“Noah, walk that poor girl home,” Alice said, making a shooing gesture.
“Sure, yeah,” Noah said, gratitude plain on his face. He didn’t look at his dad as he moved across the kitchen toward Cynthia. “No problem.”
“Just be back for dinner.” Alice checked the thin gold watch on her wrist. “I’m planning for five.”
Noah nodded and held out his arm for Cynthia. It was a very debonair thing to do, which she would have normally made a joke about, but given Dan’s hard eyes and Alice’s worried look, she figured it would be best to play it safe and stay mute.
“How are your knees?” Noah asked as they left the house.
Cynthia looked down the street, spotting her dad’s SUV in the driveway and her crappy Honda parked on the curb. She groaned and looked in the other direction.
“What?” Noah asked. “Do you need to be carried?”
“What time is it?” She patted herself, looking for her phone. Belatedly she remembered that she’d left it behind because she didn’t have any pockets. Also because her mother had shooed her out of the house before she could form a coherent thought.
“Ten after three. Why?”
Cynthia faced away from her house. “Do you want to go swing at the park or something? My dad and brothers-in-law are all home from golf. Aunt Bessie hates each of them in turns—well, when she doesn’t hate all of them at the same time—which she makes pretty clear. Uncle Art is in constant competition with them, so that gets obnoxious, and the women of the house mostly ignore the men entirely. This holiday is seriously no fun. It’s like childhood, times three.”
“Do you need to let them know you’re not coming home for a while? Will they be worried?” Noah offered his phone.
She waved it away and started walking toward the park, hating that she was still in the heels. They weren’t very comfortable. “They’ll assume that I’m with you. Oh, by the way, what’s your least favorite dessert?”
“Why do you keep asking that? It’s the oddest question.”
“Why?”
He kept pace with her, often glancing down at her knees. “People don’t usually ask what someone’s least favorite things are. Especially when it comes to dessert. Ohhh.” He nodded. “You bake, right, and you’re planning to present me with a buffet of… Well, no, you’d ask for my favorites, not least favorites. I’m still confused.”
She laughed. “I’d think you’d be used to it after the day we’ve had. Least favorite. Give it to me.”
He thought for a moment. “I don’t know. Give me yours.”
“Easy. Cupcakes.”
“What?” He shot her an incredulous look. “Cupcakes?”
She made a show of popping her eardrum. “No need to screech quite so loudly. I’m right here, after all.”
“Cupcakes? You’re joking. It’s…mini…cake. It’s cake in a to-go container. It’s probably the best dessert there is.”
“How many times do you get up from dinner and think, now, if only I could take a dessert on the road, instead of sitting here and eating like a lunatic, I’d be all set?”
He laughed, deep and loud, his whole body shaking. “Sadly, it happens.”
“Wow. No wonder there’s no fat on you.”
“How do you know there’s no fat on me?” He looked down at himself. “I’m wearing loose…ish clothes.”
“That is a good point,” she said, looking him over. “Strip so I can see if I’m right.”
He ran two large hands down his chest, continuing on to his perfectly flat stomach. His eyes took on a focused look as he stared at her, waking up the butterflies in her stomach and sending them spiraling through her middle. Again.
A look like that would inspire hot flashes in any woman.
Maybe she did need to apologize to Ellen. Because Noah was much too proficient in the art of inspiring lust. It was a telltale sign that, while he had clearly matured, he was as much of a panty dropper as ever. And that was a huge detour sign.
Thankfully, she had to look where she was going or risk tripping on something, giving her a reason to tear her eyes away.
“Pecan pie,” he said after a tension-filled moment that he probably hadn’t even noticed.
“Pecan pie. Good one.” She nodded thoughtfully as they turned the corner to the right. “Though I had some when I visited Virginia, and it was much better than the ones I typically have here. It could be a regional thing.”
“Then my least favorite is pecan pie made by a very bad cook.”
“Or a chain grocery store.”
“Yes. Exactly, yes.” He chuckled to himself for a moment.
