by Lisa Jackson
“You’re going to freeze your pretty backside off,” he said, making no effort to hide the fact that he was definitely checking her out.
It made her feel giddy. Seeing him like this. Really seeing him as a man. Not just her friend. He was both. Because all of those feelings she’d always had for him were still there. There were just other feelings, too.
“I’m sure my backside will be fine,” she said.
“Do you need to go down to the brewery before the party?”
She shook her head, following him out of the bedroom and back into the living room. “Everything was all set for me to be on vacation for the next week. So I’m actually the least busy that I’ve been for a very long time.”
“Well, I guess Charlie isn’t completely useless then.”
She frowned. “How do you figure that?”
Noah reached out, wrapped his arm around her waist, and pulled her close. “Because of him, I have the next week with you.”
Then he kissed her, and her knees went weak, and for a few minutes she couldn’t even remember who Charlie was.
* * *
They spent the day working outside—well, more accurately, Meg followed Noah around while he did the work. And she rode shotgun in his truck, watching him lift heavy things and in general be manly and sexy in ways she couldn’t believe she had never noticed before.
Well, she had noticed. It was just that she hadn’t allowed herself to put the appropriate label to it. But now, suddenly, all those feelings that she’d had for him for quite a while made a lot more sense.
That kind of light giddiness she felt when he looked at her, that tightening in her stomach when he got close and she smelled the soap he used, layered over the top of his skin.
She was attracted to him. And she had pushed it down deep for a very long time.
She sighed and looked in the mirror, reasonably happy with what she had managed to accomplish in Noah’s small, Spartan bathroom. She had brought makeup and a dress with her to New York, so she had it in her bag at his house, and she figured it was as good an outfit as any to wear to the Christmas party.
The dark green material clung to her curves, and it was a little bit sexier than she would normally wear to something local. She had bought the dress with New York in mind. With no one she knew but Charlie in mind.
It was another thing entirely to show up in something so figure hugging at a party where she would know 90 percent of the attendees. With the man she was currently sleeping with. A man people would be pretty shocked to find out she was sleeping with.
But everyone had known about her attachment to Charlie, so she supposed that she and Noah weren’t exactly a weirder pairing. And there was really no reason to keep it a secret.
She frowned. Unless there was. Unless Noah wouldn’t want people to know. Because it wasn’t as if they had made plans for the future.
Did she even want to make plans for the future? She had been married to a very specific future for a long time. Maybe she needed to have none for a while.
Her stomach churning, she walked out of the bathroom, to see Noah standing there wearing a button-up flannel shirt, the sleeves pushed to his elbows, revealing those muscular forearms that she knew were as solid and strong as they looked.
His dark hair was a little bit tousled, and it made her think of running her fingers through it, which she had done more times than she could count over the last twenty-four hours.
And for some reason, she had a strange sense of déjà vu. A flashback to that time she had opened her bedroom door when she was fifteen years old, to see seventeen-year-old Noah standing there with a package of cookies.
She had taken them and gone back into her room. Overwhelmed by the emotion evoked by such a small gesture. Because there had been a shortage of small, thoughtful gestures in her life.
Not from him, though. He had started their relationship with one. And he had spent every moment since adding to it. There was a whole mountain of wonderful inside of her, built up by Noah. It wasn’t the same as Charlie, who dazzled with a smile. Who had held her and kissed her, and made giant promises that he could never live up to.
Noah had never made a promise. He had never done a single flashy thing in his life. He had just shown her that she mattered. In small ways that had become big. That had shaped her.
And suddenly, it didn’t matter what they called it. It didn’t matter what they planned for the future. Because beneath all of it was the deep, underlying trust she had felt for him from the moment he had handed her that package of cookies.
Things had always been okay between them. She had to believe that they always would be. That this was another brick added to her personal structure. Added by him. Which was fitting. Because whatever he might say about how he had been hard and she had been soft when she had first come to live with Jim and Nancy, the fact of the matter was she had been more like a wounded animal.
Vulnerable. Needy. But in no position to trust anyone.
And he had reached out. In spite of all the things he’d been through. Noah continually reached out. He continually gave. Whatever he thought about himself, however he might describe himself, his actions spoke loud and clear.
It was so much easier to give weight to money, flash, and dramatic transformations. And somehow so easy to miss the simple, deeply meaningful actions of a good man.
“I’m ready to go,” she said, clearing her throat. “Do you think the driveway is going to be passable?”
If worse came to worst, they would be snowed in at Noah’s place, and honestly, that wasn’t so bad as worst-case scenarios went. She could take off her dress, and he could take off his shirt, and they could keep each other warm.
“Everything looks good. You okay?”
“I’m great.”
He smiled, and it made her stomach curl in on itself. “You look great.”
“So do you.” She took the two steps toward him to close the distance between them and cupped his cheek, kissing him lightly. “I’m proud to have you be my date.”
* * *
Her words and her kiss burned into him the whole way down to town and only intensified when he pulled into Jim and Nancy’s driveway. Meg was happy to be his date, apparently. Not concerned at all by the potential complications.
