by Piper King
I curl my hands into fists. But the moment I open my mouth to argue, the lights flicker, dim, and then go out with a loud pop. We’re plunged into darkness, the staircase devoid of any windows to let in the light from outside. The only thing I can see is the vague outline of Noah’s body on the step above me, a silhouette of pure darkness. I shiver, more from anticipation than from fear. Though what I’m anticipating, I don’t quite know.
“What just happened?” Noah asks.
“Like I would know.” I press my hands against his chest and push, but he doesn’t move a flicker of an inch. Why did I just do that? It’s like Noah Hall transforms me into an elementary school version of myself, picking fights on the playground. “You’re supposed to be the expert on this kind of thing, Mr. Fix It.”
“I’m a builder, for fuck’s sake. Not an electrician.” His words feel like a volley, the way things usually are between us. Back and forth in a nonstop game of bickering banter.
“Then what good are you?” I throw back.
“According to you, I guess I’m no good at all.” I hear the frown on his face, even though I can’t see it. “Look, I can tell when I’m not welcome. I’ll just be on my way and see what I can do about finding a freelancer to come and finish the job instead.”
Noah moves to pass me on the stairs, his arm brushing up against mine. Electric shivers storm through my body, and my hand launches out to grasp his arm out of its own accord. And before I realize what I’m doing, my fingers are wrapping around his massive bicep and willing him to stay. He stops, his whole body going tense under my touch. And for once I’m not certain if that’s because he wants to push me away or pull me even closer.
“Don’t go.” My voice comes out a squeak, and I have to clear my throat to find my words. “It’s all…dark in here.”
God, what a lame thing to say. Like I’m some kind of damsel in distress in need of saving.
Though…truthfully, that’s not too far off the mark, as much as I hate to admit it. My B&B opens in less than three days, there’s a hole in the attic, and now the place is one-hundred percent devoid of electricity. And electricity is a pretty freaking important thing for a bed and breakfast.
“Don’t tell me you’re afraid of the dark, Harper Harrison,” he says with a chuckle.
“No, of course not.” My hand stays glued to his arm, and I swallow hard. Does he feel the same heat that I do? Of course he doesn’t. That’s what started this whole feud in the first place. I thought he was hot and funny and just the right kind of bad. And he thought it was hilarious to even contemplate going near me. My attraction to him is entirely one-sided and always has been.
I mean, no. I’m not attracted to him. Uh uh. No siree.
Noah Hall is the most infuriating man on the planet, and I have no feelings for him whatsoever.
It’s just easy to get confused, standing in the dark with him like this, feeling his hard muscles underneath my fingertips, smelling the manly scent of dirt, steel, and mint.
“Then, tell me. Why do you want me to stay?” He rests his hand on top of mine, trapping my fingers between his palm and his arm. I shiver. “Just five minutes ago, you were pissed off that I showed up to fix your floor.”
“Well.” I struggle to keep my voice steady. “That was before the electricity went out. I would like your help with getting it turned back on. Please.”
I toss that last word out there hoping it’s enough to get him to stay. And it seems to work.
8
Noah
Harper Harrison is a tantalizing combination of fire and ice. She’s unpredictable, and even though it’s frustrating, I fucking love it. I never know when she’s going to blow me away with the heat in her eyes, and I certainly never know when she’s going to shut down and treat me with a cool gaze that could freeze any man’s heart. Hell, she’s just gone from one to the other in the span of mere seconds.
I walked into her bed and breakfast tired, worn out, and more than a little hungover from drinking my pain away in the cemetery, but just five minutes with Harper has me feeling like a brand new man.
“Like I said, I’m not an electrician,” I say with a slight smirk she won’t be able to see, not in the dim light. “I’m a builder. Which means I build things. With a hammer and nails. Not wires.”
“Yeah, but surely you know something about electricity.” Even though it’s dark, I can see her nibble on her bottom lip, and my eyes get locked on her mouth. Harper’s mouth has always caught my attention. Mostly because I want it wrapped around my hard cock.
