A flitter, a flutter—I didn’t know what it was that tickled my belly. “I’m his official tour guide now?”
“You’re . . .” Simmons shook his head and steered into town, where Main Street hadn’t entirely woken up yet. “I won’t put a definition to it.”
That wasn’t good enough. “His sugarbaby? His distraction? What?”
“If I knew, I’d say.”
We drove past the Ritz, then the aluminum-sided Harley’s Diner on the way to my part of town, and it seemed as if my silence ate at Simmons, because he went on.
“Noah’s not a bad guy. But he’s not good for anyone right now, either, and I’d hate to see you invest too much in what’s essentially a Roman holiday for him.”
A Roman holiday. Uncle Joseph had been a classic movie addict, so of course I’d heard of that Audrey Hepburn movie. A princess undercover, running around Rome and having the greatest of times with a handsome, normal guy played by an actor whose name I didn’t recall. In any case, it was obvious who was the princess—or prince—in this scenario.
All the hope I’d felt while I was in Noah’s arms flowed out of me. “I get it. And you don’t have to worry about whether or not he’d be good for me since I’m not interested in some big romance.”
“You don’t worry me much, Jadyn.”
I pressed my lips together, because I understood. Simmons was all about Noah, and he was concerned with keeping his friend out of the media. I was only something to be managed.
Disappointment had to be stamped all over me because this only confirmed that I was the Roman holiday. I could feel its weight in the center of my chest. Why had I let myself think it could be more?
We were at my house now, with its squeaky yard decorations lazily spinning in the morning breeze, with the oil-marked driveway ready for Simmons to pull into it. He kept the car idling as he put it in neutral and looked straight ahead, out the windshield.
“You’ve read about his parents, his life, right?”
“Yes.”
“Of course you have. I thought you’d be smart enough to look into him, or even to try to find who that number belonged to after he responded to your text. As I told Noah, you’re different. You use your head.”
“Then I hate to think what sort of girl I’m different from, Simmons.”
“You probably already know that, too.”
I thought of the model in that society-page article, thought of all those half-dressed lovelies at the Hellfire Club.
Simmons lowered his hands from the steering wheel. “Noah was devastated when his father died from a fall down the stairs. The news reports didn’t get into it, but there was a lot of booze involved with his dad, a lot of pain to deal with after the shame of having his very own business wrestled out of his grip. And it was worse with Noah’s mother. She was always fragile, and she fell apart after her husband’s death. It was too much to tolerate all at once, even for a man like Noah.”
A steel businessman, a boy who’d been raised to take over an empire. “That’s why he left the public’s eye? To recover from what happened to his family?”
“Partly.”
Then I recalled something Noah had said yesterday about the man who’d engineered the takeover and recruited Noah’s younger brothers and uncles. He’d been a different Noah when he’d talked about them. Anger—and not just a hint of it—had come out as he’d told me his story.
“Is he planning to go back to New York soon?” I asked.
Simmons didn’t confirm that. The only response was a muscle flexing in his jaw.
“Is he ready to take the business over again?”
“Don’t jump to conclusions.”
But I knew the answer. I wasn’t an idiot. Simmons wasn’t going to reveal any plans to me.
I sank back in my seat. “Now that’s some Dallas shit right there.”
When I bit my lip, wishing I’d left out the cuss, Simmons narrowed a gaze at me. Surely he’d heard of Dallas. Around here, you couldn’t escape the TV legacy.
But that didn’t matter, because now Noah Reeves had transformed into yet another thing in my mind—a tycoon, a temporary cowboy, now an angry demi-god of vengeance.
“I won’t say a word, even to my friends,” I said. “That’s a vow.”
“I’d feel a hell of a lot better if you signed a non-disclosure agreement promising that.”
I stiffened, and he finally looked at me, reading me, and there was a hardness in his gaze that I wouldn’t ever cross, even if I wasn’t a person of my word. I’d slipped up once with Micah, been a cheater, and it’d been a lesson burned into me. Never again.
He took a single paper out of his sports jacket, handing it to me along with a pen. I unfolded the sheet, reading the agreement. It was simple, and all it essentially said was that I wouldn’t open my big mouth about Noah’s personal business for five years.
As if I was going to write some tell-all book or go to the papers. It ticked me off that Simmons even thought I was that kind of person, and it was my pride that made me sign the paper more than anything else.
“I am different,” I told Simmons as I gave him the NDA. “And I don’t need any damned paper to prove it. But this is for Noah.”
He gave me a look of respect as he took back the document and the pen. “It’s just business, Jadyn, that’s all.”
His gratitude was sincere—so genuine that I was brave enough to ask a question that was none of my concern.
“I read online that Noah was hospitalized, too. Is that why he has a . . .”
I gestured toward my neck, where Noah carried that scar.
Simmons put a hand on the shift stick, not answering, ready to back out of my driveway. I couldn’t blame him for shutting down my nosiness. I’d crossed a line.
I got out of the SUV, and he drove off. The car disappeared around a corner, the sprinklers going on over at the Johnsons’ lawn, the day starting.
