Riley turns sharp eyes on me, but there’s a smirk on her lips. “Bribing my dog with biscuits and me with cheesecake?”
I hold up my right hand, hovering it over her left breast even as I pretend to be innocent. “I plead the fifth.”
Riley laughs, which seems to make Raffy angry because he hops up on the couch with us, nosing right between us and pushing Riley back. He snuffles against Riley’s chest, something I wanted to do myself a minute ago, leaving a trail of wet nose marks on her tank top.
“Raffy, no! Down!”
“Yeah,” I grumble, but a second later, I’m wincing when a puppy paw starts digging into my balls. “Oof!”
I recoil, trying to save myself, or at least my boys, and in the skirmish to protect my future children, Riley and Raffy slide out of my lap and to the couch next to me. I cup myself, doing a system check. Luckily, everything seems to be in working order because with the slightest touch of my hand, my cock jerks, wanting to settle between Riley’s thighs again. Clothes on or not, either will do.
But nope, the moment’s gone. Riley’s pulled Raffy to her chest, snuggling the fluffy cockblocker the way I was nuzzling her neck just a minute ago. Meanwhile, Raffy’s licking the few scraps of cheesecake I missed off Riley’s neck and eyeing me. He barks again, and I swear it sounds like ‘ha-ha.’
I’m jealous. I’m jealous as hell of a Schnauzer because I wanted that cheesecake. Every molecule that touched her skin. But Raffy seems to have gotten any residual bits because he’s moved on to licking his lips and paws, likely making sure he got all the dog biscuit crumbs too.
“I thought we were buds, man. Not cool,” I tell the scruffy guy, but I pet his head as I say it.
Riley laughs and then sighs happily, her eyes sparkling at my conversation with her bodyguard. “It is getting late, I guess. We need to do our bedtime routine.”
I arch a brow. “You have a bedtime routine with your dog?”
Riley nods. “Of course. First, he’s going to need to tinkle, and he’s got a favorite tree that he insists on after dark. Then I wash my face. I wash his face. I put lotion on my face and hands and Raffy’s lotion on his paws.”
She holds up the dog’s paw, which looks . . . like a dog’s paw. Black, a little bit of callus, some fur between the pads. Nothing looks particularly special to me, but what do I know?
But to Riley, apparently, it’s important. “And then I tuck him in and sing him a lullaby.”
I blink, not sure what I just heard. “Sing? A lullaby? Are you serious?”
“It’s his favorite,” she says, scratching behind Raffy’s ears. “I made it up myself.”
Well, I always knew she was unique, and I always knew she had some different points of view. Now I see that she’s a little crazy too. Then again, it’s a cute, sunshiny, good kind of craziness, and I have to smile a little. “Can I hear?”
“Nope,” she says immediately. “It’s only for Raffy and me.”
I thought I was jealous before, but now, I’ve never been more jealous of a dog in my life. I consider putting on a dog costume so Riley would snuggle me, rub my belly, and sing me to sleep.
Shit, I need to get out of here. Head home to pump some iron, or eat a whole pizza while chugging beer, or maybe hit a late-night cowboy bar and ride the mechanical bull on the way home. Something rough and tough. Like me, I think, but I’m wondering if that’s true considering I’ve never been to a single cowboy bar and bedtime snuggles sound infinitely more pleasurable.
“I get it. I know when my time’s up. But tomorrow night, get a dog sitter or something, ’kay?”
“I think I can arrange that,” she says with a sweet smile. She leans over and gives me a kiss on the cheek. “In fact . . . I already know who to call.”
I stand up, and it hurts . . . literally. It physically hurts me to leave. My dick’s rock hard, jammed against the fabric of my pants, and my arms feel empty. But my face? My cheeks are aching from smiling so much. I think Riley’s sunshine is infecting me.
Chapter 11
Riley
Noah stands in my doorway, grinning as he looks me up and down. “So, you ready?”
Am I ready . . . that question’s been running around in my head since he walked out the door last night.
It was there when I did my photo shoot earlier today, highlighting my stay-cool water bottle for #MotivationalMonday.
