Not any woman. Jilly.
She tasted like coffee and something sweet that he couldn't identify.
He couldn't help it. He deepened the kiss, needing more of her.
And she turned to flame in his arms. Her hands wound around his neck, and she pressed close just long enough for him to get his arms all the way around her.
And then she was gone, burst away from him as if he were covered in poison ivy.
He could hear her heaving breaths over his own.
"I don't—I can’t—"
He couldn't understand her fractured stammer any more than he could wade through the tsunami of sensations crashing through him.
"Jilly—" He wanted to ask for a moment to try and catch his breath, capture some sort of balance.
But she was already gone.
9
"Happy Thanksgiving, dear."
Noah shook himself out of his musings and smiled so that Mom could hear it in his voice. When he was on the phone with her, it was too dangerous to let his mind wander.
But it wanted to. Right back to the kiss he'd shared with Jilly. Same place it'd been wandering all week.
"Happy Thanksgiving, Mom."
Memories of the hot press of her mouth kept sneaking up on him at inopportune moments. Like now, when he needed his full concentration to speak to his mom.
He forced himself to focus. He'd been on a walk, out in the brisk breeze, and now ducked through the back door, happy to be out of the icy wind.
"How'd your turkey turn out this year?" He toed off his shoes and folded up his cane, leaving both in the mudroom.
Mom usually went all-out on the meal, up before dawn to start cooking. Often, she and Steve invited friends from church or the community to share the meal with them.
"I'm not cooking this year," Mom announced cheerfully.
What?
"Since you were too busy to come home, Steve convinced me to volunteer at our church's meal delivery event. We'll eat with the other volunteers at the church after it's all over."
"Wow, good for you." Or maybe good for Steve. Noah's mom was usually a stickler for following holiday tradition, even if it meant she spent most of the day in the kitchen and ended it exhausted.
"Speaking of wow... Steve surprised me with his Christmas gift yesterday."
The cruise tickets. He was surprised by the sudden wave of aching emotion. He missed his mom. He leaned one hip against the kitchen counter, rubbed his aching chest with the opposite hand.
"You've always wanted to do a Caribbean cruise," he said.
"Yes, but it's over Christmas. I didn't want to ruin Thanksgiving, but I'm going to talk to Steve tomorrow. We can't go at Christmas."
"Sure you can. The tickets are nonrefundable, aren't they?"
"Oh." She sounded quiet and sad. "I don't know."
He didn't want her to be sad on his account.
"It's just another day on the calendar," he said. "There's nothing magical about it." Not for him. Not anymore. "If you and Steve want to come for a visit, come in January."
He could sense that she was wearing down. "I don't know..."
He made a noisy, dismissive exhale. "You should go. I'll be fine, I promise."
After the hell he'd put her through as a child and during his teen years, she deserved this. She deserved a gold medal for persevering in her love for him.
God knew he didn't deserve it.
Maybe Jilly had sensed it, somehow. Maybe she'd been able to feel the darkness he tried to keep hidden inside, and that was why she pulled away so violently.
But before she had... man, she'd been fire in his arms.
And he wanted to do it all over again.
"Are you okay? You seem distracted."
Mom. Focus.
"I'm fine."
Mom was silent, but not for long. "How are things going with your new neighbor? The two of you didn't get along back in high school, did you?"
He grimaced. Then forced his face into a more normal expression. Mom didn't need to know how discombobulated he was over Jilly right now. "It was more a rivalry than anything else. We tried to one-up each other."
Constantly. They'd talked smack on each other and competed incessantly.
And back then, he'd never had the urge to kiss her.
At least not any more than he'd wanted to kiss any random girl.
Stupid teenager.
"Rivalry." His mom was using her I'm thinking voice. He could imagine her wearing a fierce, protective frown.
He turned on the faucet and began to wash up. He had a chicken breast thawing in the fridge and intended to make some mashed potatoes to go with it.
There was a reason he hadn't brought up Jilly since that first time Mom had mentioned her. Cue Mom's overprotective, nosy streak.
He gave her a whitewashed version. He mentioned the graffiti. The punishment. Lindsey the kitty.
He left out the kiss.
"Another few days of painting, and they won't need to bother me anymore."
And that thought hit him harder than it should have. He was ready to go back to his quiet, simple life.
Right?
"Hmm." Was all he got from Mom.
"I better go. You too. You've got deliveries to make." He cleared his throat. "I'm thankful for you." The words put a lump in his throat.
"I'm thankful for you, Noah. I love you."
"Love you, too." He ended the call and put his phone at the back of the counter, out of the way so he could cook.
What was he doing?
He resisted the urge to run his hands over his face, only because he didn't want to wash up again.
Just because he and Jilly had had a moment didn't mean he was in a place where he could pursue... whatever this was between them.
He didn't even know whether he liked her or not.
She was a pain. A bossy, nosy, pain in his posterior.
Who happened to be spunky and caring and beautiful.
He had no business wanting her. Hadn't he seen firsthand what kind of disasters happened when he wanted something too much?
