NOAH: A Childhood Nemesis Sweet Romantic Comedy (Waco Wranglers Reid Brothers Book 2)

by Heather Horrocks

  She smiled, a sweetly innocent and yet mischievous at the same time smile that caught at his chest.

  Suddenly he wanted to reach out and touch the red curly strand of hair that fell across her eyes. Wanted to run it through his fingers.

  But if he ever did anything like that out in public, everyone in the world could see it on their way out at the grocery store checkout stands.

  He only had a week with her, less now, but suddenly that didn’t seem nearly enough.

  “Ahhh, welcome, most beautiful butterfly.” The guide pulled the bus over to the side of the road. “We believe that butterflies represent a beloved family member who has passed on, and we honor that sight with silence.”

  The noisy guests quieted and watched as several butterflies fluttered past the windows. One stopped on the huge front windshield.

  The guide gasped and reached out a gentle finger to the glass. The butterfly stayed in place, and Noah could tell Ratu was touched.

  When the butterfly flapped its tiny colorful wings and took off, Ratu touched his heart, and confided to the group, “I lost my father a month ago. Now I know he is safe.”

  Noah wished for that same assurance that his own father was safe, even after all these years.

  Glancing over at Emma, he saw her delicately wiping tears from her cheeks. The butterfly had touched all of them who’d lost a loved one, apparently. Emma had lost her grandmother the year before.

  Ratu straightened in his seat and said, “Come, we’ll go to a beach on the south side of the island where you ladies will learn how to tie a sarong and you men will learn a war dance.”

  After splashing in the waves on the most beautiful white-sand beach Emma had ever seen, she’d come ashore with the others for a sarong demonstration.

  She had learned five different ways to tie a sarong. Each of the women guests had received a pretty one in different colors, and island women had taught them to tie them. Now, well over a hundred women looked like bright tropical flowers, smiling and laughing.

  From farther down the beach, they could still hear the men yelling as they executed a short Fijian war dance. The fierceness of it was impressive, even if the men were dressed in swimsuits and T-shirts. She could understand why enemies would have been intimidated by the war dance, and why Fiji teams performed one before soccer matches. It was primal and unnerving.

  A whistle blew, their signal to meet back under the canopies. The group was large enough — two-hundred-fifty, at least — that loudspeakers had been set up for Preston’s presentation on finding quirky and unique settings for your filmography.

  Noah came up beside her. “That was fun.”

  “Not as fun as tying a sarong.”

  He grinned. “You’d be way too scary if you knew a war dance.”

  Preston’s voice drifted over the loudspeaker faintly to them on the shoreline. “We brought you to this beach, and we’ll be going to visit a haunted house, as well, because we want you to see what unique settings can do for filming. If you use the same background in every single scene, no matter how sparkling your dialogue, it’s going to get boring. Let your settings sparkle, too, like the sun reflecting off the ocean.”

  Emma took one last glance out at the water and sighed. Then she saw something that froze her in place.

  “What is it?” Noah asked.

  Her voice came out low and reverent. “That man.”

  “Which one?” His voice sounded kind of war-dance threatening, like he’d pound any man who disturbed her peace.

  She put a hand on his arm. “The guy with the camera. Oh. My. Gosh. I’ve dreamt of one like that.”

  “A guy like that?” He sounded insulted.

  “No.” She laughed and looked at him. “That is the camera of my dreams.”

  She tugged him after her until they stood beside the man. He was about six feet tall, with a barrel chest and strong legs, and he was fully dressed down to shoes.

  “Excuse me,” she said.

  The man turned and said, with a German accent, “Yes?”

  She pointed at his camera. “Is this a Hasselblad H5D-200c?”

  “You’re a camera person.” The man held it up and grinned at her. “Yes, it is the Hasselblad.”

  She actually found herself sighing. “Is it as wonderful as I think it would be to film with?” Her voice was wistful.