She limped to a stop and grabbed his arm for stability. It flexed under her palm, a huge muscle straining his bloodstained white dress shirt, which he hadn’t had time to change in their quick exodus from his house.
“You definitely shouldn’t consider killing me tonight, by the way. Or letting me out of your sight to get killed by a random passerby.” She bent to slip off her shoe. The back was rubbing against her heel and the burn of a developing blister pained her with every step. “With everyone knowing we were together, and my blood on your shirt? Oh man. Easy conviction. Although…” She switched hands, holding on to him, and grabbed her other shoe. “With me looking like I do, and you looking like you do, and with your connections… Damn.” She sighed and shook her head before straightening up.
“What?” he asked with glittering eyes and a lopsided smile.
“What do you mean, what?” She gave him a dead stare. “Clearly they’ll blame the victim. I look like a crazed, wild woman. They’ll probably say I attacked you, and you defended yourself admirably. They’ll throw you a hero’s wreath. The crowds will cheer.”
“No.” He was laughing with body chuckles again, shaking his head. “That’s a serious matter. You shouldn’t joke about it.”
“Noah, look, you just have to call these things out. There’s no point beating around the bush.”
He walked beside her, staggering, before wiping tears of laughter out of his eyes.
“Keep it together, man,” she said under her breath, seeing a woman look out the window at them. “If you keep staggering around the place, they’ll think I snuck into the rich area, drugged a golden boy, and am now luring him back to my lair. Just to be absolutely clear here, they would not victim-blame you. So let’s just keep a low profile. I said low profile!” She grabbed his arm to stop him from staggering again.
He leaned his hands against his knees, still shaking with laughter. “Who the fuck are you, Cynthia?”
“Oh my… He swears.” She patted his back. “I won’t tell Alice, don’t worry. She’ll never know.” She stopped beside him for a moment, now rubbing his back. “I’m just joshing, by the way. My mom did tell you that I level out… Oh, wait. Yeah, she lied. Sorry. But this is about as bad as it gets.”
He straightened up and wiped his eyes again. He was giving her that penetrating look again, the Panty Dropper Look, but this time there was a softness behind it that she hadn’t seen before. Butterflies didn’t erupt this time. Instead, her middle melted and slid down to her feet.
“Anyway.” Frazzled, not sure what was going on with her, she hurried on, only a block from the park now. The cement was cold under her feet. Perhaps walking to the park had been a terrible idea. Especially barefoot.
“Did you really steal office supplies?” he asked as he caught up to her. The woman in the window was watching their progress.
“Honestly…kinda, yeah. I mean, I don’t rob companies blind or anything. I’m not running around, stuffing things in my pockets. But I have this weird obsession with Post-its. So occasionally…” She shrugged. “A Post-it pack or two might end up in my purse. I’m only human.”
“Not pens?”
“No. And I don’t sneak into hotels to steal pens, either. That was for effect. Just Post-its. They’re my vice of choice.”
He was quiet for a moment. Then, as though forced to speak by the Lass
o of Truth, he said, “I take matches. Any matches I find, I pocket them.”
“You must have a field day in Vegas.”
He laughed. “I do, yes. Like…it’s probably crazy, but I take every box or pack of matches I see and hide them away into my suitcase as soon as I can.”
Her smile was so big that it nearly strained her face. “Why?”
He shrugged helplessly. “No reason.”
She could see the park and the outline of a children’s play structure, but couldn’t feel her toes at this point. She sped up. “You should’ve said cigars, because then I would’ve let it go. But you didn’t, and now I’ll be forced to guess.” She twisted her mouth to the side. “It can’t be because you’re a survivalist. You’d want lighters for that.”
“I shouldn’t have said anything. Your hobbling is more pronounced. Are you okay?”
“I’m great, yeah. You’re not a survivalist, and you don’t smoke cigars. Or cigarettes, because you would’ve lit up by now.”
“Forget it. It’s really not a big deal.”