He should call a painter to finish the house. That way Jilly and her minions would have no excuse to come back over here. He'd lock the doors and go back to the silence he preferred.
He had his phone in his hand, ready to make the call, when he realized it was Thanksgiving, and no one was going to answer.
He'd do it tomorrow.
His doorbell rang.
And because he couldn't stop thinking about what she'd felt like in his arms, he found himself at the front door without a conscious memory of how he'd gotten there.
Her scent hit him as soon as he opened the door. He was hit with a visceral memory of the feel of her skin beneath his fingertips, and his throat closed up.
For once, she didn't barge inside.
"Can we talk?" she asked almost tentatively.
He held the door open, and she stepped in, though she swung wide as she slipped past him.
"The kids okay?" he asked.
"Yes. Lindsey is staring at the oven, waiting for her pumpkin pie to bake."
He smiled a little at that. Lindsey the baker.
"She wanted me to ask if you'd changed your mind about coming up to the house for dinner."
He raised his eyebrows at her. "Lindsey wanted you to ask?" That seemed like a lot of words for a little girl who'd uttered all of three words in his presence, one of which was meow.
She sighed in an exasperated way. "Fine. I don't like thinking about you all alone over here. Come over for lunch."
It wasn't an invitation. It was a demand. One that, by the sound of her tone, she would rather not have to make.
Which made his hackles rise.
"How can I refuse an invitation like that? Uh, no."
"Noah."
"Jilly."
She made a muffled noise that sounded suspiciously like a scream, as if she'd covered her face with both hands.
"You don't really want to be here alone, d
o you?” she asked. “We're going to have a full house. You can eat, and no one will even notice you're there."
He doubted that. The boys had chattered to each other enough this week that Noah knew Iris and Callum and their twins would be attending. Along with Cord and his wife, a woman named Molly whom Noah had never met.
Thinking about coming face to face with his two former best friends made his stomach twist. Both Callum and Cord had seen the real Noah, and neither one had stuck around after the big reveal.
"I am happy to stay here." It was true. He'd be really unhappy if Cord or Callum brought up what he'd revealed to them in confidence.
"Why do you have to be so stubborn?" she demanded.
"Why do you?"
And suddenly, the same energy that had sparked between them last night was ratcheted up to a thousand, so full and terrifying he could almost hear it crackling between them.
Fabric rustled as if she’d shifted her feet, or maybe turned away from him. Silence stretched.
"We should talk about what happened last night," she said finally. Her voice projected away from him.
It bugged him.
"It was top five for me," he said. "If that's what you're asking."
"Top five?"
"Top five kisses. Of all time."
"That's not..." She sounded breathless, her voice barely there. "Not what I wanted to talk about."
She didn't say anything, and he amused himself by imagining her gaping at him like a fish, struggling for words.
"What about you? Am I in your top ten?" he asked.
She spluttered.
And he couldn't resist. "If you need a refresher, maybe we should do it again."
It was a dare, and they both knew it. Maybe it was stupid, considering he’d been planning to hire a painter rather than see her again.
But it stuck in his craw that she was the one who'd come over here to give him a let's-be-friends speech.
"Noah, it's not..."
"Me?" He crossed his arms over his chest.
"I haven't dated anyone since my boyfriend broke up with me a few weeks after my diagnosis."
Ouch. That sucked. Her ex was an idiot.
"I haven't wanted to date. It's not... I'm not..."
He waited for her to continue. He couldn't tell where her trailing sentences were going. Was she making some kind of hand gesture? Trying to figure out how to let him down easy?
Because he'd mostly been arguing with her for the fun of it. He wasn't going to protest when she walked out of there.
"I'm not... shaped like a woman anymore. I had surgery and..."
She took a breath, and he realized by how shaky it was that she was right on the edge of tears. She was making herself vulnerable to him.
I'm not shaped like a woman anymore.
Was she saying what he thought she was saying? Of course she was.
His feet took him toward her. He reached out before he even knew he was close enough to touch her.
His hand connected with her upper arm, but she immediately shifted and pulled away.
"Noah, I can't do this."
He stopped moving, let his hands fall to his sides.
"I can't do this," she repeated. Her voice was soft and broken.
All he could say was, "Okay."
10
"Chapter eight had several mistakes in it. You'll need to go back through and re-record parts of it."
Noah bit back his frustration at Aiden's words.
They'd wrapped their recording and turned in the audio files three days before the deadline. Apparently the publisher had an additional proof-listener who’d found the problems.
Noah would fix them. It wasn't Aiden's fault that there were mistakes. It just was.
"Fine. Any sign of the new contract?"
"No."
He paced across the living room, frustrated. Ms. McDane's agent hadn't come through with the contract yet, even though they'd delivered on the completed audiobook.
This time of year, the publishing industry slowed down as the holidays ramped up.
It was fine. It didn't mean anything.
He just wanted the thing signed and delivered.
There was a scratch on his front door.
"I've got to go." He ended the call.
"Lindsey?" he asked as he opened the door.
