Sterling

by Willow Summers

  Noah pulled back, slowly, like he was fighting an unseen enemy. His hands didn’t leave her body. Her groceries lay scattered across the floor.

  An older woman stomped away, her wrinkled face pinched in anger.

  “We should probably get out of here,” Cynthia murmured, watching the woman go. She still couldn’t bring herself to back away from him—her lower half pressed against that hardness.

  “Yeah,” he said, almost a grunt.

  Noah looked down at her again, lust sparkling in his eyes, his shapely lips glistening from their kiss, his hardness an invitation to a party she wanted to immediately show up for.

  “Go pay for that stuff,” she whispered.

  “Okay.” He bent a fraction, his lips inches from hers.

  “Hey.” It was a male voice, and from the sound of the footsteps, the man in question was hurrying in their direction. “Sorry, but you can’t do that in here.”

  Noah’s sigh matched hers. He straightened up, but still didn’t let her go. Instead, he turned, keeping one arm around her, holding her to his side tightly. Protectively.

  A store attendant in his fifties with thinning black hair and a protruding belly stood rigidly in the center of the aisle with his hands on his hips and a disapproving scowl on his face. The older woman from earlier, Ms. Tattletale, stood at the mouth of the aisle, seemingly as backup.

  The store attendant shook his head. “We can’t have that in here. This is a family establishment.”

  “Sorry about that,” Noah said in a rough voice. He cleared his throat. “She just agreed to marry me and I lost my cool.”

  Eleven

  Noah gritted his teeth against the ferocity of his arousal as another little moan escaped Cynthia’s mouth, reacting to what he’d just said. Or maybe his hand slipping down to the swell of her hip. Or maybe the inadvertent squeeze he’d given her, bringing her as close to his body as possible.

  He pounded with need, completely out of control. He’d been entranced with her before—she was sexy and alluring and fun—but his desire for her had reached a whole other level. He couldn’t think clearly. Just felt that soft body pressing against his. Her heat. The floral smell that was all her own. One he’d never forget, ever, as long as he lived. Just like he’d never forget that kiss. Or the passion that had made him lose the ability to reason.

  “I don’t even have the ring with me,” he said to the grocery store attendant. “The question just randomly popped out, and…” He attempted a sheepish grin, which was hard given the adrenaline and desire raging through his body. “Like I said, won’t happen again. I lost my mind for a moment.”

  “Yeah,” Cynthia said huskily.

  The attendant eyed her for a moment, and a strange desire to guard her from the attendant’s judgment stole over Noah. The need to protect her was a raw, primal feeling. He barely kept himself from shielding her with his body.

  That kiss had cracked his brain. There was no other explanation for it.

  “See that it doesn’t.” The attendant glanced at the items littering the ground. “Also, congratulations.”

  Cynthia comically grimaced at Noah before dropping down to the basket. Noah followed her, quickly putting the items in before grabbing the keys.

  “I’ll just quickly grab…the rest,” Cynthia said, backing away. “And meet you at the car.”

  The attendant’s hands went back to his hips and a scowl creased his face. He probably thought they’d continue making out in the car.

  Noah hoped so.

  “Okay,” Noah called after her. The attendant didn’t move out of the way, so he edged around the man. “Can’t apologize enough.”

  Up at the checkout, he quickly paid, had the groceries bagged, and looked around for Cynthia. No sign of her. Could she be hiding in embarrassment? Feeling a pinch of guilt—he shouldn’t have made a show of her—he continued out of the store.

  The attendant waited off to the side, scanning the parking lot with those hands still glued to his hips. Noah pretended not to see him, and slipped into the driver’s seat of the car. Somehow getting into the passenger seat would feel awkward in this situation. It didn’t make sense, much like the ferocity of his interest in Cynthia, but he just went with it. What else could he do?

  Cynthia hurried out a couple minutes later. She didn’t pretend to ignore the attendant like he had. Instead, she flashed him a thumbs-up, said something he couldn’t hear, and sauntered toward the car. When she saw Noah in the driver’s seat, she altered her course to the other side without even a hitch in her step.

