by Kim Watters
The front door opened, and a deliveryman walked in. Houston barked. His short nails scraped against the Saltillo tile floor as he skittered into Hannah’s lap.
“Some watchdog you turned out to be. Glad you decided to wake up,” Hannah joked without her usual smile. Her hand rested on his dog’s fur longer than normal as if his small, squirmy body held some sort of miracle cure for whatever ailed her.
Noah signed for the package. “Yeah, somehow he missed the attack first and ask questions later gene. I should have gotten a rottweiler.”
“I’d like to see you get one of those up in your planes.”
“That would be something, wouldn’t it? Might scare the passengers though.”
The driver dumped the box of office supplies on her desk and slipped out the door. As Hannah slit open the box with a pair of scissors, Noah continued to stare at her. She’d gained a little weight, or had suddenly decided to start wearing more loose fitting clothing. Was Hannah pregnant? That would make sense, but to his knowledge, the single mother never dated, choosing to spend her time with her ten-year-old son.
And it wasn’t for Brad’s lack of trying.
Noah glanced at his watch. “I think I’ll keep Houston, though, right buddy?”
The phone on Hannah’s desk rang. Noah noticed her fingers still trembled as she picked up the receiver.
“Desert Wings Aviation, Hannah speaking. How may I help you?” The office manager flipped to a fresh piece of paper on her notepad and grabbed a pen. Beneath her desk, Noah could hear Hannah’s sandal click as she tapped her foot.
“Thanks, Ruth. I’ll let Noah know. Goodbye.”
Hannah’s fingers remained on the phone seconds after she disconnected the call. Her face paled further as she briefly closed her eyes. “Ruth Fontaine is ready to be picked up?” Hannah opened her eyes and quirked her lips into a mischievous smile. “Since when did we start a shuttle service for the employees of our contracts?”
Noah squeezed the bridge of his nose, surprised that Hannah had relaxed enough around him after a year to tease him. He was going soft in his old age. “Since some of those employees have to work twenty-four-hour shifts and I figured it was safer to keep them off the roads. I think it also gives us an advantage over the other charter companies, too, don’t you think?”
“Absolutely, Noah.” Despite her obvious discomfort, Hannah’s eyes danced in merriment.
He wondered how Ruth would look if she allowed herself to really laugh. So far he hadn’t seen many reasons for that to happen, and suddenly, he wanted that to change.
“I’m on my way. It’s almost lunchtime. Why don’t you call it a day with pay and go spend some time with your son after school? Just forward the calls to my cell phone, and I’ll grab them when they come in. I shouldn’t be too long.” Noah couldn’t really afford to let Hannah go early but somehow in the past week a certain blonde had broken a tiny hole through three years of anger and bitterness, allowing him to start seeing the outside world again.
“Are you sure?” Relief flared on the delicate features of her face.
“Positive. You need it.”
“Thanks.” She blew out her cinnamon scented candle before she returned the pile of papers to her inbox and logged off her computer. When she leaned over to retrieve her purse, a tiny groan escaped her lips. Something was definitely wrong, but Hannah waved off his offer to help her up. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”
“Bye.”
Noah stood by Hannah’s desk, staring at the saguaro cactus outside the window minutes after her compact car left the parking lot. He’d done the right thing, yet the emptiness in the office bothered him. As he grabbed his hat, whistled for Houston and locked the front door, he sensed his carefully constructed world was crumbling around his shoulders and he didn’t have enough emotional cement anymore to build it back up.
Somehow, Ruth Fontaine was involved whether he liked it or not.
A few moments after Ruth hung up with the woman who answered the phone at Desert Wings Aviation, she pulled the sleeveless black dress she’d worn too many times this year already over her head. Death was a part of life, and also part of God’s plan, but it didn’t make it any easier to say goodbye to another friend. Ruth, as well as the rest of the volunteers, staff and children would miss Margaret Ann terribly.
After twisting her hair into a knot, she clamped it down with a clip, sprayed on hairspray and patted down the curly wisps that refused to conform with the styling mousse. Not that it would really matter because by the time she got to the church the strays would have worked themselves free again.
