Instinctively, he reached for her and she sagged into his arms. “He’s . . .” he started, but her sobs cut him off.
She clutched fistfuls of his shirt. “What . . . where . . . oh, God. Why did I leave him? What kind of shitty mother am I?” She peered up at him, the sight of her about breaking his heart.
“Hey,” he tried to shush her, “it’s all right. He’s fine.” He used his thumb to wipe her tears as she continued to berate herself and mumble something about calling the cops if he wasn’t with a friend named Nate.
“Darlin’,” he tried again, a bit firmer this time, wondering if this was what they called the vapors or some shit like that. “He’s fine.”
She finally stopped her rambling and stared up at him. “How do you know?”
Was that suspicion in her eyes? “Because he’s napping off a migraine on my couch.”
She released her grip on his T-shirt and rushed into the living room. He ambled behind slowly. Once she’d apparently seen that her baby was sleeping peacefully and he hadn’t ax murdered him, she spun around and strode into the kitchen.
He waited a beat before following, not sure if he was in for a verbal sparring episode. Because, frankly, the game was just getting good when she showed up and she could save it if she was pissed about him helping out her kid.
He found her leaning against the sink, facing out the darkened window. She didn’t move when he entered, but she spoke anyway, emotion making her voice wobbly. “You know, for someone who doesn’t want to be my hero, you sure do save the day quite often.”
He didn’t say anything. What was there to say?
After several seconds, she spun and caught his gaze. “I really appreciate you taking care of him.”
He nodded, thankful she seemed to have gotten herself together.
He knew her eyes tracked his gaze as he took her in. Her curve accentuating top. Low-slung jeans that allowed just the tiniest sliver of skin to show on her belly.
“Noble?” she whispered.
His eyes sliced up to hers. Something had shifted in her stare and desire was shimmering off her in waves. Or was that him? “So . . . still living up to your name?”
“Barely.”
She nodded and sucked in a deep breath, showing him a bit more skin on her stomach and just a hint of the ink he’d put there himself. There was something intensely erotic about that. He spun toward the fridge and yanked it open. “You want a soda?”
She accepted one and they both allowed a bit of the sexual tension in the room to ease without a word. Well, as much as was going to ease with her wearing that outfit.
She fiddled with her can instead of drinking. “Do you mind if we skip tonight’s lesson? I don’t think I’m up for it.”
“Yeah. Sure.” He inclined his head toward the living room. “Wanna hang out for a while? Catch the end of the game? Tristan’s still crashed out anyway.”
A look of relief crossed her face. “That’d be nice.” She moved away from the counter to follow him.
He realized too late that there was no place for her to sit if he took up the sole recliner and Tristan was still sprawled out on the couch. She didn’t bat an eye as she plopped down cross-legged on the carpet and focused on the screen. Once he sat, she scooted until her back rested against the chair between his knees.
She sipped her drink and stretched to put it up on the coffee table. “I love football. But, I’m more of a college fan. You watch NCAA at all?” God, he might love her after all.
“Yup. Go Longhorns.” His fingers wound themselves into her soft hair to gently massage her scalp without his permission. It had to have been her intoxicating sweet shampoo scent.
“Mmmm . . .” Her head dropped to his thigh. “I’m a Hoosier girl at heart. We might have a problem there.”
He couldn’t speak. Only breathe as she nuzzled his leg, sighing and murmuring occasional nonsensical sexy noises as he massaged her head, the drone of the football game in the background. How was he going to honor his promise to remain just friends with her? Holy hell, she all but oozed take me. And he wanted to take her every way from Sunday. And then do it again.
Her head rolled back to within inches of his crotch as his fingers worked their way down her neck, the graceful arch of her throat highlighted by the light of the television screen. What he wouldn’t give to bend over and put his mouth just where her pulse was pounding its rapid staccato rhythm. But he wouldn’t. He couldn’t.
Tristan shifted and groaned. Braelyn’s head snapped up. They both glanced over at the still sleeping boy. She shifted and looked Noble in the eye. Understood. Hands off. He readjusted himself in the chair and folded his hands across his stomach. But, as the commercial cut off, he’d be damned if he hadn’t missed the ending of the game toying with Sweet Cheeks in a sexual haze.
She inched away and stood as he muted the volume. “Thanks for tonight. For everything.”
He watched her internal debate as she studied her sleeping son. “He crashed pretty hard. It must’ve been a really bad headache. Why don’t you let him stay here?”
Her startled gaze flew to his. “But, I can’t.”
“Why not? He’s out like a light. No sense waking him up.” He tilted his head as a thought occurred to him. “He’s safe with me.”
Her mouth parted as she started to speak then she snapped her lips shut as if she thought better of her words. She glanced away. “I know he is.” She turned back to him with her haunting amber eyes. “It’s just . . . never mind. I know he’s safe with you, Noble. Thank you.” She bent and brushed a kiss to Tristan’s brow. “Just send him home when he wakes up in the morning.”
He nodded and followed her toward the front door. “Hey, you care if we shoot some hoops together sometime?”
She stopped abruptly and spun around. “Tristan? Basketball?”