  She tapped on the rear passenger window. He clicked the unlock button. She stowed her canvas bag before hopping into the passenger side. “That guy is so pissed.”

  “What did you say to him?” Noah asked, not moving to start the car. He couldn’t take his eyes off her. He wanted to kiss her again, to thread his fingers into her hair and let the world drop away.

  “I said, can you blame me? That guy is super hot.”

  He laughed, still looking at her, ready to reach out and put his hand on her knee.

  “You have to…” The sentence trailed off as she finally realized the object of his focus. Her face went flat and expressionless—like she’d closed down. “You just step on the brake and push the button.”

  He blinked at the sudden change in mood. Maybe she wasn’t feeling it? But that was preposterous. How the hell could she not be feeling it? They’d been dry-humping in the middle of the grocery store.

  He wasn’t sure what was going on, but he didn’t plan to push. He didn’t want to risk spooking her. He could grow on her, slowly and steadily, if need be. He would have plenty of opportunity with her mom trying to play matchmaker.

  “Get everything you needed?” he asked, his tone as light as he could manage. He still had a raging hard-on. Going for light wasn’t easy.

  “Yep. All set. And tomorrow, when they realize they forgot to tell me to get the single most important component of the meal, I’ll have to make another trip. I have come here every day. Although…maybe tomorrow I’ll head somewhere else…”

  “When do your sisters leave?” Noah asked as he pulled out into the street.

  “Sunday. Everyone leaves Sunday, which will make things quieter. Though my mom, dad, and Aunt Bessie will still be there. When are…” She drummed her fingers on the armrest. “When are you leaving?”

  “Saturday.”

  “Ah.” She stared out her window.

  A weight settled on his chest at the thought of leaving her behind. His brother’s words popped into his head. The problem was that he hadn’t talked to Colton yet. He didn’t want to give away a job that might not exist.

  “Is your mom cooking everything?” Cynthia asked into the heavy silence.

  “Yes,” he said as they turned onto their parents’ street.

  “Does she do it all by herself, or does anyone help her?”

  “Tia helps a little, and my dad does a couple things, but my mom usually handles most of it. She was always the cook growing up. My parents were pretty old school.”

  “And you? Do you do anything?”

  “Literally nothing. I don’t even get my own beers. I watch football on the couch, and am basically waited on hand and foot. I realize I should feel guilty about that fact, and insist on helping, but…”

  “No, no.” Cynthia held up her hand. “You don’t have to qualify that. If I could be lazy and get waited on, I totally would.”

  “Are you Cinderella?”

  She laughed. “Basically, yes. I didn’t used to be, but as the only one without kids or a husband, I’m usually asked to do the most, including cook on a normal night.”

  “So…not asked as much as told.”

  “Yes, but it’s always posed as a question. Still, I know the score. I get told what to do, and I do it, because it is less effort than pushing back.”

  “Pick your battles.”

  She laughed without humor. “Pick your escape route, more like.”r />
  “You know how to cook, then?”

  “Yes. Very well, actually. I love cooking. It’s the cleaning up I hate. Which I still have to do, since my sisters usually claim they have to go check on their children. They have a nanny show up during the days, but they still have to go ‘see to the children’ whenever I need help.” Cynthia shook her head. “I hope I’m gone by Christmas. Have to be. Although…” She looked over at him. “Are you going to be around for Christmas?”

  “I…” There was that weight again, the worry that he’d have to say goodbye in a couple days. That she wouldn’t be there for Christmas, and he’d somehow lose track of her. Maybe never see her again. He took a chance. “If you will be.”

  Her breath hitched. “Like a blood bond,” she said quietly. “I mean, you know, if we have to go to our parents’ houses, we’ll both go so we don’t have to endure it alone. If…you know, we’re single or whatever.”

  “Single or together, you mean.”

  She huffed out a laugh. “Right…”

  She said it like she thought he was joking. He let it go, not knowing how to get around it. It was strange—that kiss had made things crystal clear to him, but it didn’t seem to have had the same effect on her.

  Thinking on that, he pulled into her parents’ driveway and got out. He took the groceries he’d bought and waited until she came around with the ones she’d grabbed. The way she held the canvas bag made it impossible to tell what was inside.

