by Sybil Swift
“You want to know how I know you’re pleased? Because you’re humming the love medley from Moulin Rouge as you putter around the kitchen. A girl doesn’t make that reference lightly—even cranially. And, for your best interest and my sanity, don’t ask me how I know anything about Moulin Rouge.”
The microwave beeped several times in an annoying whine.
“Dinner’s almost ready,” she cheerfully replied. “Mind getting out the dishes and setting the table?”
When she licked her lips she tasted him—spicy beer and orange. A jolt rocked down to her feet. What in the hell was she supposed to do? It was exactly what she’d told herself to avoid and instead she’d rushed headlong into it with all the foresight of a two-year-old. But when he’d revealed all of his secrets…it was as if they’d shared something so personal, there was no going backward. The idea of someone surviving all his childhood abuse, it made her life up until now seem like a picnic where dollar bills rained down from the sky.
Beneath his joking, dismissive exterior, there was so much more to him. She’d broken all kinds of rules, but damn it, Noah had started it. It wasn’t as if she was capable of rebuilding the wall between them when what they’d shared out on the patio—judging by Noah’s expression—was something he’d almost never shared with anyone. They’d taken a step together in a different direction. There was no ignoring it or pretending it didn’t happen, no matter how much she’d like to for the sake of awkwardness.
“You got it.”
Noah sidled up behind her and she couldn’t have been any more aware of his physical presence unless he’d dry humped her from behind. Less than an inch separated the front his jeans from pressing tight up against her ass. A wash of goose bumps shifted up her arms. She tilted her head back against his chest with a questioning look. His finger traced her lower lip, she tucked back a small gasp, and held her breath while the hairs on the back of her neck prickled. His arm shot out on her right side above her head to get to the mahogany cabinet and the plates.
“’scuse me,” he drawled, no doubt blatantly aware of the way he was effecting her.
His hand must have closed around the plates because there was an abrupt rattle of crockery shifting together before he eased back. When he was gone her thoughts flickered. Noah continued around the kitchen as if nothing had changed, grabbing the silverware from a drawer across the room. His almost touch still kissed all her senses and she nibbled on her index finger.
“Water’s about to boil over,” Noah interjected through her thoughts from right behind her, his breath caressing the shell of her ear. She swallowed past the lump in her throat. A smooth brush of his lips glided along her neck.
Then he hustled out the swinging door.
Son of a bitch, his drive-by kiss had been so fast she’d barely had time to react and all her muscles went into overdrive with the clenching and unclenching. She went on autopilot, turning down the burner. That man was sneaky. Add conniving to that list, too. And a brat. There weren’t enough adjectives in the world to list his little annoyances—and yet, a small smile bent her lips upward without her consent.
He was all those things and a lot more, alright.
She cracked her neck, grabbed the potholders, and headed out into the great wide yawning chasm of affection that awaited her in the living room.
Why couldn’t she be the Goth version of happy, with a slightly less dippy frown? Noah had taken the time to dim all the fancy overhead lights and whipped out every emergency candle the place carried scattering them all around the living room and on the table. Someone could have knocked her over with a feather.
She could barely breathe as her gaze trained away from the flickering little lights to him resting in a cheap, fake wood dining room chair, with his legs out in front of him and his arms behind his head. No denying he was pleased with her reaction. His eyes danced behind the shiny lenses of his glasses and he smirked.
“You seemed to like surprises.” He straightened up and patted the center of the table where room had been cleared for the dish.
Was he expecting her to move? Because adrenaline fused her to the spot on the carpet.
“You know, I can’t really eat until you put the plate down, because I’m not a big fan of digging into a bowl while the girl I’m currently on a date with is holding it an inch from her face in shock. Gets kind of messy that way and then you don’t get any because I’m kind of a hog about my favorite foods. In the long run, probably good if you sit down. Yeah know, to keep me from making a fool out of myself while stuffing my face.”
“A date?” she squeaked out.
Chapter Six
“Damn, thought I’d been all subtle with that one.” He crossed his arms over his chest and tapped his toe which barely made a noise against the heavy carpet.
Thankfully, he’d put on shoes for their night out on the—well, in the—living room. Wow, for some reason the seriousness of his sneakers sunk home. This wasn’t a joke. With a stilted nod that practically made her teeth rattle, Chloe set down the hot plate of pasta with unintended roughness and sunk into her chair across from Noah.
“It should be good.”
“I’m sure it’ll be smashing.”
He shot her an unreadable look across the table, mouth slightly pursed, eyes searching before he dug into the pasta heaping large spoonfuls on his plate.
“Now, do you wanna talk about this or are you going to fall at my feet into a faint before I can get any words out? I don’t have any smelling salts. Going to have to bring you back to us with defibrillator paddles or a really nasty slap in the face. Won’t be pretty.”
While her mind blanked out, she helped herself to a small portion of dinner, and ate by rote. Her stomach seemed to be a pit of terror that twisted her guts into sailor’s knots that were impossible to loosen. But there was no reason to put talking off. Noah had every reason to know where she was coming from. She stared at her food and dropped her fork, her hands flexing on the edge of the table.
