The Halo Effect (Cupid Chronicles)

by Allen, Shauna

  Noble slowed the bike and signaled to exit the small highway to a rest stop as Braelyn’s thoughts continued to whirl. He pulled to a stop in front of some vending machines and the restrooms.

  He peeled himself away from her as she removed her helmet. She noticed his back was soaked and as he turned to face her, beads of sweat rolled down his temples. For the first time she realized the unseasonably warm temperature once the wind wasn’t whipping around her and perspiration was coating her stomach where she’d been pressed up against him.

  He started removing his flannel outer shirt. “You want something to drink?”

  She glanced around at the deserted lot and caught sight of the spectacular view. Wow. “Uh, no. Thanks. But I think I’ll use the restroom real quick.”

  He nodded and started digging through the pack on his bike as she ducked into the facilities to freshen up.

  She used the few moments alone to try to cool off and gather her thoughts. She plucked the damp shirt from her chest and studied her flushed face in the mirror. She’d resolved to leave him alone, and that’s what she’d do, no matter what her heart wanted.

  She washed her hands, took a deep breath and stepped outside prepared to use the “it’s a woman thing” excuse. But the words froze on her dry tongue. Every thought halted in her brain at the sight that greeted her. She simply stopped and stared.

  No.

  Freakin’.

  Way.

  Someone was out to torture her. There was no other explanation. A shirtless Noble turned away from her to mop his head with his discarded T-shirt before putting on a clean navy tank from the pack on his bike. But not before two things were painfully apparent.

  First, he was perfect and chiseled and she wanted to run her hands all over him.

  Second, he was not tattooless. His entire back was covered from the base of his neck to the waist of his jeans in a seamless, intricate, geometric design that resembled a Native American tribal tattoo. At least, that was her best guess from the brief glimpse she got of it. And, again, she wanted to run her hands all over it.

  He might as well have a big neon sign above his head now, as far as she was concerned: SEXY AS SIN.

  Noble must’ve sensed her mouth watering. He pivoted after he zipped his old sweat-soaked shirt into the back of the bike’s pack. He smiled. God, what that did to her.

  “Ready to go?” He straddled the bike again.

  Words, Braelyn. Find your words. She took a few steps in his direction and fiddled with her sunglasses as he studied her. What was it she wanted to say again?

  He reached out to offer his hand and help her on.

  He needs his space. That’s it. She stepped back. “You know, Noble, I wanted to thank you for the ride. It’s been really fun. But I’ve been thinking . . .” She glanced up as he quirked a brow at her. “I’ve intruded enough on your time. Why don’t you go on ahead with your ride? I’ll call for someone to pick me up.”

  They both glanced over as a car pulled in and a family with two young children dressed in costumes jumped out and ran to the restrooms. Braelyn couldn’t help but grin at the little princess and ghoul towing their harried mother. She remembered those days.

  Noble cleared his throat and she turned back to him. “What the hell are you talking about? And who in the hell would you call to pick you up way out here?”

  Whoa. He sounded pissed. “Listen, I’m just trying to let you get back to your alone time.”

  “Why?”

  “Why? What do you mean ‘why?’ Can’t I go home?”

  He crossed his arms across the wide expanse of his chest. “Why are you bailing on me? Do you really want to go home? Or is it something else? Because if you want to go home, I’ll take you myself. I’m not leaving you here.”

  He just couldn’t make it easy, could he? She sighed. “Would you just go?!”

  He watched as the young family left the restroom, loaded up in their car and drove off, leaving them alone once again in the lot.

  Slowly, he swung his leg over the bike until he stood again and looked down at her. Without saying a word, he sauntered by her and made for the vending machines. She watched, speechless, while he casually perused the selections. Finally, he plugged his coins in and selected a Coke, a bag of peanuts, and a candy bar before ambling over to the ledge of the scenic overlook. She watched him until it became obvious he wasn’t going anywhere and he was definitely not going to leave without her. So much for that plan. Now what?

