I never realized how important that conversation was and wished I would have taken it to heart more than I did. “She told me that there is no guarantee that a relationship won’t crumble with a good foundation, but without one, it’s just a house of cards that can fall with the slightest breeze.”
He’s staring at me and I’m not sure what he’s thinking. Maybe I used the word relationship too soon. Or, maybe I got way too serious, but he’s all contemplative and thoughtful and it’s putting me on edge.
“Smart lady.” Sean picks up my hand and laces his fingers through mine. “I know that you are different from anyone that I’ve met. It feels different inside.” He puts a fist over his heart. “I don’t know what it is, but I really want that friendship before anything else and then see where it goes.”
“I do too.”
“It’s not going to be easy though.”
It should be the easiest part. “I don’t understand.”
“Well, you’re all kinds of sexy and I’m a guy with a hard dick.” Then he leans in. “And, you were checking me out when I took off my shirt.”
My face starts to burn.
“But, you’re special and I think we can be even more special together.” He’s staring into my eyes.
“Even if it turns out we’re only friends.”
“It won’t.” He assures me. “But if it does, can a person really have too many of those?”
23
Morning snuggles are just as awesome as I thought they’d be.
This is the first time I’ve ever slept with a girl and not had sex. Hell, this is the first time that I ever slept with a girl and woke up with her the next morning.
I’ve always woken up alone and it’s really nice not to for a change. Like I’m not alone in the world but have found someone just for me.
Noelle’s thigh is over my lap, her arm across my stomach and head on my chest, like I’m her personal pillow, and I love it.
And I ache. Did my cock ever relax last night? I’m pretty sure it started to when I finally fell asleep but it’s not now.
This celibacy that we agreed on is going to kill me but it will be so worth it in the end.
Friends. We will be that. We already are, but it will be more. Of that, I have no doubt.
Noelle arches and looks up at me then smiles.
Her breasts are pushed against my side, which doesn’t do anything for the condition of my junk, then she snuggles back against me. “Morning.”’
“Morning.” I put an arm around her.
“This is real nice and I don’t want to get up.”
“So don’t.” I’m pretty sure I could just lie here all day snuggling and talking.
“Except, I gotta pee.” She rolls away from me in a blink and is out of bed.
I do too. I just didn’t want to get up.
But, I need to get out of bed and put my clothes on or all of our talk about celibacy will be for nothing. I’m only so strong and Noelle dashing from the room in those tiny shorts showing off those gorgeous long legs is a temptation I’m not sure I can hold out against.
“Breakfast?” she asks as she comes back and sees me standing by the bed almost dressed.
“Sure. Where to?”
Noelle frowns. “I could make something, unless you want to go somewhere.”
“I thought you needed coffee?”
Her eye widen. “Crap. Breakfast then shopping for a coffee pot.” She grabs jeans out of the closet, then changes right in front of me, only turning her back to put her bra on, underneath her large t-shirt before changing her top. Maybe I should have left, but it’s kind of fun watching and she doesn’t seem to care or she would have taken her clothes into another room. At least I assume she would.
Then she goes to the mirror, brushes through her hair then ties it back in a long ponytail.
Damn, she’s all kinds of hot and cute.
And we put celibacy on the table.
I’d blame that on the red wine we drank but wine is usually blamed for it coming off the table. This would be a first, I chuckle to myself.
She slips on some sandals while I tie my boots then turns to me. “Ready?”
“Do you always have this much energy in the morning?”
“Coffee is on the line,” she says with utmost seriousness.
“Coffee,” I agree. “We could also just go across the street and get a cup, then head out.”
“We could,” she agrees. “But, I don’t really want to share right now.”
I hope it’s just right now and not always because those guys across the street are my family.
“They’ll know you slept here and, even though we didn’t do anything, they’ll think we did. Then we’ll get funny looks and wondering, that type of thing.”
“They aren’t like that,” I assure her.
“But, I don’t know them like you. At least not yet.”
Yet. That was the magic word. Besides, I kind of like having her to myself too. We’re in our own place—together.
“Then, let’s go. There’s a cute little café about five blocks down. Dylan likes it so it has to be decent.”
When we open the door, we have to stop because of what’s been left on the porch.
Noelle reaches down and picks up the card.
Dylan wasn’t sure if you had food so he made a casserole. Zach said the coffee pot was gone so I got you one, with coffee, since he didn’t come back home. Enjoy. R
There is a casserole dish covered in aluminum foil with a post-it that says Bake at 350 for one hour.
Beside it is a new coffeemaker, still in the box, and a small can of coffee.
“Ryan?” she asks, handing the card to me.
“Yep.”
“We’ve got to tell him.”
Crap. I so wanted to see the look on his face, but Noelle is right. In the light of day and no wine in my system, I realize that this isn’t something I need to keep to myself. “Are you going to tell her first?”
“I should. She might not want me to tell him.”
