If I Didn't Care: MacLeod's Cove, #1

By Luanna Stewart

Whoever said karma is a bitch had it right. Nicole Bennett just wished she knew what she'd done to upset the universe. Fired from her dream job, she's back at home with her demoralized dad and her spoiled-brat sister. Surely that's enough punishment for one woman. But then the jerk who fired her walks into her family's store. Doesn't matter that he's sexier than sin. Nope. Doesn't matter at all.

Ross Calvert is spending a month in MacLeod's Cove to keep an eye on his friend's mom, while also searching for another corporate ladder to climb. But the elderly woman lives more and more in the past and Ross needs help. Lucky for him, the cute woman next door answers his plea. Unlucky for him, she hates his guts.

Now he's determined to prove to Nicole that his heart isn't made of ice. Problem is, Nicole doesn't plan to stick around.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Luanna S. Nau
• Release date: Nov 25, 2019
• ISBN: 9781999246204

Luanna Stewart

Luanna Stewart has been creating adventures for her imaginary friends since childhood. She spends her days writing spicy contemporary romance, romantic suspense, paranormal romance, and historical romance. When not torturing her heroes and heroines, she’s in her kitchen baking something delicious. She lives in Nova Scotia with her patient husband, one spoiled cat, and five hens.

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

The sexy female voice Ross Calvert had programmed into his GPS informed him to turn right at the four way stop. Depending on his mood she was either blonde, curvy, and gorgeous, or brunette, curvy, and gorgeous. Either way, he liked to picture her saying do me in the same voice with which she said, in six-hundred meters, turn left.

He downshifted his Jaguar F-type when he reached the outskirts of MacLeod’s Cove.

Old two-story houses, some with small barns in the backyard, lined both sides of the road. Maple trees shone red and gold amongst the deep emerald of spruce and fir, the fallen leaves a swirling blanket on the road behind him.

A gas station sat on one corner and a church needing a fresh coat of paint sat on another. A cute woman, the blonde embodiment of his GPS, climbed into her van at the gas station. The next few weeks might not be such a hardship.

Most of the town lay along the glimmer of ocean in the distance. He’d save exploring for another day since he wasn't a tourist. And he wasn't on vacation.

Turn left in 300 meters.

He followed her instructions, pulling into a driveway ahead of schedule according to his multi-function diving watch, a gift from his fiancée. Now his ex-fiancée. Also ex-co-worker, and ex-route-to-the-CEO's-office.

Win some, lose some. Lose the job, lose the girl.

Losing the condo hadn't hurt like he'd expected. The two-story loft conversion had been Holly's project. He'd felt more like a visitor in a swanky art gallery than a guy relaxing in his own home. Not even allowed to put his feet on the glass and steel coffee table.

Ross patted the leather steering wheel. Thanks to his golden handshake, this gleaming silver baby was safe from creditors. Along with his power suits, custom-made dress shirts, and fifty-seven silk ties.

All trappings of success, proof of how far he'd come. A polite middle finger salute to all the kids he grew up with who teased him about wearing second-hand clothes.

He climbed from the car and grabbed his overnight bag and laptop case, also gifts from the ex who favoured this particular designer for the distinctive logo. Who cared if it worked, provided it looked expensive.

Kind of like their relationship.

He sucked in a deep breath of the fresh, salt-tinged air. Something to be said for small towns on the edge of nowhere. The only sounds were the twitter of birds and the wind blowing through the shrubs and evergreens.

Country living would make a nice change. For a few weeks. No way in hell could he settle here. He needed the energy of a city in order to function. And the networking required to advance in his profession. Having to start over in this backwater would be nigh on impossible. Twenty-four days and then back to the land of coffee shops, power lunches, and wine bars. He'd put his life back together and get back on track with The Plan.

The sharp whistle of a distant dog-walker roused him from his musings. Time to get started.

Wooden steps and a wrought iron handrail sprouting rust led to the front door. He rang the bell, not completely sure what he'd signed up for. His buddy, Daniel, had indicated a simple mom-sitting stint. She was getting a little forgetful but otherwise independent. Ross was more than willing to help out while his old college roommate was in Europe on a contract job. Not only was Ross homeless thanks to Holly's needing ‘closure’, whatever the hell that meant, but also this was a great way to make amends with his friend. Make up for lost time.

Plus, he’d benefit from peace and quiet while he scoured the web for job postings. Time was wasting. The Plan allowed for ten years, maximum, to make it to the top of the ladder.