  He nodded. “It is a beauty to work with.”

  Emma pointed. “And is that the Hasselblad 35-90mm f/4-5.6 HCD lens, too?”

  “Yes. Would you like to hold it?”

  With reverent hands, she took the camera and studied it. After several moments, she carefully handed it back. “It’s beautiful.”

  Noah asked, “How much does something like that cost?”

  Emma said, “More than I can afford.”

  The German gentleman was happy to oblige with the info. “The camera is forty-five thousand dollars, and the lens is another eight.”

  She sighed. “This is my dream camera set-up.” The one she feared she’d never be able to afford.

  The camera owner asked Noah, “You are the actor?”

  “Yes.”

  “May I take your photograph with this beautiful lady?”

  Emma shot a glance at Noah, who just smiled. “Sure.”

  They posed for the shot, Noah’s arm about her making her feel safe and secure.

  The man shook Noah’s hand, thanking him, then looked at Emma. “I hope you can get one of these cameras for yourself someday.”

  “Thank you.”

  Noah motioned toward the others. “We’d better go listen to Preston.”

  “Yeah,” she said, surprised he’d allowed someone to take a picture of him with her when he was afraid it would be sold to the media.

  She’d be sure to watch for the photo at her local Waco grocery check-out stand next week.

  10

  Take the Head Start

  After being driven to the beach, a small market, and a natural pool, the settings portion of the day was done, and it was time for quirky characters.

  Noah enjoyed everything about the trip — even more so since he was spending the day with Emma.

  One of those quirky characters, Ratu had driven them to what he claimed was a local haunted house — a small, old-fashioned building built many years before. Clapboard, with a spacious roofed front porch held up by four white posts, and two rocking chairs and three small wrought-iron chairs around a small table.

  A sign hung from the porch. In English — which he’d learned almost every Fijian spoke, along with usually several other languages — it read:

  Psychic Readings

  Black Magic Removal

  Love Spells

  An older woman sat on the porch, rocking away. She could have been anywhere from fifty to a hundred years old, her face wrinkled. The pattern on her dress was what he guessed was some sort of Fijian tribal pattern in rust and black, and she wore slippers on her feet.

  The tour guides approached her deferentially. She waved them away.

  Ratu returned and announced. “She will choose one person from each of the buses to receive a psychic reading. She also has potions for sale in the front room, and you are all free to go inside and her grandsons will help you find the potion you need.”

  “Sounds like we’ve got our quirky character, for sure. She lives in what she claims is a haunted house and gives readings and performs other magical rites.” Noah nudged Emma with his forearm. “Let’s go check out what she’s selling. Maybe we can find voodoo dolls of our exes in there.”

  She snorted a laugh. “No voodoo dolls. Once you go down that path, I don’t think you can ever come back.”

  She stepped onto the porch and entered the front door — a fancy door with many horizontal glass insets. He watched her appreciatively as she moved with a fluid grace.

  Inside, two young men wearing the male version of the sarong, or sulu, were answering questions. Noah pulled a box off a shelf. “Love potion.”
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br />   “Like you need that,” Emma said, rolling her eyes. “You have eighteen million women after you.”

  “But they don’t love me.” He leaned in closer and whispered, “Even movie stars need love.”

  She lifted a bottle. “A potion to remove evil spirits from your home. I could have used that during my divorce.”

  It was his turn to snort a laugh.

  The crowd was pushing in.

  Emma said, “I’m getting claustrophobic. I’m going back out on the porch.”

  Noah followed her.

  The old woman raised her hand and said, “You!” pointing at Emma.

  Emma turned to her, with a questioning look. “Me?”

  “Yes. Come here and sit.”

  Emma exchanged a look with Noah, who shrugged. “I guess you’re the lucky person from our bus. I’ll stay with you so I can hear what wonderful future you have ahead of you.”