And he had no idea why he had a problem with it.
Here he was, attending this party with his fantasy woman, and he felt cold down in his gut.
But when they got out of the truck and he opened her door for her, she stepped right into his arms and rested her head on his chest for a moment, and he decided not to listen to any of those concerns. Instead, he grabbed hold of her hand, lacing his fingers through hers as they walked up to the front door.
The entire porch was lit up with white lights and bedecked with garlands. Greenery laced with cranberry-colored velvet bows. The same decorations that Jim and Nancy had put up for years. And the big wreath on the door, though it had fresh greenery as it always did, looked the same, too. White lights, dark red bow. There was a familiarity to all of this that Noah found comforting. Always had. For a kid like him, who had spent so many years bouncing around the system—preferable to being kicked around in his own house—familiarity and consistency were comforting on a bone-deep level.
But this year it was different. Because while he was going with Meg, which was common enough, this year she was holding his hand. This year, he knew what she looked like naked.
This year, she was his.
They didn’t even have to knock before the door opened and Nancy was there, wearing a bright red Christmas sweater and a necklace made of flashing Christmas lights. Her dark brown eyes went to their hands first and then up to their faces.
If the new development surprised her, she didn’t let it show. But then he imagined that a woman who had taken some fifty foster children in over the past few years wasn’t surprised by much.
“Noah! Meg.” She leaned forward, pulling them both in for a hug. “So gl
ad that you’re here. Meg, I thought you were going to be out of town this year?”
“My plans changed,” she said, tightening her hold on his hand and leaning a little bit closer to him.
Nancy smiled. “Change is good.”
And that, he had a feeling, was the only thing Nancy was going to say on the subject. The room was already packed with people from the community and with the now familiar faces of the grown children Nancy and Jim had had a hand in raising.
A lot of those kids had kids of their own, partners. Every year, the party got bigger. A testament to the good work that Jim and Nancy had done.
Jim was manning the drink station, wearing the world’s ugliest Christmas sweater and a pair of reindeer antlers covering his bald head. He waved a pair of ice tongs in their direction, flashing them both a smile.
The most amusing thing about the entire event was the fact that nobody really reacted to him and Meg showing up as a couple. They mingled with their friends and acquaintances, and Meg frequently touched him in a way that signified their change in relationship status.
Noah was starting to feel almost relaxed, which was unusual for him in any circumstance.
Then the front door opened again, and he looked up as the cold air rushed in.
And there he was.
Blond hair pushed back off of his forehead, white snowflakes clearly visible on the shoulders of his expensive-looking wool coat.
Charlie had come home for Christmas.
CHAPTER 8
Meg’s mouth went dry, her entire body trembling inside when she saw Charlie standing there on the front step. Reflexively, she took a small step away from Noah, and she could see instantly that it had been a mistake. She inched back toward him, but he stepped to the side, clearly not interested in her attempt at making amends for that initial response.
Charlie was not supposed to be here. Charlie was supposed to be in New York in bed with a supermodel. He wasn’t supposed to be here. Wasn’t supposed to be back here testing the newly formed bond between her and Noah. Wasn’t supposed to be here . . .
Bringing back the reality of the situation.
What is the reality? Did you really need him to show up to confirm what you already know? That he isn’t what you want anymore?
She looked over at Noah, who was looking grim faced and taciturn, and she knew that even though they were in for a fight later, she wanted him. She wanted to have the fight. Well, she didn’t want to have the fight, but if it was the only way to move forward she was willing to have it.
Whatever work it took.
Charlie greeted Nancy, pulling her in for a hug, and then he walked across the room to do the same for Jim. They both looked happy to see Charlie; nobody was ever anything but happy to see Charlie. It was impossible to be angry with him. Meg wasn’t even angry with him. Not really.
Because you don’t want him.
Well, that was the thing.
Then, like a homing beacon, Charlie’s gaze found hers across the room, and he started to walk toward her and Noah.
“Hey,” he said to Noah, pulling him in for a quick hug that, to Noah’s credit, did not immediately result in Charlie being punched in the face.
“Hi, Charlie,” Noah said, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I didn’t think you were coming back to the West Coast for Christmas.”
“I wasn’t,” Charlie said. “But I need to talk to Meg.”
That did make Noah bristle. And Meg stepped slightly between them. “It’s okay,” she said to Noah.
Charlie frowned. “Of course it is,” Charlie said, putting his hand on her lower back and beginning to guide her away from Noah.
Suddenly, Charlie’s arm was removed from its place and Meg found herself walking forward by herself. She looked back and saw that Noah had taken hold of Charlie’s wrist. “It is if she says it is,” he said, squaring his shoulders, his dark eyes dangerous.
Meg had a sudden vision of Noah throwing Charlie into the punch bowl.
“It’s fine,” she said, reaching out and putting her hand on Noah’s arm. “It’s fine.”
Charlie looked between them, his expression one of confusion and irritation. Well, he wasn’t going to get any less irritated in the next few minutes.
