by Sandra Owens
Coffee in hand, and with Lucky at his heels, he went to the guest room, closing and locking the door behind him. He set the cup on the nightstand, then stood in front of the closet door for a good five minutes, his heart beating double time. He lifted his hand and opened the door.
The black guitar case mocked him as he stared at it. “You’re a coward,” the case said, or was that Dr. Meadows messing with his head?
It was his second guitar, the first a cheap one his aunt and uncle gave him the Christmas he was eleven. It was the only thing he’d asked for. This one he’d bought when he was sixteen with money he’d earned mowing yards in the summer and shoveling sidewalks in the winter. The one he’d set his sights on hadn’t been cheap. It had taken him three years to save enough to buy it. The instrument was a part of him...or it had been.
“I’m not a coward,” he murmured. Then he said it louder. “I’m not a coward.”
He picked up the case and took it to the bed, setting it next to him. Then he stared at it some more. His fingers itched to touch it, to slide over the strings, to make music. If he opened the case, would it make him happy to see the guitar, to play it, or would it send him two steps back from the little progress he’d made? He flipped the latch open, then closed.
Open. Close. Open. Close.
Lucky sat at his feet, watching him.
Open. Close. Open. Close.
The dog stood and put his paws on the bed, then put one paw over Noah’s hand.
“I’m not ready, am I?” Was that what Lucky was telling him? If he opened the case and saw death, he’d never open it again. He didn’t think he could live with that. He returned the case to the closet.
“Noah?” Peyton knocked on the door. “Are you up?”
“Yeah. I’ll be out in a minute.” He took a minute to clear his head, then walked out.
“Good morning.” She eyed him over the top of her coffee cup. “You never came to bed. Did you sleep at all?”
Not wanting to lie to her, but not wanting to admit he’d roamed the sidewalks all night, he grunted. Let her make of that what she wanted. He glanced at his watch. “You ready to go?”
“Yeah, just give me a minute. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, Peyton. Do you have the tracker on you and still have the other one in your purse?”
She grinned. “Yep to both. I feel like I should be in a Bond movie.”
“This is serious business. You won’t be joking if your ex pulls something.”
“Well, excuse me for daring to see the amusing side of this, Mr. Grumpy Pants.” She set her half-full cup in the sink. “I’ll just get my lazy butt in gear. You know, I can walk to the brewery. It’s daylight and there are people out and about. Dalton wouldn’t pull—” she made air quotes “—something in broad daylight with people watching. That way, I won’t be an inconvenience.”
She kneeled in front of Lucky. “Good morning, sweet boy. You’re way more fun to talk to.”
“You’re not walking to work alone. Let’s go.” He was being an ass, but existing on too much coffee and no sleep didn’t make for a good mood. Still... “Look, I’m sorry. I just have a lot on my mind this morning. Why don’t we plan to go out tonight?”
“You mean like a date?”
“If that’s what you want to call it, sure.” He’d come back early and try to grab some sleep before picking her up.
“That’s what I want to call it. But work on your attitude before tonight, okay?”
He almost smiled. “Yes, ma’am.” It was hard to be a jerk to a princess.
* * *
Noah forced himself not to squirm in his seat while Dr. Meadows read his assignment. He’d resented having to write it, but sitting here, waiting for her verdict, all he wanted was her stamp of approval so they could either move on or he could walk out if it wasn’t good enough for her. He wasn’t sure which he was hoping for.
She glanced up at him while she was somewhere in the middle of reading it, then continued. What part was she reading, and what was that look for? He rolled his pair of dice around in the palm of his hand.
“It appears we have a lot to talk about,” she finally said as she set the pages down on her desk. “The good news, you don’t have to write about it again, but we’re not done, you and me.”
“Bummer,” he muttered.
She laughed. “I know you don’t mean that, so I won’t take it personally. What’s that you’re playing with?”
“Just an old pair of dice.” He opened his hand to show her.
“What do they mean to you?”
He shoved them back into his pocket. “Who says they mean anything?”
“Hmm,” she murmured, letting him know she knew better. She tapped the pages with her index finger. “What do you want to talk about first? Your guilt, which is misplaced, by the way, but we’ll address that at some point. Or how important playing your guitar is to you, yet you can’t bring yourself to touch it now? The ants that bite you? Or your mother? Or we could talk about the dice that don’t mean anything.”
“I’m not talking about my mother.” Had he put something in there about her? Too hyped up on his damn feelings and coffee, he didn’t remember. He was stupid for not reading what he’d written before giving it to her. And he wasn’t talking about the damn dice because that would lead to talking about his father.
“I’m guessing you want to, even if it’s subconsciously, but we’ll move talking about your mother down the list. That leaves your misplaced guilt, ants, a pair of dice, and your guitar. You choose.”
He didn’t want to talk about any of those choices. His guilt was not misplaced, and if she decided his assignment was to open the case and take out his guitar, then she might as well tell his commander that he was a lost cause. As for the biting ants, he didn’t see how she could do anything about them.
“Which one of those, Noah?”
