Kissing Jenna (Big Sky 2)

“This is beautiful,” he says, looking around. “I don’t know if I’ve seen anything quite like it.”

“I know,” I reply with a smile. “Trust me, you haven’t.”

I pass him my mug while I unlock the door, then retrieve it and lead him inside, flipping on lights as I go.

“Come on in. This is your home away from home for the next four weeks.” I pause in the kitchen while he wanders through the space, looking outside, then taking in the blue kitchen cabinets, the large gas fireplace, and the comfortable furniture. “In the email correspondence, you asked for extra groceries to be stocked in the kitchen, and I’ve done that for you.”

“Thanks,” he says. “Where’s the closest Starbucks?”

I lean my hip on the counter and take a sip of my now lukewarm coffee. “In town.”

“Not on the mountain?”

“There’s a coffee shop up here, yes, but it doesn’t open until tomorrow when the season officially starts. I believe that’s the case for the restaurants up here, too.”

“So, no food up here?”

I shake my head. “No, but I’ll take pity on you and make you dinner tonight, if you like.”

His eyes narrow, suspicion written all over his face. “Why would you do that?”

I lean in as if I’m about to tell him a secret and whisper loudly, “Because I’m a nice person.”

He doesn’t smile.

“You can figure it out for yourself if you want to.” I shrug and lead him to the barn door that closes the small bedroom off the living space. “This is the bedroom on this level. There’s a bathroom here, too. I’ll show you the upstairs.”

I climb the stairs, certain that his eyes are on my ass, and hear him gasp when we reach the top.

“Cool, huh?”

“Beautiful,” he murmurs again, looking up. There’s a turret, accessible only by a ladder that has a bed and a blue ceiling covered in stars. I flip a switch, and the stars light up.

“I wired every one of those myself,” I inform him quietly, sipping my coffee. “It was a pain in the ass.”

“But so worth it,” he says and smiles down at me. I can see why he’s taken. He’s handsome and well-spoken. As far as I can tell, he’s charming.

His girlfriend, who was splashed all over People magazine last week, is a lucky woman.

“Thank you,” I reply with a happy smile. “You’ll have privacy here. And if you need anything, just give me a call. My number is on the kitchen counter, along with the Wi-Fi password. Oh, you’ll find that your cell signal isn’t great up here. It’s better if you go out on the deck.”

“That’s not ideal,” he says with a sigh and pushes his hand through his hair, but then shrugs a shoulder. “But we’ll figure it out. I couldn’t get UberEats to find any restaurants on my app earlier.”

I laugh now, delighted with him.

“No UberEats in the boonies, Mr. Stone. But my offer for dinner tonight still stands if you like. I’ll be in the Ponderosa unit again. You’re welcome to join me.”

He thinks it over for a moment and then nods. “I’d like that. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” I lead him back down to the kitchen. “Well, I guess I’ll leave you to it. Have a good day.”

“Jenna.”

I turn to see him standing there, tall and broad, his hands in his pockets again as he watches me with those wary blue eyes.

“Yes?”

“My name isn’t really Flint Stone.”

“I know.” I open the door and then turn back to him before shutting it behind me. “Have a good day, Christian.”

The smirk on his face is the last thing I see before I close the door and walk back to the Ponderosa. Snow is falling again in huge, light flakes that stick to my eyelashes and hair.

I love it.

I walk into the tree house and sigh. Man, we did a number on the place last night. You’d think we were back in college.

I grin, ready to roll up my sleeves and get to work cleaning up.

It was so worth it.

***

“What are you doing?” I ask Max as I stir the pasta and keep an eye on the marinara I’ve had simmering all afternoon. I wipe my hands on my red apron as I shift back and forth between the boiling pasta and the simmering red sauce.

“Calling you,” he says, his voice dry. “What are you doing?”

“I’m making dinner. I offered to feed my tenant tonight since the restaurants don’t open up here until tomorrow.”

“That was nice of you,” he says with a sigh.

“Why did you just sigh like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like you’re irritated or disappointed or something.”

He laughs, and I put him on speaker and set the phone down so I can butter the bread with two hands. “I’m not any of those things. I just think you’re too nice sometimes. It’s not like she couldn’t come to town to have dinner.”