by Loree Lough
She withdrew her hand. “Will you please stop calling him that!”
“What would you prefer I call him, then?”
“A client. A neighbor. Anything but boyfriend. It sounds so…so junior high. And inaccurate,” she quickly added. Because he hadn’t shown the slightest interest in her as anything other than what came with their professional association.
“Okay,” Troy murmured, retreating to the kitchen, “whatever you say.”
She could hear him rummaging in the fridge as a strange question echoed in her head: What if Noah really was interested in something more?
*
THE FLICKERING OF the campfire cast an eerie glow to the tent’s interior. Troy, unaccustomed to cycling more than a few blocks, had fallen asleep almost before he finished zipping his sleeping bag. And since he’d turned in first, he’d chosen the space in back so Billie wouldn’t have to crawl over him when she got tired.
She’d sat outside, listening to Jeff and Kelly talk about their months in Alaska before the kids came along. Jeff held them all spellbound with their grizzly bear encounter, and made her laugh with the story of life in an igloo. Eventually, though, even they had turned in, and Billie had followed, though she wasn’t the least bit sleepy. Troy would be very happy, she knew, working with this warm, outgoing man.
She’d made sure to set up the tent so that the door faced downwind. Even so, the vent flaps rattled with every gust of the chilly October breeze. Troy’s snoring, the creaking of the trees, even the pop and snap of the fire kept her from falling asleep. When had she last felt this keyed up? she wondered. And when no answer materialized, even that kept her awake.
Billie blamed her disquiet on the nature of the trip—slower paced and more crowded than she was accustomed to. Perhaps that’s why it seemed as though every time she looked up, she’d caught Noah staring at her.
As if on cue, she heard his voice, deep as a DJ’s, murmuring something to Alyssa from the tent beside hers. The child had never been camping before, so it was no surprise that she was afraid. Billie remembered her first night in the woods, when every cricket chirp and owl hoot had set her heart to hammering.
When Noah’s quiet reassurances failed to soothe Alyssa, he began to sing. Billie had heard “Dream a Little Dream of Me” before, but it had never sounded like that.
Billie closed her eyes, imagined herself nestled in the crook of his arm as his breath puffed gently against her cheek, and felt herself relax.
He had the most perfectly shaped lips she’d ever seen. Would they feel as soft, pressed to hers, as they looked?
Billie’s eyes snapped open and she stifled a gasp. Oh, she’d never get to sleep now!
Slowly, she unzipped the sleeping bag and turned it into a blanket. Dragging it behind her, she crawled out of the tent. Outside, she draped it around her shoulders. Grabbing a long stick, she poked at the fire, waking an explosion of sparks that winked at the darkness before disappearing. She jabbed it again, squinting as smoke rolled from the coals, rose up and twisted itself into an opalescent braid that spiraled toward the treetops.
Raw, blue-white heat radiated from the fire’s core, pulsing and throbbing like a heartbeat. She put the stick down, closed her eyes and inhaled the musky-sweet scent of charred wood and heat.
“I thought I heard someone out here,” Noah whispered.
“Couldn’t sleep,” she said, “and the fire always makes me drowsy.”
He sat down beside her.
Though Billie stared into the flames, she sensed that he was gazing at her. She pulled the sleeping bag tighter around her.
He picked up the stick. “It’s freezing out here. Wonder what the temperature is?”
“Forty? Forty-five?”
“Maybe.” Noah scooted closer. “I’m cold.” He grabbed a corner of her sleeping bag and covered himself, too.
“Wow. You weren’t exaggerating. You are cold.”
“Doesn’t make much sense wasting a lie on something that trivial.”
“Ah. So you prefer to lie about big important things, then.”
He made a halfhearted attempt at a laugh, but he wasn’t smiling when he looked over at her. “No one tells the truth all the time.”