Yep, I’m fucking hard again.
Because there’s one thing I know about electricity, and it’s this: there’s tons of it passing between me and Harper. While I’d suspected it, I wasn’t totally certain of it yesterday, but there’s no convincing me otherwise now. She might not realize it yet, but she wants me. Or, at least, there’s a tiny part of her that might just wonder what it would be like to have my mouth on her tits.
“Alright, I’ll take a look at your electric panel. Could be that a breaker just tripped.”
“See? What would I do without your help?” Her hand lightly squeezes my arm. “I never would have thought to do that.”
Yeah, right. She’s totally just massaging my ego now. Thing is, it’s working on me. I feel full of purpose, like a man on a mission to save the day. With a grunt, I puff out my chest and grab the flashlight from my tool belt. Harper stiffens, her hand still on my arm. I can’t tell if she wants to scoot closer or let go.
In the end, she lets go.
“Lead the way,” I say, flicking my light onto the staircase. She takes me down the stairs to another flight into the basement. It’s even darker in here, and my nose gets clogged with mildew and rotting wood. Shooting the beam across the cobwebs, I note the crumbling concrete walls and the sagging stairs. It’s clearly been a long time since anyone came down here, let alone kept it in good repair. As great as the renovations look on the floors above, Harper really should have started in the basement, to fortify the place after years of neglect.
But I don’t want to tell her that. Not now. Not when everything else seems to be going so wrong just before her big day.
“Circuit breakers are over there.” She points to a metal box just behind a stack of what looks like paintings. Her grandmother was an artist, I remember. Always sitting outside on the front porch on sunny days with a blank canvas and a mug of cinnamon cocoa. Her favorite subject, if I remember correctly, was flowers. It didn’t matter what kind as long as they were bright and cheery and reaching up to the morning sun.
“These are your grandmother’s, right?” I ask, gently lifting each painting away from the wall to clear some space in front of the breaker box.
“That’s right.” Harper nods with a sad smile. “She loved painting almost as much as she loved this bed and breakfast.”
“Only almost? I swore she was outside every day working on a new one.”
“Yeah, but there’s nothing she loved more than this place.” Harper lifts her hands to her sides and glances around the basement. It might be grimy and run-down, but there’s a love in her eyes I’ve rarely seen from anyone when it comes to something as mundane as a building Except me and my brothers, of course. We all have a certain pride in what we do, no matter how small and boring it might seem to other people.
“That’s not true,” I find myself saying. “No way in hell she loved the bed and breakfast more than she loved you.”
Harper falls silent, and she presses her lips together before turning away. I realize that maybe I overstepped my bounds and said too much about her grandmother. Despite the fact we’ve never talked about it, I can tell it’s a sensitive topic. I, of all people, understand that, after all. I can barely even think my parents’ names without feeling as if the world is crushing down on my shoulders.
“Sorry, Harper. I didn’t mean—”
“No, it’s okay.” She opens up the breaker box, keeping her back firmly turned in my
direction. But that doesn’t mean I don’t hear the tears in her voice. “That was a nice thing to say. Thank you.”
“Wait a minute,” I say in an attempt to lighten up the mood, not only for myself but for her. My own dumb mouth caused the tears, and I want nothing more than to make them disappear. “Did Harper Harrison just say thank you? To me?”
I’m relieved by the laugh I get in response. “Don’t try your luck. Now, get over here and tell me how to turn the electricity back on.”
Oh, I’ll get over there alright. And I’ll turn up the electricity that’s charging from her delicious body to my ready cock.
I lean forward, brushing my arms against her back. She inhales sharply, which makes me only press closer. She smells so fucking good. It’s the apples again, a sweet, soft fragrance that makes me want to eat her up all day long.
With every ounce of self-control, I sweep my flashlight across the breaker switches. Hmm, I frown. I’m no electrician, but I know when things look right and when things look wrong.
