by MJ Fredrick
“Jolie’s sleeping,” she said, the sharpness in her scold stolen by her breathlessness from rushing.
He frowned. “I’m sorry. I didn't mean to disturb anyone. I just—I was rude and I came to apologize.”
“You were,” she agreed, leaning on the door, debating whether she wanted to let him in.
He let out a sigh, as if removing the weight from those strong shoulders was too much effort. “I guess I’ve been in charge of the family so long, I don’t know what to do when someone else tries to help.”
“I didn't try to help. I did help. And I know you didn't ask for it, but I’m not sorry I butted in.”
“I came to thank you. I had thought I’d leave him in jail another night so he could learn a lesson, but all that did was cause more trouble between us. You were right, I was wrong, and I’m sorry.”
She nodded her acceptance of his apology and stepped back. “You want to come in for some tea, or something?”
She thought he’d refuse, run away, but instead he stepped inside. She closed the door behind him and he followed her into the kitchen.
“Maybe some coffee,” he said. “That front is starting to blow through.”
“We need it after how humid it was at the festival.”
Was she seriously talking weather to Noah in her kitchen after this morning’s drama? She retrieved the coffee cups she’d bought from the boutique in town and set about making the coffee.
“You ladies going to be warm enough in this drafty old place? You have someone come out and check the furnace for you?”
“Not yet.”
He grimaced. “I’m not a pro, but let me make sure the pilot is lit. You really should have someone come and clean the ductwork and everything. You’re renting, right? The landlord maybe has someone to take care of those things.”
“I’ll check with Riley when she gets home.”
“Show me where the furnace is, and I’ll have a look.”
Leaving the coffee brewing, she led the way down the hall to the closet that housed the furnace. He leaned into the closet, and she was distracted by the way his shirt rode up in the back, revealing a strip of tanned, muscular skin. Tanned…did he walk around without a shirt on while he was practicing medicine? She really wished that she had a horse or something so she could test that theory. He’d always made her crazy when they were teenagers—the forbidden aspect of their relationship outstripped by the very real connection between them.
She had to step back quickly when he straightened and looked down at her. “Everything looks good. You want to flick it on and we’ll make sure?”
The house wasn't cold yet, but she turned the thermostat to heat and heard the ignition of the heater. The house filled with the smell of burning dust in the ducts and vents, but she’d always liked that smell. Noah frowned, waiting, but nothing burst into flames, so he was happy, and had her turn off the switch once the smell was gone.
“I think you’ll be okay. I’d get someone out here since you’re paying rent anyway, though.”
“Thanks for worrying about it.” She wouldn't admit that she hadn't even considered the issue, hadn't known the weather was going to change. At this time of year in Texas, that was near-blasphemy.
“No problem.” He followed her back to the kitchen where the coffee was ready.
“I guess I never imagined, back when we were in high school, sitting around drinking coffee together. That seemed like such a grown-up thing, you know?”
He chuckled. “We had no trouble drinking beer out at the reservoir. We thought we were grown up enough then.”
“Right, but we felt like we were getting away with something then.”
“Don’t kid yourself. Most of the parents knew what we were up to. A lot of them had done the same thing and felt like they couldn't say anything because of that. I’m pretty sure teenagers today are doing the same thing, but I think the sheriff is cracking down because he doesn't want them driving.”
She sipped her coffee, remembering those nights out at the reservoir, listening to music with her friends, dancing in the glow of the headlights, drinking beer they’d bought the next town over. Usually Noah and Trace were the ones who bought the beer, because they looked older, but sometimes she and Mandy, Trace’s girlfriend and future ex-wife, had to use their feminine wiles to convince the clerk to sell to them. They had had so much fun. She and Noah wouldn't have been a couple if not for those nights. Her mother had disapproved of him, his drunk mechanic father, his shabby house. It was one of the few times he’d been able to let go of the troubles he had at home, just let loose. She remembered the look in his eyes, reflected from one of the bonfires they’d built, as he talked about going away to school, becoming a veterinarian. There’d been such hope, such joy in his eyes, his voice. She didn't see that in the man before her now, and it made her sad.
“Do you wish you’d started your practice somewhere else?” she asked.
He turned to her, startled. “What makes you say that?”
“You said you’re glad to be a vet, but I think maybe you would have been happier away from Evansville.”
“This is home,” he said.
“Is it?” She thought about the house she’d driven up to this morning, sadly in need of TLC. He either didn't have the time or the desire to be home in order to fix it.
His shoulders tightened, and she got the feeling he was used to being on the defensive a lot. Who did he feel like he had to defend himself against?
“Where else would I go? I’m a large animal vet, and we have no shortage of large animals around here. Plus, we don't have another vet in town, so it makes sense that I stay.”
“But are you happy about it? That’s one thing I’ve been asking myself a lot lately, and that’s why I came home. Sure, I couldn't wait to get away, but I realized being in the big city, traveling, wasn't all that I wanted.”
“What is it you want?”
She gave him a wan smile, unwilling to tell him what she wanted was a home and family, and that was not something she’d get from Damian, but something she might want from a man here in town.