It was there while I researched some quotes for possible inclusion in future posts.
It was there as I responded to emails, liked comments, and answered questions on everything from my hair conditioner to what I think happens to our souls after we die. That’d been a hard one, and definitely not my usual wheelhouse, but I’d done my best at explaining that our energy and impact go on beyond our lives, as the legacy we leave behind.
And it was definitely on my mind when I called Loretta, arranging for her to watch Raffy for the night.
At least that part was easy. Loretta said she could work Raffy in for his grooming early and then take him home with her. He loves staying at Loretta’s because she’s got four dogs of her own, so it’s really like a doggy sleepover. And luckily, she’d been so busy when I dropped him off that she hadn’t had time to ask any questions about why I might need an overnight dog sitter.
But as to Noah’s question . . . am I ready?
Looking at him now, in his slacks and deep blue shirt, I’m reminded of what Eli said to me. That maybe what I need is the moonlight to my sunlight. Well, right now, Noah’s definitely giving off romantic moonlit vibes.
Yeah . . . yeah, I’m ready. Tonight’s a big deal. An actual date, out in public. Not a ‘hang out’ session on my couch with some snacks and chatter. No, this is different. This is pre-planned—a big deal to Noah—and we’re dressed up to go out where people might see us. People who might know us, either as Riley Sunshine or Mr. BlindDate app, or more importantly, people who might know us as Brother or Sister or Best Friend. Not that I’m expecting to run into River or Arielle.
Oh, wait . . . I forgot.
“No, hang on. I need to do a quick shot of my makeup. I’ll use it later for a sponsor ad,” I tell Noah.
I scoot over to my photo set-up, expertly getting it ready to go. It feels weird to do this in front of someone, but Noah watches with a soft smile on his face. He’s not judging me. If anything, it seems like he’s enjoying watching me play to the camera.
I do the few shots I need and then ask, “You want in on this? Not for social media, but just for . . . us?”
Us.
It’s a big word for being only two little letters.
Noah lifts an eyebrow but says nothing as he steps into frame. He pulls me in close, but not too close, as we take a trio of shots. “Wait,” I tell him before turning around, “another trio. From the back.”
“Ah . . . the booty shot,” Noah jokes, popping a hip and making me laugh. I wouldn’t have thought he’d be funny, and he’s not some outrageous clown sort or stupid dad joke type, but he’s quietly humorous in his own way. And that’s coming out more and more as he feels comfortable with me. I can see it actually happening before my eyes—the uptight, cocky asshole who maybe wasn’t as much of an asshole as I thought morphing into a sweet, caring, funny man who makes me smile.
We take the three and I take a moment to look them over. There’s one from the first series that I love. I can’t believe how handsome he is behind me, his hands around my waist and smiling.
Then again, I look good in his arms too. My smile’s megawatt, and I didn’t have to fake it at all. I look . . . happy. And not just Insta-happy, but really happy and looking forward to the night. Just the image of us together is powerful.
“Wow . . . they’re all keepers,” Noah offers. “You make me look good.”
He knows he’s gorgeous and photogenic, but he’s playing it off modestly. I play back the same way. “Definite keepers,” I say and then press a quick peck to the corner of his lips.
Noah looks into m
y eyes, a crooked smile on his lips. “You are something else, Sunshine,” he says reverently. But then he straightens his back, and his face goes serious. “We should go.”
“What’s wrong?” I ask, afraid I did something wrong.
He’s pulling me toward the door, but he looks over his shoulder at my question. “If we don’t go, you’re gonna keep looking at me like that and saying things like that, and I’m going to take you down that hallway, and we’ll never get out of here for a date. I aim to woo you, Riley Watson.” He uses the word ‘woo’ like it’s an actual thing people say.
“Woo?”
“Yep, all part of my plan,” he explains, which isn’t really an explanation at all. But I guess with Noah, it sorta is.
A planner, detailed, loyal, a hard worker—all things that make him who he is, and I can’t wait to get to know it all.
We go to the door, Noah helping steady me while I slide my tall pink heels on. They match the pink flowers on my yellow dress, but I’d still prefer my Docs and socks. They just hadn’t seemed appropriate for a date. On a whim, I stop and click my heels together three times, and Noah pauses. “What was that for?”
