Through an open door, Cassie glimpsed a white-tiled bathroom. Behind a closed door was, she assumed, a closet.
“I’m glad you like it,” Noah said, yanking a dead leaf from the nearest fern. “This room meant a lot to my mother. From what little I’ve pieced together, she’d always wanted a daughter, but after three miscarriages—the last a close call with nearly dying—her doctor said no more. She had to have a hysterectomy, and Dad said she never recovered.”
“Wow.” Cassie swallowed hard. “I don’t know what to say. That’s awful.”
Noah shrugged. “Water under the bridge. Anyway, I always viewed this room as her shrine to the little girl she wanted instead of me.”
“Oh, Noah, you don’t think that just because she wanted a girl means she loved you any less, do you?”
“I’ll get your luggage, and the kids’ toys and stuff, then show you the deck and my new gas grill.”
“Noah, don’t you want to—” Talk?
Too late, he’d already left the room.
Turning in a slow circle, Cassie once again drank in the space. Different from the rest of the house, this room held a faint lemony smell. Not a speck of dust rested on anything. Not on the dresser with its collection of silver-framed pictures of Noah as a boy. Not on any of the hardback classics lining a built-in bookshelf. Not even on the glass paperweights lounging on the seating area’s coffee table, basking in the sun.
The room was a shrine.
But to who or what?
Noah’s mother and the daughter she’d wanted? To Noah’s lonely childhood—assuming he’d had one? To his ex-wife, or one of the women in the support group? Or to something more? Something Cassie sensed hiding deep inside him. Something all seventeen members of that goofy group also might have sensed, but hadn’t identified.
Cassie, on the other hand, wondered if she might have accidentally stumbled across the answer.
Whether he knew it or not, could Noah, the breaker of hearts suffer from a broken one?
Having herself fallen victim to the very same malaise, Cassie figured she ought to be able to recognize the signs in others. Something she also recognized was the fact that no amount of talking or praying—or for that matter, dusting—would ever cure the disease. Maybe time would, but for her at least, not enough had passed yet for her to be able to tell.
Goose bumps dotted her arms.
Crossing them, she ran her hands up and down her shoulders, suppressing a shiver. For all the room’s warmth, why was she suddenly so cold?
Chapter Four
“Thanks,” Cassie said to Noah in the cereal aisle of Riverdale Grocery.
“For what?” he asked, snatching the box of fiber flakes from the top shelf and tossing it in their cart. He’d offered to push, but though she hadn’t said anything to him, the day’s activities were starting to take a toll. She was exhausted from her latest trip to the hospital to feed the babies and holding the cart gave her much-needed support. “Because if I were really and truly a good guy, I’d save you from eating this overpriced cat food in a pretty box.”
She made a face.
“Seriously,” she said, rounding the end cap piled high with Pop-Tarts to turn down the baby aisle. “Thank you. I’m not used to this damsel in distress role I seem to have fallen into. It seems like every time I turn around, caught yet again in another jam—this time unable to reach my favorite cereal—you gallop up on your trusty sheriff-steed to save me…I mean, us. Guess I need to start getting used to that, huh? The fact that I now have a family.”
“Aw, shucks, ma’am,” he said, pretending to whip off a cowboy hat while he deeply bowed. “’Twasn’t nuthin”’
She swatted the top of his head with the store sale circular. “Just for a second, would you stop horsing around? I’m trying to be serious.”
“But I’m tired of being serious,” he complained. “We’ve done that for, like, the past two days, and it’s starting to be a major drag.”
“What’s wrong with being serious? Without serious people, nothing would ever get done.”
“Yeah,” he said, “but things sure would get dull.” They’d reached the baby toy section, and after snatching two of everything, he put it all in the cart.
“Noah!”
“What? The girls are going to need something to do. It’s not like they’re gonna be playing video games until they’re at least six months old.”
“Sure.” Starting to remove all that he’d just put in, Cassie added, “And for the first month or so of those six, I’ve read they won’t do much of anything besides eat, poop and sleep.”
