4. Chapter 4
Chapter 4
Lily
"Are you going to offer me some lemonade?" I ask, noticing the intensity of his gaze—and realizing just how much I like it.
"I am!"
I watch him pull two glasses from the cupboard and fill them with ice. He brings them to the table and pours in the lemonade. The bright yellow of the lemon slices contrasts beautifully with the cool, clear liquid, making it look as refreshing as it feels to be here with him. Whoa! What the heck am I thinking?
He sits across from me and takes a sip. "It's good," he says, licking his lips. I can't help but stare. When his brown eyes meet mine, I feel he can read my thoughts. Whatever is happening here feels almost tangible, and I wonder if he feels it, too.
"So, Davey has a sibling," I say, wanting a distraction and to hear more of his story. His eyes darken slightly, and I can tell the memories are painful.
"Marian lost the baby. Her pregnancies were high risk because of her age."
"Her age?"
"She was forty when she had Davey."
"She's older than you?"
"Yes, by five years."
He likes older women. Why does this make me feel so inadequate? The thought gnaws at me, making me question everything about our connection. What connection?! Ugh.
"We tried to stay together for Davey," he says, "but the damage was beyond repair. She had a tough time dealing with the miscarriage. I had a tough time dealing with the betrayal, so I couldn't be there for her the way she needed me to." His voice is laced with pain, and I can see the lingering hurt in his eyes.
"I'm sorry, Noah."
"One day, I came home, and she was gone. In the letter she left me, she basically said I couldn't give her what she needed. She was leaving me, and she was moving back to London."
"What about Davey?"
"I have full custody, but I promised never to keep her from seeing her son."
"How is he dealing with it?"
"She calls him several times a week and video chats with him. It's the best she can do."
I nod, looking away, hoping he doesn't mistake my sympathy for pity.
"Can I change the subject?" I ask, needing to lighten the mood.
"Yes, please," he replies with a weary smile.
"Sharon mentioned that you have a book deadline coming up and might need help with Davey."
"We're managing for now, but yeah, my book is due in six weeks. I'll have to figure something out soon."
"I can help."
He raises his eyebrows in surprise. "Sharon told me you were working at Just In Clay."
"That was part-time, and I quit almost two weeks ago. The Linders are on vacation until the end of July, and the daycare doesn’t open until September. It just so happens I’m free for the next six weeks." I hope he can sense how much I want to be there for him and Davey.
He eyes me curiously. "What's the catch?"
"What do you mean? I ask, "I like Davey. I want to help."
Before he has the chance to say anything more, Davey walks into the kitchen.
"Hi, Lily!" he exclaims, walking over to hug me.
"Hi, Davey," I say, hugging him back. "Did you have a good nap?"
He nods, his eyes as expressive as his father's.
"Daddy, I'm hungry."
"Do you want a turkey sandwich with apple slices and lemonade?" Noah asks.
"Yes, please."
Noah asks me to stay for lunch, and afterwards, we go for a walk in the garden.
"I'm so glad there's a swing set out here for Davey," Noah says. "The attached treehouse must've taken hours to build."
"Adam and Aaron put that together as soon as Jon got the keys," I say. "Then they brought all the kids over to test it out."
"You guys thought of everything," he laughs. "There was even a welcome home note taped to my ice cream in the freezer."
I laugh, "That was me."
"Thank you," he says, his dark gaze brimming with appreciation.
We find a bench and sit while Davey explores the grounds. We're deep in conversation when he approaches us, holding something in his hand.
"Look, Daddy, I found a lizard."
I let out a high-pitched shriek and leap off the bench with such force that I tumble right into Noah's arms as he stands with me.
"Woah!" he exclaims, his arms wrapping around me. "Are you okay?"
"I don’t do well with reptiles," I admit, pressing closer into Noah’s arms as Davey proudly holds up a tiny green lizard. I turn my head, trying to avoid the sight. When Davey’s giggles fill the air, I realize how silly I must look and reluctantly try to pull away from Noah's strong, warm embrace.
"Davey, put it down," Noah says gently. "How about over there by those bushes?" He motions to the bushes and trees that line the fence but doesn't let me go.
"Okay, Daddy. I'll be right back."
We watch him walk away and hear him say, "It's okay, little guy. She scared me, too."
I look at Noah, and we both start laughing.
"Noah?"
"Yes?" he says, smiling down at me. He's so close I can see the golden amber in his eyes.
"I think I'm safe now. You can let me go."
He immediately releases me, and I immediately feel exposed, cold, abandoned.
We settle back on the bench and watch Davey discover another reptilian critter. When he glances our way, Noah shakes his head subtly, silently asking his son to keep his distance.
After Davey plays for a while, he bids his little friends goodbye and heads over to the swing set, climbing up the slide and waving at us.
