The kids tripped out of the room at Noah's directive while Jilly carried the kitten.
Jilly helped settled the kids on the floor in a loose triangle with Honey Bear among them. Noah heard the ring as one of them rolled the jingling ball he'd bought across the floor. He stood behind the couch, listening to their quiet expressions of joy.
Jilly came to stand beside him, not quite shoulder to shoulder, but close.
He kept his voice low when he said, "No word from the doctor's office yet, I guess?"
They weren't touching, but he felt her tension as he voiced the question. "Not yet," she said softly. "Probably not until the end of next week. And before you ask, I'm fine."
He shot her a look. Fine. Yeah right.
"Mr. Noah."
Lindsey must've crawled up on the couch. Her voice projected from right in front of him. He pictured her on her knees, leaning her stomach against the back of the couch and looking up at him. "My birthday is next week."
She was still speaking words, not meows. Good for her.
"Happy early birthday," he said.
"I'm having a birthday party. I never had one before."
His heart tugged for the girl. A kid should have a birthday party, and it was a shame that she'd missed out.
"Will you come?"
He was completely unprepared for the question. He fumbled for an answer, looking to Jilly for help.
"Honey, Noah is probably busy."
"But he gets to work whenever he wants to work." Lindsey's statement was matter-of-fact.
She wasn't wrong. It wasn't about not having time. It was the people. Kids and adults. Probably Iris and Callum and their kids.
"I can't—"
"But Mr. Noah, you're my best friend." The girls voice had gone from excited to trembling with what he hoped weren't tears.
"Let's talk about this later." Jilly's voice was gentle as she tried to change the subject.
"But—"
"You'd better play with Honey Bear a little bit more before we have to go home."
Jilly moved away from him. He listened as she talked to the girl, ushering her back to the kitten.
He felt like a heel. And a coward.
But a party with a bunch of kids running around? No thanks.
12
Noah knocked on Jilly's back door on Saturday morning the day of Lindsey's party.
It was windy but mild, the sun beating down on his back. He wore a sweatshirt and jeans and was almost comfortable.
He was taking a chance that she and the kids would even be there. He didn't know if Jilly had booked a party room at the bowling alley or a pizza place or something like that.
The boys had finished painting his house two days before. While they'd worked, Lindsey had spent hours sitting on his living room floor, playing with Honey Bear, but the girl hadn't brought up her invitation again.
Jilly must've explained. But it didn't stop guilt from dogging his heels.
Mr. Noah, you're my best friend.
He certainly hadn't done anything deserving of that title.
Didn't Lindsey have any friends at school? Little girls that could get him off the hook?
He knew how cruel kids could be. Lindsey and her siblings had come into the school year late. All the other children in class would've already established friendships from the beginning of the school year. Or even last year, in kindergarten.
Lindsey was different. Like PJ and Casey, she was a foster kid.
Kids were cruel. They whispered. They repeated things they'd overheard their parents say.
It'd happened to him, decades ago.
His dad died.
Worse were the whispers in his own head.
Daddy died. And it was my fault.
Guilt or pity or those voices... Somehow, Noah been driven out of his house today and over here to deliver a wrapped gift to the birthday girl.
If he'd timed it right, he had several hours before the party started. He'd be gone before the other guests arrived.
Jilly answered the door. "Hey. What's up?"
Just the sound of her voice put a weird clutch in his chest. Somehow, he'd fallen into this weird sort of friendship. He hadn't meant for it to happen.
He wanted more.
No, he didn't.
"Did we forget something at your place last night?"
It was a valid question. She and the kids had been over to visit Honey Bear, even though the painting was finished. He'd been surprised—maybe they both had—that Casey and PJ wanted to play with the kitten, too.
The boys might be older, might not claim the fact out loud, but they still had enough child inside them to enjoy the playful pet.
And both evenings they'd spent at his place, they'd forgotten something. One night it was PJ's ball cap. Two days ago, it'd been one of Lindsey's shoes. One. Not both.
He might never understand children.
"No," he said. "And I can't stay for the party. But I wanted to bring this over for Lindsey."
He held up the box. It'd come shipped to him wrapped. Aiden had confirmed the paper was birthday-themed.
He also had a plain old cardboard box under his other arm.
"If I'm going to be in the way,” he said, “I'll just leave it."
"No. Come in."
He felt the air pressure change as she opened the door for him. "Do you want some coffee? Lindsey! Here, kitty!" He heard her sigh before she nudged him toward the kitchen table.
"Sure. Thanks. Back to kitty?" He hadn't received one meow all week.
She groaned. When she spoke, her voice was pitched low. "I was hoping we were past the whole thing, but she's been meowing all morning. I think maybe she's nervous about her friends coming over for the party. Sit down."
He sat in one of the chairs at her little nook table and put the cardboard box next to his chair.
"Sweetie, Noah brought you something."
He heard scuffling on the floor and then a tap on his knee. Had Lindsey crawled across the floor?
He bent and reached out, and his hand connected with the top of Lindsey's head. She was on the floor, all right.