There was nothing she could say to take away his guilt or control the ants, so he said, “My guitar.” And then he cursed himself. He couldn’t talk about that, either, couldn’t verbalize the storm raging inside him at losing the one thing that made the ants go away.
“Yes!” She gave him a fist pump. “I was hoping that would be your choice.”
“Are you sure you’re a licensed doc? Like, is fist pumping a thing you learned in head doc school?”
That made her laugh. “You’re funny. I really like you. To answer your question, absolutely it’s a thing when I think you’re making progress. And you are making progress, even if you don’t feel like you are.”
Didn’t feel like it at all.
“How old were you when you learned to play?”
“Eleven.”
“And playing a guitar makes...” She picked up his assignment and scanned the pages. “What you call biting ants, it makes them go away.”
“Yes.”
“Do you think Asim would be happy to learn that you don’t play anymore because you associate the guitar with him?” After a moment, she said, “Not going to answer?”
“What I think is that Asim is dead and he’ll never learn to play the damn thing.”
“So your self-imposed punishment is to never touch it again? What does that accomplish? It’s not going to bring Asim back.”
Damn ants. He scratched his arm, then put his hand on his knee to stop his bouncing leg. He needed out of this room.
“Think about that. Remember in our first session we talked about how important it is that you not avoid? Ask yourself what you’re achieving by avoiding something that not only you love but seems to calm you. You have to forgive yourself. No one else can do it for you.”
She glanced at her watch. “Our time is up for today. Your assignment this week is to play one song on your guitar. Also, bring it with you to your next appointment. I need to know if you can really play it
or if you’re blowing smoke.”
“I hate you,” he said.
She grinned. “No, you don’t. Think about my questions. We’ll talk about your answers next Monday. And you better show up with your guitar.”
If he showed up at all.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Peyton left work early and went shopping. She had a date! A date with a sexy, mouth-watering, eight-pack abs SEAL boy who knew how to make a girl tingle. She wasn’t even sure tingle was the right word anymore.
She wanted something sexy to wear for her date. Something that would have Noah crossed-eyed and drooling. Nothing caught her interest in the first downtown store, but as soon as she walked in the second one, she stopped in front of a mannequin.
“There you are,” she whispered. The off-the-shoulder sundress had a cream-colored background and vines with green leaves and pink and blue flowers swirling around the fabric. The hem was low in the back—a good six inches below the knees—and would hit her about midthigh in the front.
“That’s called a high-low hem,” a saleswoman said, stepping next to her. “Very sexy without being raunchy.”
Peyton fingered the material. “It’s so soft and silky. I’ll try it on.” By the time she was done, she left with the dress, a pair of high-heel, strappy cream sandals, and dangly pink and blue beaded earrings. Also in her bags were a pale pink, lacey bra and matching panties. She was going to knock a certain SEAL boy’s socks off!
When she let herself into her loft, Lucky greeted her with his usual enthusiasm. She was going to miss her sweet boy when Noah left. She would miss her grouchy pants boy even more. But she wasn’t going to think about that. Not on her date night.
The TV was on, the sound turned down, and Noah was on the sofa, sound asleep. She eased her shoes off, then padded to the end of the sofa. She was happy to see he was getting some sleep. He actually looked peaceful, a look she liked on him.
Leaving him to his rest, she took her packages to her bedroom. She hung the dress on a hanger, then took the bra and panties to the bathroom with her. She had just washed the conditioner out of her hair when her shower door banged open.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
She shrieked. “Good gravy, Noah. Give me a heart attack why don’tcha?”
“What. Are. You. Doing. Here?”
A fire-breathing dragon had nothing on SEAL boy. “Um, washing my hair?”
“Let me rephrase that. How did you get home?”
“My feet. They do this thing called walking. Neat trick, huh?” Okay, he wasn’t amused.
“What happened to you wait for me to come get you?”
Oops. Excited over going shopping for something to wear tonight, she hadn’t even considered she wasn’t supposed to go anywhere by herself. “Ah...”
His gaze roamed over her, his eyes heating for a brief moment before he blanked them. “We’ll talk when you finish.”
“You can talk to me while I shower.” Aaaannd, she was talking into thin air. The man could sure move fast when he wanted to.
She finished her shower, and after drying off, she rubbed lotion over her freshly shaved legs. She put on her new bra and panties. Not wanting to wear her dress until it was time to go, she slipped on her robe and belted it. She dried her hair and then went looking for Mr. Grouchy Pants.
He was in the living room, staring out the window. “Come here, Peyton.”
Did he have eyes in the back of his head? She was barefoot, hadn’t made a sound, hadn’t even stepped into the living room yet.
“Come here.”
She left her spot at the end of the hallway, coming to a stop next to him. “I’m sorry, okay? But it really isn’t a big deal. As you can see, I’m fine.”
“Look out there and tell me what you see.”
There was something in his voice that put her on guard, that he wasn’t just enjoying the view out the window. She reluctantly turned her gaze to the window. It took a moment, then she gasped. “Dalton!”
