Sugarbaby

by Crystal Green

  But this was the first time I’d felt alive in months. Why not bask in that temporarily?

  Shelby smiled and raised a pinkie finger to the screen. “We refugees need to stick together, you know.”

  I held out a pinkie toward her, and we pretended to hook them. We’d decided over the summer that we ex-Rex girls were almost the same, through and through—we’d both needed his validation, and we were both flattered to be with the superstar.

  Until we weren’t.

  We disconnected from Skype at the same time, and I stared at the screen, enjoying the last moments of my sanity before I ran this small but crucial errand that every single cautious cell inside me was telling me to avoid.

  I ignored the advice, putting aside my computer, then going to the kitchen to find that brownie recipe.

  ***

  I drove to the other side of town, down Main Street, and into the suburb below The Hill where families like Carley’s lived.

  The Hill. That’s what everyone called the area where a few Greek Revivals boasted swimming pools that glistened even during the fall and winter, where iron gates closed at the lips of the driveways and spacious lawns yawned with fresh green grass that never seemed to get overgrown.

  I’d texted Evie to ask her cousin Amy, the gossip queen of the town, to see if there was any intel on one of The Hill’s mansions going up for a quick sale lately. Amy, who didn’t even wonder why Evie was asking, said that she’d heard of some action at the Walters’ place and that it’d been purchased for a corporate retreat or something. Sounded like Noah to me.

  And, like the other few McMansions on The Hill, the gates to this one were closed.

  I pulled my weathered Aspen to the foot of them, looking down at the plate of brownies waiting on my passenger seat as the streetlights filtered through the window to gleam off the foil. What now?

  You can turn around and drive away. Or . . .

  My phone waited next to my gift.

  Or you could brass ball it.

  I picked up that phone and texted before I could doubt myself.

  Jadyn:

  What does a person have to do to get these gates of yours to open? Or should I just scale them like a rock and tree?

  I waited, my motor purring . . . and in more ways than one. It was as if something with ragged wings had gotten loose in my belly, brushing lower and lower.

  When the gates began to open, I startled.

  So Noah hadn’t burned the “Aidan” phone yet. Had he kept it on him in the hopes that I would contact him with a thank-you?

  Last chance. Drive through or drive off. Your choice.

  My spirits fluttered, and with a spark of adrenaline surging through me, I guided my car through those gates, the moonlit lawn rushing past me as I drove up the hill. The ride seemed to take forever while going by in a flash at the same time.

  I was doing this. Really doing this.

  The fountain in front of the white, pillared, Scarlett O’Hara–looking mansion was on, water trickling. A few lights brandied the windows, warming the cool night. And there on the porch . . .

  Noah.

  He’d been standing toward the left edge of it, out of the lanterns’ illumination. From where he was, he had a grand view of how the town spread out under The Hill. His hands were shoved into the pockets of his black trousers as he surveyed what was below him—the green traffic lights on the quiet roads, the football-field lights on at the high school. In a way, he seemed like a ghost.

  I took a deep breath, grabbing the plate of brownies, glancing at the big house and almost abandoning my gift because it seemed so inadequate. But then I thought of Evie and Shelby and how disappointed they’d be in me if I bugged out. I also thought of how disappointed I’d be in myself.

  I shut the car door and it echoed through the air, making Noah turn to me. He walked into the light, his slight smile giving me the goose bumps again.

  “Looks like you did a little more research on me,” he said, his voice smoothing up my skin.

  “I had to find out where to deliver these.” I shoved the brownies toward him, even though we were ten feet away from each other.

  His smile turned into a heart-tugging, half-surprised expression. He came toward the steps as I climbed them, meeting him on the porch to hand off my goodies.

  Okay, maybe not goodies, exactly. Not the kind I’d been fantasizing about.

  Peering under the tinfoil, he asked, “Homemade?”

  “Pretty much. I hope you like a lot of chocolate since I added Hershey’s chips.”

  “Hershey’s.” He laughed. “I haven’t had those candy bars since . . .”

  “You were a kid?”

  “Yeah.”

  His lone dimple returned as he set the plate on the railing and took a brownie, offering it to me.

  I held up my hands. “I ate a lot of the batter. Baker’s prerogative.”

  He took a bite, closed his eyes, then opened them, showing me a world of gratitude. For what, though? Couldn’t he get brownies from the chef he’d flown in?

  “Thank you, Jadyn,” he said, and his tone seemed thicker, as if there was some emotion in it that I couldn’t begin to guess at.

  I wasn’t sure why, but the outline of my heart stung. This king of industry, this man whose world had fallen around him last summer . . . He wasn’t just some fixture in gossip columns or in the business world. He was human, and I wondered how many people ever got to see that.

  “Actually,” I said softly, “I came over here to thank you. I know brownies are nothing compared to what you sent over to my house earlier, but it was better than just texting you.”

  “Why do you do that?” he asked.

  I frowned at the abruptness of his vague question.

  He took a step toward me, and the stinging around my heart became a steady buzz.

  “Why,” he said, “would you degrade your own kindness like that?”

  I shrugged. “Because you gave me a slice of the world today, and I gave you—”

  “Several slices of your own world.”

