by Unknown
She lifted her eyebrow. “It’s spring in Colorado. Not winter in Antarctica.”
“Does Antarctica even have a spring?”
“Probably a very cold one.”
“Just like your fingers. How’s the rest of you?” Noah tucked her arms around his back and drew her into a warm and cozy embrace. “Hmm… not nearly as cold, but not toasty either. I think you’d better stay here a while.”
With her cheek pressed against his warm chest, Cassie’s lips lifted. Just like she’d expected, he smelled good—like aftershave with a hint of soap. She breathed him in while her heart laced up its running shoes. And she didn’t care at all. Instead, she snuggled closer and allowed his warmth to fill her up.
“Can I get you anything?” he asked.
“No.” She wanted to stay right here. Just like this.
“What about ice cream? I’ve got cookie dough or mint cookie dough. Maybe we could, you know, mix them together. I bet the combination would taste amazing.”
Cassie looked up and shook her head. “You’re incorrigible. You know that, right?”
“Maybe you should try to reform me.”
“I don’t think you’re reformable.”
“Yeah, you’re probably right.” His hands rubbed up and down her back. “So, I’ve been doing some thinking,” he murmured into her hair.
“About what?”
“Your basement.”
It was so unexpected that she pulled back with a laugh. “My what?”
He relinquished his hold around her waist and helped her to remove her jacket. Then he slung it over the arm of the couch and pressed a button on his mp3 player. Soft piano music crept into the room.
“Forget I said anything.” Noah took her in his arms again, one hand resting at her waist, the other holding her hand. Even though he wasn’t the most graceful dancer out there, the simple, old-fashioned hold took Cassie back to a different time, when men were raised to be gentlemen and women were treated with respect.
“I’m like an elephant. I never forget,” she murmured. “So what about my basement?”
He spun her around, and her feet moved quickly and naturally to keep up. “You’re a really good dancer.” He was trying to change the subject.
“Noah,” she said. “Out with it. What changes do you think I should make to my basement now?”
“None.”
“Then why do you want to talk about it?”
“I don’t.”
“Yes, you do.”
“Nope, I really don’t.”
Cassie pulled her hand from his, took a step back, and folded her arms. “I refuse to dance until you tell me what it is.”
He shoved his hands in his pockets and glanced at his feet. “Okay. Here goes. How would you feel about me contracting out the rest of the work?”
The smile on Cassie’s face wanted to fall, but she forced it to stay put.
It was a silly reaction. Someday, her basement would be finished, and Noah wouldn’t show up to saw or bang or sand or play his music too loud. At first those sounds had annoyed her, but over the past several weeks, she’d come to look forward to them. There was a reason she no longer worked on choreography while he was at her house, and it wasn’t because he hated Irish music. It was because she liked to hear him work. After he was gone, she liked to go down there and see the results of his work. Noah had become her favorite part of her basement. He was in every nail, every wall, and every light. The thought of him not being in the rest of it—the finishing touches—left Cassie feeling achy inside.
Yet at the same time, she understood why he wanted to let someone else do the rest of the work.
“It’s because of Adi and Kajsa, isn’t it? You don’t want to leave them in the evenings.”
Worry filled Noah’s expressive brown eyes. She knew he didn’t want to disappoint her, but at the same time, his girls came first. As they should. It was one of the many things she admired about him.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I hate the thought of having to pass the rest of the project off to someone else, but I’m already relying on Becky and Emma to be there for them the few hours after school that I can’t be there. I can’t be gone all night too.”
“You can bring them to my house,” Cassie blurted without thinking. So much for being level headed and not getting used to being a family anytime soon. None of that seemed to matter anymore. “We can eat dinner together, like we have been, and then you can work for a few hours while I hang out with the girls upstairs. They can come down and talk to you whenever they want, or you can come up and—”
“Cassie, I’m not going to let you do that.”
