Of course, his princess could change everything. He’d hang out for a day or two in Knights Bridge and brave mosquitoes and its one restaurant if there was a chance he’d find out more about her.
Dylan turned onto a back road that wound toward Quabbin, his ease with the twists and turns suggesting a familiarity that reminded Noah that his best friend was, without a doubt, moving on from NAK. Less certain was whether he and Olivia planned to keep a home in San Diego. Noah would. Four New England winters during his years at MIT were enough for him.
Not that he had any reason to move to Knights Bridge or anywhere else in New England.
The Farm at Carriage Hill was located in a picturesque mix of meadows, woods and stone walls. Its hand-painted sign, decorated with a cluster of chives, worked with the 1803 house with its cream-colored clapboards and rich blue front door. As he followed Olivia through her kitchen out to the stone terrace, Noah could see that she was turning her vision for her historic house into a reality. Even subtle changes were infused with her sense of color and design, and her love for her hometown. According to Dylan, she’d always planned on returning to Knights Bridge to open her own version of a bed-and-breakfast, even if her departure from Boston hadn’t been entirely on her terms.
“Dylan and I will make lunch,” she said. “You can wait out here and familiarize yourself with New England herbs and flowers.”
“You’re assuming I want to know New England herbs and flowers.”
She laughed. “Yes, I am.”
She went back inside, and Noah sat at the round table and observed the backyard. It really was attractive. Small-town life suited Olivia. He hadn’t known her when she lived in Boston and worked at a prestigious design studio, but he knew from Dylan that she’d lost a major client in an underhanded way to a friend whose career Olivia had helped revive. The experience had served as a catalyst for her to transform her life.
One could only move forward from where one was standing, Noah thought as he stretched out his legs and tried to relax. Pretending otherwise was a fast way into trouble. He knew from hard experience that where he was standing at any given moment wasn’t always where he wanted to be, or should be. That was just life. Not everything was under his control. Mistakes, incompetence, good intentions, bad intentions, good luck, bad luck, human nature—lots of things beyond his control played a role.
Of course, a lot under his control played a role in determining where he was, too. His own screwups, his own limitations, his own lack of vision and purpose.
Were they what had this mystery man on his tail?
Noah sank back in his chair, appreciating the quiet surroundings. Olivia certainly did have a knack with flowers and herbs. She came through the back door with a tray of sandwiches, her big, ugly dog trailing behind her.
He looked up at her as the dog, a German shepherd with a healthy mix of black Lab and probably several other breeds, promptly flopped down under the table, his big black-and-brown head on Noah’s feet. “What’s his name again?”
“Buster,” Olivia said, placing the tray on the table. “He adopted me when I first moved back here.”
Dylan followed her onto the terrace, carrying two glasses of iced tea. He set one in front of Noah. “Maybe you should get a dog, Noah.”
He eased his foot out from under the dog’s head. “Does Buster have a brother?”
“I hope not,” Dylan said with a mock shudder.
Olivia grinned at him. “I thought you and Buster had bonded.”
“We have, but one Buster is enough.” He winked at her as he handed her the second glass of tea and sat across from Noah. “All the world needs.”
Buster gave a deep, satisfied sigh from under the table. The dog was visibly calmer than when Noah had met him in April. A few months in Olivia’s care no doubt had helped. Buster had clearly endeared himself to Dylan, despite an inauspicious meeting.
Now here they all were—Olivia Frost, Dylan McCaffrey and Buster.
Noah smiled at what a great family they made. He’d never seen Dylan happier, and Olivia was fast becoming a friend herself. Noah helped himself to a chicken salad sandwich. It had some kind of herb in it. Fresh tarragon, he thought. If his princess was in Knights Bridge, was she into herbs, too?
“Who’ll be minding Buster while you two are in San Diego?” he asked casually.
“Maggie will be in every day,” Olivia said. “She and I are basically business partners. We’re thinking about doing the paperwork to make it official. We work so well together.”
“And she lives in Knights Bridge and likes herbs,” Noah said.