“Your spoon might help with that,” he coaxed.
“Yeah, thanks.”
“Good, at least now I know you haven’t gone completely mute.”
Chloe dug into her food barely tasting a thing. Every time her lips pressed together a pleasant tingle zipped through her limbs and she recalled the endearing caress of the man sitting across from her on their “date.”
“This is beautiful.”
He paused and she looked up, watching a small, unguarded smile shift across his face.
“I’m glad you like it.”
He tucked in another mouthful of dinner.
“Though, it will be added to your tab upon leaving your stay with us here. Fire isn’t cheap and wax stains.”
A sharp laugh dropped out of her mouth and continued in a cascade of hilarity. It was official—she was so warped and twisted, she’d lost her mind. Which was fitting, considering the location. She quickly slapped a hand over her mouth so she didn’t spew cheesy goo across the table and let the rough laughter shake through her trembling body. As her eyes watered, her ab muscles engaged. A spark of pain licked up her side and she closed her eyes giving in to the cool tears that tracked down her cheeks with a swallow.
When she was finally able to settle down she shifted in her seat and dabbed at her eyes with the corner of her paper napkin.
“In order to hit the cheesiness quota, allow me to tell you that you look absolutely stunning when you let go of yourself.”
Chloe was able to meet his eyes again and she didn’t see a single hint of laughter in his light brown irises. Without thinking, she slid her hand across the hard wood table, and covered his where he rested it by his plate. The light touch made her pulse pound. His skin was smooth and warm. She wasn’t surprised when he shifted his grip so she could get a better reach on him.
“Talk to me. What’s going on in that headspace?”
“A lot.”
“Well, we don’t have to cover everything. Just the reasons y
ou studied verbal evasion techniques with the monk’s in the Himalayans for years.”
“I thought monks lived in Tibet?”
“You’re doing it again.” He twirled his fork in the air. “Can’t you be straight with me for once? Please? Will that help?”
“Noah—” She put down her fork.
“So you’re going to fight me tooth and nail every step of the way, huh? Why are so damn skittish?”
“Excuse me, I was going to give you an explanation.”
He promptly shut his mouth and folded his arms in front of his plate leaning forward.
“Let me start with my not so subtle misgivings at the beginning, shall I? One, my ex started a long distance relationship where I found him cheating by web cam a million miles away. Two, you met me at relationship rehab center where my overprotective, manipulative mother was able to shove me into a town car without a problem, even though I’m beyond the age of being able to make choices for myself. Three, I’m clearly not mentally stable enough to start anything with anyone, when I can’t even be in my head for longer than a second so I don’t send some horrible, fireball of rage at an unknowing man for simply existing. Okay? I’m fragile, I don’t trust myself, and you’ll have better luck with anyone else in the whole of the planet. Even Mars, for Christ’s sake. We go there now you know; we’ve got the pictures to prove it.”
“You haven’t accounted for something.”
What in the world could he mean by that? She figured their conversation wasn’t going to end well. With a shallow breath, she convinced herself to stick to her guns as she spooned another delicious bite into her mouth. At least it gave her something to do with her hands.
“We live in separate states most of the time and I like you. Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve said anything like that? You’re crazy, maddeningly frustrating, and you snore like a vacuum, but for as long as you extend your vacation and agree to work with me I’ll keep rubbing off on you until you cave. I’m kind of like acid that way.”
“You like me? How, when you don’t know me? This isn’t Valentine’s Day in second grade.”
“Why not? What have you got against it being that simple again?”
“Uh, we’re a lot older and our parts respond way differently to each other than they would have back then.”
“Exactly. We meshed quite well in that chair outside, and I know you like to look at me, you don’t hide it very well. That kiss was simple. It was you and me without the baggage, without the banter, just feeling each other out. Why can’t we do that? How can exploring something so simple as our attraction be so wrong?”
“But it’s not simple, it’s always complicated! Don’t make me give you the cliché women get attached and it’s messy speech. Sure, we’ll probably never see each other again, la-di-da, one night stand, let’s not even revisit that trope. If you want simple, here it is—I can’t be with someone knowing I don’t trust myself.”
“What if I can help you trust yourself again?”
“Yeah, right, just so you can do me? What, are you going to unleash some psychobabble BS that’s going to cure me? None of that works. That’s my mother’s thing, not mine.”
“Close your eyes.”
She answered his order with a glare.
Noah got up, took her plate and the large bowl of mac and cheese and shifted it behind his chair.
“There, now you get no dinner. Stop making this difficult, you nut.”
With a disgruntled sigh she closed her eyes. Not two seconds later he told her to open them. Her eyes shot open, her focus shifting across his tan skin dappled by the glow of a million candles and his questioning stare skimming over her face again and again. His lips raised in a cocky half-smile as he leaned across the table displaying his stellar upper body to a distinct advantage. Honestly, if he tried to kiss her again, she didn’t know what she’d do. Was slapping him too dramarama?
“What do you see?”