  She sat in the other rocking chair beside the old woman. Up close, he could see that the old woman’s hands looked a hundred years old, so he was going with that estimate on her age.

  The woman nodded and rocked without speaking, her chair creaking with each slow rocking motion. Her eyes bored into Emma.

  Finally, she told Emma, “You are close to love.”

  A blush rose up Emma’s cheeks. She could never hide her embarrassment, thanks to her redheaded complexion. “I don’t think so.”

  “Yes. It is so.” The old woman shook her head. “I am never wrong in affairs of the heart.”

  They rocked for another moment while Noah studied Emma, her beautiful flushed face, her red hair, her sweetness. He wanted her. He had to figure out some way to date her.

  And then he realized — the old woman was right. Noah was close to Emma.

  The old woman looked at Noah, and repeated, “It is so.”

  Emma looked stricken.

  Her face paler than usual, Emma pulled out some bills from her purse, set them on the table, rose, thanked the woman, and fled the porch.

  The old woman shrugged and looked at Noah again. “You must go after her.”

  He nodded in agreement. “You’re right. Thank you.”

  He set a few bills down, too, and walked toward the bus Emma had boarded.

  Emma felt like she was still blushing. All afternoon, practically, especially when Noah took his seat beside her on the bus. He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t need to — they’d both heard the old woman’s words.

  Not that she put any credence in those words.

  You are close to love. No. She was sitting next to Noah, but all that meant was that her school girl crush was close to her. And, sure, he’d been looking at her like he was interested, but he’d never said anything, he hadn’t really touched her, he hadn’t followed through. Whether he was worried about the tabloids bothering her or whether there was nothing there to begin with, she was beginning to think it might be wise to keep her distance from Noah Sullivan. Maybe try to limit her conversations with him.

  As Ratu started the bus and pulled out, while the crowd behind them talked excitedly about the day and their potion purchases, Emma risked a glance up at Noah.

  He grinned down at her. “That was interesting.”

  She rolled her eyes. Of course he wasn’t going to let her drop it, like any kind person might do. She balled up her fist and held it six inches toward him. “Did she mention that a Hawaiian punch is very close to you?”

  “A Fijian punch, more like.” He laughed. “From a Texas spitfire, which you are.”

  She settled for lightly punching his arm.

  He held it and pulled an injured expression. “Ow!”

  She laughed at the ridiculous sight. “Big baby.”

  “Big meanie.” He actually pouted, and looked adorable doing it.

  And, just like that, he’d gotten her talking to him again.

  He was good. Too good.

  After a short stop at home to rinse off the earlier sea water and beach sand, Noah changed clothes for dinner, prepared by a restaurant in town.

  His phone buzzed and he answered it on the second ring. “Hi, Knox.”

  “Hey, Noah. Do you know what’s going on with Sam?”

  Sam was Knox’s brother and Noah’s cousin. “What do you mean?”

  “I asked him to spend some time with me, and he seems kind of down.”

  Noah sighed. “I think he has some weird sort of survivor guilt over taking over the quarterback slot when Daniel got hurt. I get the feeling he thinks he stole the slot from Daniel instead of just being the next in line when Daniel had to step aside. That’s why he moved in with Zeke when Daniel was staying there.”

  “Huh.” There was a brief pause. “Okay. I’ll go over to Zeke’s and see if I can help out at all.”

  “Thanks. I appreciate it.” Preston called out to him. “I’ve got to go.”

  He hung up as he walked down to catch a ride over to the conference center, on the beach side.

  Tonight, Noah and Preston were hosting a Q&A session. Noah would answer as a movie star and Preston as a producer and director.

  He’d decided to bring his dog with him to the beach tonight, and Emma had decided to bring hers, too. Luckily the two played together well now, though he’d noticed that Chief definitely gave the tiny terror the respect she demanded.

  Emma rode over with Ashley and Gary, and he’d felt the loss. After all these years without her, why did he suddenly feel bereft when she wasn’t there with him?