"Hi, kitty."
"Meow." She head-butted his shin.
"I heard there was a little girl having a birthday party today. Do you know where she is?"
"Meow meow." No.
He scratched the top of her head with the tips of his fingers. Felt the part down the middle and two pigtails. "I have a present for the birthday girl. But I guess if she isn't here, I'll take it home with me."
Lindsey was silent for a long moment.
From the counter, he heard the tink of a coffee mug and the swoosh of coffee filling it.
A sound like two stampeding elephants heralded the boys' entrance.
"We're hungry," PJ announced.
"What's going on?" Casey asked. It was the first time Noah had heard him speak without a hint of recalcitrance in his voice.
Jilly shushed them, and Noah heard cabinets open and close and then the crinkle of what might've been a granola bar wrapper.
Finally, Lindsey slowly stood up. "It's me. Lindsey."
Her words were barely louder than a whisper.
Noah nodded with just as much seriousness as she showed. "I know."
She sat on the chair next to him. He caught a kick to the shin from the swing of her feet.
He didn't push it. Didn't tell her she should be a little girl for her party. After all, a best friend's job was just to stand by your side.
Even if he couldn't do that at the party.
"Here you go." He handed her the gift.
"Thank you." She didn't sound excited. More subdued.
"You can open it." Jilly came close and pressed a cup of coffee into his hands.
"Okay."
Jilly stood at his side. He could feel the boys' presence from the opposite side of the room, watching.
Paper ripped, and he heard the soft catch of Lindsey's breath. Hopefully, that was a good sign.
Jilly squeezed his shoulder.
"This is... amazing."
He went a little hot at the awe in Lindsey's voice. The child's digital camera hadn't even been that expensive. Aiden had suggested it. He'd bought his niece one for Christmas last year.
He felt her jump from the chair and barely had time to put his coffee mug on the table before she threw herself in his arms. He caught her in a hug.
"Thank you thank you thank you."
"You're welcome."
She let go, and he heard paper crinkle again as she must've picked up the box. "Can I open it, Jilly?"
"Let me get some scissors to cut the tape."
Lindsey followed Jilly away from the table, and he cleared his throat. "I figure I missed PJ and Casey's birthdays this year, so I brought this for you guys to share."
He picked up the cardboard box—this one wasn't wrapped. He didn't think the boys would care.
They weren't as polite as Lindsey. They fell on the box and ripped it to pieces to find the flag football set inside.
"Awesome!" PJ cried.
"Yeah, thanks!" Casey echoed.
Jilly laughed from across the room. "Flag football? Really?"
He grinned at her. "The boys have never seen you play. And I don't actually recall you whooping up on me the way you claimed to. I think we need a rematch. With the kids, of course."
"Yeah!" PJ said.
"You're gonna play?"
The boys' excited words overlapped each other.
"I'm gonna play," he confirmed.
* * *
"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Jilly asked.
She handed Noah the Velcro belt with its colorful flags attached.
"Scared of a little friendly competition?" His grin was throwing off her equilibrium. She hadn't seen it in years.
She didn't remember it being quite so intense, or maybe his charm hadn't worked on her back then.
She hiked her chin. "Of course not."
"Then stop worrying. If I fall, I fall. The kids will laugh, and I'll get back up."
It was more than that. How was this supposed to work? He'd folded up his white cane and left it near the now-empty box that had held the belts and flags. He’d revealed a foam football that emitted a constant high-pitched beep. Right now, the boys were tossing it back and forth.
"C'mere." He held up a length of—no. It was several pieces of yarn he'd turned into simple necklaces. Each one had a jingle bell threaded on it.
Casey saw from where he and PJ were already tossing the football around and started laughing.
"We're gonna be just like Honey Bear!" Lindsey cried out.
"You got it." Noah handed out the bells, sorting them in some secret way she couldn't decipher. They'd already decided on the teams. Jilly, PJ, and Lindsey against Noah and Casey. The two oldest males had already held a whispered conference as they'd walked out behind the house to the empty grassy field.
"I saw a documentary on how blind kids learn to ride a bike,” Noah said now. “Between that and PJ's brilliant idea for me to keep track of Honey Bear..."
She had to give PJ props. He’d been the one to suggest adding a bell onto the kitten's collar after she'd disappeared for the third time in as many days.
Honey Bear was a bit of a rascal.
A bit like the man, who delivered Jilly's bell with an ornery twitch of his lips. "I'll do the honors."
He placed it over her head, coming so close that she could see the stubble darkening his jaw.
She got caught in his magnetism, and, for one wild moment, she thought he would lean close and kiss her, in front of the kids and everything.
Instead, he said, "Good luck, then."
They spread out across the field. For a few minutes, she couldn't help worrying about Noah stepping in a gopher hole and twisting his ankle.
Until about the third time he stole her flag and stopped her progress.
It didn't take long to figure out his secret with the bells. Each one had a slightly different sound, which meant he could identify each person by the sound of their bell. And he seemed to be targeting Jilly specifically.
"Come on, Jilly," PJ urged. "Run faster."