“She also likes her mother’s goats,” Dylan added, his tone neutral. As he’d explained to Noah, the bonds between the people of Knights Bridge were sometimes tricky to navigate. The Frosts had been in the Swift River Valley and surrounding hills for generations. Despite Dylan’s newly discovered roots in the region, he was still an outsider.
“Maggie loves herbs and goat’s milk,” Olivia said with a laugh. “I don’t know that much about goats, but the milk is perfect for the artisan soaps Maggie and I are making.”
Noah tried to keep any reaction to himself as it sank in that he was talking goats and soap at a two-hundred-year-old house on a dead-end road, surrounded by meadows, shade trees, green grass and a lot of flowers and herbs. It was a first.
The goats, he’d learned, belonged to Maggie’s widowed mother and were a source of both tension and enjoyment within the O’Dunn family.
Obviously in a happy mood, Olivia sat between him and Dylan. “I’ll give you some samples of our goat’s milk soap. We’re still tinkering before we test-market it here. Maggie’s on top of all the regulations.”
“Complicated?”
“Not too bad unless we make actual medicinal claims.”
“Which you won’t?”
She shook her head. Noah saw that his interest surprised her, but she was the love of his best friend’s life and he wanted to know about her and what she enjoyed. With Carriage Hill getting off the ground and the betrayal of her friend over stealing a client behind her, Olivia’s natural optimism had clearly returned.
Falling in love didn’t hurt, either.
Noah thought of his princess. He could feel the curve of her hip, see the warmth in her eyes, the soft swell of her creamy breasts. Why had he left her? Why hadn’t he let the mystery man come to him?
Because he hadn’t wanted his life in San Diego—who he really was—to intrude on the moment. The fantasy they both were enjoying.
Either that, or he hadn’t known what the hell he was thinking.
He wasn’t thinking she’d disappear, that was for sure.
“Noah?” Dylan asked with a frown.
He sighed. “Mind drifting. Thinking about hiking in the mountains, then playing a swashbuckler at a ball—I’ve got mental whiplash.”
“Not a chance,” his friend said without hesitation. “You never have mental whiplash, whatever that is.”
“It’s a big change to go from waking up in a sleeping bag on a mountain to dancing at a charity ball that night.”
Dylan was still obviously unconvinced. “You knew the deal. There were no surprises.” He shifted, then smiled. “Except for your princess. I guess she could have you whiplashed in a number of ways.”
“Funny, Dylan,” Noah said.
He grinned. “I thought so.”
As they finished their simple lunch, Noah noticed a woman come out of a small shed at the far end of the yard. She had a cobalt-blue scarf tied around her head and long, dark strawberry curls trailing down her back. She started up a bark-mulch path, and Noah saw she wore a deep red top that accentuated her breasts and shorts that shaped slim hips. Her sport sandals, though, looked as if they’d gone up and down Mt. Washington a time or two.
When she reached the terrace, she stayed on the path and motioned toward a raised flower bed as she addressed Olivia. “The slugs got to the miniature dahlias, Liv. They’re so gross. I put ou
t slug bait and trimmed back the worst of the damage.” She shuddered, then smiled brightly. “I was admiring the gardens and couldn’t resist going on slug patrol when I saw the carnage.”
“Yuck,” Olivia said. “I hate slugs. Only thing worse are ticks.”
Noah glanced at Dylan. Slugs? Ticks? What had happened to bucolic small-town New England?
Dylan seemed to read his mind, with obvious amusement. “Ticks suck blood and can be hard to see,” he explained, not that an explanation was necessary or desired.
“Oh, sorry,” Olivia said. “Noah, this is my friend Phoebe O’Dunn. Maggie’s sister. Phoebe, this is—”
“Noah. Noah Kendrick.” He got to his feet and put out a hand. “A pleasure, Phoebe.”
She wiped a palm on her hip and smiled as she shook his hand, her skin warm, soft, her fingers long and slender. “I wore garden gloves when I took on the slugs, but you never know. It’s nice to meet you, Noah. I hope you’re enjoying Knights Bridge.”
“Hard not to on such a beautiful day, despite images of slugs and ticks.”
“Sorry about that,” she said, the twinkle in her eyes belying her words. “Are you here for long?”