“Yeah?”
“Um, this is my kid we’re talking about? The one I can barely get off the couch from his video games long enough to do, well, much of anything?”
Noble grinned. “Yup. That one. So, it’s cool?”
“If you can get him to do something other than play Zombie Wars or tinker on his bike, I’ll give you a medal myself.” She smiled up at him, her eyes filling with merriment.
“You’re on.” He opened the door and she stepped out as a cool wind whipped in, snaking around his legs. He made a mental note to dig out a blanket for the kid before he went to bed. “‘Night, Sweet Cheeks.”
“Goodnight, my hot Knight-in-Shining-Armor next door,” she chimed with a flirty note to her voice. She took a couple steps before she spun back around just as he was shutting the door. “Oh! Noble? I’d meant to ask you . . .”
“Yeah?” He propped his hip against the door, blocking out most of the cool breeze.
Her demeanor changed as she fidgeted, tucking her hands into her pockets and biting her lip. “Had you, uh, well, had you given any thought to my offer to help you find your mom?”
The smile dropped from his face as cold dripped down his skin. And not from the air. Every muscle in his body went rigid. Why was she bringing this shit up again? “No.”
She wiggled back and forth from foot to foot. “Oh. Well. I was just thinking, if you had, that is . . .” She rushed on quickly, her words nearly tripping over themselves as she took his silence for acceptance. “I found this awesome website that we could use. I’m sure it would work. All we’d need is her name and social if you have it and last known whereabouts. I’m assuming that’s the reservation, right? You’re Navajo? I think that’s what Tristan told me, but I never thought to ask. Dumb of me, I guess . . .”
“Braelyn! Enough!” He cut her off.
She pressed her lips together and her eyes widened. He hadn’t meant to shout. But, dammit. “We’re not searching for my mo
ther.” He bit out the words. “Period.”
She nodded once. “Okay. But, can I ask why?”
He released his breath. Hardheaded woman. “Because.” He glared down at the moon-soaked ground and bit back a heavy sigh. This was the last thing he wanted to get into. Now or ever. He glanced back up to her face. “Because she walked away from me when I was just a kid and didn’t look back. She didn’t want me. Didn’t give a shit about me. So why should I give a shit about her?”
She took a step in his direction. “But, how do you know?”
Her softly spoken words had his head snapping up. “What do you mean, ‘How do I know?’ She left and didn’t come back. End of story.”
Somehow his hand ended up in hers. “We both know life isn’t always that cut and dry. I’m a mother, Noble. And I would never just walk away from my son. Never. Maybe she was trying to get a better life for you and something happened to keep her from you.”
“And maybe not. Not all mothers are like you.”
“No, they’re not. But you’ll never know, will you?” She shook their joined hands. “Wouldn’t you just kick yourself if you hated her all these years then found out she wasn’t the horrible person you imagined her to be?”
“Why do you care so much?”
She shrugged. “Call me crazy, but I care about you. Why should you be alone in the world if you don’t have to be?”
“I’m not alone.” Though his heart ached with the truth of her words.
She blinked at him. “You know what I mean.” Tears filled her eyes. “I’d give anything for one more day with my grandmother. And it breaks my heart that a mother and son are apart if maybe they don’t have to be. Who knows? Maybe she’s out there looking for you. I know I would be if it were me.”
He rolled his eyes. “Such an optimist.”
“Such a pessimist.”
“Well, I think I’m right.”
“Yeah, but what if there’s even the slightest chance I’m right? Don’t you wanna at least look into it?”
He glanced away with a noncommittal shrug.
She snuggled into him as she felt his resistance crumbling and kissed his chin. “So, you’ll let me do it?” His cheek. “Please?”
“Fine,” he relented. “But if you find out that she really is a trashy bitch who ran away from her life and kid, I want no part of contacting her and I want to hear all kinds of ‘You were right, Noble’ coming out of that pretty little mouth. I am not above a major ass ‘I told you so.’”
Her giggle carried on the night breeze, lifting his heavy heart. “Agreed.”
Chapter 23
Braelyn clicked off her Bluetooth headset as she drove. Another voicemail from Michael canceling his plans with Tristan tonight. Again. He’d been pretty scarce the last couple weeks, which made her feel like he was avoiding them. But why?
Luckily, since the migraine incident, Tristan and Noble had been pretty much attached at the hip whenever they weren’t at school or work. It heartened her as much as it scared her to freakin’ death. Was she setting her son up for another heartache at the hands of a man by allowing it to continue? But every time he came home looking so fulfilled from their “man” time, she didn’t have the heart to put a stop to it. Noble didn’t even seem to mind Tristan hanging around while they did their reading lessons.
They worked on Tristan’s bike together. They played his blasted video games together. They talked mysterious guy stuff hidden away in the garage with a stash of junk food together. Yeah, she knew about that. But, generally, they just hung out. Without her. But, strangely, it didn’t bother her until she started to overanalyze the situation.