A man like Noah. At least, the man Noah used to be. She wished she could find some joy in him, some happiness. She wondered if she could bring it out, if there was any left inside him.
She should have stayed beside him. He hadn't had anyone left by his side, no one just thinking about him. If she had been there, could she have helped trap some of the joy she’d known inside him? Would he have emerged from that trial a different man? A gentler man?
She wished she knew more about the woman he’d been involved with, if he’d had any joy with her. She leaned forward and touched his arm. She was going to find a way to bring happiness back in his life.
“Let’s go for a drive.”
He lifted his eyebrows and leaned forward to fold his arms on the table. “And go where?”
“Well, if a cold front’s coming in, we need some supplies.”
“What kind of supplies?” A smile curved his lips as she pulled him to his feet.
“You’ll see.”
Chapter Ten
The first stop was the grocery store, which, well, on a Sunday afternoon was probably not the best idea, especially since the Cowboys were playing later and people were stocking up on party supplies. Noah followed her with some amusement down the coffee aisle until they stopped in front of the hot cocoa. The shelf had been pretty well devastated by others with the same idea, and Miranda considered a few brands before tossing a bottle in her hand basket. Then she led the way down the chip aisle.
“Corn or potato?”
“What are we doing, Miranda?”
“We are going to have hot cocoa and munchies while we watch a movie.” Okay, the only TV was in her bedroom, and that was maybe a move she didn't want to make yet. Maybe she’d get him to bring it down to the living room. Even if her roommates joined them, she could still meet her goal. In fact, maybe hanging out with the three of them would cheer
him.
“What movie?” he asked cautiously.
“Oh, I thought something super cozy, like Dirty Dancing.” She looked sideways at him as she said it, and saw the grimace on his face, which he quickly covered when he saw her looking at him.
She laughed, and he said, “Corn chips. With salsa. Hot salsa.”
She didn't know how well that would go with hot cocoa, but this was her idea. So she loaded the chips and salsa into her basket.
“How about a frozen pizza?”
He followed her dutifully to the frozen food section, which was the busiest part of the store. She grabbed the last pepperoni pizza, earning a look of disgust from a fellow shopper. She handed the boxed pizza to Noah.
“Maybe you’d better guard this. You’re a little more intimidating than I am.”
“Not to anyone who’s seen you in action,” he said.
She snatched a roll of cookie dough from the shelf as they passed, and tossed it in with the chips.
“Don’t you live with the baker?”
“Yeah, but she doesn't bake at the house, and there’s something to be said for cookies hot out of the oven.”
He shrugged, and they headed toward the front of the store.
“Do you want some firewood?” the clerk asked as she scanned their purchases, looking from Noah to Miranda. “It’s going fast.”
“Do you even have a fireplace?” he asked Miranda.
“I do, and the landlord made a point of telling us he’d just had it cleaned.” She beamed at the clerk, who she should know but couldn't place. “We’ll take two bundles.”
“Have you ever actually built a fire?” Noah asked as she plucked a long fire starter lighter from the impulse buys at the register.
“I haven’t. Mom didn't have a fireplace, but she did have one of those porch ones, and we’d light it every once in a while.”
He grunted, but she didn't know what that meant. Then he nudged her aside from the credit pad when she pulled out her card, and handed over cash to the clerk.
“I didn't mean for you to pay,” Miranda protested. “This was going to be my treat.”
He didn't say anything, just pocketed his change.
The clerk, Wayzee bagged the items in the plastic bags and handed them over to Noah. “The wood’s out front. Grab the two bundles. No more than that, now.”
Miranda puzzled over the comment as she followed Noah outside. The wind had picked up and had a definite bite. She wished she’d worn a jacket, though she wouldn't have gone as far as the down jackets and scarves she’d seen people wearing in the store. She’d weathered some New York winters, had even learned to ski, so she could hold up to a brisk Texas cold front.
She took the bags from him as he hefted the two bundles from the dwindling pile, then stepped back in the doorway to show Wayzee before he turned and stalked toward the truck.
“What was that about?”
“I told you my dad got fired from there.”
“Right. I’m sorry. I didn't think you might be uncomfortable going there.”
“I didn't think about it, actually, until Wayzee checked us out. And the way she was looking at me…” He shook his head. “I have a feeling that maybe it wasn't customers who complained they were uncomfortable working with my father. I think maybe it was other employees. I heard Wayzee was particularly uncomfortable with the idea of working with him.”
“Why? She didn't have any particular connection with your mom, or with the Esparza family.”
He lifted a shoulder as he dumped the wood into the back of his truck, then rounded the vehicle to let her in out of the wind. “People like to judge, I guess.”
He closed the door and she shivered. The inside of the cab was already cold.
“I’m sorry she made you feel bad,” she said when he got in. She would have thought he would be used to people thinking negatively about his father.
“She just embarrassed me. I wouldn't have given a damn if you hadn't been there.”
“Well, I’m not going to apologize for being there, but you don't have to be embarrassed around me, Noah. I’ve known you forever.”