“Guess I’m feeling a little bit like a mix of Dorothy and Cinderella,” I admit. “Click my heels together three times, and Prince Charming appears. Bam!”
Noah chuckles. “Just don’t run out at midnight or turn into a pumpkin.”
I pat my flat belly, “Then you’ll have to quit feeding me so much. Tacos, cheesecake, and I’m assuming we’re going to dinner because if not, I need to go back inside and grab a snack.”
“All part of my plan,” he says dramatically.
Outside, he shows me to our ride, a small SUV. “Before chatting, I would have taken you for a sportscar type. Something that goes fast, rides hard, and tears up the asphalt in strips fifty yards long. But not a family SUV type.”
“It was necessary at the time,” Noah says with a small shrug. “And you’re not totally wrong. There’s a part of me that wants to have some muscle machine that passes low-flying aircraft if it wants to and growls when you punch the accelerator. But this works well. I got it at a good price, it’s a hybrid, and it has the best reviews in its class.”
Noah goes over to the passenger door and opens it for me like a gentleman. I get in, looking up at him as he gives me a smile and closes the door. As he goes around, I take in the interior, impressed with the deep gray and black leather interior. I run my hand over the dash, whistling at the buttery soft feeling. I’ve never cared much about cars, but I know my VW bug reflects who I am and the message I want to send, and I suspect that Noah’s vehicle is the same.
I look over and see that he’s smiling a bit uncertainly. I haven’t seen that look before. I was so used to seeing the cockiness, the utter confidence. This is a different Noah, the Noah I met over chat . . . the Noah I like. The real Noah.
I reach over and give his hand a squeeze. “Makes perfect sense. Sounds like you made a well-thought-out decision.”
Noah frowns lightly, and I tilt my head. “What?”
“Well, I thought I had until this moment. The middle console,” Noah says with an irritated sigh. “I’m not saying I planned to stare at your legs while driving, but . . . well, I can barely see a thing over there.”
“A thing, huh?” I tease, provocatively sliding my hand down my chest and into my lap. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
Noah growls but laughs after a second. “You won’t need that, Miss Watson. Trust me.” He takes my hand, holding it on the accursed center console.
Noah pulls out, and as he heads toward the end of the street, I have to smile. I know from Arielle that there was a time the Danielses didn’t have the means to buy something like this. And with Noah’s story about his mom going back to school, I know they struggled for a lot of years while she worked to provide them with a better life.
“Your mom must be proud of you,” I say quietly, knowing this has the potential to be tricky territory.
He’s come a long way from the cocky guy who covered up his lack of funds with a lot of bravado back in the day. Maybe that’s where some of that cockiness came from . . . a shield to protect himself from the cruelty of others and their assumptions.
“She is. Did you know she’s a manager at work now? Runs the whole coding and billing department.” He virtually beams as he talks about his mother’s success.
“What about your dad? Arielle always just said that you were more of a father to her than her sperm donor.” It’s as kind a quote as I can offer. Arielle has said some harsh things about her dad over the years.
“Me?” Noah says, looking surprised. But he doesn’t question it further. It seems more like he puts it away in his mental filing cabinet to take out and analyze later. With a shrug, he offers, “He left when I was a kid. I don’t even know how much Arielle remembers. We never talk about it, you know?”
I don’t know. My parents are still married decades after their vows, but I nod anyway.
Noah pauses, and at the next intersection he takes a right. We steer away from the interstate, and I wonder where he’s taking us. “My father walked out on us,” Noah says quietly, his eyes fixed straight ahead. “I was nine, and Arielle was six. After Arielle’s birth, the stress was bad. He and Mom would fight, usually over money because there was never enough. They tried to keep it away from us, so I don’t know all the details. But one Sunday, I woke up and he was gone. Other than an occasional child support check, we haven’t heard from him since. Honestly, I’m glad. Even if he was a part of what made me snap at you back then.”
“What do you mean?”