“But I want to.” She moved forward and placed her hands on his arms. “Really, Noah, I do. I’ve had so much fun with them the past few days, and I would love to spend more time with them. But I’ll also understand if you still want to hire it out. I know how important they are to you.”
He shook his head and started to open his mouth—probably to disagree—but Cassie pressed her fingers against his lips to keep him quiet. “Just think about it, okay?”
“Okay,” he said. His breath was warm and his lips soft. Cassie melted.
Without thinking, she let her thumb travel the length of his lower lip. What would it feel like to kiss him? What would he taste like? How would he respond?
Why was she even thinking about this?
The screeching sound of bagpipes blared through the speakers, saving Cassie from doing something impulsive. From the disgruntled look on Noah’s face, he didn’t agree.
She had to laugh. “What is this?”
“You, of all people, should know that. It’s Irish music.”
“There are no bagpipes in Irish music.”
“Well, this was the closest I could find.”
Were they supposed to dance to this? Cassie almost laughed again. “You hate this kind of music. Why are we listening to it?”
“Because I want you to teach me some of your fancy moves.”
Cassie laughed again. “Are you serious?”
“Deadly.”
She shook her head, still smiling. “Okay, but don’t forget you asked for it.”
“I won’t.”
Cassie tried to teach him the simplest of dances—the light jig. But when it came to kicking and skipping and quick little steps, he couldn’t get the hang of it. After several attempts, he finally gave up and started performing a hilarious form of Russian dancing, where he squatted and attempted to kick his legs out while folding his arms. Cassie laughed so hard she had to clutch her stomach.
“Just to See You Smile” by Tim McGraw came on next, and Noah pulled Cassie close. He rocked her back and forth with exaggerated movements, taking quick steps backwards.
“Is this supposed to be the two-step?” She was fighting not to smile.
“Am I doing it wrong?”
“Where did you learn how to do it?”
“A YouTube video.”
Cassie’s cheeks were beginning to hurt from smiling so much. She slowed him to a stop. “Let’s try this. Put your weight on your right foot,” she coached. “Then, starting with your left, move your feet in a quick-quick, slow, slow pattern. Like this.” She demonstrated, counting, “One-two, three, four. One-two, three, four.”
Noah repeated the numbers under his breath, and after a minute or so, he finally got it. Sort of. His quick steps were a tad too fast and his slow a tad too slow. And when he tried to dance around the room again, his footwork became confused, and he ended up doing more of a quick, slow, slow, quick-quick pattern—not that he ever repeated the same steps. The song ended with him trying to spin Cassie the way the “professionals” had done it in the video.
After the two-step, they swing danced to Billy Joel, cha-chaed to Jennifer Lopez, and waltzed to Enya. At some point, Cassie gave up trying to teach him the correct moves and instead attempted to match her footwork to his as best she could. They ad-libbed a seventies dance to Abba and hip hoppe
d to Black Eyed Peas. Noah spun her around until she got dizzy, stepped on her toes a few times, and dipped her at the end of every dance.
Cassie couldn’t remember ever having so much fun.
And then “Amazed” by Lonestar came on. Breathing hard from the hip hop moves, Noah fisted an imaginary microphone and mimicked a DJ’s deep voice. “All right, people, we’re going to slow things down now. So guys, ask that beautiful girl you’ve had your eye on all night to dance, and girls, do him a favor and say yes. This one’s for you.”
The pretend microphone dropped to his side, and Noah held out his hand. “Cassie Ellis, would you like to dance with me?”
Could this man get any more adorable? She placed her hand in his and stepped into his arms. She melted into him and rested her head in the hollow of his chest.
“Is Irish music the only kind you don’t like?” she murmured.
“As long as you’re dancing to it, I love Irish music.”
“What about bluegrass? Are you a fan of that?”
“For the most part.”
She looked up at him. “Jazz?”
“It’s okay.”
“African?”
“Yes.”
“Rap?”
“Not my favorite, though there are a few cool songs out there.”
“Opera?”
He made a face. “Not so much. Why all the questions?”