“Come on,” she said. “Let’s go out back.”
They walked through the party, and Meg was dimly aware that they were being watched. Most closely by Jim, whose expression of concern was especially comical in contrast with the reindeer antlers. But then she supposed that even though no one was saying anything, everyone was aware of the drama inherent in her coming and holding hands with Noah, only to have Charlie show up.
As Noah had told her yesterday, her feelings for Charlie had been something of an open secret.
They walked out onto the back deck, which was illuminated with the same sort of Christmas lights that were hung out front, casting glitter down onto the snow.
Meg wrapped her arms around her body, more for security than for warmth. “You came.”
“I did. I’m sorry about what happened. And I probably should have just called you, or texted you or something, but it seemed like something we need to talk about in person.”
She shook her head. “The thing is, Charlie, I don’t really know if you needed to do any of that. You have never pretended that it was only me.”
“That’s the thing,” he said. “For me, it is, Meg. And other women . . . It’s got nothing to do with us. It’s just physical. That’s all.”
Meg bristled, because if there was one thing she did know, it was that if he found out she had slept with Noah he would not brush it off similarly.
“I can’t do it anymore,” she said. “I don’t want to. I don’t want to wait for you to decide suddenly that you’re ready to be with me. I was ready to be with you thirteen years ago. And . . . I’m not now.”
“What?” Poor Charlie. He looked genuinely confused and completely shocked.
“I cared for you back then, Charlie. And mostly, I’ve carried on doing it because I didn’t know what else to do with myself. But I do now.”
“Meg—”
“I slept with Noah,” she said, stepping over his words. “I am sleeping with Noah.”
Snowflakes fell into Charlie’s blond hair, onto his pale eyelashes, and if it weren’t for the enraged expression in his blue eyes he might have looked a like a Christmas angel. “Noah?”
“Charlie, I literally caught you naked with somebody else two days ago. And I know there have been a lot of someone elses over the years. I do not need your anger and indignation.”
“Look, Meg, if you had blown off steam with a stranger at any point over the last thirteen years, I wouldn’t have said a damn thing. But my best friend?”
Anger tore through her, thirteen years’ worth of it. “He’s my best friend,” she said. “And he’s been a friend to me from the moment I met him. He remembers that I like The Odyssey.”
“What?”
“Exactly.” She flung her arms out wide. “You don’t remember. He remembers. And we . . . The three of us . . . We are a little bit messed up, and there’s no denying that. I don’t claim to know exactly what love is. I don’t know. I thought that maybe it was commitment, over anything else. That it was butterflies in my stomach and a feeling of excitement and uncertainty. But I look around here, at this party, at all these children whose lives were changed by Nancy and Jim, and I think that maybe that’s love. The being there. Always. Through everything.”
She cleared her throat. “And I look at Noah, and his ranch. And I remember all the little things he did for me—that I was so convinced were little—and I think maybe that’s love. Not big promises that can’t be kept.” She swallowed hard, shaking her head, a tear falling down her cheek. “He never made me a single promise, Charlie. He was just there. And I think . . . I think that might be what love is.”
“You’re dropping all this on me now, Meg? Because suddenly you decide to change the rules of what’s go
ing on between us and I’m the bad guy?”
“Charlie . . .”
“Let me get this straight. You’re mad because I was with someone else when you were ready to make a commitment, but you didn’t actually talk to me or tell me that you were coming to visit. And then I come back here and find out that you’re basically doing the same thing.”
Everything felt twisted around in her head, and her feelings were twisted around in her heart. She knew that she shouldn’t feel guilty. But she’d spent so long justifying Charlie’s behavior that it was hard not to feel something when he stood there, looking like she had just punched him in the stomach.
It wasn’t love. No, it wasn’t that. She was never going to convince herself it was that again. But she didn’t hate him. Even if she wished that she could.
Actually, the real reason she couldn’t hate him was probably because it had never been love. What was the point of being angry over the fact that she had been spared a lifetime with him when she realized she didn’t actually want one?
“Stop it,” she said. “You hurt me, Charlie. And this isn’t the first time. I buried it. I buried the hurt as best I could, because I felt so desperate for some kind of security. I didn’t want to abandon my feelings for you, because . . . Well, I felt sorry for both of us. We both had it hard enough. I know that your parents really screwed you up. Mine screwed me up, too. And Noah’s. None of it’s fair. Everything that happened to us before . . . It isn’t fair. But I can’t keep submitting myself to this. I can’t.”
“Are you comparing me to our parents? Meg, I’m a millionaire.” Charlie’s eyes were as cold as the air around them. “I’m successful. I am not my parents.”
“That’s a really convenient shield for you, isn’t it? You don’t know how to love anyone more than you love yourself. You might have money, Charlie, but you haven’t fixed everything about who you are.”
“And he has? He’s gonna move you into that little cabin of his? Give you a bunch of babies? What kind of life is that? You want to talk about going right back to where we came from . . . Well, go ahead, Meg. It’s your life. We could have had a life. But not now.”