“Strangely,” I say, flicking off the flashlight. “Everything looks fine here.”
“But then…” She scrunches up her face. “Why’s the power off?”
I shrug. “Could be the electric company is experiencing some outages due to the weather. It’s all ice and snow out there right now. Some power lines could be frozen.”
“You sure do know a lot for a guy who claims he isn’t an electrician.” She smiles up at me, and is that…a flirtatious glint in her eyes again?
If she isn’t careful, she’s going to find herself slammed against the crumbling walls while I rip her tight little shirt with my teeth. My body groans with a need I can barely stand. I want to be inside her. Here, now, and on this dirty, grimy floor covered in cobwebs. There’s no way in hell I can hold myself back any longer.
She leans forward and brushes her mouth against my ear. Oh. My. God. My cock goes so hard, I swear it’s going to burst through my jeans. “Why did you leave yesterday?”
“What?” I tense.
“You say you want me to trust you, Noah. Then, tell me why you left me hanging like that.”
Frustration burns through me. “I didn’t leave you hanging. I said I’d be back today, and look. Here I am. Isn’t that enough?”
“No.” She steps back and frowns. “If it’s nothing bad, then why can’t you bring yourself to tell me?”
“It’s personal,” I say in too loud a voice, but I can’t stop my anger from rising to the surface. She’s pushing and prodding at something I don’t want to say aloud, like she’s picking at a scab that will never, ever heal. And it cuts into my broken heart like a knife. With a huff, I push past her toward the stairs that will lead out of this basement and away from this conversation.
“Where the hell are you going now?” she calls out behind me, her voice as loud and as angry as mine.
“To finish your fucking attic floor.”
9
Harper
Well, that went well. Every step forward with Noah always ends in two steps back. We fight a lot, but it’s always rimmed in a snarky kind of banter that never leads to outright angry shouts. Usually anyway. And not this time. This time, Noah got mad. Like, really mad. Which leaves me even more confused than before.
While he’s upstairs hammering with a strength that could knock the entire building down, I check in with the electric company. Good news is, there’s absolutely nothing wrong with the power lines. Bad news is…well, that’s kind of the bad news, too, because now I still don’t know why the electricity is out. And they won’t be able to send anyone until tomorrow morning to check things out.
Which means I’m inching closer and closer to opening day without any power and without an explanation as to why the floor crumbled in the attic.
When the skies begin to darken just after lunch, I make my way up to the attic. I’m not particularly ready to face Noah just yet, because I’m not really in the mood to have a screwdriver thrown at my head. But, there’s no way he can continue to work in this lighting, and the sky has opened up with heavy, windy snow. We’re going to have to call it quits for the day and hope he has time to finish things off tomorrow.
As eager as I am to get things sorted for the opening, I don’t want him driving home in a blizzard.
“Noah,” I say quietly when I reach the top step. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but the weather’s not looking so great.”
He doesn’t even pause, his body bent over the hole as he slams his hammer against the wood. “You come all the way up here to talk about the weather?”
“No. Well, yes.” I sigh and try a different approach. “It’s too dark for you to work in here without the electricity on. Plus, it’s getting really cold if you haven’t noticed.”
Noah stops hammering and glances over his shoulder with one of his trademark smirks. “Do I look cold to you?”
No, he looks ridiculously hot, to be completely honest. There’s nothing quite like a man who knows how to use a tool in faded blue jeans and a tight black t-shirt. Noah Hall is one of the rare men who doesn’t look better in a suit. Though he also looked pretty damn good at the wedding. But here and now, with his tool belt hung around his hips, he’s beyond sexy in a very manly, rugged sort of way. In fact, I think I might be staring. Which sucks, because I’ve been trying my damnedest to stay mad at him.
“You look like a coldhearted bastard, that’s for sure.” I cross my arms and give him a smirk in return. If he wants to play things the way we always do, then I’ll join right into the fray. It’s easy and safe. Familiar.
