Rough Around the Edges Meets Refined (Meet Your Match, book 2)

by Unknown

  “Does that mean she’s home?” Noah asked.

  “Apparently.”

  “Oh, c’mon! How did you miss that?” Justin and Kevin simultaneously yelled at the TV, looking ready to strangle one of the players.

  Time to go. If Cassie really was home, Noah suddenly had somewhere else he’d rather be. “Tell her to listen to music instead and work on her lyrics.”

  “What?” said Becky.

  Noah answered with a grin. “Have fun watching the game,” he called. “I’m out of here.”

  “Oh no, you don’t,” said Emma, struggling to get up. “Not until you change into one of Kevin’s shirts.”

  “I’ll second that,” added Becky.

  He hooked a thumb over his shoulder. “I’ll just go home and—”

  “No,” they both said.

  Giving up, Noah followed his sister down the hall. Hopefully, she wasn’t planning to trim his hair too.

  The ring of the doorbell echoed through the empty house, bouncing off the polished wood floors and satin gray walls. Cassie looked around, wishing there was soft, cushy carpet to absorb the sound and to sink her feet into. The new family room in the basement would have the plushest carpet she could find.

  Adjusting the towel turban on her head, she grabbed the money off the counter to pay the delivery guy for the pizza she’d ordered earlier. It was her guilty pleasure, and one she had indulged in often since the funeral. Landon hadn’t approved of carbs or cheese, but Cassie did. Very much so.

  She pulled her front door open with a ready smile, but instead of the expected delivery guy, Noah stood before her. He looked amazing in a gray and turquoise plaid, button-down shirt and dark jeans. Cassie’s smile froze as panic seized her heart. What was he doing here? She’d ignored his text on purpose.

  Noah grinned at her. “I tried to text you earlier, but apparently you never got it because you didn’t answer back.” He paused, watching her. “Or was it me who didn’t get your reply?”

  In each of his hands, he carried a bulging plastic grocery sack, containing small containers of… was that ice cream?

  No, he didn’t. He wasn’t.

  Cassie had no words—at least nothing she wanted to say out loud. Inwardly, she was shouting I should have responded. I should have told him I was busy. Then Noah wouldn’t be standing on her doorstep, blaming the ignored text on unreliable technology.

  “Anyway,” Noah continued, apparently unconcerned that his question went unanswered. “I thought that instead of going out for ice cream, I’d bring it to you.” He lifted the bags. “Assuming you’re okay with it, that is.”

  Was there a polite way out of this situation? Cassie couldn’t think of one. Should she be frank and tell him that she wasn’t interested in going out with him or any other man? Ever?

  Why didn’t I just respond to his text? There was no one to blame but herself for this.

  “Maybe it’s a bad time,” Noah said. “Would you rather not sample ice cream tonight? Nice towel, by the way.”

  Cassie’s hands flew to the fluffy pink towel wrapped around her hair. She yanked it free and frantically raked her fingers through her hair, trying to restore some order to it. She opened her mouth to tell him that yeah, it was a bad time, but she couldn’t make herself do it. He’d gone to all this trouble to bring her ice cream—and a lot of it, from the looks of it. The least she could do was let him come in for a few minutes.

  She opened the door wider and nodded him inside. “What if I don’t end up liking any of that ice cream?”

  “Is that what you’re worried about?” said Noah, scuffing his wet shoes against the mat. “If so, don’t. There are millions of flavors out there. This is only the beginning.”

  The beginning? Beginning of what? It suddenly became hard to breathe, and Cassie quickly decided she’d pick a favorite flavor tonight whether or not she actually liked it. This needed to be the beginning and the end. Especially the end.

  She followed him down the hall and tossed the towel over one of the chairs in the kitchen.

  “Where are your spoons?” Noah asked, pulling open one drawer after another. “Ice cream tasting is serious business. We can’t contaminate any of the flavors, so you’ll either need a different spoon for every flavor, or we’ll have to rinse and dry.”

  Was he joking? “They’re in the drawer by the dishwasher,” she said before sinking down on a barstool and giving in to what was to come.