"Yeah, c'mon, Jilly." Noah shot her a smug look as he walked backwards. He held his hands out on both sides of his body. Taunting her.
He wanted a beat down? He was going to get one.
When she and PJ lost the ball to an interception on the next down, she snatched Noah's flag before he made it three feet.
Then Noah and Casey scored on a pretty little flea-flicker pass close to the end zone.
Six plays later, she and PJ scored with a long no-pass run.
"It's all tied up," PJ crowed.
"Pfft, for a second maybe." Casey said.
Since she and the kids had barged into his life, she hadn't seen Noah so animated. It seemed he’d shed the weight he seemed to carry.
She hadn't thought about her scans or the Monday-morning appointment since he'd showed up.
But she still wanted to win.
She huddled up and whispered her play to PJ and Lindsey.
"We're gonna win for sure!" Lindsey said.
Jilly was overflowing with happiness, and she laughed. A big, echoing laugh from the bottom of her belly. One that turned Noah's head. A replying smile twitched on his lips, though he kept it contained.
She lined up in front of him. "Still think you can win?" she murmured.
"Haven't even begun to try," he returned.
She winked at PJ and then nodded for Lindsey to hike the ball.
She danced past Noah and caught—bobbled—the pass Lindsey lobbed at her.
She took off for the end zone, idly noticing a plume of dust approaching from the main road. Iris and her crew must be arriving.
A split-second of consideration was all she gave to the thought.
She wanted the touchdown.
Her bell was slapping against her sternum, ringing like crazy, announcing her intentions.
From the corner of her eye, she saw Noah approaching, and she zagged.
"Keep going!" came PJ's yell from somewhere behind her.
She could feel Noah breathing down her neck. The end zone was right there. She put on a burst of speed and zigged, but he must've anticipated her move, because her momentum carried her right into his arms.
Her feet got twisted up, and she couldn't right herself.
She tried to cry out a warning, but it happened too fast. They both tumbled to the ground. Somehow he twisted, catching the brunt of her weight so that she landed mostly on top of him. She was so close that she heard his near-silent grunt and the whoosh of air he expelled as they hit the ground.
She planted her hands on his broad chest to leverage herself off of him, but his hands at her waist held her captive.
He was panting for breath, a sheen of sweat covering his brow. His eyes were half-closed. He didn't say anything.
Was he hurt? Had she injured him?
He still didn't say anything.
And then he grinned, the toothy smile of victory spreading across his face like the sun coming up. "You didn't cross the line."
She looked up. He was right. She didn’t know how he’d sensed it, but she was two feet short of the flags they’d spiked into the ground to mark the goal line.
"This isn't tackle football, buddy," she snapped. Though she couldn't help the amused quiver of her voice.
He dangled the flag he'd somehow stripped from her belt in front of her. "You didn't make it."
She looked past his annoyingly stubbled chin to see PJ with shoulders slumped and Casey dancing around him, singing something she couldn't make out. Lindsey was walking toward the house, distracted by a daisy she’d picked.
Jilly glanced back at Noah, who had made no move to dislodge her from where she was plastered against him. The flimsy flag fluttered a little, his elbow a stake planted in the ground. His other arm was a weight against her lower back.
S
he should move.
His thumb swept along her lower back. The smallest of movements, but somehow it mesmerized her.
His smile faded into something more intimate. "Jilly—"
But the slam of a car door interrupted whatever he would have said.
Her two nephews shrieked something about joining in the game. The moment was broken as Noah bodily set her away and then scrambled to his feet.
She pushed herself off the ground and straightened.
Noah spun on his heel, one hand gripping the back of his neck. Whatever warmth she'd read in his expression had turned into something like panic.
Her peripheral vision registered her sister and Callum approaching, but she couldn't focus on them now, not when Noah was so clearly upset.
"What do you need?" she asked quietly.
"My cane."
"Okay. It's here." She jogged to pick it up and brought it back to press into Noah's hand. "You don't have to run off. It's just my sister and Callum."
She'd thought Noah had changed from the curmudgeon of weeks ago, but his frown was back.
No. One closer inspection of his face, she could see the real hurt he was trying to hide.
What was going on?
And then it was too late, because Iris and Callum were upon them.
"Jilly, what's going on—?" Iris's question was cut off as she gasped softly.
Noah went tense beside her, a bowstring waiting to snap.
"Noah." It was the way Callum grated out the name, hoarse and distorted, that broke him.
He strode off without another word.
13
Noah felt a hot rush of emotions as he extricated himself from the flag football game. He should've asked Jilly what time the guests were showing up. Or maybe because they were family, her sister and the whole crew had arrived early.
He was shaken by the rush of anger, mixed up with nostalgia and an affection that was ten-plus years deep. All that just from hearing Callum's voice.
Now, footsteps crunched in the grass behind him, too heavy to belong to one of the women.. He should've expected it. Of course his former friend would follow him. Would Callum try to warn him off from Jilly? Or was this something else?
Cowgirl Next Door (Sutter's Hollow Book 3) Page 9