She had to agree. Billie had stretched the truth plenty of times. Little things, like misrepresentations that saved her from childhood punishments, and flattering friends who’d survived horrible haircuts. And serious things, like letting her family think she’d recovered from losing the baby, long before she had. Telling Bud he looked wonderful, fresh off the ventilator. And then there were the big bold lies she told herself: that she didn’t like kids and never wanted any of her own.
“Warm enough?” he asked.
She nodded. “And you?”
He nodded, too.
“Think Alyssa will want to do anything like this again?” Billie asked.
“Sure. She’s having a ball.”
“Really? It didn’t sound that way, a few minutes ago.”
“She’ll get used to the night noises.”
“I suppose,” Billie said.
“You suppose? Did she say something to you when you guys went looking for firewood?”
“No. It’s just…” Why waste a lie on mediocre stuff? “Tent walls don’t exactly offer much privacy. I heard her crying.” Heard you singing to her, too….
“Oh. That.” He faced the fire again. “She had a nightmare about her mom. Happens sometimes when she’s overtired.”
If Noah wanted Billie to know how his wife had died—and why it caused Alyssa’s recurring nightmares—he’d tell her.
“You have a very pleasant singing voice.”
He dipped his head. “Aw, man…. Sorry. I thought I was being quiet.”
“No need to apologize. You have a really good voice.”
Billie held her breath, waiting for a response. But the only thing she heard was her own pulse, drumming in her ears. She leaned forward to find out why he’d grown so quiet all of a sudden. Instead, she found out that a dimple formed in his right cheek when he smiled. His two-day growth of whiskers reminded her of nearly every male actor between the ages of eighteen and eighty. Billie had never found that look particularly attractive. Until now.
He shifted slightly, and when he did, the length of his thigh pressed against hers. The wind kicked up again, sending a blast of cold air into their cocoon. Was it instinct that caused him to lean closer still, seeking warmth?
Something was happening here. Billie couldn’t put a name to it, because she’d never experienced anything like it before. She blamed the night. The scent of charred wood. Quiet snores and sleepy grunts coming from the tents all around them. The haunting one-note of an owl, perched in a nearby tree. And in the distance, the mournful wail of a train whistle.
A log broke apart in the fire with a hollow whoosh, startling her and sending sparks skyward like a red-orange fountain. The embers flickered and flashed, then faded as they rained back to earth.
The sleeping bag slid from their shoulders when he leaned closer still. “If you’re the type who screams, this would be the time to do it.”
“Why would I scream?”
“Because,” he whispered, “if you don’t, I’m going to kiss you.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
JUST KISS HER, he thought, instead of staring into her big, long-lashed eyes, which glittered in the firelight. Just kiss her, and find out for yourself if her lips feel as soft as they look.
When Billie closed her eyes, he felt as though she’d slammed a door in his face. She rested her forehead on his shoulder for a moment, then got to her feet.
“See you in a few hours,” she said, giving the sleeping bag a quick shake.
As she disappeared into her tent, he turned and stared into the fire. It was just as well that he hadn’t kissed her. Starting something he couldn’t finish would have been thoughtless and reckless, completely unfair to Billie, who’d already experienced her fair share of heartache and loss.
Still…regret hammered at him. He tried to ignore it. Tried to explain it away. It’s just loneliness talking, he told himself. But women weren’t the only ones who longed for the warmth of an embrace, who wanted to love and be loved.
“Daddy?”
Starting something with Billie wouldn’t be fair to Alyssa, who so desperately wanted a mother’s love.
When he crept into the tent, she levered herself up on one elbow.
“Where were you?” she said. “I woke up and you were gone, and I couldn’t see anything because my flashlight is busted!” She gave it a shake, as if to prove it wasn’t working.
“Broken,” he corrected, taking it from her. “And I was right outside, talking with Billie.” He unzipped his pack, glad he’d had the good sense to toss in a couple batteries at the last minute. Locating the AAs, he replaced the dead ones in Alyssa’s flashlight.
“Okay, cupcake,” he said, handing it back, “you’re all set.”