“On the contrary, now it is a very big deal. All these skeletons, Noah. I am amazed. So, let’s see…” She wrinkled her nose. “It’s for the bathroom, isn’t it? Ew. It’s to clear the stink.”
Red infused his cheeks. “No…”
“Gross.” She shook with giggles. “Is that why you’re still single? Because you need so many matches?”
He was laughing again, and his face deepened in color. “It’s not that. I take baths, okay? I have candles by my tub, and I light them when I take baths.”
The grass was freezing on her feet as they walked over a small berm to the playground beyond. “You take baths?”
He shrugged. “They’re relaxing.”
“I know they’re relaxing. They’re awesome. Why would you be embarrassed about taking baths?”
He shrugged again as they made it to the swings. He paused to make sure she was settled on her swing, glancing at her knees as he did so, before choosing his own. “It’s not manly to admit you take baths in candlelight.”
“Guys are so dumb about that stuff. Won’t get a mani-pedi, won’t relax in a bath, won’t get massages and facials—”
“I get massages.”
“Oh, I see. Massages are fine, but sitting in warm water surrounded by a scented candle or two is not?”
“No. Haven’t you been paying attention? Candles aren’t manly.”
She slipped her shoes back on for warmth. “Unless you’re using them to woo a girl, I imagine?”
“Correct. Because, as everyone knows, the candles are for the girl. As is the wooing.”
“So that passes the manly test?”
He nodded. “Yep.”
She rolled her eyes with a smile. “You’re ridiculous.” She shivered in her light jacket. Goosebumps covered her legs. She sighed, because she knew it wouldn’t be long before the cold drove her indoors.
She glanced over at Noah, lightly swinging and looking out over the grass. His handsome face held a lingering smile. His biceps bulged, straining his shirt as his strong hands clutched the chains of the swing. He was so incredibly sexy. And funny. And…kind.
It blew her mind. How could this possibly be the same Noah she’d grown up with? How could this be the same guy who hadn’t worried about using women?
Although maybe she’d gotten it wrong…maybe that was still his MO. It wasn’t like he’d be tempted to put the moves on her. Her hair was as wild as her personality, her clothes were silly for the situation, and she’d face-planted while walking through her own yard. None of those things screamed sex appeal. Maybe that was why it was so easy to hang out with him. She got the cool guy without the womanizer. It was the perfect setup.
Well…almost the perfect setup. There were a few little problems, like the butterflies and the melting middle. Oh, and the electricity surges whenever he leaned close to her, showering her in his heat. And the tremors she felt whenever he touched her.
She blew out a breath. Hopefully she could ignore all of that. The one thing she couldn’t do was end up like Ellen. There would be no I told you so, you idiot in her future.
Nine
The next day, Noah looked out the front window of his house. From this angle, while pressed up against the window, he could just barely see that Tera’s SUV was still gone. Earlier, his spying had revealed Tera and Tamie shepherding a slump-shouldered Cynthia into the SUV. They’d driven off and hadn’t returned.
He blew out a breath and leaned back. The ache in his chest from saying goodbye yesterday afternoon was still there. They’d had an awesomely light chat on the swings before she’d admitted she was cold. To save her feet, he’d given her a piggyback to her house.
The heat of her body pressed against his back had seared him. Her hilarious anecdotes had kept him guessing.
He couldn’t get her out of his head. Truth was, he’d never felt this way about a woman. This constant tug in his middle was distracting. The yearning to speak to her again took all his focus. He wanted more of her. Much more.
Scrubbing his fingers through his hair, he headed toward the kitchen.
“She still gone?”
Noah started at the voice. His brother stood in the stairwell, wearing a cheeky grin. In the past, people had often wondered if the brothers were twins, even though there was a five-year gap between them. Same brown eyes, same dirty blond hair, same height, and they used to have a similar build. Not anymore. Noah had bulked up, and Greg’s extra pounds had gone to his middle.
“What?” Noah said, playing dumb.