  At the conference center’s beach-side pavilions, employees had already set up the sound system for them. It was to be an informal night, but there were still five-hundred people in attendance at the conference, many of whom would probably be there tonight. They all needed to be able to hear.

  Sunset came early on these Fiji winter June evenings. It was five-thirty, and the sun was already beginning its dip toward the horizon. The colors were vibrant purples and pinks and he stood, mesmerized. This was a postcard-perfect moment of peace, and he reveled in it. When Emma walked in front of him and caught his eye, he grinned. She just added to the moment and he wanted to share it with her.

  “Emma,” he called out.

  When she looked, he pointed at the ocean view. “Look at that sunset.”

  She turned and smiled in amazement. “Wow. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a prettier sight.”

  He certainly hadn’t — and he wasn’t talking sunsets, either.

  Preston turned on the mic and said, “Welcome, everyone. We’re going to keep this pretty informal, but we do need everyone to be able to hear. If you have a question, please stand and someone will bring a mic to you so everyone, including Noah and me, can hear. Keep the questions strictly addressed to acting and moviemaking and not personal lives. Anything you want to know about moviemaking, stand up and bring it, and we’ll do our best to answer.”

  Noah picked up the second mic on the front table. With a grin, he said, “Bring on the questions.”

  A young woman stood and an island employee took a mic to her. “When did you two meet and decide to do movies together?”

  Noah exchanged a grin with Preston. “We were childhood buddies and lived next door to each other.”

  Preston said, “Noah decided to play pro football for a few years until a shoulder injury took him out of action. Luckily for me, he had some money saved up and I had a brilliant idea for a production company. And the rest, as they say, is cinematic history.”

  An older man was next. “Mr. Archer, so far you’ve done phenomenally with your Max Booker franchise. Do you have any plans to do something in another film genre?”

  Preston leaned back against the table, one leg swinging, as he answered. “Actually, I have a rom-com in the works.”

  “Will it star Noah Sullivan?” a woman called out.

  Preston pointed to her. “Please stand and ask your question.”

  With a laugh, she did so. This time, Noah answered. “He’s got me far too busy filming the n
ext Max Booker film. This rom-com will feature another handsome actor. But he did say I could be in the next rom-com, if I behave myself.”

  Preston laughed. “Which means I don’t have to cast him, because he never behaves himself.”

  The questions were varied from “What’s your dog’s name?” to the standard aspiring actor questions.

  “What made you pursue acting?”

  “What roadblocks did you face when you were starting out?”

  “What is your greatest achievement to date?”

  And for Preston, “How did you come up with the idea for your Max Booker films?”

  “Can you tell us more about your upcoming rom-com project?”

  “Do you have any advice for young filmmakers?”

  And then a woman asked, “Can you tell us a funny anecdote about growing up with Noah Sullivan?”

  Preston said, “He was a crazy kid. Not afraid of anything.”

  Emma waved her hand and stood. “Oh, please, let me answer this one.”

  Preston nodded. “This is my sister, folks. Emma Archer.”

  When she got a mic, she said, “It was horrible growing up next to Noah Sullivan. And the worst thing was he and Preston had this tree house where they put a sign that said no girls allowed, and my friend and I weren’t allowed up. It took years of therapy to get over that one.”

  The crowd laughed, and Noah smiled. She always went back to that moment of exclusion. He really ought to figure out a way to make her feel included, since that was a button for her.

  Noah said, “Fake news.”

  The evening went on, with aspiring actors and film makers wanting to know what the secret was to hitting it big in Hollywood. Unfortunately, other than hard work and persistence, there was an element of luck involved. And there was no way to know what the secret to luck was, other than preparing as much as you could. But sometimes you just lucked into things. Like he’d lucked into playing for the Waco Wranglers, then the bad luck that had pitched him out of the league, and the good luck that meant he had money and time to make the first speculative Max Booker film with Preston.