  As he ate the rest of the brownie, I realized that he wasn’t just blowing sunshine at me—he really did appreciate the effort I’d gone through. I suspected that he was even eating not so much because it was food, but because I’d brought it.

  All the pixels in me lit up, banging together. I liked making him feel good—I’d always liked doing that with people, and that was why I wanted to go to school to be a doctor and take care of those who couldn’t do it themselves. Sometimes I had no idea why I was made that way, because there’d been days when badness would creep into me while I was taking care of Uncle Joseph and dark questions would bring me down. Would I always be taking care of someone? When would I ever get a chance to break out on my own?

  I hadn’t wanted Joseph to die to give me my freedom, though, and when it’d happened, I’d felt guilty, like I’d wished for it or something. That wasn’t true, but I couldn’t stop thinking it.

  I sensed that Noah had been watching me the whole time, and I looked away. He laughed a little, but maybe it wasn’t actually a laugh, just a reaction that signaled he wasn’t going to ask me why I’d been looking so blue.

  “Why is it,” he finally said in a light tone, “that every time I see you, it’s around good food, even if I haven’t even had much appetite for it lately?”

  I could understand why not. “I guess you’re right. The café, the Club, the lake this afternoon . . .” I was trying so hard to accept his gifts with grace, but I hadn’t quite gotten there yet. “And who can forget the gourmet meals you sent over?”

  There. It was my best try.

  “Did you eat any of them yet?” He seemed so invested in knowing if I’d enjoyed the baked Camembert, the confit de canard, the ratatouille. I knew what every dish was, too, because someone ha
d labeled the containers.

  “Not yet,” I said, being honest.

  As a light died a little in his eyes, I was quick to finish.

  “I was so full from the food at the lake. And the brownie batter.” Not knowing what else to do with myself, I wrapped my arms over my midriff. My tummy was swirling from being this close to him. “But I’m looking forward to eating your meals. And I’m looking forward to wearing that dress, even though Aidan Falls doesn’t have a place fancy enough to wear it to.”

  “That’s why you have a ticket out of town, Jadyn.”

  Oh, I loved how he said my name.

  As the night hummed around us, I had to finally know why I was getting all this attention from him. This had gone beyond curiosity about the girl who’d sexted him.

  As if he could anticipate me, he shoved his hands in his pockets again, wandering toward the edge of the porch, toward the view. “You’re wondering why I’m sending you things.”

  “It’s a little crazy, you have to admit.”

  He slightly turned his head toward me, but then his shoulders relaxed. “It’s not so crazy, even if most areas of my life are.”

  He’d added that last part in a tone I could barely hear. Had I said something out of line?

  “I can’t imagine being you,” I said. “That’s why it’s hard for me to understand all the gifts. I could’ve probably spent a year’s wages on what you gave me today. It seemed—”

  “Over the top?” He chuffed, facing away again, toward those lights below. “God knows I can afford to give. It’s nice knowing I’ve made someone happy, even in a small way. In the only way I’ve ever known. Currency is different where I live—you bake brownies, but I send truffles.”

  “Plus champagne and an entire princess wardrobe and first-class plane fare.”

  “But you liked all that, right?” He looked over his shoulder. “Admit it, Jadyn.”

  I hesitated, just to see if he would turn all the way around again so I could see his face.

  As he did, my heart chopped me in a million places, especially when I saw how his eyebrow was raised in amused bewilderment. I liked his raw expressions, his joie de vivre . . . him.

  I liked him.

  “Yes,” I said. “I really liked your gifts, Noah.”

  He barely smiled at the use of his first name. “And I like lifting your day up like you lifted mine when you sent that first text. That day was . . .”

  He didn’t finish. He only shook his head, shook off whatever he was going to say.

  It struck me that this man needed something more than just the ability to make some random girl happy. He needed something other than the investments he was living off of or the properties he owned.

  Peace. That’s what might’ve been missing from a person who used to have everything. I didn’t know why I intuited that—maybe because it was easy to puzzle his story together, the tragedy of his father dying, the sadness of his mother suffering from exhaustion. All of it obviously weighed on him so heavily, even if he had been attempting to fight his way out from under it with all that clubbing and gifting and smiling.

  He watched me with a lowered stare. I watched him. Something vibrated between us, a cord that’d been plucked so hard that it made a low sound that filled the atmosphere. And the cord was pulling me toward him, urging me to touch him as I’d been yearning to do all along . . .

  When the front door opened, I stepped back, almost as if I’d been caught thinking about stealing something I had no right to.

  Simmons stood in the doorway, backlit by the dim light. He was holding a phone.

  “Noah,” he said in a dead serious tone, “you’ve got a call.”

  “It can wait.”

  “No, it can’t.”

  They exchanged a look that was loaded with meaning, and Noah’s shoulders tensed. He peered down at me as if the last thing he wanted to do was leave me standing here during his private call.

  I decided to make this easy on him. The least I could do was give him a little of the peace he needed.

  “Thank you again,” I said, already taking the steps back to my car.