  Deciding to bite the bullet, she walked over and joined him. He didn’t say a word. Together, they simply took in the view. He offered her half of his candy bar. And over a shared chocolate bar, they breathed in the wonder of the craggy granite walls dipping into the hazy blue of the lake. A hawk circled lazily, searching out a meal. A soft breeze ruffled their hair and the scent of a far off barbeque spiraled up through the ravine.

  Noble tossed the empty candy wrapper into the trashcan, never breaking their reverent silence as he reached over for her hand. Nothing needed to be spoken. He was telling her that she wasn’t intruding and he wanted her there with one simple gesture.

  She intertwined their fingers and squeezed, letting him know she understood and she’d stay.

  Braelyn would’ve never figured Noble for a spiritual guy. But, it appeared so—at least in his own way—as they circled the lake, climbed the hills, and almost lovingly caressed the dips in the road with his motorcycle. And all on the way to another stop at another spectacular scenic overlook. It seemed their day was to be filled with taking in the beauty of the land. He did this over and over, even stopping at a historical cemetery, where he bowed his head and paid his respects to people long dead. She stood back and watched his hair fly in the breeze, wondering what he was thinking about. Did he care about these souls—strangers from nearly a century ago? Or was he thinking about his mother?

  Finally, he faced her. “You hungry?”

  She nodded.

  He led her back to the bike, and in a ritual they’d perfected throughout the day, he got on first, then held out his hand for her. She took his palm, straddled behind him, reached behind her for the helmet he’d provided and strapped it on while he waited patiently before gunning the motor to a roaring start. He’d always wait for her to situate herself with her feet on the foot stands and her arms snugly around his waist before he took off. They were quite a team, if she could say so herself. Too bad she felt like a tiny child behind him.

  He zipped down a few more roads until he ended up at a cozy Mexican restaurant with some picnic tables out front. He stopped and helped her off the bike.

  “Wanna eat outside?” he asked.

  “Sure.”

  They stepped up to the window and placed their order then sat down to wait for their food. Braelyn was suddenly struck with the horrifying thought of how her hair must look after having worn a helmet all day. She reached up to pat it. It was hopeless.

  He grinned at her.

  “What?”

  “Don’t worry. Your makeup is gone, too.”

  He laughed as her mouth fell open. Just great. She shook her head and decided it didn’t matter anyway. He wasn’t interested.

  The waitress served their taco baskets, chips, salsa, and drinks.

  Braelyn picked up her taco and took a bite, realizing she was starved.

  In the time it took her to eat one taco, Noble had consumed his entire meal. Then he sat back and sipped his drink while watching her.

  “What?” she finally demanded, wondering if salsa was smeared on her face.

  “Nothing.” He set his cup down. “It’s just this is the first time I’ve had company on one of my rides when I’m clearing my head. It’s . . . interesting.”

  She swallowed. “Interesting?”

  He nodded, but
didn’t elaborate.

  She fiddled with the spork next to her basket. “I did offer to get a ride home and leave you to your solitude, remember?”

  “Hey, now. Don’t get your panties in a wad, Sweet Cheeks. I didn’t mean anything by it. I like having you here, strangely enough.”

  “You do?”

  He nodded.

  “Even after . . .?”

  He glanced at her sharply. “Even after what?”

  She picked her spork up and began to twist it in the meat that had fallen from her taco.

  “Even after what?” he prompted again.

  She sighed and met his eyes. The deepest, blackest, most heartfelt eyes she’d ever had the privilege of falling into. “Let’s be honest, Noble. I’ve pretty much been a pain in your ass since we met. You have no reason to even be nice to me, much less put up with me intruding on your time away.”

  “Can you elaborate on ‘pain in the ass?’”

  She stared into his blank expression. Talk about poker face. “Well. For starters, I’ve yelled at you at least a couple of times for trying to help.” She held up a hand. “Honest misunderstandings, I know. But, still. And I’ve used you as a handyman on more than one occasion. I’m sure you couldn’t appreciate that.” She tilted her head to see if he wanted her to continue.