  The doorbell rang again, and Cassie withheld a groan. Now what? It would be the pizza delivery guy for sure this time, and Cassie wasn’t sure how she felt about adding a pizza to the mix. If she invited Noah to share it with her—something she couldn’t exactly not do—it would only prolong the evening. But what other choice did she have? It wasn’t like she could leave the poor kid standing in the cold on her front porch.

  Cassie grudgingly moved to answer the door.

  “Expecting someone?” Noah asked, his hand pausing on a half pried-open ice cream lid. For the first time since he’d arrived, he looked uncertain.

  Well good, let him be the uncertain one for once. “Yeah, it’s my date,” Cassie said flippantly as she headed toward the door. “He’s a little early.”

  “You’re joking, right?”

  Cassie smiled, not bothering to answer. Serves him right, she thought.

  Moments later, she returned to the kitchen carrying a warm pizza box. She set it on the counter and cocked her head at Noah. “My hair is wet, and I’m wearing slippers. What kind of poor excuse for a date do you think I am?”

  “You look great to me.” He actually looked like he meant it.

  Cassie shifted uneasily. Why did he have to be so nice? Or so full of it? “Says the guy who goes around wearing jeans with holes in the knees and paint-splattered t-shirts.”

  “Hey, I cleaned up tonight.” He gestured at his clothes. “Check me out, not one drop of paint anywhere.”

  “Did you really just tell me to check you out?”

  “That’s right.” He grinned, gesturing the length of his body. “Feast your eyes.”

  Cassie laughed—something she seemed to do every time he was around. Even in paint-speckled shirts, Noah was still handsome. And tonight, all clean up, he was heart-stoppingly so.

  “You do look really… good.” she admitted.

  “Yeah, well don’t be too impressed. My sister had to dress me.” At Cassie’s arched eyebrow, he quickly amended. “I mean… she didn’t dress me, dress me. Just picked out a shirt for me to… uh… never mind.”

  Cassie laughed again. She couldn’t help herself. This slightly awkward side to him was kind of cute—and so unlike Landon that it made Noah even more attractive.

  “Your sister has good taste,” she said.

  He pointed a spoon at her. “Just so you know, I do know how to dress nice on my own.”

  “I’m sure.”

  He shook his head, as though mentally kicking himself for saying something stupid. Then he flicked a glance at the unopened pizza box. “So, are you, uh, in the mood for dessert first, or would you rather eat the pizza?”

  Cassie pushed the box aside and sank back down on the barstool, clasping her fingers together. “I wouldn’t want to ‘contaminate’ my palate with pizza, so I guess it’ll be dessert first tonight. Besides, I’m dying to know who I really am.”

  He smiled and returned to prying off ice cream lids.

  For the next twenty minutes, Cassie taste-tested each flavor of ice cream. Noah made sure to keep all the names hidden so she wouldn’t be “influenced” in any way. If she gave it a thumbs down, he’d let her see the flavor. But if it earned a thumbs up, he moved it to the Like lineup ordered from her favorite to her least favorite.

  So far, Cassie had learned that she didn’t like salted caramel or any version of chocolate ice cream. All the others, she really did like—but not enough to declare it a favorite.

  And then she tasted something that had to be called Heaven on Earth.

&nb
sp; “What is this?” she practically moaned, savoring the taste of mint, a hint of chocolate, and something else she couldn’t place. “It’s amazing.”

  She reached for the ice cream container, but Noah slid it farther away. “‘Amazing,’ as in goes to the top of the Likes pile? Or ‘amazing,’ as in the one?”

  “The one, definitely,” said Cassie. “What is it?”

  Noah’s lips twitched, and his eyes brimmed with mirth. “You sure you want to know?”

  “Um… yes?”

  He turned the carton around, revealing the flavor of mint cookie dough. The spoonful of ice cream Cassie had just eaten melted over her tongue and pooled on the bottom of her mouth. She swallowed, forcing the liquid down. “Oh, great. So I’m immature, too?”

  “Not immature, Cass. Complex and interesting, remember?”