  After I was inside, I told myself not to glance at Noah one last time as I drove away, because the more I glanced, the harder it would be to forget him.

  ***

  When I got back home, I headed for bed, promising myself that I would study tomorrow. I had no Friday classes and wouldn’t have to go into the Angel’s Seat until the dinner shift. Besides, I wanted to get my head together now, and sometimes I did my best thinking staring at the ceiling from the mattress.

  I put on a neon-checkered pair of cotton PJs, washed up, and slid under the blankets.

  Yup, there was the ceiling, and it didn’t have any answers on it. It was as blank as my head. Or maybe as cluttered, with the white paint running all together.

  Why me? I kept wondering. There were so many girls Noah could’ve plucked out of thin air, ones who were far less difficult than I was. Or maybe that was a turn-on for him?

  If he needed peace, then I certainly wasn’t the one to bring it.

  I rolled to my side, trying to get comfortable, but my mattress felt lumpy for the first time ever.

  I rolled to my other side. Uh-uh.

  I tried to make do with my first side again, and I must’ve fallen asleep there because the next thing I knew, a buzzing sound was shaking me awake.

  I sat up, my heart feeling like a zipper that was being pulled down the center of my chest. Zzzzzp. The adrenalized vibrations filled me as the buzzing sound came again.

  Was it my phone?

  I groped at my night table and brought the phone in front of my bleary eyes. My sight adjusted, my blood banging.

  555-8465:

  You up?

  Now the banging had taken over the veins in my throat. Slick ice filled my chest, making it hard to breathe.

  Jadyn:

  Yes, I’m up because I’m a vampire and I sleep only by day.

  555-8465:

  Excellent. Then you won’t mind if I’m standing at your door, returning your empty brownie plate.

  Didn’t this guy need sleep like normal people? What was wrong with him?

  Since I wouldn’t put anything past Noah, I darted out of bed on a stream of panic. Why did he always surprise me and bring on the freak-outs? It didn’t matter. All that mattered was diving into my bathroom to quickly use mouthwash and to fuss with my hair. No good—my curls were a rat’s nest, so I banded them into a wild ponytail.

  When I heard my doorbell ring, I jumped. Damn Noah. He seemed to thrive on doing the unexpected. Was this how he conducted business, too, keeping everyone on their toes so he could best them?

  Well, if he wanted to see me in my PJs and no makeup, then that was what he was going to get. With a screw-it attitude, I made my way to the door, bumping into Uncle Joseph’s recliner on my way since I didn’t bother to turn on any lights.

  The better not to see me, my dear.

  That peephole was getting a workout today, and I almost expected to see Simmons waiting for me again, flanked by Vegas showgirls or a circus troupe. But there indeed was Noah—blond, green-eyed Noah—and he didn’t even have bags under his eyes, the jerk. No fair.

  When I opened the door, fighting the urge to peek around it and shield my PJs, the coming dawn stitched together the sky behind him. He was dressed in jeans and a flannel shirt, just as if he’d been studying life here on planet Aidan Falls. In one hand, he was holding my empty brownie plate, in the other a . . .

  Fishing pole?

  Please tell me this isn’t about to happen.

  “Great wardrobe,” he said. “Very fashion-forward.”

  “You’d know.” I eyed his outdoor wear. Dang it, he looked good whether he was dressed all in white, a sports jacket, or in this getup. In
fact, I liked this a whole lot, seeing as the flannel made his shoulders look even broader—and I’d seen those wonderful shoulders in all their bare glory, too. His jeans molded to long legs, his boots making him a little rugged, his hair tumbled and thick.

  When I met his gaze, he had on that slight smile, but this time, it was as if he noticed me noticing every little detail about him.

  “As much as I like the loud checkers on those pajamas,” he said in that low voice, “you’re going to need to change, Jadyn. You’ll scare all the fish away.”

  “I’m not going fishing.”

  His devil-angel smile told me that I’d be changing my mind—and my PJs—very soon.

  9

  Noah didn’t quite win with the fishing.

  Okay, maybe he sort of won, but at least I could claim half the victory, because we didn’t actually go fishing. I had patience for a lot of things, but that sport had never been one of them. Uncle Joseph could’ve testified to that, because whenever he’d tried to drag me out of bed when I was little, wheedling me into spending a Saturday morning with a pole in hand and waiting for some squiggly old thing to snag onto it, I’d buried my head under the pillow and let him go alone.

  Uh-uh, instead of fishing, I’d talked Noah into just driving around Aidan Falls as the sun rose, putting on the radio in his new used Chevy pickup so that we could barely hear the music under the whir of tires on blacktop. We didn’t even talk much until I directed him to the old feed mill, which I considered probably the most peaceful place around town.

  He needed some peace? This would be way better than fishing.

  All in all, though, I wasn’t sure why he didn’t just deposit me back home since I’d destroyed his plans, but I got the feeling this hadn’t been about fishing at all.

  It’s about being with me, I thought, still finding it hard to believe. But maybe he’d hooked me out of the house during the early morning when no one else was out and about because he was still laying low, out of the public’s gaze. Or maybe he didn’t want to be seen with a girl who could cause the blogs and paparazzi to go nuts.