  Apparently he did. “I’ve thrown myself at you. . . .” That made her blush, but she pressed on. “I pushed you about your dyslexia and I’ve been a taskmaster on your lessons.” She took a deep breath. “And the final insult? I basically forced myself into your business with your mom, only to bring you that awful news. It’s unforgivable and I’m so sorry.”

  She looked down at the table, ashamed and afraid of what he’d say now that she’d laid it all out there. But mostly, she realized, she was scared he’d shut her out now that she’d come to care so much.

  It was silent for several seconds. The sound of her own ragged breathing rattled in her ears and it was killing her. She wished he’d say something, for crying out loud.

  Finally, his warm hand engulfed hers. “Braelyn?”

  She didn’t say anything. She couldn’t.

  “Braelyn. Look at me.”

  She glanced up, cursing the tears that had collected in her lashes.

  He blinked once. Twice. “I’m not a guy who says much. I never have been. And I don’t have lots of pretty words.” He squeezed her hand. “But I don’t consider any of that stuff a pain in my ass. You’ve done more for me than just about anybody. And next to Jed, you’ve been the best friend I’ve ever had.” He reached up and brushed a tear from her cheek. “Don’t cry.”

  She sniffled and blinked rapidly to clear her eyes. “So, we’re good?”

  He gave a half-smile. “We’re better than good.”

  She nodded, trying to believe him. The only problem was, she was afraid of what ‘better than good’ meant for her heart.

  Chapter 26

  A month later, Tristan hovered around the kitchen watching and trying not to laugh as his mom attempted to cook Thanksgiving dinner. It had always pretty much been the two of them, and they’d never made a big deal of it. His mom was lots of things, but a chef wasn’t one of ‘em. But, this year they’d invited Michael and Ariel over for dinner because they didn’t have any family and Mom said that was sad. But when Tristan had asked about inviting Noble, she’d acted really funny. She’d blushed and fumbled with the papers in her hands, saying something weird about him probably having plans already. But he got her on the fact that Noble didn’t have any real family either. Then he’d mentioned all the stuff Noble had done for them just to make her feel guilty.

  It worked.

  What he hadn’t expected was how hard he’d had to twist Noble’s arm to get him to agree to coming over. Geez, you’d think the dude was allergic to turkey or something. But once he found out Michael and Ariel would be there, he finally relented. Not that Tristan blamed him necessarily. He’d hardly been over since the day his mom had fussed at them for going to play ball and riding Noble’s bike—and on the rare occasions when him and Mom were together, they acted totally weird around each other now. And even though Tristan had explained that he and his mom had reached an understanding—the mysterious ‘yseee’ text and his light punishment of a weekend grounding from his video games—he couldn’t help but wonder if Noble still felt uncomfortable at their house. He and Mom had even cut their lessons down to virtually nothing.

  Something had changed between them, he just didn’t know what.

  “Tristan, sweetie.” His mom pointed to the pile of potatoes waiting to be peeled. “Would you please . . .”

  The doorbell rang. Yes! Literally saved by the bell. “I’ll get it!” He loped out of the kitchen.

  He swung open the front door and blinked in surprise. “Michael?”

  The big guy tugged uncomfortably at the tie around his neck and looked about ready to choke. “Hey, Tristan. Happy Thanksgiving.”

  Tristan’s gaze flicked to Ariel who was grinning up at Michael and wearing one of her usual crazy get-ups—a filmy lemon yellow dress with about a million jangling bracelets on her arm.

  “Uh . . .” Tristan was momentarily stunned. Michael. In a suit? No friggin’ way.

  “Who’s at the door, sweetie?” his mom called from the kitchen.

  Michael finally gave up on yanking on his choker and his hand fell limply to his side. “It’s me ‘n Ariel, Miz Campbell,” he called over Tristan’s shoulder.