“I guess I just thought I’d maybe be farther along if I saw you again.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Successful, I guess. You went out and met all your goals, boom, boom, boom.” He made a chopping motion with his hand to emphasize the words. “I guess I want you to see me the same way.”
“But you did. You stayed here to do them, but you’re doing the job you always wanted, you’re respected by people who matter. People who are going to judge you for who your father is, or people who are going to judge him, for that matter, for something he did over a decade ago, their opinions don't matter.”
He gave her a half-grin. “That’s a big city girl talking, that’s what that is.”
She settled back in her seat and watched the road in front of them as he turned onto it. “The small town is taking some getting used to again, I admit. But I try not to think about it. Too much.”
His grin spread. “Good luck with that,” he said as they headed to her house.
*****
“There is no way we’re going to be able to eat all of this,” he said, hands on his hips after chasing her kitten, who she’d finally named Skipper, away from the array of food she’d put on the makeshift coffee table.
While she’d spooned out the cookie dough and tossed the pizza in the oven, he’d carried her television downstairs and hooked it up to cable, then he'd double checked the state of the fireplace before laying the fire and getting it going. The house was old, and drafty, and they’d shut the heater off before they went to the grocery store. It was on again, and humming, but it had a lot of work to do before it chased the chill from the air. Miranda walked into the room to watch him lay the fire, admiring the play of the muscles beneath his shirt, admiring that stretch of skin where his shirt rode up. Then she shivered, and trotted upstairs to retrieve a quilt, which she draped over the back of the couch. She was going to get him under that thing one way or another.
“I bet we can put a good dent in it.” She dropped to the couch, picked up a remote and tuned to an on-demand channel.
After scrolling through choices, they selected one that seemed appropriate for a cold December night, and he lowered himself more sedately on the far end of the couch.
That wouldn’t do. That wouldn't do at all. At least the movie was two hours or so, and by that time, she intended to be in his arms.
When they’d been kids, they would have loved to have had a night like this, a place like this to snuggle, and kiss, a place to just be together.
Maybe that’s why tonight made her nervous. Too many expectations on the table.
As they ate, she shifted on the couch so her feet were stretched toward him, tucked beneath the quilt. She polished off the first piece and had another.
“I thought you’d be spoiled by New York pizza.”
“Oh, don't get me wrong. I love New York pizza. But for a frozen pizza, this is pretty good. I like the crust.” She glanced at his half-eaten slice. “Don’t you?”
“It’s good.” He took a bite to prove it to her. “I guess I just have a hard time believing you aren't spoiled by what the city had to offer you.”
“I am, in a lot of ways. I mean, you can order anything, any time, and get it within hours. But that kind of thing always made me a little frantic, you know? My nerves were always jumpy, I don't know how else to say it. There’s something to be said for anticipation, you know? For waiting for things to happen. That’s my goal here. Anticipation.”
He looked at her, and did a double-take. Good. He took her meaning. A small smile curved his lips and he reached a hand to her. She took it and moved closer to him, hips and thighs pressed together, arms too. He smelled wonderful, of the outdoors and smoke layered over soap. She turned her face to breathe him in and caught him watching her. She refused to be embarrassed, instead exaggerating her gesture
until he wrapped his arm around her to pull her close to his side.
When Jolie came down the stairs rubbing her arms, Miranda had drifted down the couch so that she and Noah were under the quilt, their fingers linked beneath it. She wanted anticipation, she was going to get it.
“Oh, hey,” Jolie said to Noah, surprised to see him in the living room lit only by the TV and the fire. “God, how cold did it get while I was sleeping?”
“Hey, Jolie.” Miranda straightened lazily. “Want some cold pizza and cookies?”
Jolie frowned. “Riley’s cookies?”
“No, Nestle. And she hasn't come home yet. Are you heading off to work?”
“Someone has to get the late shift. I don't mind it too much on Sundays. Not a lot of idiots getting drunk and getting into fights.” Realizing what she’d said, after what happened last night, she added, “Oops. Sorry, Noah,” as she scooped up a piece of pizza on a napkin.
“I wasn't the idiot in question. No need to apologize.” But damn, he’d forgotten he had to deal with that tomorrow. And he was feeling a little guilty for sitting here relaxing and not worrying about if his own house was warm, if Selena had eaten dinner. He wished he could count on his brother or his father to look after her, but he couldn't trust that they’d think about it.
“I’d better get going, too,” he said, releasing her hand and tossing the quilt off of him. Damn, even with the heater and the fire, this place was cold. The good thing was, cold fronts didn't last long this far south.
“The movie’s not over,” Miranda protested, pausing it.
He hadn't been paying too much attention to the movie, anyway, more on the way she’d smelled, on how soft her hands were, on wondering if she was as conscious of the roughness of his own hands as he was. He’d been wondering how the night was going to end, fantasizing about taking her and her quilt up to the bed he’d seen when he went to get her TV, stripping her naked in the cool room and warming her up with his kisses, his body.
He was actually kind of surprised she hadn't been aware of his arousal beneath the quilt.
Or maybe she had been.