She sighed and put on her jewelry, slipped on her sandals and added some tinted gloss to her pale lips. Then she headed to the kitchen where she stuffed the obituary and directions to the gathering afterward into her purse and made sure she had her car keys.
Ready, Ruth hovered near the front door. The neighbor’s cat sat perched in the tree outside her office window, feeding her sadness. What poor, innocent animal was on its snack list today? She really wished Boots would take up residence somewhere else.
A flash of white caught her eye, and she sucked in her breath.
Her grandfather’s old clock chimed noon. Noah’s punctuality surprised her. She’d only called twenty minutes ago, figuring she’d have to wait at least an hour before he showed up. Ruth released the frilly white lace curtain over the side window, unlocked the door and stepped outside into the hot sunshine. Noah opened his door and let Houston jump down before he followed suit.
“Good afternoon, Ruth.” His lips cracked from their straight line into a frown as he gazed down at her. “You look nice today. Special occasion?”
“Hi, Noah. Hi, Houston.” Ruth scooped up the happy, squirmy dog but stopped him from licking her carefully made-up face. After she set him back on the walkway, her fingers brushed away a few strands of dog hair and smoothed out the nonexistent wrinkles on her black dress.
Ruth felt her sigh all the way to her toes. “You might say that. As soon as I pick up my car, I’m going to a funeral.”
A stagnant moment of silence hung between them.
Noah rubbed a bead of sweat from his forehead. “I’m sorry. Close friend?”
“Yes. I wouldn’t be where I am today if it wasn’t for Margaret Ann.” Ruth bit her lip. She was not going to break down in tears and test her new waterproof mascara. She was going to keep her emotions bottled up like the man standing in front of her.
Yet the next thing she knew, Ruth was in his arms, clinging to the front of his polo shirt. His arms cradled her as they had last night and it felt so right; yet she could still sense him trying to withdraw. Her cheek caressed the soft tan material covering his muscled chest. She swore she heard his heart beat as she gasped for air. His masculine, just out of the shower scent, hovered around her. “I’m really sorry, Ruth.”
Beside them, Houston barked, bringing the moment to an end. The warmth lingered where his arms had wrapped around her, but he maintained a silent, emotional mile away.
Ruth pulled away. “Thanks for coming to pick me up. My garage was feeling a little empty this morning.”
In reality, her two-car garage was always half-empty. But Noah’s truck wasn’t the cure to filling it up. Ruth didn’t need any more complications or problems than she already had. Her gaze skimmed the form-fitting polo shirt that accentuated his perfectly sculpted pecs. Her gaze focused on Houston instead of staring at Noah as if he were the proverbial last man on earth.
“Do you always bring your dog with you?”
“Most of the time. He gets lonely when I leave him behind. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Not at all. I love Houston.” Though Ruth wondered if Houston was really the lonely one.
“Nice place. I didn’t see much of it last night when I dropped you off.” Noah surveyed the slump block home.
“Thanks.” Ruth swelled with pride. She’d worked hard the past few days to maintain her home despite her crazy hours
. “It suits me. The only thing it doesn’t have is a pool. Too much work.”
“You live alone?”
“Yes.” For a second, Ruth wondered if he had an ulterior motive for asking that question. Probably not. She buried her disappointment. Still, her gaze slid past his ringless hand before she eyed the newly cut bougainvillea bush to her right. The scratches on her arm had healed, but the memory of fighting with the thorny branches almost made her eyes water.
“Ready to go? I wouldn’t want you to be late.”
“Of course.” After locking the house, Ruth followed Houston inside the truck. She clicked the belt in place with a sudden sense of déjà-vu. “Thanks for picking me up. You really didn’t have to. I could’ve found my own way.”
Noah buckled himself in and flipped the key. “Not necessary. It’s another perk we’ve decided to add to our services.”
The all-business, no-nonsense Noah was back.