She tested it…on, off, on again. “All fixed. Thanks.” She gave it a final click and scooted deeper into the sleeping bag. “You’re the best daddy in the whole world.”
“And you’re the best little girl.” He climbed into his own bag. “Try to get some sleep. The sun will be up before you know it.”
She rolled onto her side, facing him. “What were you and Billie talking about?”
Noah chuckled. “The weather, the elements…”
Yawning, Alyssa said, “Sounds boring.”
It might have been, with anyone else.
Her eyes fluttered closed. “Love you,” she murmured, around another yawn.
“Love you, too,” he said, giving in to drowsiness.
Noah woke to the scent of coffee, and heard Billie teaching Troy how to take apart and pack up their four-man tent, in the same gentle voice that had reassured Alyssa after the box of photos had spilled across her living room rug.
He stretched, feeling reenergized. That surprised him, because he hadn’t expected deep, dreamless sleep. Any other night, he would have tossed and turned, counting all the reasons it had been a mistake to kiss her. Correction—to almost kiss her. He rolled out of the sleeping bag and admitted it didn’t matter if their lips had touched or not, because that moment was fused in his memory. A good thing, since it could never happen again.
When he exited his tent, he saw a circle of cyclists twenty or so yards away, and though she stood with her back to him, Noah easily picked Billie out of the small crowd. She was the smallest adult in the group, for one thing, with energetic hand gestures emphasizing every word. What might it feel like, he wondered, to have those hands on his face the way they’d been on Alyssa’s that day…?
He helped himself to a cup of coffee, and continued to watch her through the steaming curlicues. With the exception of Troy, every man in the group—married or single—laughed a little longer and louder at whatever joke she’d told. One of the things Noah liked most about Billie was that she seemed not to notice. Or if she did, dismissed it as unimportant, unlike nearly every other woman he’d known.
He heard Alyssa moving around in the tent, and ducked inside to check on her.
“Look,” she said, arms akimbo, “I’m all dressed and ready to ride!”
“Good girl. Ready to brush your teeth?”
She nodded.
“And comb your hair?”
Another nod. “What a kid,” he said, returning her high five. “Hungry?”
“Oh, yes. Very. Do you think they have pancakes?”
He took her hand. “Let’s find out.”
Outside, Alyssa looked around the campsite. “Where’s Billie?”
Noah looked for the Orioles baseball cap or the too-big orange sweatshirt that should have made her easy to spot. Why hadn’t he noticed before that the space beside his tent was empty? Could she and Troy have policed their area and hit the trail in the short time he was inside with Alyssa? He knew that people often acted as scouts on trail rides, to report sights and activities that might be of interest to the cyclists, but she hadn’t said anything about it earlier. He shrugged off his disappointment by telling himself he’d run into her at lunchtime.
He didn’t see her again until everyone gathered around the extra-long passenger van Jeff had rented to make the two-hour trip home easier for the kids. One by one, the adults loaded backpacks and bikes into the pull-behind covered trailer. Another note of disappointment chimed in his head when Billie got into the van and moved to the back.
Alyssa tugged on his hand. “Do you think we’ll be home in time for rehearsal?”
“Maybe.” He sounded distracted, even to himself. Noah cleared his throat and met her eyes. “If we don’t run into a traffic jam, I’m sure you’ll make it in time.”
“I know all my lines. I mostly just need to learn how to say them.”
She probably meant lyrics, not lines.
“Miss Deidre says Molly is a big responsibility, and that’s why it’s important not to miss rehearsals.”
Wait a minute…wasn’t Molly the youngest orphan, the one who interacted directly with Annie?
“You have lines?”
“Well, of course. Molly and Annie are good friends!”
Alyssa studied his face, and quickly figured out that he didn’t have a clue what was going on at the Little Theater.
“Oh, no.” She slapped a palm to her forehead. “You forgot, didn’t you?”
Absentmindedness would have been easier to own up to than ignorance. “Forgot what?”
“The permission form? Remember?”