“So what you’re essentially saying is that my home’s about to be invaded by lazy, eating and pooping blobs?”
Crossing her arms, Cassie wanted to hold tight to the glare she’d shot his way, but then he cupped his hands around her elbows, drawing her close enough for her overwhelming awareness of him to gobble up all of her practical arguments, leaving her with nothing more to bicker about than how big to make her smile. “You’re a nut,” she said, lingering in his strong hold. “Anyone ever tell you that?”
“All the time.” He pressed a tender kiss to her forehead.
“What was that for?” she asked, surprising warmth flooding her weary body.
“For making this the most fun I’ve had at the grocery store in—”
“Noah.” A stunning blonde rounded the corner with a towheaded baby and toddler in her cart—judging by the blue Baby Gap-wear, both boys. “You look as despicable as ever. But you…” she said to Cassie, her formerly icy expression transformed into a warm smile. “You must be the new lady in this rogue’s life. I’ve heard so much about you.”
“You have?” Cassie asked, eyebrows raised.
“Oh sure,” the woman said with a graceful wave of French-manicured nails. “The story of how Noah delivered your babies right there on the side of the road is all anyone’s talking about. Honey, you’re a baby-making rock star!”
“Um, thanks. I think.”
The gorgeous blonde—the only type Noah seemed to know—turned to him. “Well? Aren’t you going to formally introduce us?”
Her toddler reached for the neatly lined jars of baby food. He had his eye on puréed plums, and while straining to get his chubby, pinching little fingers on one of those shiny jars, he’d stuck out his tongue.
“No, no, Brad,” his mommy said. “Mustn’t touch.”
Noah snorted, then swooped the kid out of the cart, and straight over to his heart’s desire, where he grabbed not one jar of plums, but two.
“Noah!” The woman barked. “Don’t you know better than to just let kids have what they want?” She snatched the boy back. “Besides, those jars are glass. He could’ve been hurt.”
Noah rolled his eyes.
“And good grief, where are your manners?” she asked, plopping her son back in the cart. “For heaven’s sake, introduce us.”
“Cass,” he said, with a regal gesture, “Meet Jenny.”
“Hi,” Jenny gushed. “It’s so nice to finally meet you. I’m official Number Four. Tiffany said she’d already welcomed you into our group.”
Cassie turned to Noah, who’d pressed his lips tight.
The warm, caring friend she’d found in him just moments earlier had been replaced by a stone-faced man who looked every bit the part of a no-nonsense sheriff. Just an educated guess, but from the looks of his own cold expression, he’d had it with not only this woman, but the whole group!
“Um, nice to meet you,” Cassie said, shaking Jenny’s hand. “And who are these handsome fellows?”
The woman beamed at her adorable children. “Dylan is the baby, and Brad is the big one.”
Brad was on his feet playing Godzilla Smashes a Loaf of White Bread. “Out! Out!”
Cassie held her breath waiting to see what catastrophe unfolded next. Maybe she’d been too hasty with that adorable assessment?
“Oh, look what you did, Noah. Now, you went and got him all wound
up.” After shooting Noah one more squinty-eyed glare, Jenny then turned to Cassie. “Hopefully, we’ll meet again under more pleasant circumstances.”
“Sure,” Cassie said. “Bye.”
Whoosh. They were gone.
“Good riddance,” Noah muttered under his breath, reaching for a sack of newborn diapers.
“What was that?”
He shook his head.
“What’s up with you and the members of that group? It’s like they hate you.”
Shrugging, he said, “Bunch of loonies, each and every one of them.”
“Yet you dated them.”
“Much to my everlasting regret.”
“So what went wrong—seventeen times?”
“Oh, look,” he said. “They’ve got teething biscuits. Guy down at the station brought ’em by accident one day in his lunch. We tried dunking ’em in coffee and found out they’re not half-bad.”