“Well, thank you anyway.” The cold air-conditioning blasted against her heated skin, and she focused on the rest of her day. After she paid her respects to Margaret Ann, she’d stop by the Children’s Center and surround herself in the Lord’s work and bring happiness and peace to those who welcomed it. Noah needed it, too, but until he allowed Him into his life, Ruth could only pray for him to find his way. His salvation.
Her thoughts quieted when she realized she had bigger things to think about. Something wasn’t quite right when they reached the airport parking lot. She blinked.
“Did you get a new car?” Noah gestured to the four vehicles scattered in the lot, almost as if parking next to each other was a sin.
A red Jaguar, a white Mercedes, a silver Volvo and another white pickup truck. Her stomach flopped worse than if they’d hit turbulence. “No.”
Chapter Six
From the passenger seat of Noah’s truck, Ruth pointed to a spot where she’d carefully parked her car. Or at least she thought she had. She rubbed her forehead in an insane attempt to recall where she’d left it, since she’d had a lot of things on her mind the other afternoon.
“Where’s my car? The parking lot’s not that big.” Her stomach roiled. Where was a biohazard bag when she needed one? She’d rather face all the turbulence the weather could throw at her than the realization that someone had stolen her car. “I left my car over there. I know I did.”
Noah maneuvered his truck around a dented light pole and pulled in the spot next to where she had pointed.
“Wait.” Noah stopped her from opening her door. His fingers touched hers for a moment, the contact making her more aware of the single, table for one status of her life even though that’s the way she wanted it. Her gaze skimmed his broad shoulders after he got out of his truck and strode around to the passenger side to open her door.
“Thanks.” Ruth jumped down onto the hot pavement and scurried past him. “Of all the lowdown, rotten—”
She kicked the glittering shards of glass that marked the spot where she’d left her Accord Wednesday afternoon and disrupted a flock of pigeons. A hot gust of wind played with a discarded plastic cup near the fence. Ruth reached for her stress ball only to discover she wasn’t wearing her lab coat. Of course not. It was her day off and she had other plans. Plans that included comforting those in need like Margaret Ann’s family. Like her kids in the Children’s Center.
Digging through her purse, she found a piece of gum. Chewing helped relieve her stress, too. She plopped the cinnamon flavored stick into her mouth and chewed double time to soften it up. Maybe this was just a reverse mirage. Maybe the shimmery image where the sun beat down on the cement had hidden her car behind a veil of something and in less than a minute, she’d be behind the wheel, blasting the air-conditioning and on her way.
She stared at the spot in front of her. Nothing. Her stomach sank to the tips of her black sandals. “I can’t believe someone stole my car. Why would someone steal a regular car instead of the Jaguar?”
“It probably wasn’t left overnight,” Noah responded with a sigh.
“Oh. Good point.”
From inside the truck, Ruth heard Houston give his comment in short, static barks. Turning away from Noah, she paced around the empty parking space marked by three white lines. In the bright sunlight, the glass shards winked at her, mocking her attempt to remain composed. How was she supposed to pay her respects to Margaret Ann when she had no way to get there?
“Think.” Ruth continued her march around in a circle, tapping her fingers against her forehead. “There’s got to be a way. An answer. A solution.”
She stopped in front of Noah again and stared at the smattering of dark hair showing from the V-neck of his polo shirt. She swallowed. As her gaze locked on her reflection in his sunglasses, a stillness pushed her chaos away. Okay, Lord. I get it. You do have a sense of humor today. Noah’s hurting and you want me to help. Since when did you become a matchmaker though? And what if I don’t want to play along?
Noah squeezed the bridge of his nose and stared at the woman standing in front of him. At least she’d stopped tapping her forehead. The action reminded him of something his grandmother used to do when she was thinking.
“Why don’t you call your insurance company? I’ll call the police.”
Ruth’s lost expression made another brick fall from the wall around his heart. A band of sweat glistened on her brow. According to the digital thermometer on the billboard some fifty yards away, the temperatures had already surpassed the triple digit mark. Concern for her well-being overrode all every other emotion fighting to dominate his thoughts. “You might also want to get back into the truck to keep cool. This could be a while.”