The door opened and a confused, older version of the woman he remembered from his college years peered out. Yes?

Hi, Mrs. Croft. You might not remember me. I'm Ross Calvert. Daniel told you I was coming to stay, right?

Is Daniel with you?

Uh oh. No, he's away. I'll be look—helping out until he gets back.

Yes, dear. She turned and shuffled down the hall in her grimy slippers.

This mom-sitting stint might not be so simple.

He dropped his bags in the dining room and followed her into the kitchen. Dirty dishes filled the sink, and remnants of a few meals sat on the crumb-strewn table. A sour smell, probably the full garbage can in the corner, pointed to more than a bit of forgetfulness. Mrs. Croft’s slightly unfocused stare might be a symptom of something more disturbing.

So, how've you been? The kitchen would take at least an hour to clean. Should he offer to help? Or just pitch in and do it? He didn't want to embarrass or offend the poor woman.

She filled the electric teakettle and switched it on. Would you like a cup of tea, dear?

Uh, no thanks. I'm not much of a tea drinker. Why don't you take a seat, and I'll make it for you.

Thank you, that's very kind. She sat in what was obviously her chair next to a window with a view of the back garden and the harvested cornfields beyond.

He opened the dishwasher and breathed a sigh of relief. Empty. The clean up shouldn't take long. Have you had lunch? He could zip into town and get take-out. Or find the nearest convenience store for sandwiches and chips.

Is it lunchtime already? She laughed. Seems like we ate our breakfast five minutes ago. She patted her hair, the old lady style of tight white curls that needed a touch-up and a washing.

Not comfortable leaving her on her own, he opened the fridge. A loaf of bread and a hunk of cheese with only a few blue spots seemed the safest options. The nine open cans of baked beans would go straight into the trash. I'll make us grilled cheese sandwiches.

Yes, dear. That will be lovely. Daniel will be here for lunch.

Not today, Mrs. Croft. He's at work.

Oh, yes, you said that, didn't you. My memory isn't what it was. She fiddled with the buttons on her sweater and stared out the window.

He'd be calling Daniel sooner rather than later. Unfortunately, Daniel was the only family she had unless there were nieces or nephews or other extended family Ross didn’t know about. Regardless, this was beyond forgetful and well beyond his comfort level.

He prepared the sandwiches and they ate a silent meal, despite his efforts at small talk. Mrs. Croft then settled in her chair in the living room to watch TV, another cup of tea at her elbow. He loaded the dishwasher, scrubbed the kitchen counters, and threw out all the naturally occurring penicillin in the fridge. Good to know he could wield a broom – hadn’t lost all his housekeeping skills after so many years of living the dream, complete with weekly housekeeping. There must be a service in town he could hire for the duration. He couldn’t spend all his time doing housework if he hoped to recover from his temporary career setback.

His call to Daniel went to voicemail. Damn. No way he’d leave this kind of message. He got his data hot spot set up and sent off a quick email, choosing words to ensure a prompt response but not cause panic.

While Mrs. Croft napped during a game show, Ross took a quick shower and changed his clothes. Time for loose jeans and a faded t-shirt, his usual downtime outfit, though he normally didn't have time in his day for relaxing. Power lunches, power suppers, and power cocktails kept him out on the town until midnight seven days a week. All necessary to stay ahead of the competition. And staying ahead of the competition had got him close to the top of his profession.

Hell, he was on the fast track to the CEO office until his fiancée dumped him and the fiancée’s daddy fired him.

Actually, it had happened the other way round, but who was keeping score?

He unpacked his bags and did a quick web search for job postings before carrying his laptop down to the living room. Mrs. Croft was talking to a pretty young woman. Tall and slender, but with fantastic curves in all the right places.

She jumped to her feet, a hell of an angry scowl marring her pretty face. "What are you doing here?"

Shit, it wasn’t like he was carrying a bloody axe or anything. Sorry to startle you. I'm a friend of Mrs. Croft's son, staying with her until Daniel gets back from Europe. He checked her out from her head to her toes and admired it all. Toned arms under a short-sleeved polo shirt, perky breasts, and long, long legs. The woman from the gas station. Twenty-four days of her company would make the time fly.

And? She planted her hands on hips. He recognized confrontational when he saw it. Holly had been a pro.

And.... Did she want his entire life story? Are you a neighbour? He had a clear view of the driveway and nothing was parked behind his beauty.