  “Well…” She walked him to the porch and let the word linger. “Thanks for coming along. You can just leave that there. I’ll grab it.”

  “And deny your mother the opportunity to fawn over me? Yeah, right. Ego boost, here I come.” He pushed open the door.

  “Ew.” She gave him a sour look, but her eyes twinkled. “That’s my mother.”

  “The tastelessness of that joke belatedly occurred to me, yeah. My bad.”

  She laughed as she stepped forward. He followed and closed the door behind him.

  He wanted to get her alone. Get a tour of her bedroom and spend the next few hours kissing her. He didn’t even want to have sex anymore. Not yet. He wanted to savor the taste of her. The feeling of her soft lips.

  “Ah, here she is.” Tamie beamed as Noah entered the kitchen behind Cynthia. “Did you guys get everything?”

  Noah had texted his mom earlier, asking if she needed anything, but he hadn’t checked to see if his she’d texted back. Oops.

  As Tamie moved out of the way for Cynthia to stow everything, he glanced at his phone screen. Thankfully, his mother hadn’t texted anything at all. She probably hadn’t seen his message. But there was a text from Colton. Doesn’t this rock? Perfect.

  The accompanying picture was of the front entrance of the “playground.” A mural had been painted on it—a youthful, fun painting that depicted families enjoying the various attractions. Leave it to Janie to pick the perfect look.

  Awesome! Noah texted back. “Cynthia, check this out.”

  “I was just telling Cynthia this morning, Noah…” Tamie said as Cynthia glanced back from a cabinet. Noah held up his phone to indicate that it was what she needed to check out. “…that you should come for dinner tomorrow,” Tamie finished.

  Creaking metal sounded at the entrance of the kitchen. Bessie rolled in slowly. For someone who looked old and feeble, Bessie sure didn’t have any trouble getting around.

  Noah latched on to what Tamie had said as Cynthia walked over to him. He searched for some way to make that happen. “I promised my mother I’d be there for Thanksgiving…”

  “Of course.” Tamie huffed. “I would never dream of stealing you from your mother. What kind of woman do you take me for?”

  “A lunatic, like the rest of us do,” Bessie mumbled as she stopped by the table.

  Tamie spared Bessie a scowl and Noah tried to hide his smile. A huff announced a new arrival to the kitchen. Noah glanced back to see Ellen glaring at him from the doorway, her arms crossed.

  Maybe he should see if Cynthia could come to his house for Thanksgiving.

  But his dad hadn’t grilled him yet, and if he did so in front of Cynthia, it might end horribly. Maybe even damage what she thought of him. He couldn’t risk it.

  He signed back into his phone as Tamie said, “Our dinner will be a little later, so maybe the time would work out.”

  “Why would you come for a dinner now when you never did before?” Ellen asked as she sauntered over to lean against the counter. “Especially after just eating one.”

  “Sour grapes do not make sweet wine,” Bessie said, looking at Ellen.

  “I think…they do…” Cynthia said. “I remember tasting a winery grape on the vine. It was pretty sour.”

  “Being too literal is a curse,” Bessie shot back.

  Noah ignored them, trying to figure out how he’d wronged Ellen. Back in the day, he’d always thought their no-strings-attached agreement was mutual. They’d lived so close, and they’d always had fun together—the perfect setup. That she would be bitter was a surprise. He’d always been completely upfront about everything, after all.

  “Don’t mind her,” Tamie said, waving Ellen away. “She ran out of Xanax. She’s not herself.”

  Cynthia, who’d been reaching for Noah’s phone, dropped her hand. Her mouth gaped open, but her lips curled into a smile as her gaze darted to Ellen.

  “You could just eat a nibble, anyway,” Tamie went on, looking at Noah. “It’s more for the company of those at the dinner than the actual food. But you’ll definitely want to be here for dessert. A little birdie told me that we are having your favorite.”

  “Hey, is Cyn—” Tera walked into the kitchen and saw Noah. “Hi, Noah, nice to see you again.” She looked at the countertop. “Are those dates?”

  Cynthia’s face turned red. “Yeah.”