“Any particular reason you’re changing the subject?” she asked, taking baby lotion, shampoo and oil from the shelf across the aisle.
His only answer was a sarcastic snort.
“Okay, I’ll try another course.” Hand on his shoulder, she gently turned him her way. “This time, let’s go for the direct route. Why do those women have it in for you?”
Hardening his jaw, he said, “What didn’t you get the first time about my not-so-subtle stab at talking about something else?”
“Nothing, it’s just that—”
“Look, I don’t mean to come off like a world-class jerk here, but as long as we’re going to be living together, let’s get a couple of things straight. There are pretty much only two things I won’t do for you—well, except for the obvious girlie stuff like painting your toenails or braiding your hair. Assuming we lump all the rest of that female stuff together, and then put it aside, there are only two other things I won’t do.”
“Okay. Let’s hear them.”
“One. I refuse to eat that fiber crap you just put in the cart—or any other incarnation thereof.”
“Duly noted,” she said with a curt nod, not bothering trying to hide the mischievous twinkle in her eyes. “And number two on your list of won’ts?”
“I won’t ever want to discuss that stupid, freakin’ support group.”
“Gotcha. Roger and out.”
When she wheeled on down to the end of the aisle without so much as glancing his way, he jogged in front of the cart and brought her to a speedy halt. “You think this is funny?”
“Your list?”
“Shoot, yeah, my list.”
Grinning, she said, “Noah, sweetie, it’s not just funny, but downright hilarious.”
He was back to hardening his jaw.
“Aw, don’t go getting mad. You just have to look at it from my perspective.”
“What’s that?”
“Well, for a guy who supposedly doesn’t want to even have the almighty words support group mentioned in his presence, you sure are all hot and bothered about it.”
“Your point being?”
“Well, if this group truly doesn’t matter to you, why are you so wound up?” She curled her hand around his forearm, squeezing his tight muscles. “See? You’re all tense.” Not to mention rock-hard sexy.
“I can’t help it. They get to me, all right?” Raking his fingers through his hair, Noah looked away from her piercing green gaze to a nice, safe shelf stacked with paper towels. “Who knows why. They just do.”
“Ah, finally,” she said, massaging his forearm, shooting all manner of unwelcome questions through his already confused brain. Questions like, what would it feel like were she to keep that massage going all the way up to his aching shoulders and neck? And how did she fit so much strength into her petite little frame? “We’re starting to see some glimmer of truth behind all your blustery bravado.”
“You think all of this is an act?”
“No. Just that you’re hiding your true feelings.”
“What feelings? According to that crew, I’m not in possession of a single, solitary one.”
“Bull. You wanna know what I think your trouble is?”
“Please, do tell.”
“I think if anything, you care too much.”
“I’M SORRY, OKAY?” Cassie put her hand on Noah’s shoulder, but he flinched away. They stood at his kitchen counter, unpacking groceries, and he hadn’t uttered more than a grunt since she’d made the apparently unfortunate decision of speaking her mind.
“You’ve got nothing to be sorry for,” he said, slamming her box of fiber flakes onto the tile.
“Then why are you all bent out of shape?”
“Who said I was?”
“This is nuts,” she said, slamming her own carton of tofu to the counter beside her vase brimming with fragrant yellow roses—the roses Noah had given her. His were the only flowers she’d kept. All of the rest she’d given to patients in the geriatric wing. But these—these she couldn’t bear to part with. Now that he was in such a grouchy mood, she thought the notion of them being extra special because he’d given them to her was silly and sentimental. “I’d be better off camped at the hospital.”
Noah sighed, pulled her into a hug. “I’m the one who should be sorry,” he said into her hair. “Those women—they make me crazy. It’s like I go through some freaky Dr. Jekyll thing whenever one of them comes around.”
“But why?” she asked, pulling back to look into his eyes. “I mean, if you broke up with them, then it should be over.”
“That’s just it,” he said with a laugh, leaving her to slip a sack of tomatoes into the vegetable bin of the fridge. “When things went south, they all broke up with me.”