There is that. If someone had pictures of me that I didn’t know about, I’m not sure I’d want them to know who I was. “Good thinking.” I grab the coffeemaker and coffee as she gets the casserole. “Looks like we don’t have to leave the house today.”
“And what do you propose we do after breakfast?”
“I am going to clean this monstrosity and you, being my good friend are going to help me.”
After we head into the kitchen, Noelle turns on the oven and then grabs her laptop while I clean out the coffee pot so we can actually use it.
She’s typing something and I assume it’s to Moira because about a minute later Noelle’s phone rings.
“Hey,” she says but she’s grinning at me.
“I’m going to put you on speaker, okay.”
“Why?” comes in loud and clear but Moira was probably hoping to have that question answered before I was listening.
“Sean is with me.”
There’s a pause. “He was with you like twelve hours ago and it’s only like eight in the morning.”
“Yep.”
“And you were worried about my friends,” I tease her.
Noelle throws a potholder at me.
“I’m not certain what I want to hear more about. Sean or some guy who has my picture and is looking for me.”
“The guy,” Noelle and I answer at the same time.
“Ahhh, I see.”
Not as much as she thinks.
“So, tell me about this guy. Do I need to be worried? Well, it’s not like I’m there, but it is kind of disturbing.”
“Not really.” Noelle laughs. “I’ll let Sean explain.”
“Are you sure it’s me?” Moira asks when I’m done.
“I haven’t seen it,” Noelle says. “Sean recognized you.”
“He’s not a creep or serial stalker or anything like that?” she asks, needing reassurance.
“He is so dangerous that
he left a coffee pot on my doorstep this morning because he knew Gramps took the one that was here.”
She laughs. “If he’s been looking for me, did you tell him you found me?”
“Nope, not yet.” I answer. “Noelle wants your permission first. It’s your picture and your privacy.”
“You’d keep a secret from your friend?” Moira asks more out of curiosity and I feel like I’m answering a more important question.
“I don’t want to, but it’s not my call.”
“Okay. As long as he isn’t going to hunt me down and murder me when I get back to the States, you can tell him how to get a hold of me, if it is me. Make sure you get a look at it first, Noelle.”
“Will do.”
When Sean told me that he wanted to take me to his favorite places after breakfast, I was not expecting home improvement stores. He is so ready to move forward, as in tearing down walls today, and I’m still in the dream phase.
“We’re just looking and I want to get a feel for what you like and hate,” he assures me as we wander the aisles. He’s like a big kid in a candy store when we stop in the tools section and I begin to wonder if the battery-operated drill does for him what my battery-operated toys do for me, metaphorically, of course.
And, by the time we get to the kitchen area, I’m rethinking the whole thing. “I don’t think I want the business in my home,” I finally say out loud. “I don’t think I want to run a business at all.” My heart starts pounding and I slip onto a high bar stool that’s on display. “It’s too much.”
Sean sits across from me and takes my hands in his. “Nothing is being set in stone today. It’s the dream, remember.”
I look into his warm brown eyes. “I’m not certain I want that dream anymore.”
“Maybe it’s too soon to think about.”
“I’m not sure I’ve wanted it for a while now.” I know I haven’t. “It’s a habit. It’s something Moira and I used to want, and it was easy to plan and pretend because I knew it would never happen.”
I’ve been lying to myself and to Moira. My stomach tightens that I’m about to disappoint my best friend but the idea of actually working toward owning a business and looking at kitchens, at counters and stoves is more than I can handle. Panic is setting in and I know, in my gut, this is not what I want.
“I’ve got to call her.”
“Now?”
“Yes. It’s important.” I hope she’s home. She was earlier, which means she didn’t have to work today, but that doesn’t mean that she isn’t out somewhere and won’t hear the phone.
“Does stalker dude want to meet me?”
I’d laugh if I could. “We haven’t told him.”
“Noelle, what’s wrong?” The worry is in her voice and I want nothing more than to not have this conversation but I can’t wait until she gets home.
“Noelle, you’re scaring me. Did something happen.”
“I don’t want to own a business.” There, I said it.
“That’s it?”
“Yeah. It was one thing to plan and dream, but when those plans showed up on paper and a computer screen, and now we are standing in the middle of model kitchens, I realized I didn’t want it in my home.”
“Okay,” she says slowly.
“Then, I realized I don’t want that at all. Not anymore.”
“Thank God.”
Her relief is a shock.
“Do you know what I did today?”
“No,” I answer slowly, still surprised by her response.
“I took the metro to Pigalle.”
“Okay.”
“Then I rode my bike up to Montmartre.”
“Rode? I don’t even like to walk that.”
“Now I’m sitting on the steps outside of Sacré-Coeur and looking out at the city and wondering how the hell I was going to tell you that I don’t want to own a business anymore. I want management. I want to run things. I don’t want the responsibility that comes with owning.”
The relief is so great I’m laughing. The fact that Moira actually rode her bike up the steep streets leading to Montmartre tells me how serious she is about not wanting this. “You actually rode, all the way up.”