Her face reddened and her large, hazel eyes shot daggers. He recognized pissed off when he saw it, too. She turned her back like he didn't matter. He'd not had that reaction in a long time, not from a woman.

I've put the eggs in the fridge, Mrs. Croft. She leaned closer to the older lady and touched her arm to get her attention. Along with your milk, a bag of carrots, and a bunch of beets.

Very nice, dear. Will you stay to lunch?

Thank you, but—

We ate lunch, Mrs. Croft. Remember? We cooked grilled cheese sandwiches. He was definitely out of his depth. He dreaded having to break the news to his friend. He glanced at his watch. Five o'clock here, so nine over there? Or was it ten in The Netherlands? He couldn't lay this on Daniel when he was no doubt out on the town. The party animal from their college days hadn't changed his spots. Earning his master's degree and forming two multi-million-dollar companies hadn’t slowed him down and he played harder than he worked.

Mrs. Croft chuckled softly. Oh, yes, I remember now. She stared at the TV, watching a car commercial like it was an Oscar-winning film.

The young woman met his gaze, her brows raised in question, telegraphing true concern.

Not wanting to upset Mrs. Croft by discussing his suspicions in front of her, he tilted his head and led the way to the kitchen. Daniel can't get home for a few weeks, twenty-four days to be exact. He's stressed about being away and asked me to help.

I'd heard she was scattered....

I think we're beyond scattered.

She glanced toward the living room, her face clouded with worry. That's sad. Um... The groceries are in the fridge. So… uh, see you around. She rushed out, letting the screen door slam.

Shit, he hadn't gotten her name, to say nothing of asking her out. More than likely she had a boyfriend. Might be married despite the lack of wedding ring. He strode to the dining room window and watched her cross the yard to the house next door. Long strides covered the distance quickly but he had plenty of time to admire the sway of her hips. The van parked behind the house advertised Bennett's Family Market. Did she—no, she bypassed the van, went into the house, and closed the door.

Could he assume her last name was Bennett? The name rang a bell. Daniel must have mentioned it when he'd discussed the town's one grocery store. Ross needed to make a shopping trip tomorrow, so he might have another opportunity to talk to the lovely Miss Bennett. Find out if she was single.

He sat in the living room so he could keep an eye on Mrs. Croft and opened his laptop. He wrote another, longer e-mail to Daniel.

Hello, dear. Did you have a good day? Mrs. Croft smiled, but he sensed she had no clue who he was.

I'm Ross, Mrs. Croft. I'll be staying with you for a couple weeks.

Oh, yes, that'll be lovely. Shall I fix our lunch?

Shit on a stick.

CHAPTER TWO

Nicole Bennett crept up the stairs and eased her bedroom door shut. Thank heavens neither Dad nor Amelia saw her pass the living room, both of them glued to a reality show about disgusting restaurants. She couldn't deal with their nonsense right now. Not after experiencing the nugget of history next door. The uncomfortable reminder of being fired from her dream job by that man.

Well, a dream job in so far as it paid the rent.

What the ever-loving heck was Mister High-and-Mighty Ross Calvert doing in MacLeod’s Cove? Her town? Babysitting a friend's mom?

She flopped onto her narrow bed and stared at the tape marks on the ceiling, the remnants from a poster of her teen crush that she used to stare at and dream impossible dreams. For some reason, she’d assumed life with a rock star would be calmer than living with her wacky family. Well, she had been fourteen, not the most rational age.

Ross Calvert. Corner office, VP, engaged to the boss's daughter, handsome as heck. Still handsome as heck, but now playing nursemaid to an elderly lady. Never in her wildest dreams would she have come up with that one. She grinned. Something colossally, wonderfully bad must have happened.

She recognized him immediately, even without his usual immaculate designer suits. No gleaming cufflinks. No silk tie. But he was equally gorgeous in faded jeans riding low on narrow hips and a close-fitting t-shirt. A Radiohead concert tee, of all things. She pegged him as a pop-loving, club-hopper, squiring his glamorous bitch of a girlfriend to swanky and exclusive bars.

Not that she was bitter or anything.

He'd also been barefoot, adding to his sexiness. Large feet meant large elsewhere, right? She adjusted the pillow under her head. She didn’t care. The sooner he was out of her town and out of her sight, the better.