“Then why do they still seem so bitter?”
“You tell me. ’Cause from where I’m standing, I was the injured party.”
“What’d they do?”
“Just dumped me.”
“Without warning?”
“Well…”
“Oh boy, here it comes.” She grinned on her way to the oak kitchen table that filled a windowed nook. Golden evening sun slanted through the paned windows, painting the room with a honeyed glow. She drew out one of the roomy chairs, plopped herself onto the cheerful gingham seat cushion, then slipped off her shoes. Only after she’d put her feet up on the chair beside her did she say, “All right. Carry on.”
“You sure you’re comfy?” he asked, eyeing the remaining three sacks of food still needing to be put away.
“Completely.”
“Great.” He shot her an easy grin. “So, anyway, where were we?”
“You were just about to tell me what eee-vil man-thing you did to make these beautiful, talented women run in horror.”
“Right. Okay, so basically, pretty much the only thing I did was refuse to get hitched. Geez, how much of this green stuff did you buy?” he asked, holding bunches of radicchio, butter-leaf and purple-leaf lettuce.
“Hey! Watch it, buddy! That stuff bruises easily.”
“Unlike me?”
“You said it.”
He stuffed her lettuce into the already cramped veggie bin, but Cassie let his lettuce-battering go unpunished, sensing he might be on the verge of actually spilling his feelings.
“You refused to marry them, huh?”
“That’s pretty much it.”
“Were they pregnant? Because if so, then that pretty much makes you despicable.”
He shot her a dirty look. “No, they weren’t pregnant. Geez, what kind of a two-headed monster do you take me for?”
“Hey, I had to ask.”
“Well, just so we’re clear on this—no, again. When I make a commitment, by God, I stick to it.”
“So why wouldn’t you commit to any of these women? I mean, when two people are really into each other, marriage is the next logical step, don’t you think?”
“Remember that list of unmentionables I gave you back at the store?”
“Yes.”
“Let’s add a t
hird. As for the whole tying the knot thing…” He shook his head. “Let’s not go there.”
Nodding, attempting to lean forward to rub her aching feet, but not quite making it, she said, “Believe me, I can relate. One marriage is way more than I needed to teach me I never want to be anywhere near that institution again.”
He abandoned the groceries to lift her feet, then rest them on his lap when he sat in the chair opposite her. Rubbing them with hypnotically strong strokes, he said, “You’ve been burned, too, huh?”
“Wait a minute, how’d we go from you to me? I still haven’t heard your sad saga—ooh, yes,” she said, closing her eyes as he deepened his strokes through her arches. “Lord, you’re good at this.”
“You think this is good, you should see me work my magic with a barbecue grill.”
“Yeah, yeah, we’ll get to that later. For now, just keep rubbing.”
“Demanding little thing, aren’t you?”
“Hey, I figure if you don’t ask for what you want, nobody else is going to do it for you.”
“True,” he said with a grimace.
“So? Let’s hear it. Who broke your heart?”
He groaned. “Do we really have to get into this now? I mean, if you’ve been through the whole divorce thing, too, then—”
“I’m not divorced,” she said.
“Then what happened? This creep hit the road once he found out you were pregnant?”
Swallowing hard, trying to be glib on the subject she could still barely think of without tears filling her eyes, she said. “My babies’ father died.”
“Oh, geez…” Noah stopped rubbing her toes to cup them. “I’m sorry. Some folks—mainly of the female persuasion—say I have a genuine knack for being an insensitive jerk. Guess they would be right.”
“Believe me, it was my husband who was the jerk.” Smiling through tears she hastily wiped away, she said, “And come to think of it, just like he’s better off dead, we’re probably better off just getting back to unloading the groceries.”
After slipping her feet off his lap, Cassie started to stand, but warm, strong hands on her shoulders urged her back down. “Let me do the rest,” he said. “You go do whatever it is you women do.”
Babies And Badges (American Baby) Page 5