  Tristan got it together, offered Ariel a smile, and moved out of the way to allow them inside. “How’s it going?” he managed to get out past his astonishment. A suit? Really?

  “Super!” Ariel chimed, making her way toward the kitchen.

  Michael stood there, his shoulders tensed almost up to his ears. Tristan tilted his head. “You all right, man?”

  “Yup. Just fine.”

  Before he could say more, his mom stepped into the living room with Ariel trailing behind her already tying on an apron—ready to peel potatoes, he hoped. “We’re so glad you could make it . . . Michael?” She stopped and took in Michael’s appearance. “Is that you?” She moved closer. “Wow, you look nice.”

  Michael blushed. “Thank you, Miz Campbell. I figured since it was a holiday I would dress up.”

  She hugged him around the waist. “Well, you didn’t have to, but I appreciate the effort.” She pulled back and took him in, head to toe. “You look sharp. Now, come on into the kitchen and let me get you a drink.”

  Tristan followed along, super happy when Ariel took her place beside Mom, and the two of them handled the cooking while he and Michael were free to sit and steal snacks while he told him all about the newest map pack on his zombie game.

  “That sounds awesome,” Michael said. “Maybe we can play after dinner.”

  “Cool.”

  “So,” Ariel plopped a handful of chopped potatoes into a pot of water, “I thought Noble was joining us today? Where is he?” She looked up expectantly.

  Tristan watched his mom’s face, wondering himself. Had Noble cancelled on them and she not said anything? That’d really bum him out. He was a really cool dude. He’d spent almost as much time with him as he had with Michael lately. Maybe more.

  “I’m not sure. He said he’d be here.” She glanced at the clock. “He’s only a few minutes late.”

  As if on cue, there was a knock on the door. Tristan leapt up. “I’ve got it!”

  He ran to the front of the house and threw open the door. “Hey, Noble.”

  “Hey, Tristan.” He stepped inside, his hands full with a bouquet of flowers and a bakery box.

  Tristan closed the door. “Those for me?” he joked, inclining his head toward the flowers.

  Noble grinned and lifted the box. “Only if
you like chocolate chip.”

  They were laughing as they made their way into the kitchen. Noble stepped forward once Tristan’s mom was in sight and offered her the flowers with a peck on the cheek. “Happy Thanksgiving.”

  Then the strangest thing happened. His mom looked up into Noble’s face with the freakiest mix of happiness, embarrassment and—the one emotion of hers he knew the best—“trying to keep it all together” in her eyes. What the . . .?

  OMG.

  Really, Mom? Could she make it any more obvious that they were “dating” or . . . whatever? Though Tristan still wasn’t 100% sure how he felt about that, for today he was going with the happy family thing.

  Finally, Noble spotted Michael. He froze in his tracks. “Dude. What’s up with the monkey suit?”

  Tristan couldn’t help the laugh that snorted out. His thoughts exactly.

  “Hey, be nice,” Mom cut in. “I think he looks very nice.”

  Michael shifted uncomfortably. “I thought it was customary to dress nice when you’re a guest in someone’s home for a holiday.” He eyed Noble’s black jeans and red button-down shirt.

  Tristan laughed again. “Ooohh, I guess you just got told, Noble!”

  “I guess I did.” Noble sat.

  “No one got ‘told,’” Mom corrected with her stern ‘Mom’ voice as she and Ariel came in with baskets of rolls and butter. “And it doesn’t matter what anyone wears in our house as long as they’re comfortable.” She shot Noble a smile.

  He smiled back and Tristan detected a hint of something. It was barely there. Tiny, but he caught it. Did Noble have the same problem keeping things under-wraps his mom did? Jeez.

  But, just as quickly, it was gone. Maybe it’d been his imagination.

  A bit later, Mom and Ariel brought out the steaming platters of food and took their seats after a quick prayer by Michael. With everyone eating and talking and laughing, it was the closest Tristan had ever felt to having a real family.