  She chose to ignore that he’d shortened her name. Or the way it made her feel all mushy. “Don’t forget doughy.”

  He laughed. “You’re right. And doughy. But you like the mint version, which means you have an elegant and refined side to you. Whereas I…” his voice trailed off as though he had no idea how to describe himself.

  “Are a little rough around the edges?” Cassie teased.

  The corners of his lips quirked up. “Yeah. Rough around the edges. That’s a good way of putting it.”

  It was becoming harder and harder to resist his charm. “This means I probably like the regular cookie dough ice cream too, doesn’t it?”

  He spun around one of the containers that she’d given a thumbs up to before. “You do, just not nearly as much. But maybe”—he shot her a meaningful look—“it will grow on you in time.”

  Cassie couldn’t tell if he was talking about him or the ice cream.

  “Maybe it will,” she agreed, thinking of him. Though there were no maybes about it. He was definitely growing on her. And it scared her to death.

  Cassie cleared her throat and set down her spoon, breaking eye contact. “If I don’t stop eating right now, there won’t be any room left for pizza.” She tapped the box. “Want to share?”

  “Depends. What kind did you order?”

  “Pepperoni with black olives and peppers.”

  “Count me in.”

  Noah put the lids back on all the little ice cream containers and shoved them in her freezer, piling them on top of each other in a haphazard way. Cassie resisted the urge to nudge him aside and neatly reorganize them into rows and stacks—the way Landon had brainwashed her into thinking was the only way. But she stayed put, deciding that she liked them just the way they were. A little rough, like Noah.

  As he pulled up the barstool next to her, his arm brushed hers, making her feel all mushy again. Cassie chided herself for enjoying the touch. And for wanting him to touch her again.

  “Tell me about your family,” she said.

  As they shared the pizza, Noah complied, entertaining her with story after story of what it was like growing up in Africa and Central America. And with each story he told, Cassie felt her resolve to keep her distance crumble a little more. He seemed so genuine, so good. Was he for real? Or was he hiding his true self the way Landon had done?

  “What about you?” he asked through a mouthful of pizza. “What’s your family like?”

  Cassie allowed a small smile to touch her lips. “Wonderful. And big. I have seven siblings, and they’re all—”

  “Seven? Are you serious?”

  “Yes.”

  “Wow, what would that be like?” Noah shook his head in wonder.

  “Loud, chaotic, crazy, and… pretty great.” She paused, and her smile faded. “At least that’s the way it was when I was growing up. It’s been a while since I’ve done much with my family.”

  Noah watched her. “Don’t you live close to them anymore?”

  “Home is a twenty-minute drive from here.”

  When his eyebrows came together in confusion, she ran her fingers across the smooth, dark granite, wondering how to explain. “While we were dating, Landon loved our family parties, or at least he said he did. But as it turned out, he wasn’t a fan of loud, chaotic, or crazy—unless it was with his friends. After we married, I was able to get him to come to a few things, then I went alone to a few things, and then not at all. I hated all the looks and carefully worded questions my parents and siblings asked. And it didn’t help that it made Landon upset when I went. So I stopped.”

  Noah didn’t look happy. “Even now?”

  Cassie shrugged. “My mom calls about once a week to check in on me and invite me to Sunday dinner. And not long after the funeral, I went, thinking it would be just like old times, like I could get back to who I was before, you know?”

  “But it wasn’t?”

  “No.” Cassie’s stomach clenched at the memory. “It was awkward. Everyone tiptoed around me, as though they all knew my marriage had been a sham and didn’t want to bring it up. My brothers didn’t tease me the way they used to, the familiarity we’d once shared was gone, and my married siblings all have such great relationships with their spouses that it was a brutal reminder they’d chosen well. Whereas I… didn’t. I hated that my presence made everyone else uncomfortable. So even though I still get invited and my parents and siblings continue to reach out to me, it’s easier to stay away.”

  Noah watched her for a moment before asking, “Do you really believe that?”

  She didn’t want to, but… “Yes.”