“Cynthia down the street. Tia mentioned that you looked star-struck around her yesterday. Had to call in a doctor for a couple of small scrapes. Overreacting a little, hmm?”
“Better safe than sorry.”
“Uh huh. I also noticed you’ve been passively stalking her. I assume she’s still gone?”
“The question is, why have you been stalking me?” Noah asked.
His brother fell in step with him as they headed downstairs together. “Something to do. I’ve been cooped up in this house for three days. I’m going crazy.”
“Tell me about it. Where’s Dad?” Noah glanced down the hall as they passed it. His father, thankfully, hadn’t started in on the questioning last night at dinner. In fact, he’d been unusually quiet. And while Noah was happy to put off that particular torture as long as possible, he couldn’t help wondering what had held his dad’s focus. Whatever it was, it wouldn’t last forever. Best to steer clear for as long as possible.
“He’s up with the kids in the playroom. Reading, I think.”
“Shaping young minds with the importance of the written word,” Noah said in a haughty tone.
“Yes, exactly. Curious George will enlighten and expand their tiny world.”
Noah laughed as he entered the kitchen and opened the fridge. His mom had made lettuce wraps for lunch only an hour before, but he was hungry again. He didn’t need to diet like the rest of them.
“She’s cute.” Greg leaned against the counter, studying Noah. “Wicked smart, right? Always tested really high? Yeah. I remember Tamie down the street complaining about all the trouble your girl was getting into back in the day. Mom tried to reason with her that highly intelligent people, when not properly challenged, can turn to mischief. I think that was before Cynthia got bumped up a grade.” He paused, then added, “Tia said Cynthia had to dumb down her conversation for you.”
Noah ignored his brother’s last comment. He knew Tia wouldn’t have said anything of the kind. “I hardly remember all that about Cynthia,” Noah said as he pulled out fixings for a sandwich.
“That’s because you were too busy chasing chicks.” Greg threw Noah that cheeky grin again.
“Yeah, because you never did any of that.”
“As far as my wife is concerned, no, I did not.”
Noah laughed as he sliced the cheese. “Cynthia still has the boredom problem. She doesn’t stay in jobs very lon
g.”
“Well, that’s lucky.”
Noah frowned at his brother, not sure what he meant.
“She doesn’t have a job,” his brother said, as though that were a clarifying statement. Noah’s continued confusion must have been obvious, because Greg elaborated. “Colton is unveiling that mini-golf course soon, right?”
“Yeah…” Noah had grown up with Colton, so Greg also knew him.
“Wow. I can see you don’t have the same affliction Cynthia does when it comes to intelligence.” Greg spoke slower, as though Noah could barely understand the language. “She does marketing. Colton needs to get the word out about his activity center. It would give her something to do while she looks for a job. She’d probably do the work for next to nothing.”
Noah nodded. Greg was exactly right on all points. Cynthia would probably be delighted to have something to take her focus away from her family. Plus, she could claim it as managerial with higher-level duties. Colton would go along with that. That might bump up her portfolio and help her out long term.
“I should ask her,” Noah said before gritting his teeth against the surge of excitement and nervousness blasting through his middle. That meant he’d get to keep her in his life, if only for a little longer.
“And if she wants to stay closer to the location, she could stay in your spare room,” Greg said, as if reading Noah’s thoughts.
Noah broke out in a cold sweat.
This was crazy. He’d reconnected with her yesterday, and they’d only hung out for half a day. Why was he reacting like this?
“Anyway.” Greg took a potato chip out of the bag Noah had pulled out of the cupboard. “What are you going to do when she gets home? Knock on the door and ask if she can come out and play?”
“I might just go sit on the doorstep and wait so I can get away from you.” Noah took his plate to the table.
“Me or Dad?” Greg gave him a knowing smile. He thought it was hilarious when their father tried to steer Noah’s life. Having delivered his barb, Greg sauntered out of the kitchen, probably off to find someone else to annoy.
Sterling Page 6