“That’s not the plan.”
Noah saw that her eyes were a similar turquoise to her sister’s but shook off any comparison with his princess from last night. The false eyelashes, the heavy makeup—how would he be able to tell for sure? He doubted he’d recognize her voice. He wasn’t good at that sort of thing.
Now if he could touch her hips...
He shook off that thought, too. Whatever Olivia knew about his dance partner and wasn’t saying, it didn’t involve this attractive slug-hunter in scarf and muddy clothes.
Definitely not the same turquoise eyes.
With one smooth movement, Phoebe pulled off her scarf and gave her curls a shake once they were free. She seemed natural, unselfconscious. In her element, he thought.
“Well, if you do decide to stay on,” she said, “we’ll make sure you’re not bored.”
Noah felt his eyebrows go up and heard Dylan give a little cough behind him.
“Phoebe’s the town librarian,” Olivia added quickly.
“She can keep me in reading material, then.” Noah smiled at Knights Bridge’s redheaded librarian. “Nothing like a good book.”
“That’s right. I love to read. I meant to tie a hammock to two shade trees in my backyard this summer but I haven’t gotten to it. Reading a good book in a hammock in the shade—doesn’t that sound like the perfect summer afternoon?”
“Provided the hammock is tick- and slug-free,” Noah said mildly.
Phoebe laughed. “Definitely.” Her gaze steadied on him, her face angled so that the sunlight brought out the gold highlights in her hair and the spray of freckles on her nose and cheeks. “Were you at the masquerade ball last night?”
“Yes, I was. Were you?”
She waved a hand. “My youngest sisters and I helped Olivia and Maggie with their costumes.”
“More O’Dunn sisters?” Noah asked.
“There are four of us. Ava and Ruby are twins. They’re home for the summer but they’re in graduate school. They’re studying theater. They’d have gone last night if they’d had the time.”
“Maggie seemed to enjoy herself,” Olivia said.
Phoebe smiled. “Oh, good. She’ll be back home soon. I can’t wait to hear how her night on the town went. I’m sure it was a fantastic evening.”
Noah sat back on his chair. There. He could rule out Phoebe O’Dunn and her turquoise eyes. Not that he’d seriously considered her, given her penchant for gardening and hammocks and her willingness to take on slugs. That didn’t fit with his princess.
So what did Olivia know that she wasn’t saying?
Noah ground his teeth. What was he doing? The woman he’d danced with and then abandoned last night was as much a fantasy for him as her swashbuckler was for her.
He was no swashbuckler.
Right now he was just bored. After the months of tension and the grueling pace of taking his company public, he finally had time to come up for air. He’d even looked forward to a few days hiking in the White Mountains.
His princess was a mirage, and maybe so was his mystery man.
He needed to head back to San Diego before he conjured up real trouble.
Except he didn’t want to go back.
He felt his spine stiffen at the thought of staying in Knights Bridge. On the one hand, it felt like the right thing to do. A fun distraction. On the other hand...it was totally insane. The only person he really knew there was Dylan, and Dylan and Olivia were joining him on the flight back to San Diego tonight. She wanted to see NAK and her fiancé’s home.
Noah watched Phoebe O’Dunn kick a chunk of dried mud off one sandal and found that he wouldn’t mind getting to know Knights Bridge’s slug-hunting librarian.
Three nights in the White Mountains must have affected his brain cells.
When he tuned back into the conversation, Olivia and Phoebe had started to cross the terrace, chatting as they disappeared through the screen door into the kitchen.
Noah frowned at Dylan. “What did I miss?”
Dylan sighed. “Phoebe rode her bike here. That’s why we didn’t see her car.”
“Ah.”
“This is why you study fencing and karate. They force you to stay focused. If your mind wanders, you get stabbed or punched.”
“It’s not that simple.”
“Nothing is with you,” Dylan said without any hint of criticism.
Noah stood. Except for a few holes in their waxy-green leaves, the flowers where Phoebe O’Dunn had done her slug work appeared fine to him. He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen a slug. He stepped off the terrace onto the soft grass. Buster rolled out from under the table and followed him, then settled onto his stomach in the shade.