“Sweetheart, crossing your arms isn’t going to hide the fact your headlights are on full wattage. Someone sure is cold, but it’s not me.” He raises his eyebrows. “Or is there another reason the girls are saying hello?”
My entire face goes tomato red as a scorching heat floods my cheeks. He did not just say that. We’ve danced around the subject for years, but he’s never been so point blank. Can he tell that I appreciate what I see? Does he know that I still harbor some feelings—because okay, I guess I have to admit that I might just have the hots for my arch-nemesis? And if he’s putting words to the desire swirling through my veins, does that mean…? No, it can’t mean what I think—want—it to mean.
Noah Hall shot me down in the most brutal way years ago.
There’s no way he wants me now.
Stop it, stop it, stop it, I think to myself. I’m mad at him, remember? He’s the guy who played with my mind in high school. He’s also the guy who has been harassing me with his stupid smirk and irritating words ever since. And, don’t forget, he’s the man who ran off just yesterday without an explanation when he promised he’d help me get the floor of my attic fixed.
The floor, as it turns out, is looking pretty good already…
Luckily, I’m pretty sure he can’t see all these thoughts reflected on my face, thanks to the dim sky and the lack of electricity. And hopefully he doesn’t see how badly I’m blushing. Of course, the lack of light hasn’t stopped him from seeing my hard-as-steel nipples. Which, by the way, are on display in part due to the cold. And in part due to the fact he looks so fucking hot doing his Mr. Fix It routine in my attic.
My eyes are drawn to his tool belt once again and the unmistakable bulge in his jeans.
I clear my throat. “Is that a screwdriver in your pants or are you happy to see me?”
“Oh, Harper Harrison.” He shifts toward me and lowers his voice, and I swear my heart skips a beat. “Don’t you wish.”
And now my heart is careening wildly, like an animal that doesn’t know whether to choose flight or fight. It feels dangerous what we’re doing here, flirting with the idea of something that would change everything between us. If I let down my guard with Noah, even for an instant, how will I ever be able to look him in the eyes again?
This is a small town. It’s not like we can avoid each other.
“I have no need for a screwdriver,” I finally say. “
Not unless you’re using it to fix my floorboards.”
He slips his hand into his tool belt and extracts the screwdriver, flipping it in his rough hand. A slow smile spreads across his face. “Well, wouldn’t you know, my screwdriver is not what’s in my pants right now.”
Oh my god. Despite all my self-control, my eyes lurch to his bulge again. I can’t help it. His words are too suggestive for me to do anything but give into the need to stare at his crotch. The bulge is unmistakably larger, which can only mean…
My palms are sweaty. My ears are ringing. My heart beats so hard I can hear it in my skull.
“Yeah,” I manage to squeak out. “The screwdriver is a lot bigger than whatever’s in there.”
Not that I mean it. The bulge is freaking huge. But I only know how to act one way with Noah Hall, and it’s this. If I let him see just how truly turned on I am, he might laugh in my face. Or kiss me. And as much as I want him to kiss me, it terrifies me.
He chuckles, sliding the tool back into his belt and resting his hand just inches from his crotch. “Well, if that’s what you believe, then I guess you’ll never find out.”
We’re definitely no longer dancing around the subject anymore. We’re flat-out charging toward it. I know and he knows that we are definitely not talking about screwdrivers. It’s all nipples and cocks, and oh my god, I just gushed into my panties.
Admittedly, my mind goes a bit blank. I mean, how the hell do you respond to that? I’m trying to come up with some snarky response to ease the thick tension in the attic, but before my fuzzy mind can clear, Noah’s eyes are caught by the cloud of pure ice outside the window.
“Shit.” He rubs his hand across his jaw. “You weren’t kidding when you said there’s a storm. I thought it was just an excuse…”
“Of course not,” I snap back. “I didn’t come up here as some ploy to talk about the screwdriver in your pants, as much as you’d like to think I want to jump your bones.”