“Where you use ice cream to figure out people, I use music.” Cassie didn’t really, but his extensive tastes intrigued her. Noah liked pretty much everything, or at least a taste of everything. Was he as accepting with people? Would he care if the colors she wore clashed with her hair? Would it bother him if she left her hair down for a fancy company party? Would he tell her she was too old to keep her favorite stuffed animal on her bed? Get annoyed if he found something out of place?
No. He wouldn’t care about any of that. Noah shoved ice cream in freezers, wore jeans with holes in them, and danced with two left feet.
Noah was real.
He was genuine.
And he was frowning at her.
“I’m not sure I want you to use music to psychoanalyze me,” he said. “The fact that I’m not a fan of that Irish stuff yet love hard rock can’t be good in your eyes.”
She smiled up at him. “Don’t worry. You already passed with flying colors.”
“Really?” The tips of his lips lifted into a small smile, like he was mentally giving himself a pat on the back. “Are you going to tell me the criteria you used to judge?”
“Nope.”
He chuckled, and his chest vibrated. Cassie felt an overpowering sensation of being sucked in and held captive. Was this what it felt like to be bewitched by someone? Her gaze moved from his eyes to his lips.
Kiss me came the involuntary thought.
Ever so slowly, Noah cupped the back of her head and lowered his mouth to hers. At first, his lips moved cautiously, feeling, touching, and sampling, and then his hands moved to the sides of her face, and the kiss increased in intensity. Cassie was pulled into a beautiful, starlit world where no pain or heartbreak existed. Only peace and joy and wonder. In this world, it was easy to forget all about slow and steady and believe that happily ever afters weren’t just in fairy tales.
Cassie’s arms wound around his back, and her fingers pressed into his shirt. Noah was different than Landon. He was wonderful and mesmerizing and amazing and wow, could he kiss. Cassie felt herself falling, falling, falling. She envisioned making a life with Noah. Pictured raising his daughters as hers. Dreamed of walking down the aisle in a beautiful white dress and saying yes, yes, yes.
Alarms sounded in her head. Yes? Yes? Yes? Was she insane? What was she thinking? Cassie wasn’t Cinderella, this room wasn’t a castle, and Noah wasn’t a prince. People didn’t fall madly in love in two months, glass slippers didn’t exist, and fairy tale endings didn’t just happen because you wanted them to. Had she learned nothing from Landon?
Cassie pressed her palms against Noah’s chest and broke free.
“You can’t”—dang, she was out of breath—“kiss me like that. Not yet.”
“Why?” Beneath her palms, his chest rose and fell as rapidly as hers.
“Maybe in six months, but not now.”
“Six months?” Noah laughed as though she’d made a joke, then stopped when he saw she wasn’t joining in. “Wait, are you serious?”
“You promised we’d go slow, Noah. This isn’t slow.”
His fingers curled around her upper arms, and his eyes met hers. “Cassie, it was just a kiss. Just. A. Kiss.”
Maybe for him. For her, it was an Olympic-paced one-hundred yard dash.
“When two people are dating, it’s normal to kiss.”
She pulled free and pointed at him. “Yes, but not like that. That kiss was not… normal.” It was a spell he’d cast on her, making all common sense go bye bye.
His lips twitched. “Then what was it, exactly?”
“Not normal!” Good grief. Why was he giving her a hard time about this? Why wasn’t he reeling and as freaked out as she was?
“Well, I’m a fan of the abnormal then, because I thought it was amazing.” He took a step closer. “In fact, I’d really like to repeat—”
“No! Not for six more months!” She held up her hand to stop him from coming any closer. “At least!”
“You said that already.” He continued to inch forward.
“I mean it.” Cassie’s back hit the door, and a feeling of claustrophobia overtook her. She couldn’t keep resisting him. She needed distance. She needed fresh, unromantic air. She needed her aunt to douse her with a large pitcher of ice water. And she needed Noah to understand.