“So taking off by yourself isn’t a big deal?” He leveled a hard stare on her. “This was your lucky day. He showed up after you came inside, but what if he’d been there when you arrived? You think he’s harmless? Think again. He’s desperate. Otherwise, he wouldn’t still be hanging around. Desperate people do desperate things.”
She thought she might be sick. “How do you know he wasn’t there when I came home?”
“Joseph called when your ex showed his face.”
“How? Joseph doesn’t have a phone.”
“Wrong. I gave him one.”
She gaped at him. “Like Joseph’s your spy?”
“If that’s what you want to call him. He wants to keep you safe as much as I do. Imagine my surprise when Joseph wakes me up from my nap and I hear the shower running. I thought to myself, Noah, that can’t be Peyton in the shower because she knows better than to be traipsing the streets all by her lonesome.” He chuckled, and the sound wasn’t a pleasant chuckle. “But what do I find? A princess in the shower.”
She had no excuse, so she didn’t try to offer one. “Why? Why can’t he leave me alone?” She’d honestly forgotten about him. As far as she knew, he hadn’t been around for...she wasn’t even sure. A week, maybe?
“Because you’re the means to get what he wants.”
“He’s delusional.” There was no way her father would turn over the brewery to him now. She’d been so excited about her date with Noah, and Dalton was ruining it. No, she wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction.
“It won’t happen again.” She stepped back from the window. “I was just excited about our date and wanted to go shopping for something that would knock your socks off. I forgot all about stupid Dalton.”
“Knock my socks off, huh?”
“You bet your hot butt I’m going to.” When Noah chuckled, she breathed a sigh of relief. Crisis averted. Yes, she’d been stupid to forget that Dalton was out there, maybe not a threat, but maybe he was. It wouldn’t happen again.
“You think my butt is hot?”
“Hotter than my grannie’s hot cross buns.”
Noah did his fast-action thing and had her pressed against the wall in...well, she wasn’t good at time and distances, but it just happened really fast. His gaze locked on hers. “What the devil are hot cross buns?”
“Do you really care?” She sure didn’t, not with the way he was looking at her, like he might devour her any second. She’d never once wanted to be devoured by a man, but this man could eat her alive and she wouldn’t file a complaint with...well, she didn’t know what agency she could file a complaint with, and honest truth, she wasn’t going to complain about him to anyone.
“Don’t care,” he said. “What are we caring about, anyway?”
“I don’t know. Global warming?” What were they even talking about?
“Are you drunk, princess?”
“Drunk on you, SEAL boy.”
He grunted in the sexiest way she never thought a grunt could be grunted. When he picked her up and headed for her bedroom, she panicked. “You can’t see my underwear yet.”
“Says who?”
“Says me. Put me down.” She heard his sexual frustration, but until she had her date, he was not seeing her in the bra and panties that she’d bought just to make him go crossed-eyed and drool. He didn’t have to like it, but that was the way it was going to be.
“Have I told you that you make me crazy?” He dropped her feet to the floor.
“If you think you’re crazy now, just wait until you see what’s under my robe.” She danced away when he tried to grab her. The light was back in his eyes, and she wanted to keep that light in them. “Date, remember? What you’re taking me out on. I hope you planned something worthy of seeing my panties.” She laughed as she backed up to her room. “You won’t be disappointed, SEAL
boy.” She slammed the door when he tried to follow her.
Noah stared at the door she’d just closed in his face. He glanced down at Lucky, who was also staring at the door. “She make you crazy, too?” He took the dog’s bark for a yes. “Guess I better get ready for date night.”
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had an actual date, hadn’t even been sure what to plan for tonight. Before he’d napped, he’d researched romantic restaurants in Asheville and thought he’d found the perfect place. He’d only packed one pair of pants and one dress shirt before leaving Virginia Beach, so those would have to do. After a shower in the guest bathroom, he dressed, and then went to the living room to wait for Peyton.
The princess was beautiful in all her forms. The disheveled, barely dressed version he’d first met at the waterfall, the at home in her leggings and little tops one, the jeans and T-shirts she wore to work one, but... Noah blew out a breath when she walked into the room.
What was it she’d said she wanted to do to him? Right, socks. He strode to her, stopping a foot from her. Any closer, and he’d have his hands on her, and they’d never make it to the restaurant.
“You said you were going to knock my socks off. Mission accomplished. You’re beautiful. That dress. Those shoes. I’m going to spend the night glaring at all the men drooling over you. Might have to knock a few upside the head.”
That smile, that shy, pleased smile. She had no clue how incredible she was, how beautiful and sexy. She slayed him without even trying. He might have to bang on his own head just to get his brain to working again.
He thought about telling her to wear a different dress. One with more material in the front of the skirt. One that didn’t stop midthigh, baring her gorgeous legs for every man to fantasize having them wrapped around him. Probably not a good idea to act like a jealous caveman, so he managed to keep his mouth shut. Barely.
“What about the women drooling over you? Can I pour their drink over their heads?”
He grinned. “The kitten has claws.” Normally, he would hate a woman being jealous over him. It showed a possessiveness that he didn’t want any part of. Why he liked it from Peyton he couldn’t explain. “Let’s go. We have a reservation for six.”