She gave a dreamy little sigh as she thought of Noble. He’d been frustratingly adamant about the “friends only” rule he’d imposed. But he was still a lot of fun to be with. Even if he seemed to prefer being with her son half the time. He had the driest sense of humor she’d ever been around. It was hard to tell when he was joking most of the time. But when he smiled, it lit up the room. And when she was the cause of that smile . . . oh, man. It made her stomach do mad flip-flops. God, she could wake up to that smile every day.
Heck, she’d love to wake up to that smile one day.
Sometimes, she even fancied that she’d love to love him. But she didn’t think she was brave enough to take that step. As if he’d ever love her back if she did.
And in their reading work, he’d graduated up to more complex words. Geez, the guy was like a sponge. How he’d ever thought he was slow was beyond her. Pretty soon he wouldn’t need her anymore. It would just be a matter of taking what she taught him and using it to cope with his reading disability, which was getting to be less and less of a disability, really. It still shocked and humbled her how quickly he’d let her into his world, a place she knew he didn’t invite many people.
She drove passed Mrs. Arnold and waved at the older woman watering her flower garden before pulling into her driveway. The festive grouping of pumpkins and hay bales on the other woman’s porch reminded Braelyn that Halloween was just a couple days away and she’d better give some thought to buying candy for all the little trick-or-treaters that were sure to frequent her new neighborhood.
She killed the engine, tucked her purse under her arm and headed for the door.
“Tristan!” She tossed down her bag and shucked her shoes before ducking around the corner to look for him at his usual video gaming spot. No zombies getting slayed right now. The house was unusually quiet.
She tried his bedroom. Empty.
A familiar sense of fear started to build. She refused to go there again. Last time she’d embarrassed herself and run crying to Noble’s and found Tristan sleeping off a migraine.
It was early. He could be any number of places. She’d try his best friend Nate, or his little girlfriend Ashley—though she still had a hard time with the fact that her baby had a girlfriend. She dashed to the kitchen and picked up the cordless phone. Using the list of numbers taped to the fridge, she dialed Nate first. No answer. Next, Ashley’s mother kindly told her that Ashley was still at cheerleading practice. Well, hell.
She spun around and leaned against the sink. Then the slip of paper on the counter caught her attention. She walked over and picked it up.
At Noble’s.
T.
Of course. His new BFF. She strode to the living room and peeked out the window. The big black truck stood and stared back at her arrogantly. Well, she and Noble didn’t have plans to get together tonight in an official learning capacity. Maybe she should go over there to check on Tristan and invite Noble to dinner? That was harmless enough. The worst he could do was say no.
Decided, she changed clothes, tucked her feet into some flip-flops, and slipped out the door. Just in time to see Noble zipping into his driveway on a motorcycle. With her son on the back? Oh, hell no!
Before they could park the stupid thing, she had zipped over there—hip propped, foot tapping, waiting to give the ass-chewing of her friggin’ life.
As they pulled off their helmets, she wasn’t sure who to light into first. Tristan saved her the trouble when he started talking as he dismounted. His face was animated, absolutely infused with joy. “Mom! Mom! It was awesome! We went to this rinky-dink old park and played basketball and I actually beat Noble two games outta three. Then Noble gave me some pointers on how to drive the cycle . . .”
Her mom ears went on red-alert there and she put up a hand to stop him. “Wait.”
His mouth snapped shut and his expression turned guarded as if he now sensed a landmine. She shot a glance to Noble, who looked as closed-off and expressionless as always. Could never read that man, darn him.
She turned back to Tristan. “Hold on a second. Did you actually drive this thing?” She glanced at the motorcycle.
Trist
an’s face fell as he glanced at Noble. Oh, shit was all over his body language.
“Don’t look at him. Answer me.” She was barely holding onto her temper.
“I-I, uh, uh . . .” Tristan stammered, sounding very young all of a sudden.
“Braelyn,” Noble cut in, obviously trying to spare the boy.
Her gaze sliced to him, but she didn’t say a word. She didn’t trust herself to speak. How could he take her baby on that deathtrap, much less teach him to drive it?
What if something had happened?
He studied her for several moments, never moving from his perch on the bike. He could’ve easily stood and towered over her. Intimidated her. But he didn’t. He took a breath or two then said, his voice low and calm, “I would never do anything to hurt you or Tristan. And I’d never do anything with the boy against your wishes.” When she started to speak, he held up a hand. “I asked you if it was okay to take him to play ball. You said it was cool. As for riding the bike, the kid said he had your permission. Guess I should’ve checked on that first. Sorry.” He leaned forward, making sure he had her full attention, his black, black eyes trapping hers. “But understand this . . . I’d never hurt him. I’d die first.”
Without another word, he stood, nodded at Tristan and left them alone as he went inside.
Back home, Tristan stormed to his room and slammed the door. Braelyn refused to give him an inch on this one. She followed right behind him and threw the door open.
“Oh, no you don’t, young man. We are going to talk about this.”
He hunched down on the edge of his bed, his handheld video game in hand, totally ignoring her.
Suppressing her urge to kill him, she strode over, plucked the game from his hand, snapped it shut with a definitive slap, and waited for him to look at her.
The Halo Effect (Cupid Chronicles) Page 19