satisfying. Jax loved animals, loved his job and honestly couldn’t see himself living in a big city for very long. He’d grown up bottle-feeding abandoned kittens and baby goats, ridden horses every day, dug fence posts with the best of them and rarely went to art galleries or museums, her favorite forms of recreation.
He liked the outdoors; she liked skyscrapers.
Let’s call the whole thing off.
They had. Sadly, regretfully, unable to agree, they’d gone their separate ways.
The trouble was, Jax had never been able to get her off his mind.
So he was on his way to Mustang Creek, of all places.
What were the chances he’d know someone from her hometown, wind up practicing there?
Maybe this was more than a coincidence, a meant-to-be kind of thing. Like sitting beside the woman at Remy’s shindig—her name turned out to be Kendra Nash—and just happening to hear about Charlie for the first time.
Was fate intervening again? Jax hadn’t expected a job offer when he’d contacted Nate; he’d just wanted to know if there might be openings in the area.
Charlotte’s last Facebook post had said: “Catching a flight back to Wyoming soon. Goodbye, NY. It’s been nice but I’m heading home. Merry Christmas.”
Jax punched the hands-free device when his phone rang, startling him a little. Beyond his windshield, the weather was getting worse by the second. “Hello.”
“Jax, you’re still driving, right? Making progress?”
Nate Cameron, the man he’d be sharing a practice with.
Jax answered a little grimly, “Sort of, if you call thirty miles an hour progress. I was hoping to outrun the storm, but obviously that didn’t happen.”
“I booked you a room at the motel on Main about two hours ago. Last room, in fact. I’d be happy to have you stay with me, but you’ll never find my place in this mess. People miss the drive in broad daylight, never mind the middle of a blizzard. Besides, the way the snow’s drifting, I don’t care what kind of truck you have, you might get stuck. That’s one wicked wind. In town at least they’ve got the snowplows out.”
That sounded like a plan. He was starting to doubt he could even find the town; the road ahead was disappearing before his eyes. “Thanks. I’ll call you tomorrow morning.”
“Let’s just meet up. This is supposed to blow through pretty fast. Betsey’s Café is where I usually have breakfast, and it’s next to the motel. Eight o’clock?”
“See you then.”
When Jax finally saw the lights of Mustang Creek glowing in the distance, he felt a measure of relief. His shoulders ached from the tension, and what he really needed was a soft bed and a good night’s sleep.
It wasn’t hard to spot what he suspected was the town’s only motel. The parking lot was full, and the one car that had been in front of him for miles pulled in, too. After searching for ten minutes or so, he found a parking spot then grabbed his suitcase and ran for it, flipping his collar up.
The dated lobby was empty except for the clerk and a very dismayed-looking young woman at the counter.
She said, “No rooms?”
“None. I’m sorry. The storm and all.” The young man did seem apologetic.
Glossy dark hair swung as she turned around, obviously disappointed, and then she froze. “Jax?”
Charlie. She stared at him, incredulous recognition in those gorgeous green eyes.
“Yep. Hi.” He was almost too stunned to speak.
Coincidence? No way. Fate or something was definitely messing with his head.
Yes, he’d expected to run into Charlie—Mustang Creek was a small community after all—but he’d never dreamed she’d be one of the first people he encountered, especially in the middle of a snowstorm.
“What are you doing here?” Charlie’s eyes were wide and a little wary. Did she think he was stalking her?
“Job offer,” he said lamely.
“Oh...well...” She seemed to be struggling for words, too. Small comfort. “What are the odds of that?”
Good, when a person actively pursues a goal, he thought wryly.
He cleared his throat. “I have a room if you need a place to stay.”
The clerk hit a few keys on his computer. “You’re Dr. Jaxon Locke? Last person to check in tonight. Room 215. Two queen beds. Maybe there’s some holiday magic in the air, since you two seem to know each other. Let me get your key cards.”
Just then, the sound system began to play “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas.”
Maybe he would, Jax thought. Maybe he would.
No way was she sharing a room with Jaxon Locke.
Charlotte was incredulous, completely thrown off balance by seeing him there, the last person in the universe she would’ve expected to run into in Mustang Creek, of all places. This was her hometown, damn it, her safe place, her sanctuary. What was he doing here? She could almost believe she was dreaming, except that every part of her ached with travel fatigue and the rigors of driving for hours through that wicked snowstorm.
Nope, this was real. And just to make it worse, the man had the gall to look good, too, even with tousled hair that still had flecks of snow, rumpled clothes and the slope of weariness in his broad shoulders. His beard was coming in, an attractive stubble, and there was a hint of lively amusement in his eyes.
“I don’t need a key card,” she told the clerk in a more abrupt tone than she’d intended. She immediately felt bad because he’d been accommodating, this young, apologetic local. More graciously, she added, “Thanks for trying, though.”
“I didn’t help much. I’m afraid there’s no place else to stay.”
He was probably right about that. Despite its relatively close proximity to Yellowstone and Grand Teton National Parks, not to mention the ski slopes that attracted winter-sport enthusiasts from all over the world, Mustang Creek was still a small town. Other than this hotel, there were a few modest motels and B and Bs, of course, but on a night like this one, and so close to the holidays, those places would fill up fast.
Jax stepped past Charlotte to slap his credit card down on the counter. Was that a smirk she saw, that faint twitch at one corner of his mouth?
“There are two beds, Charlie,” he reminded her with a brief, sidelong glance. “Count ’em, two. Trust me, I drove here all the way from Idaho, and I’m so tired I might forget my own name. Your virtue is safe, for tonight, anyhow.” He paused—he was smirking, damn it—and