But she relished a delicious moment of Schadenfreude. He must have gotten his ass fired. Word around the office had been that he put in seventy-hour workweeks and was assured the CEO's office. Dating the boss' precious daughter played a large part in that guarantee. The most popular theory amongst the lower orders was that the happy couple was more of a business relationship than true love. Not too surprising. Holly was as lovable as a rabid porcupine. Her secretaries never lasted long and always left in tears. Mr. Calvert—

A door slammed and Amelia started yelling. The faint bass rumble of her dad adding fuel to the fire followed. Stirring up trouble with his youngest daughter seemed to be his role in life. Before that, his wife had born the brunt, evidenced by Mum's absence of two years, preceded by absences of various lengths throughout history. This time mommy dearest was away for good, shacked up in the States with a country and western singer. A guy from Nicole's high school graduating class, no less. Well good for Mum, having fun with her young lover, leaving behind all the worries of her former life.

Nicole would love to do the same, except not with any of the guys from high school. The image of the tall, dark, and handsome man newly arrived next door filled her head. Too bad he was a jerk.

The words filtering up the stairs were unintelligible, but Nicole could write the script.

Let's see... Amelia loved her ex, the slimy Eddy Turnbull, though the divorce had been official for months. No one understood her, or him, depending on the day or the phase of the moon. Her life was ruined. Or they, meaning Nicole and Dad and the universe and all known flora and fauna, had ruined her life. Or Eddy's life. Or their life together. Or all chance of happiness, ever, for all eternity.

Nicole pulled the pillow over her head and prayed someone far, far away would offer her a job. Give her a reason to put the maximum number of miles between her and this dysfunctional family.

Except she couldn't leave, which was why job applications languished in her drafts folder for close to a year. Heck, most of those jobs probably weren’t available anymore. She tossed the pillow to the floor and sat on the edge of the bed.

The view out the window hadn't changed in the thirty-two years she’d lived in this house. The sun shone through a large oak tree, the bane of Dad's existence every autumn when the leaves fell. The side yard held the kitchen garden where Mum had grown lettuces and herbs. Or had tried to grow those things. Not much of a green thumb. The rectangle of land was overgrown with dandelions and clover and had been for years. Even before she ran off, leaving the care of the house and the family business to her husband, who'd wasted no time passing the buck to Nicole when she moved home.

Amelia's return to the family home six months ago should have spread out the chores. Except, horrors, little sister might chip a nail if she lifted a finger.

Beyond the garden sat Mrs. Croft's house, now occupied by the dashing Mr. Calvert with his gorgeous smile, gorgeous body, and large… feet. And the annoying habit of firing people who didn’t deserve to be fired. People who needed the job otherwise they’d have to move back home.

Another door slammed, a car started, and someone, must be Amelia since Dad seldom drove anymore, roared off down the gravel driveway, scattering stones onto the lawn.

When would the foolish girl learn—Nope, a waste of mental energy. Amelia had been causing trouble and making trouble for herself since she could walk. Four years the senior, Nicole had been tasked with keeping an eye on her, first in the playground, then in school. Amelia had proved to be uncontrollable in grade nine when she ran away from home the first time.

Fixing her problems continued to be beyond Nicole's capacity. An entire team of various professionals were needed to ‘fix’ Amelia.

Nicole pulled clean clothes from one of the piles on top of the dresser and headed for the shower. With Amelia out, for an evening of partying followed by regrets, Nicole would be both chief cook and bottle washer, and a sounding board for her dad's latest invention. If she were super lucky, he'd share a new conspiracy theory.

The world’s second longest shower ended when the hot water turned cold. She threw on her clothes and joined her dad in the living room. He sat on the sofa with his laptop, typing furiously. Listen to this one, the idiot.

Ah, an argument. No doubt about an invention. Probably on one of those online forums to which he was addicted. Every day a re-run of the previous day.

What do you want for supper, Dad?

Whatever. Tippety tap. Can you believe this lunatic? Now he’s saying the first patent was filed in error. Idiot.

I’ll make grilled cheese and open a can of soup, okay? Mr. Calvert’s – Ross’ mention of the sandwiches had started a craving for the hot, buttery, gooey treat.

Yeah, yeah. Oh, this is priceless. Tap tippety tap. I need to get Jonas in on this one.

Oh, that would be a huge help. Dad’s best friend was great for putting out fires – with rocket fuel. She shook her head and headed for the kitchen.

Nicole heated the griddle and sliced cheddar, all the while dreaming about an impersonal office space with impersonal office mates. A one-bedroom apartment would complete her dream. At this point, she’d take a job flipping burgers or scrubbing porta-potties, if it got her away from her crazy family.