In my pocket, my phone buzzed with a text, and I knew I shouldn’t answer it, shouldn’t get any deeper in than I already was with a man of mystery.
But I took that phone out, anyway, already addicted.
10
As I expected, Noah was on the other end of the text.
555-8465:
Are you working tonight?
I didn’t respond until I was inside the house. I needed that much time to think of what I was going to type, something like, I know this isn’t going to end well, so I think it’s best we stay away from each other. Or I’m being pulled apart, with Simmons warning me that this won’t be anything serious but my friends—and my libido—telling me to throw my heart to the wind and say yes to everything you have to offer.
After mulling this over, I sat heavily on my bed and texted back.
Jadyn:
I’ve got the dinner shift. Why?
555-8465:
I’ve got something planned.
Jadyn:
I predict you’re going to say horseback riding. Wouldn’t you rather do that in the morning? *Later* in the morning, I mean.
555-8465:
Ah ha, you think you can predict me. I’m going to enjoy surprising you.
Yes, he was full of surprises—not needing sleep, popping up unexpectedly, risking his life to jump into lakes. What now?
Expectation bopped around in me as I told him I usually got off shift around ten o’clock. The weekends were busier with out-of-towners headed for the wine trails, stopping by because they’d read great reviews of the Angel’s Seat online. Usually, I went home exhausted.
Usually.
There were no more texts, so after I took my nap, I studied a little after all, then got ready for work. I pulled on my Angel’s Seat T and dark jeans, piling my hair into a big barrette and letting a few curls hang down. Noah—or probably Simmons—was supposed to
meet me here at home at ten thirty, and I would barely have time to throw on another outfit, so I laid out a clean pair of jeans and a thick sweater.
When I got to the café, one of Jackie’s housemates, Frannie, was helping our boss prep in the back. Another artsy roomie, Rainey, and Juanita were already in the front of the house, waiting on the early-bird diners. As I washed up, Carley swooped into the restroom and closed the door, her pink-toasty skin flushed even more.
“We’ve got to hurry before our shifts start,” she said. “After you had lunch with the million-billionaire, you stopped texting me. Not that I had a lot of time for texts, but still. What’s the deal with him? Did he leave town?”
I hadn’t told her about Noah’s surprise gifts because I hadn’t wanted to interrupt her reunion with Bret any more than I already had. And now that Simmons had given me that non-disclosure agreement, I wondered what I could say. I’d signed the NDA in such a moment of personal pride that I realized I should’ve asked him if I could tell my friends I was hanging out with Noah. The NDA hadn’t seemed that stringent, but you never knew.
At the very least, I needed to ask him for a copy. Why hadn’t I thought of that? I’d also have to talk about this with Noah tonight but, in the meantime, I had to keep my tongue.
“I’m sure your romantic life is much more exciting than mine, Carley.”
Misdirection at its finest.
Then I asked, “Have you told Diana about my lunch with Noah yet?”
“No. We haven’t talked since the other night.”
“Can you keep it mum for now?”
“Sure. I’ll let you do the honors.” Then she exhaled and pushed back a long strand of dark hair. “As for my romantic life, telling you about it’s going to require more than the five minutes we have left to chat. Maybe you, me, and Diana can have a slumber party after work.”
I smiled. “Eighth grade. That’s when I was at my last slumber party.”
“So? The way I figure it, all our friends have roommates now, and they have slumber parties every night. We’re getting the short end of the social stick.” She looked thoughtful. “Maybe we should call it a nighttime therapy session instead. That’s so very California.”
“Is everything okay with you and Bret?”
“Yes.”
I believed her for about a tenth of a second.
She shook her head. “I don’t know.”
“What went wrong?”
“Nothing. I’ve told you before that nothing is really wrong but . . . God, I still think he wants more from me than I’m giving him.”
I knew her better than I’d known her last week, so I asked, “Do you mean . . .” I waved my hands around.
“Sex?” Carley laughed. “No, that happened a few months ago, and it was . . . damn. I mean, really damn.”
“So the sex was too good?”
“What’s bugging me has nothing to do with a physical issue. I don’t know if I can explain it in . . .” She glanced at her watch. “Three minutes. But Bret’s a musician. He feels things very deeply, and I wonder if I’m capable of that. It’s like he’s lived years and years and I’m just some stupid young girl who doesn’t understand what he sees in this world. The more we’re together, the more I feel . . . well, like less. Does that make sense?”
Carley had told me once that she’d dropped out of college, and she often made jokes about being dumb. She’d mentioned her stepfather held that over her head, too.
“You’re just as smart as Bret is,” I said.
From the way she shrugged, I knew I’d hit the nail on the head. Girl really did need a good soul-cleansing talk.
I squeezed her shoulder. “I can’t do a therapy session tonight, but maybe in the morning? You and Diana can come over and we’ll make breakfast and share away.” I’d have to think of how to tell her what I could about Noah’s lunch because she would sure be asking.
Carley had brightened, and I felt like I’d felt this summer, when Evie and Shelby had taken me in. But I also wondered if I was a jerk for not being able to tell her about Noah right now—it made me feel like a liar.