  He leaned closer, resting his elbow on the counter. “Of course it’s going to be awkward at first, but that will pass.”

  “Will it?” More than anything, Cassie wanted to believe him. But she was no longer the carefree girl from a few years ago. Things were so different now. She was different.

  His hand came to rest on hers. “Yes, it will.”

  Her fingers stiffened, and she fought the urge to pull free.

  Noah must have sensed her discomfort because he withdrew his hand. “Do I make you uncomfortable?”

  Being put on the spot stunk. But Cassie didn’t want to lie to him or pretend everything was hunky dory when it wasn’t. “Truthfully? Yes.”

  “Why?”

  She squirmed. It was one thing to admit something and another to explain it. “You seem like a really great guy, Noah. But you need to know that I’m not interested in a romantic relationship. I like having my freedom and independence, and I never want to give that up again.”

  “I would never ask you to give it up.”

  She looked at him. “But isn’t that the nature of relationships? Sacrificing your wants for someone else’s?”

  “Well, sure. You definitely have to compromise sometimes, but—”

  “That’s just it.” She swiveled on the chair to face him. “I don’t want to compromise anymore. I like watching what I want to watch, wearing what I want to wear, going where I want to go, and being who I want to be. I like deciding on the layout of my basement, being able to choose carpet instead of hard wood or tile, and coming and going without having to answer to anyone. I never—ever—want to be married again.”

  Silence. Followed by, “I’m not proposing, Cass.”

  Great, now she was a drama queen. Her face infused with heat. “I know.”

  A small smile touched his lips, and he sighed. “Compromising is part of being in a relationship. But it’s not a compromise unless both people give and take. How many times did Landon watch something that you wanted to watch? How much of the stuff in this house did he let you pick out? How many times did he sacrifice for you?”

  Cassie bit her lip. Her marriage with Landon had been so lopsided. But did a relationship exist where both people felt they got as much as they gave? She wasn’t so sure.

  “That sounds so cut and dry when you put it that way,” said Cassie. “But what happens if you clash over something big—something that can’t be worked out with a compromise? Say one person wants kids and the other doesn’t, or one person wants to move and the other person doesn’t? Then
what? When there’s no way to meet in the middle, who loses and who wins?”

  Noah pushed away the pizza box and leaned his arm on the island. “Is it really considered a loss to put someone else first?”

  Cassie frowned. “I must be a horrible person because all the sacrificing I did for Landon never once brought me any amount of joy. Only resentment.”

  “That’s because he was a taker. And takers take everything until there’s nothing left to take.”

  A lump grew in Cassie’s throat. That’s exactly what Landon had been. A taker. “What about you?” she said. “Are you a giver or a taker?”

  “Neither. I’m a compromiser.”

  But was he really? Cassie stood and began stuffing the leftover pizza into a plastic bag. “Was there anything big that you and Angie disagreed on?”

  “Yeah,” said Noah. “I wanted kids and she didn’t.”

  In the middle of zipping up the bag, her fingers stilled. What sort of compromiser did that make him? She turned around and stuffed the pizza in her fridge, trying to dislodge that horrible lump. “So she was the one to give in on that.”

  Behind her, a barstool squealed against the floor and footsteps came closer and closer. Noah leaned a shoulder against the freezer door and waited until Cassie looked up at him.

  “The reason she didn’t want kids was because her career plans were more important, and she didn’t want our children being raised in a daycare. She’d grown up in that situation and refused to do that to her own kids.”

  “Are you telling me she gave up her career, too?”

  “No,” said Noah. “I gave up mine.”

  The kitchen floor seemed to tilt, and Cassie had to press her palm against the refrigerator shelf to keep from tipping with it. Why did he keep doing this to her? It was like Noah was out to prove that good guys did exist and that he was one of them. But was he? Really? Was he the sort of guy Cassie wouldn’t mind sacrificing for—someone she might actually want to sacrifice for?

  No. No one was. She was happy exactly the way she was.

  Cassie took a step back, putting some much needed distance between them. She started scrubbing spoons even though the dishwasher would have cleaned them.