A flash of memory took him back to a night last week, when he’d spent half an hour on the phone trying to correct an erroneous charge on his credit card statement. The customer service rep had been right in the middle of identifying the problem when Alyssa handed him a sheet of paper. Thinking it was a field trip permission slip for school, he’d signed, telling himself he’d examine it later…right before reiterating the Don’t Interrupt When Daddy’s on the Phone lecture. But soon after hanging up, she’d fallen and skinned her knee, prompting the Don’t Run in the House speech, instead. And until this moment, he’d forgotten all about that form.
“I get to sing in four songs now,” she announced proudly, “and I have twenty-three lines. Miss Deidre says they’re all very important to the play.”
Noah grazed a knuckle over her cheek. “I’m really proud of you, cupcake.” How would he tell her he’d made a mistake, agreeing she could perform in the first place?
She darted toward the van and quickly disappeared inside.
“Hold on a minute,” he said, following. “What’s the hurry?”
“Billie promised to save us a seat.”
He looked for validation from Billie, but she was facing the back of the vehicle, talking to Jeff and his family, who were sitting side by side on the long rear bench.
Alyssa sat to Billie’s right and patted the empty space beside her. “Quick,” she said as Billie scooted closer to the window, “before somebody else gets it!”
It would be a tight fit, but Noah sat down, anyway. He withdrew his cell phone and typed a reminder into the notes area: “Call Max re: Play.” Maybe she’d agree that letting Alyssa perform was too risky, and maybe she’d say he was just being paranoid. Again. Pretending he hadn’t already made one of the biggest mistakes of his life wouldn’t be tough.
He glanced at Billie, whose cheeks were rosy-red from riding in the chilly wind. She whipped off the baseball cap and stuffed it into a zippered jacket pocket.
Pretending he wasn’t falling for her would be tougher still.
*
FOR MOST OF the day, Billie had managed to avoid him. Even now, she’d managed to avoid direct eye contact. But she couldn’t focus on the Grahams for the entire drive home.
She rarely went anywhere without carrying a few business cards. Taking one from a pocket in her jacket, she handed it to Kelly.
“If you get a chance in the next day or two, shoot
me an email with that list of ideas you were telling me about on the trail. I have two sites to update, but they won’t take long.”
Speaking of taking long…Billie had a feeling the two-hour drive back to Ellicott City would feel more like ten. Why had she offered to save Noah and Alyssa seats?
Because Alyssa had asked her to, that’s why.
“I don’t know anyone very well,” the girl had said. Billie had pointed out that she knew Troy, but Alyssa had said that didn’t count, because Troy was a boy. She knew Jeff and Kelly and the Graham kids, too. But the Grahams were too old to have anything in common with her and their children were too young to be any fun.
“Are you mad at me because I lied about the allergy pill?” Alyssa had asked.
“That’s ancient history,” Billie had assured her.
“Because I spilled your pictures?”
“That was an accident. Could have happened to anyone.”
“So if you aren’t mad, why don’t you want to sit with me?” she had asked, clearly puzzled.
It wasn’t Alyssa’s fault that Billie had developed a ridiculous, unexplainable high-school-type crush on Noah. But she couldn’t very well admit that, so had agreed to save them both a seat. Now, as Noah thumbed through messages on his cell phone, Billie admitted he could never be more than a neighbor and client. Was he remembering their near-kiss and thinking the same thing? Was that why he seemed so uncomfortable?
“So,” she said to Alyssa, “where were you guys all day?”
“Trying to catch up,” the child said. “You guys are way faster than us.”
Billie slid an arm around her. “Well, when you get a little bigger, and learn how to ride a big bike, I have a feeling you’re going to be some serious competition.”
“Do you really think so?”
“Oh, I know so.”
Alyssa leaned her head on Billie’s shoulder…and promptly fell asleep.
Noah put his phone away and said, “She’s never done that with anyone before.”
He’d slid down in the seat, closed his eyes and crossed both arms over his chest, so Billie couldn’t tell if that was a good thing or a bad thing.