this all happened. It’s not your fault.”

“Apology accepted.” She grins and goes back to the task at hand.

Just like that, I’m forgiven.

Who is this woman? She’s unlike anyone I’ve ever met before. I should stay out of her way, but I enjoy being with her.