Noah makes another turn and accelerates a little. “Arielle had just turned eighteen, and we knew the rare child support payments would stop. They weren’t much and never frequent enough to count on, but they helped. So I knew Mom was losing that help, even though Arielle was still in high school, still living at home, and with dreams of college. It had me pissed. It wasn’t the whole reason I snapped, but it was part of it.”
The admission means a lot, and I feel closer to Noah now than I ever have. “And the rest? You said it was part of it.”
Noah glances over and takes a deep breath. “When River and I created Friendzone, I was so sure it was our ticket. That I’d be able to take care of myself, of my family. That Mom would be able to retire and finally not worry, and Arielle could become anything she wanted. Instead, I had a bit of money, but by the time River and I paid off the loans and investors, it wasn’t enough to go around the way I’d hoped, and I had to take a corporate job.”
“Yet you seem happy with your work now. River definitely does.”
Noah nods. “I do love my job. I have good people, good mentors, and yes, a damn good paycheck. But at the time, I was young, dumb, and broke. I was mad that you had this opportunity for school at your feet and planned to just walk away from it when my mom was working two jobs to split the cost of Arielle’s school with me. I was pissed that your dad was there, joking around and being all lovey-dovey with your mom, when mine had bailed. I was jealous of you for having the guts to try and make it on your own. But really, it had nothing to do with you. I hated what I saw as my own failure.”
“I don’t think you could’ve been a failure if you’d tried. It’s not who you are,” I assure him. “And thank you. For the full truth.”
“I’m still so sorry about what I said,” Noah says, looking over at me quickly before returning his eyes to the road.
I squeeze his hand, wanting to write the end of that chapter and move on to this one forever. “Can we agree that we’ve made our peace about that day? I never held a grudge because River said you were going through some family stuff and that it wasn’t about me. That doesn’t mean I didn’t think you were a rude asshole, but I understand now. Let’s leave the past in the past and see what the future might hold.”
Noah nods, and it feels like the beginning of something new, and that’s exciting. And looking over at N
oah, I realize that he feels exactly the same way.
But dredging all of that up is a hell of a way to start a date.
“Where are you taking me, anyway?” I ask, hoping for a lighter topic.
“You’ll see.”
I relax into the seat, trusting that he’s got a plan, plus a back-up plan, and a back-up to the back-up. It’s who he is. Me? I could ride around all night and just stop when something caught my eye. But as my belly growls a little, I think maybe he’s got the better idea this time—a destination in mind with what I’m sure will be good food. Noah wouldn’t have it any other way.
I’m surprised when he parks at Big Mike’s, though. I would’ve thought he’d find it low-class or overly-kitschy as a themed diner that somehow combines everything from the fifties to the eighties. I’ve heard of it online but have never been here before.
I’m excited for my first time to be with Noah.
Walking into Big Mike’s, Noah holds the door for me, and I truly feel like a lady. The way Noah looks at me, I feel sexy and powerful, and as we sit down, I have to smile as he shifts in his seat, probably adjusting himself. “Is there something wrong, Mr. Daniels?”
Noah leans over to take my hand. “No. I was just thinking that your legs look amazing in those heels with your dress swishing as your hips sway when you walk. I was considering whether I could get you to walk around a bit more so I could watch.”
His voice goes rough and deep, and I wonder what else he wants to watch.
That thought makes reality flood in, and it really starts to hit me. He’s one sexy man, and he wants me and isn’t shy about letting me know it.
“Oh, my God . . . I’m on a date with my best friend’s big brother.”
Noah laughs, his eyes full of understanding. “And I’m on a date with my little sister’s best friend,” he reminds me. “Whichever way you want to put it . . . I’m okay with it.”
We both smile in acceptance of the crazy situation we’ve found ourselves in, and I take a moment to actually look around Big Mike’s. In most of the writeups online, it’s been described as a throwback diner. But right now, it looks more like a retro nightclub with food. There’s dim safety lighting around the base of each booth, throwing the neon lighting on the wall into sharp relief and making the whole restaurant look very blue and pink. Even the black and white vinyl floor is washed in the hues of the colorful lighting.
The Blind Date Page 14