  “What are we doing with the dates?” Tera asked, crossing to the fridge.

  “I’m going to eat them,” Cynthia replied.

  “Don’t be silly. No one eats dates,” Tamie said. “Tera, I was just telling Noah about the dessert.”

  “Oh yeah. That’s a lucky coincidence, isn’t it, Cynthia?” Tera asked, a smile lighting her face.

  “Very much so.” Cynthia nodded solemnly. “Quite the coincidence. If you come for it, Noah, you’ll have to eat some, since it is your favorite. Otherwise, everyone will be disappointed.”

  “Honey, remember what we talked about?” Tamie murmured out of the side of her mouth.

  “Your mother thinks you’re acting weird again, Charlotte.” Bessie tsked.

  Charlotte? Noah looked at Cynthia in confusion, then noticed her wicked grin.

  “Pecan pie, Noah.” Tamie’s smile was radiant. “Store bought, even. Isn’t that great? We love it. We have it all the time.”

  “You should run,” Aunt Bessie said.

  Twelve

  Cynthia couldn’t help laughing at the rapid-fire changes in Noah’s expression. It went from disbelief to confusion, back to disbelief, and then settled on a knowing gleam of humor. Everything but the last had been because of her crazy family.

  “It’ll be really good. You’ll love it,” Cynthia said, grinning for all she was worth.

  He shook his head slowly, his eyes changing as he looked at her. Darkening. Turning hungry while retaining the softness she’d seen in them earlier.

  She tried to ignore the flip-flopping of her belly, the sudden perspiration and her need to reach out and touch him. Ellen was in the room, and her anger was palpable. There was a reason for that. Something Cynthia should use as a cautionary tale.

  But dang, that kiss had been out of this world. Easily the best kiss she’d ever had. Wild and unruly and out of control. So hot. So full of passion.

  No wonder Noah’s kisses were gateways. It was taking everything she had not to drag him up to her room and go for it again. Why did he have to be so sexy?

  “That was the secret item, wasn’t it?” he asked softly.


  “Surprise,” she whispered, finally taking his phone. “What am I looking at?”

  “Shall I set a place for you, Noah?” Cynthia’s mom asked, laying it on really thick. She was the world’s worst matchmaker. Except she’d gotten something right…

  “Yes, please, that would be great. You know me, I can’t pass up store-bought pecan pie.” Noah reached between Cynthia’s fingers and entered his code. “Don’t tell anybody that number.”

  “1-4-5-6-3-9? Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me. Oh wow,” she said as the picture came up.

  “I’ll have Cynthia call you with the dinner time, in case you can make it before dessert,” Tamie said. “Any time at all, just come on over. Make sure to give her your number so she can call.”

  “And the subtlety keeps on coming,” Cynthia murmured. If Noah wasn’t being such a good sport about it, the whole situation would be extremely embarrassing. “This is a really cool picture. Is that a wall? Is it…street art?”

  “Yes. Do you remember Colton?” Noah asked.

  “You still talk to Colton?” Ellen rolled her eyes. “Birds of a feather.”

  “Ellen, can you help me for a moment?” Tera said, heading out of the kitchen.

  “With wha—”

  Tera grabbed Ellen’s arm and pulled. “It has to do with the kids. C’mon.”

  “Yes. And I’ll just… I need to see about the turkey.” Tamie ticked the air with her finger, as if tapping a list. “Yes, I better call to make sure everything will be delivered on time. Bessie, you can help.”

  “I’m fine right— Let go. Stop that.” Aunt Bessie waved Cynthia’s mom away, but it did no good. Tamie was already wheeling her out of the kitchen.

  Cynthia sagged against the counter. “And yet I got the talking-to for being weird.” She sighed, looking at the picture on Noah’s phone. “This is so good. I love it. It’s familiar somehow, but I can’t place it. What were you saying about Colton? He was the really ho— I mean, the nice-looking gentleman with blue eyes, right? Tall. Large shoulders. Good bo— Athletic?”

  He frowned at her. “Colton, yeah.” Noah briefly told her about his friend’s upcoming launch of a large funland-type setup with a mini-golf course and a bunch of other stuff.