His footsteps stilled, his expression softened, and the teasing glint left his eyes. “I was only teasing, Cass. If you really think we’re moving too fast then we’ll slow down. But six months is a bit extreme, don’t you think?”
She shook her head, trying to convince herself as much as him.
Noah sighed and nodded, then took a step back. “Okay. Six months it is. But if you change your mind feel free to let me know.” He gave her a small smile as he picked up her coat and helped her put it on. “I wish I could drive you home. It’s late.”
“I’ll be fine.”
“Will you let me know when you arrive?”
“Yes.”
His eyes captured hers in a look that seemed to say, “Be brave and don’t freak out.” But when it came to moving forward, Cassie didn’t want to be brave. She wanted to be strong and set. She wanted to be absolutely sure. And as much as she wanted to believe that happily ever afters did exist, two months wasn’t enough time to know anything.
Rising to her tiptoes, Cassie placed a soft kiss on his cheek. “Thank you for the dances. You made me feel like a lady tonight.”
His hand caught hers before she could step away again. “You are a lady, Cass, and I’ll always treat you that way. Never forget that.”
She felt herself falling under his spell again, so she pulled her hand free. Then she opened the door and fled into the night, feeling like Cinderella at the stroke of midnight. Only tomorrow, there would be no glass slipper, no impromptu proposal, and no rushing into any of it.
She wasn’t Cinderella and didn’t want to be.
The air smelled like earth and vegetation and spring. The buds on the trees were beginning to uncurl into green leaves, and the snow from the previous weeks’ storm had all but disappeared. It was a time of year that Noah both loved and dreaded. The promise of warmer weather, his girls riding bikes or running through sprinklers, outdoor barbeques, and late night talks on the porch with Emma, Kevin, Becky, and Justin. He looked forward to it all. But at the same time, the girls would be out of school during the time when the construction industry was at its peak. So in that respect, summer was the most difficult time of year for him.
“C’mon, you stupid thing. Come out!” Across the street, Becky tugged with all her might on
a large weed that had sprung up in the middle of one of her budding shrubs. Her yard was always pristine. It was a normal thing to see her weeding or planting or trimming. But she didn’t normally yell at the weeds, and she never wore slacks and a dress shirt. Something was wrong.
Noah eyed Emma’s house with longing, wanting to see his girls and feel their hugs around his neck. But Justin was out of town for the week, which meant Becky was dealing with whatever it was all alone. So he crossed the street just in time to hear Becky cuss. Becky never cussed.
For a brief moment, Noah wondered if he should let her cool off a little before he tried to get to the bottom of things. Maybe it would be better to give Justin or Sam a call. Or there was always Emma. Women seemed to be so much better at consoling other women. Yes, he should go get Emma.
He was about to turn around when Becky’s hands slipped from the weed, and she fell back on the ground. Her head dropped to her knees, and quiet sobs shook her body. Noah’s eyes widened. Becky never cried either. Oh geez. Had something happened to Justin or Sam?
He rushed forward and knelt beside her, putting an arm around her shoulders. “Becky, what’s wrong?”
She sniffed and glanced up at him, then ran the back of her hand across her eyes, leaving traces of mud across her cheeks. “I can’t”—she drew in a shuddering breath again—“get that stupid”—another breath—“weed out.”
Noah gave her arm a gentle squeeze. “Here, let me.” With one hard yank, he pulled the roots free, sending dirt clods flying. One hit Becky on the forehead, and she half cried, half laughed.
“I’m sorry,” said Noah, using his sleeve to wipe it off.
“No, it’s okay.” She sniffed again. “I actually needed that.”
Noah took in her muddy knees and dirt splattered shirt. “Is everything okay with Sam and Justin?”
She waved away his concern and got to her feet. “They’re fine. More than fine, actually. And I’m fine too. Really. I’m just”—she wiped her eyes and sniffed again—“being stupid, that’s all. Don’t mind me. Go home and be with your girls.”
Her appearance belied her words. Besides the mud, her eyes and nose were a miserable shade of red. He wasn’t about to leave her like this.