“I could always watch Buster while you and Olivia are in San Diego,” Noah said.
Dylan scratched the side of his mouth. “Dog sit? You’re kidding, right? You’ve never even owned a dog.”
“What difference does that make? How hard could it be to keep an eye on Buster here? Feed him, water him, walk him. Done.”
Dylan didn’t bother to hide his skepticism. “What are you thinking, Noah?”
He didn’t really know what he was thinking. Sometimes he came up with a solution before he had fully, consciously grasped the problem. Buster yawned, then stretched as he relaxed completely. “What if I told you I want to make sure our mystery man isn’t here?” Noah asked.
“In Knights Bridge, you mean?”
“Correct.”
“Is that a hunch, or do you have evidence he could be here?”
“It’s not even good enough to be a hunch.”
Dylan didn’t respond for a moment. They’d had similar conversations many times over their long friendship. “Is there any possibility this guy is connected to my father?”
“For all I know he’s connected to the man on the moon.” Noah reined in his frustration. “I have zero to go on. I only know what I’ve told you.”
“It’s not enough.”
“No, it’s not.”
Olivia came out the back door. “Phoebe just left. Did you guys say anything to her?”
Dylan shook his head. “I didn’t. Noah?”
“We talked slugs,” Noah said. “Why?”
“She just seemed quieter than usual. I’m sure it’s nothing. Noah, did I hear you say you want to dog sit?”
“Sure.” He realized he was at least semi-serious. He squatted down and patted Buster. “Your pup and I have bonded.”
“But you’re...” Olivia looked at Dylan, then back at Noah as if she hadn’t heard him right. “Of course you’re welcome to stay here, but Maggie can look after Buster. I mean...” She seemed at a loss for words.
“You mean you don’t understand why a billionaire would offer to dog sit,” Noah finished for her, matter-of-factly.
&
nbsp; She blushed. “I guess that’s what I mean.”
He suspected Olivia was eager to change the subject. “Your friend Phoebe seems very nice. I hope I wasn’t rude.”
“Not at all. Phoebe’s cool. She doesn’t ruffle easily. Maggie’s like that, too, at least when she’s working. She can be hotheaded otherwise. I wish Phoebe had come with us last night but she wouldn’t. Long story.” Olivia glanced back at the kitchen, then shifted again to Noah. “If you’re not ready to go back to San Diego, Dylan and I can stay here with you. We’re flexible. I want to see Southern California, but it’s not going anywhere.”
Noah stood up. “Are you nervous about flying?”
“Nothing I can’t handle.” She spoke half under her breath, as if reminding herself that she had her fear of flying under control and wouldn’t let it stop her from doing what she wanted to do. “If you really do want to stay, you’re welcome to use one of the guestrooms here.”
“Complete with vintage linens, from what Dylan has told me.” Noah considered the graceful center-chimney house and surrounding acreage that comprised The Farm at Carriage Hill. “It sounds perfect, Olivia. I actually could use some time just to hang out on my own.”
Dylan grunted. “No one would look for you here, dog sitting, that’s for damn sure.”
“The plane’s gassed up and ready,” Noah said. “Go on. I’ll join you as soon as I’ve had enough of country life.”
“Before we’ve reached altitude, then,” Dylan joked. His good humor evaporated quickly and he narrowed his eyes again on Noah. “I don’t like the idea of leaving you here alone with this guy on your tail.”
“I won’t be alone. I’ll have Buster.”
“There’ll be guys working up the road at my place, too. The Sloans. Maggie’s in-laws. They’re handling the construction.” Dylan grimaced, shook his head. “I still don’t like it.”
“Amazingly, Dylan, my friend, I have managed not just whole hours and days but whole weeks and now even months without you down the hall from me. I’ll be fine.”
Buster roused himself and stood by Olivia. He seemed aware on some level that she was about to leave him with a stranger who knew next to nothing about dogs. She scratched his big head. “Staying here won’t be what you’re used to, Noah. Not that I know what you’re used to, but I’m not...” She made a face but smiled through her discomfort. “Do people often get tongue-tied when they try to talk to you?”
That Night on Thistle Lane Page 7