After we left the restroom, time sped up. It was a good night at the Angel’s Seat, with a lot of great tippers, and by the time the customer load lightened, the clock told me I had only about fifteen minutes left on shift. Fifteen nerve-addled minutes . . .
That was when I noticed a man with wide shoulders and a broad back in a flannel shirt sitting at the repurposed coffee bar, facing the brick wall. The railroad lanterns shone over the Stetson he was wearing, the brim pulled down low, and when he slightly turned his head toward the door, where my last customers were leaving, I saw he was wearing an expensive pair of sleek sunglasses.
It was as if there was a rope stringing my body together and the whole thing got tugged, bunching me up, making me take in a tight breath. I got warm in my belly, between my legs, everywhere, as if I had rope burn.
As Carley and the other girls finished up with their stations, I sauntered over to Mr. Obvious. I held up my order pad, playing along.
“Seriously?” I asked.
Noah lowered a glance at me, pulling down his sunglasses so I could see the green of his eyes in the lantern light. He tilted a grin at me.
I added, “This is your idea of staying out of the public eye?”
“You’d be surprised at what a good pair of sunglasses and a hat can do.”
The music was on low volume since it was near closing time, so I could hear the smooth timbre of his voice. It was like cream, but cream was the last thing I wanted to think about since I was feeling some of it in naughty places right about now.
“Where’s Simmons?” I asked.
“He took the night off.” He tucked the menu back in its holder. “How about two orders of coffee to go?”
I filled out his ticket and started to move toward the kitchen, but Noah caught the pocket of my apron, hooking his fingers into it. Somehow, the maneuver was so hot that I flashed, trying not to think of cream again.
“I’ll follow you home in my pickup, Jadyn.”
With a quick glance around the room to see that no one was watching us, I left him, blowing out a breath in secret. He had my veins throbbing, my body on fire. I could even still feel the pressure of his fingers in my apron pocket, and when I put my hand in it, I realized that he’d slid some cash in there.
It was way too much for two coffees, dang him.
After I filled his order, then checked out for the night with Jackie and the girls, I almost sank into myself with relief. None of them had recognized the tycoon in their midst, not even Carley.
She stopped me on my way out as I held the coffees in a takeout tray. “Two cups? Must be a big study night.”
“Huge.”
Satisfied with that answer, she lightly cuffed me on the arm. “Tomorrow morning then.”
“Bright and early,” I said. “Tell Diana?”
“I’ll text her now.”
We smiled and went our separate ways. When I went out the door to the side lot where the employees parked, I caught a glimpse of the front. Noah was leaning against the rear of his pickup, one booted foot planted on the face of the tire, his hands resting lazily on his hips. He saw me, then tipped his hat.
Shaking my head, I got into my car, understanding that he would follow me to my place and we’d go from there.
So why had he come to the Angel’s Seat? If he wanted coffee, he could’ve gone to the DQ’s drive-thru or the diner in town or the coffee shop near Kroger. Or didn’t he have any in his kitchen?
I was pretty sure I knew the answer, though—he was testing Aidan Falls, seeing if anyone noticed him, gauging how much he could blend into this newest hiding place.
After I pulled into my driveway, I locked my car door and brought the coffee over to his pickup, which he had idling at m
y curb. The windows were down, music from an oldies station on low as I handed him the tray. He’d taken off those sunglasses, resting them on his dashboard.
I lifted up the two hundred dollars he’d slipped into my apron. “Was the service bad?” I asked, joking. “Last time, I got three hundred.”
“Last time, you did a hell of a lot more work. I tip accordingly.”
“And lavishly.” I held it out to him. “Noah, I can’t keep taking things from you.”
“Of course you can.”
To him, this money was Monopoly bucks. Boy, even when I’d played that game with Uncle Joseph, I’d hoarded those fake bills.
“Come on,” he said. “Hop in.”
I looked down at myself—the T-shirt with some salsa fuego I’d spilled, a dark button-down sweater that’d seen better days. My hair was a mass of curls, too, wrangled only by that barrette. “I was going to change.”
“Jadyn.” He rested his arm on the steering wheel. “You’re making me wait.”
I swallowed. He’d said earlier that he wasn’t one to wait. I shouldn’t let the cowboy hat fool me into thinking that this wasn’t a tycoon. Someday he’d be back in his designer business suits, back where he belonged.
“How about a compromise?” I asked, pointing at the sunglasses on the dashboard. I was sure he’d decided to wear them out in public as a cover. “You make sure those stay off while I’m with you, and I’ll leave these clothes on.”
He gave me an intrigued smile.
“You know what I mean,” I said, untangling my tongue. I clearly didn’t need a phone to deliver accidental sexts. “It’ll unnerve me if I can’t see your eyes.”
“Well,” he said, “as long as we have an understanding that I’d pay a king’s ransom to have those clothes off you, I’ll keep my end of the bargain.”
When I just stared at him, he laughed. “Don’t look so scared, Jadyn. You know I’m a gentleman. Basically.”
Yeah, basically. But I wasn’t much of a lady, based on how my belly was getting stabbed over and over again by lust.
Sugarbaby Page 12