“You,” she slowly answered with a pause.
“Exactly.”
“And you’d be getting to making sense…when?”
“Chloe, all you see is me because I’m the only other human in your world right now. But even if there were hoards of other woman here clamoring for my attention, like some kind of demented love spell gone awry, I’d still want you. I trust in that because that’s what my gut tells me, my impulse is to touch you and never stop. The first way to begin trusting yourself is to trust your gut.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“Hey, I dabble in a little self-help every now and then. I read. Don’t tell anyone, it would ruin my reputation.”
“So, what you’re telling me is that if I follow my gut and sleep with you, I’ll somehow be happier, even through all these other obnoxious obstacles? It’s supposed to be that easy?”
“It’s not supposed to be anything. You make it hard or easy. Clearly, we know which road you took. Look at it this way, Wesley and Buttercup fell into each other’s arms despite the odds and it all ended happily ever after.”
“You so did not just reference The Princess Bride in a relationship analogy!” She half-stood from her seat with excitement before clearing her throat and quickly sitting back down. “Valiant effort, but those two crazy kids had years to get to know each other on their farm. There was nothing impulsive about their happy ending.”
“Oh yeah? What about when they’re reunited as their tumbling down the hill after who knows how many years? They didn’t know each other anymore and had been traipsing around the countryside over a big, fat lie. But they knew deep down that they wanted each other despite that, that something inside them felt good with the other person, so they went with it. ‘Course, then there was the whole “Pit of Despair” thing. But, anyway, focusing. They lived happily ever after based on the happiness they envisioned together, not in the future, but as they were adventuring. It was messy, fucked up, and half the time Wesley couldn’t stand, but they worked it out in the end. When was the last time you went with your gut on anything?”
“Ugh.”
For the sake of saying she could answer his question honestly, she flipped through all her recent and past memories. Not a one had anything to do with impulse. She’d been floating on her mother’s life raft, following around her damn career dingy like a lost passenger for years. Right down to getting a starring role at her trendy PR firm and dating Eric for six years. When in reality she probably would have seen the warning signs and only would have given him a year.
Her ice cream choice was fifteen minute inner dialogue at the case, through the checkout line, and when she got it home it was often dripping out of the carton. Her mother still teased her about her categorized, alphabetical lists every Christmas in order of which toy she wanted more. Only when she was absolutely sure about an outcome did she commit to it.
Nope, impulse wasn’t so much in the cards.
“Never. Does that please you?”
“Nope, just confirms what I already know. Use that overactive brain of yours to come up with all the things that could go wrong, right now, and let me at ‘em.”
“It would be awkward.”
“Only if we let it be.”
“What if I actually like you?”
“You already like me.”
“What if I can’t handle it? What if old feelings of inadequacy and abandonment come rushing back?”
“I’ll help you build a mental dam. Anything else?”
“Yeah, why are you making this so damn easy for me? Why can’t you just back off?”
“Because after that kiss, it would be the stupidest mistake of my adult life to go down without a fight. I’m all for making mistakes, but if I didn’t try, I’d always wonder. And I’d rather be impulsive and flighty than regretful. Wouldn’t you agree?”
“But, what if we do regret it?”
“What if?” he countered.
“Fine, you’re the most insufferable pigheaded ass I’ve ever met in my life
.”
“Aww, shucks. Two animals? You must mean business.”
With that, she sprung out of her seat and took three steps to stare him right in the eyes.
“You take full responsibility for everything that happens afterward,” she gritted past clenched teeth as pain radiated up her jaw. “You brought this on yourself.”
“Gladly.”
“You remember that, when things go horribly wrong.”
“The way we’re going to do this, I’m pla-planning on my brain not working f-fo-for at lea-least three days,” he spoke low and slightly growly as his gaze darkened with lust.
“Fuck. You.”
His eyes closed and he breathed in a long breath. Noah’s eyes flashed as he snatched her wrist and he licked his lower lip with all the covert sensuality of an anvil dropping on her head.
“No, I’d much rather you did that for me, sweets.”
Chloe snatched up his hand, tightly clasped his warm palm, and—with his help—pulled him up from his seat.
“My, my. We’re not even done with dinner,” he teased.
“We can reheat it.”
She pressed herself up against him from hips to shoulders and looked up into his curious gaze with a small smile. His hand squeezed hers where she still clasped him. How was she going to do this? Her other hand slowly slid up his sweater vest tracing the path of his muscles until her palm lay over his quickly beating heart. Her fingers closed over his pec, as if trying to clasp his heart in her hand. When she dug her fingers into his chest, he didn’t jerk back but pressed forward into her touch.
“I like it when you touch me.”
“Get one thing straight, Noah. I’m needy as a bitch right now and this will really, really piss off my mother. This is a one-time thing, okay? Sure, I haven’t done an impulsive thing in my life thus far, but I’m pretty sure this will make up for it. I should be in charge of my life, no one else. As my first act as something more than a ninny, I intend to screw you until I’m satisfied. Do you understand?”
“I’ll do my absolute best to please you.”