Noah watched Ruth’s hips sway underneath her black dress as she walked to his truck. Then she hoisted herself onto his passenger seat, settled the tan bag on her lap and pulled out her wallet and phone.
With her elbows resting on her knees, Ruth held the phone to her ear. She scrunched her brows together and tapped her delicate fingers against her forehead as she waited.
Noah felt bad. He’d insisted she leave her car overnight, and it had been stolen. He turned his back before he let guilt consume the last few rational thoughts he had in his head. And before he had any ideas of getting involved with a woman who wasn’t his type—could never be his type.
After reporting the stolen vehicle to the Scottsdale police, he snapped his phone shut and retreated to the sliver of shade given off by the light pole next to his truck. The idea of taking a dip in his condo complex pool later planted itself in his brain after the police took Ruth’s information and after Noah got back from taking her to a funeral he didn’t want to go to but had unwillingly committed himself to.
“Noah?” Ruth slid off the seat and approached his tiny section of shade. Her sigh danced up and down the back of his neck. “I’m sorry about earlier. I had no reason to snap at you. Or blame you. According to my insurance agent, there’s been a rash of thefts lately. I need to call them back when I get a police report number.”
Righting himself from where the metal had burned into his back, Noah faced her. “Your apology’s not necessary. If I hadn’t insisted on driving you home last night, your car would be parked in your garage.”
“Would it?” She planted her hands on her hips.
“Of course.” Noah pushed an errant strand of Ruth’s hair behind her ear. It was as soft as it had been last night. He suppressed the itch to caress the tiny pulse in her throat with his lips. He needed to remain detached.
Mercifully unaware of his thoughts, Ruth charged on. “But did you see it Wednesday when you came back? Or yesterday when you flew out? There’s no telling when someone took it.”
Instead of focusing on her lips, he finally focused on her words. Ruth had a point.
“I don’t know. I wasn’t paying attention.”
Her hesitation cost him another piece of sanity. It added another layer to that chivalrous side he couldn’t ignore.
“Look, Noah. This wasn’t pa
rt of the plan. You’ve probably got other things to do. I’ll call a cab to take me to a rental car place when I’m done here.” Ruth now stood behind the open door and swung her purse strap over her shoulder. “Then I’ll find my way to the cemetery.”
“I don’t have anything to do today that can’t wait. All the office calls are being forwarded to my cell phone, and Houston would have been disappointed in me if I left you out here by yourself to deal with this.” Noah wanted to reach out and hold her hand in reassurance. Who was he kidding? He was the one who would be disappointed if he didn’t stay to help.
She simply stared at him, her lightly glossed lips pressing into a straight line.
Noah wedged a hand in his hair. “Look. The police are going to be a while. I suggest we go wait inside one of the buildings where it’s cool so my truck doesn’t overheat. I’ll take you to pay your respects to your friend once you’ve filed the report, and then we’ll go rent you a car.”
“This isn’t your fault.”
“I say it is. Come on, boy.” Chivalry wasn’t dead as long as Noah could still breathe. Especially where Ruth was concerned. She brought out emotions he’d thought buried with his wife. He leaned inside the truck to shut off the ignition. His hand shook when he turned and slid his palm under Ruth’s elbow to escort her to an air-conditioned building. He inhaled her sweet scent but bit down on his tongue to keep from burying his nose in her hair. The heat had gotten to him.
She made him want to care again.
“Where’s the funeral?” Cloying heat and diesel-laden air surrounded them as Noah helped both Ruth and Houston into the truck after the police had come and gone. While the officers had handled the theft in the airport parking lot with efficiency, Noah didn’t have much confidence they’d find Ruth’s car. Or if they did, how much of the car would be left. Guilt assuaged his conscience again.
After Ruth glanced at her watch, she buckled herself in. She sighed with sadness, and tears pricked the back of her eyelids when she briefly closed her eyes. “It’s too late for that. The funeral procession is probably halfway to the cemetery by now. Look, please drop me off at the car rental place. I can take it from there, Noah. Houston looks like he’s ready to go home.”