“I walked about the last third. I may have pulled something.” She groans. “The Funicular will be taking me back down.”
“So, we’re good.”
“Other than my tortured legs, I’m one hundred percent better.”
“Me too.”
We’d picked out paint cards earlier and Sean has them spread out on the counter in front of us. “Now that that’s decided. What color do you want us to paint your room?”
Sean looks up at me when I hang up the phone.
“No business?”
“Nope. It was a great dream when you’re eighteen or nineteen but school and working in the industry has brought a different perspective.” Life is too short to not enjoy it and I’m afraid that my love of cooking may be killed when I have to rely on it to literally feed me.
“I get that.” He smiles. “Then, let’s think about your new, personal kitchen.”
I look around at all the shiny new appliances, granite counters, different designs and a part of me starts salivating. “The expense.”
“Your gramps is paying for this. He knows it needs an upgrade, unless you really are attached to the worn, flat brown cabinets and faded rooster wallpaper.”
“The counter space kind of sucks too.”
“It won’t when I’m done.” He gets up and stacks the paint cards before sticking them in his pocket. “But, just in case you are still on the fence, I know just the thing to convince you.” With that he takes my hand and leads me to a back wall. “Pick the one you want and we’ll design around it.”
Before me is every possible size, shape and type of wine fridge. “This, I can work with.”
24
“Do I smell a bakery?” Noelle sniffs. “Oh, My God! Is Adeline’s still open?”
“Yep.”
She laughs and picks up her pace like a kid getting close to a carnival or something. “I haven’t been there in so long. We have to stop.” Noelle pulls me toward the entrance and then inside. People are lined up waiting to place their order. It’s not a surprise since they are busy on weekdays and even busier on weekends.
The clerks are frantic behind the counter, trying to fill orders as the cases in front are emptying out. The line is deeper than usual, but this is a Sunday, a beautiful day and right across the street from the park. Plus, a lot of people stop in to take baked goods home for dinner.
The pies are gone and so is most of the bread. About the only thing remaining are muffins. That’s this case. The other usually holds dessert items, but they look like they’ve been picked over too. There are some cookies, but no tarts or anything else that Zach refers to as chocolate decadence. “Maybe the kitchen is short today.”
“Something’s not right,” Noelle agrees. “They don’t close for a couple of hours, but if they don’t fill the cases, they’ll be locking the doors a lot sooner than that.”
“Unless people just want coffee drinks.” Adeline’s doesn’t have the same choices as the chain coffee shops and never embraced the pumpkin spice phenomenon, but they have a decent variety of coffee concoctions even though I only get a regular black coffee to take with me on the subway when I’m headed to work.
The line is moving, just not as fast as usual. “Get a table?” I ask as we near the counter.
“Yeah.” But Noelle is looking around, studying the place as we inch our way to the register.
“What do you want to order?”
“Not sure,” she says absently as she tilts her head to see back into the kitchen. “Adeline is still baking? The woman has to be pushing ninety.”
“If you mean the older woman in the back? She doesn’t miss a day. At least she’s been here since I started coming in.”
“It is her place,” Noelle tells me. “Mom and I used to come here all of the ti
me when I was kid. Every Saturday morning, before Gary, and at least one day during the week, before school. I never knew which day, because it was always a surprise. I’d get chocolate and she’d get coffee. We’d have baguettes and sometimes cookies.” A soft smile of memories settles on Noelle’s face. “The last time I was here was on the morning before I got on the plane to Paris. Adeline sent me with a box of macarons and told me I couldn’t come back home until I baked them as well as her.”
Noelle’s eyes watering, but I’m pretty sure they are from good memories. The best kind of crying.
She walks around me to look in the other case and her lips drop in disappointment. “I don’t see any.”
“Maybe tomorrow?” I offer hopefully.
“Maybe.” She takes her place back in line with me.
When it’s our turn, Noelle gets hot chocolate and a muffin. I get a black coffee and a cookie. She takes a seat where she can see into the kitchen. I’m pretty sure she’s not paying attention to me at all.
“What are people taking out in sacks?” I finally ask. About five different people have come in and given their names then been given a sack.
“Dinner rolls. You have to order ahead on Sunday, or any other day of the week, but Sunday’s are busy. Big family meals and all.”
I didn’t know you could order ahead, other than birthday and wedding cakes. Then again, it’s not something I ever thought about.
Noelle’s mind is not on me. Each question I ask is almost absently answered. So I get out my tablet and start designing her new kitchen. Not the catering one but the one for her and her alone.
She’s hardly paying attention to me, so I play around with the ugliest bathroom that I can envision and color it in.
“I was thinking for the bathroom on the third floor, blue with purple polka dots would be nice.”
“Sure.”
Then I pull up a basic kitchen and play around some more. “And the kitchen, a zebra stripped floor, with pink cabinets.”
“Okay.”
Rattling Around: The Baxter Boys #5 (The Baxter Boys ~ Rattled) Page 20