He expected a meow but heard a sniffle instead.
He squatted to her level. "What's the matter?"
Instead of the expected meow, he heard a whispered, "I miss Jilly."
So did he. It'd been almost a week since the kiss that had changed everything. He'd been unable to get her out of his head. The feel of her in his arms, the way the sparks between them had lit him up. And the way she'd been near tears. I can't do this.
He was so used to the confident, competitive Jilly that her vulnerability had thrown him.
That was all it was. But he hadn't gained back his equilibrium yet.
The cold weather had cleared, but she'd kept her distance from the house as Casey and PJ painted.
He wasn't supposed to want to talk to her—just talk—so badly.
"Is she back at the house?" he asked gently. "Why don't you go back and see her?"
Lindsey took a shuddering breath. "She's not there. She got in a car accident, and now she's at the hospital." He didn't have time to be amazed that Lindsey had spoken in complete sentences because a soft sob escaped the girl.
The hospital? Jilly was injured?
His mind spun with awful possibilities. He had to force himself to focus.
He touched Lindsey's shoulder, and the girl threw her arms around his waist.
"Everything's going to be okay," he whispered roughly.
She shook her head against his belly. No. Of course she wouldn't believe him. He remembered PJ's tantrum over the book. Lindsey's past experiences had taught her that things weren't always okay.
But she'd come to him anyway.
"Where is your brother? And Casey? Are they at home?"
Now she nodded, her head bobbing against him before she pulled away. "Miss Iris was babysitting us."
Jilly's sister was there. That was good, right? Maybe if he went over there to watch Jilly's kids, Iris could go to the hospital and be with Jilly.
"She has two little boys," Lindsey said in a rush. "And they picked us up from school and Iris keeps going to the bathroom to throw up. I think she's sick."
Crap. That wasn't going to work.
He could maybe be responsible for Jilly's kids for a couple of hours, but not young twins. How old were they, anyway? Four? And if Iris was sick, what kind of help would she be for Jilly?
Lindsey let go of his waist but clung to his hand. Like she was depending on him.
"You got any ideas, Linds?"
"Meow meow." They were back to the kitty, then?
He had an idea. One he had no business putting into practice.
* * *
Jilly hated hospital waiting rooms. Sitting here with the same old antiseptic smells. The same receptionist behind the counter. The same stupid paintings on the wall. And even some of the same people, a woman in the corner hiding behind a book, her head wrapped in her scarf. An older man who played solitaire on the waiting room table. Mr. Peebly. Jilly had seen him so often when she’d been in for chemo that they’d become sort-of friends.
Being here brought back the feelings of helplessness, and grief, and even nausea.
She was paging through a magazine, her attention not really on it, when all of a sudden a broad-shouldered man filled the doorway. Someone she would recognize anywhere.
Noah.
Her traitorous heart leapt.
He had his cane in hand and stood in the doorway awkwardly. She abandoned the magazine and went to him, just in time to see someone heading down the corridor. Had someone from the hospital staff brought him up here?
"What are you doing here?" she asked.
Some fine tension bled out of him as she approached. "
Looking for you."
She glanced around at the other patients in the waiting room. Scarf Lady was curiously watching them, while the receptionist was pretending to ignore them but was secretly listening.
She took Noah's arm and nudged him back out into the hallway, letting the door thunk closed behind them.
"What's wrong?" she asked.
An orderly rolled a metal cart loaded with food trays down the hall, and Noah turned to follow the noise. He seemed rattled, or distracted maybe. His frown was a thundercloud. "You tell me. Lindsey came over to my place to tell me you'd been in a car accident and that you were at the hospital. I went to the ER first, but you weren't there."
She released a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. The kids were okay. From the moment she'd seen him, her gut had been tight with worry.
She shook her head. "Lindsey must've misunderstood. I got in a fender bender on my way over here. I'm here for some scans and blood work. Normal stuff." Well, normal if you'd done battle with the cancer monster. This was Jilly's normal now. "I have to come in every couple of months and get checked." Because she could have a reoccurrence. Probably not now. But in another five years... Or ten...?
"So you're all right? Because Lindsey thought..."
She could imagine what Lindsey might've thought.
"I haven't told the kids about my cancer." She shrugged and rolled her eyes at herself for the gesture. He couldn't see it. "I guess that's a discussion we need to sit down and have."
"You might want to call your sister and have her explain at least a little bit to the kids."
She cleared her throat. "I'll do that."
"So... you're fine?"
He seemed to need reassurance. She was trying to hold it together. She wasn't ready to be vulnerable with him. "I'm fine."
There was a loud beep on the overhead speaker system, and a garbled page came through.
Noah waited it out. "You don't sound fine."
"I'm as fine as I'm going to be until I get finished here. Thanks for checking up on me, but you can go now."
She couldn't describe the expression that crossed his features. Exasperation, maybe? "After all the times you've barged in on me lately, you think I'm just going to walk away now?"
"I didn't barge in on you," she protested.
Cowgirl Next Door (Sutter's Hollow Book 3) Page 7