She delivered a tray to her dad and quickly ate a sandwich while leaning against the counter. Then whistled for Poochie, the hairy, little fur-ball her dad had rescued three years earlier. Resembling a soiled cotton ball on sticks, he overflowed with affection and loved to play fetch. Until he didn’t, leaving numerous tennis balls scattered on the lawn.

Nicole snapped on his leash, grabbed an apple from the bowl on the table, and headed out the door. Striding along their usual route toward the fields at the back of the old farmhouse, she wiggled her shoulders to work out the tension. Despite her dreams of a better tomorrow, there’d be no escape until Dad and Amelia could survive on their own.

Based on the events of the last few days, she’d get her life back when she turned fifty.

CHAPTER THREE

Ross showered and dressed before Mrs. Croft got out of bed the next morning, though he doubted she'd be awake at his usual rising time of five. Regardless, her continued vagueness the previous evening made him leery about leaving her alone for more than a minute.

Thank the gods who took care of needy guys the cupboards contained the makings for a pot of coffee. He started a grocery list and sat at the table with a steaming cup of life's reason for getting up in the morning. The sky turned from grey to blue when he placed the call to Daniel to follow up on the emails he'd sent.

Twenty difficult minutes later, he ended the call and stared into space. Daniel was in a jam. None of his numerous cousins lived in the area, nixing possible alternative plans. And he hadn’t spent time in town in years, therefore didn't know any of the neighbours well enough to ask a favour this monumental.

Which left Ross with no option. He'd be a full-time caretaker for at least two weeks, closer to three. With no training for such a role, he hoped like hell the great Google machine would provide help. Hell, he'd never babysat a kid.

He glanced at the notes he jotted during the call, adding a few details. Daniel had gone over all the options he’d explored since getting Ross’ email. An in-home support service had room in their schedule – next month. An adult daycare had space two days a week, but it was in a town over an hour’s drive away. Forget about a nursing home, Daniel wasn't ready.

Ross turned the page in his notebook and outlined his tasks for the next few days, coming up with a preliminary schedule. Mrs. Croft was his first priority but a very close second was finding a new job. If he could spend at least six hours every day networking, sending out feelers, then he’d have no problem—

The shuffling of feet preceded Mrs. Croft who seemed surprised to see him.

Good morning, Mrs. Croft. I'm Ross, remember?

Ross, of course, Daniel’s friend. Is he sleeping? He’s always the last to wake up on the weekends.

Since it was Thursday, this wasn't a promising start. He's in… he's at work. Would you like coffee?

Oh, yes, please. She settled onto the quilted cushion in her chair and gazed out the window. Strikes me spring is warm this year.

He placed a filled cup on the table. It's the first of October but you’re right, it is warm. Cream and sugar?

October? Well, of course it is. I'm getting forgetful in my old age. She smiled sweetly. Milk, please.

Ross poured a splash of milk into her cup and then got breakfast started. Scrambled eggs and toast would be a nutritious start to the day. While she ate, he rummaged through the cupboards and added to his shopping list. His cooking abilities were limited since he dined out most of the time, but he did have a few signature dishes. Well, two at least. The occasional evening he and Holly stayed in—but he and Holly no longer existed.

Ross had been liberated to go on the prowl. All work and no play led to burnout, and what better way to unwind than to find a willing playmate for a few weeks. The beautiful woman from next door might be interested. He’d turn on the charm and she’d be seduced before she knew it.

How about I clean up the kitchen while you get dressed, then I'll take you shopping.

Yes, dear. I see you’ve made a list. Better add tissues.

He added to the list before loading the dishwasher.

Mrs. Croft was ready faster than anticipated, despite his having to remind her to change from slippers to shoes. Figuring his low-slung sports car might be difficult for her to get in and out of, he suggested they take her small SUV.

I'd like a ride in this smart little car. She ran a finger over the silver paintwork gleaming in the morning sun. He bit his lip to keep from telling her to not touch, not leave a fingerprint. Smudges on his baby needed to be buffed out by hand. He rubbed at the mark with his elbow. He’d look for a car detailing business in town.

He helped her into the bucket seat, buckled himself in, and backed out of the driveway. The trip to the store wouldn’t take long based on his sketchy memory of earlier visits. He obeyed the speed limit for the most part, and Mrs. Croft clearly enjoyed the ride.

Wee, she cried, giggling when he took a corner at speed. Oh, there's the house where I grew up.

Are you from a large family? He downshifted in the approach to the first stop sign at the edge of town and lowered his window to let in the