"Noah?" a voice calls from behind.
We turn to find Patrick and Cara Lewis, our neighbors and long-time family friends, standing there. Next to them is their six-year-old granddaughter, Ava.
"Hi!" Noah exclaims, rising to greet them with warm hugs. "It’s so good to see you both."
"Hi, Lily," Cara says with a smile.
"Hi, Cara," I reply. "And hello, Ava. How are you, sweetie?"
"I'm good," she says, her eyes shining excitedly. "Can I play on the swings, Grandma?"
Cara looks at Noah.
"Yes, of course," he says. "Davey! Hey, Buddy, this is Ava. She came over to play with you."
Davey jumps off the swing and runs over to meet Ava.
"Hi, I'm Davey. Do you want to play?"
It takes them no more than five seconds to warm up to each other. We watch them eagerly head off to explore the treehouse together. I wish meeting new people could be as effortless for adults as it is for kids.
Cara and I sit on the bench chatting while Patrick and Noah dive into an animated discussion about the intricacies of treehouse construction.
I let my gaze linger on Noah, admiring his good looks. He's tall and strong, his biceps flexing under the sleeves of his T-shirt. His jeans hug his hips in all the right—. Wait, what am I thinking? I quickly look away, taking a deep breath, sensing the blush creeping up my cheeks.
"You like him," Cara says matter-of-factly.
I turn to Cara, who has just caught me totally checking out my annoyingly handsome landlord.
"No!" I protest defensively. "Me? No!"
"I know that look," she says with a sly smile.
"What look?" I ask unconvincingly.
"You have the same look Sharon had thirty-plus years ago when she and Jon fell in love."
"Fell in love? Wait a minute. I literally just met him."
"That doesn't matter," she replies with a knowing gleam in her eyes. "He's a bit older than you and has a son. Are you sure you're ready to take that on?"
I'm speechless. I don't even know how to respond.
"He's my landlord," I finally say. "That's it, so please don't repeat what you just said. Especially not to Sharon."
"If you want people to believe that," she counters, "you might want to stop looking at him that way."
"Looking at him, how?" I ask, feeling chastised.
"The same way he's looking at you."
***
Cara's words weigh heavily on my mind as I get ready for bed. After she and Patrick left, I felt something had shifted between Noah and me. There's a new tension I can't quite place, and it unnerves me.
The knock on my door startles me. The clock reads ten-thirty. I take a peek out the window before opening the door.
"Hi," I say, greeting my ruggedly attractive neighbor.
"Can I come in?"
"Where's Davey?" I ask, stepping outside.
"He went to bed a couple of hours ago."
"Maybe we should go back to the house," I suggest, thinking of a sleeping Davey.
"Okay," he says, then points at me and adds, "Do you want to throw something else on?"
"What?" I ask, confused. Looking down, I realize I'm clad in a very thin and very short jersey nightie.
"Oh my gosh!" I exclaim, feeling completely exposed. "Yeah, hold on."
I leave him standing in the doorway and dash back inside to grab my robe. When I return, the amused look on his face only deepens my embarrassment.
"What's so funny?" I ask, tying the belt around my waist.
"Nothing," he says, eyeing my robe. "Monsters Inc., huh?"
"Are you making fun of my robe?"
"No, of course not," he replies with a grin. "Just making an observation."
"My dad got me this for Christmas," I say. "I was eleven months old when the movie came out. My parents thought I looked like Boo ."
I shut the door and we stroll across the lawn. He smiles at me, saying, "You must’ve been a cute baby."
"I was," I say, and this time, I allow my eyes to linger on his.
When we enter the house, he asks, "Do you want something to drink? I have lemonade."
I smile at him but look away before his gaze pulls me in like a magnetic force, making me yearn for a closeness I’m not ready to admit I want.
"I'd love some," I reply.
He heads to the refrigerator, and I pull two glasses from the cupboard. "I’ve been thinking about your offer to help with Davey," he says.
"And?" I prompt.
"I would really appreciate it, but I have to pay you."
"How about a break on the rent?" I suggest.
"Deal!" he says, smiling. "Davey usually wakes up around nine. You can come by after breakfast."
"I can come earlier and make breakfast," I offer.
"I can’t ask you to do that."
"I want to," I insist.
I take a sip of my lemonade, savoring its sweet, tangy flavor, and then watch him take a long drink. His mouth is beautiful. Ugh, stop it!
"Thanks for the lemonade," I say, rising from my seat. "I should probably get going. I have to report for duty at the crack of dawn."
"I hope you like your new boss," he says, a playful glint in his eye.
"I already do," I reply before heading towards the door. "I hope he likes me too."
I turn around to face him, leaning against the door, as he towers over me, all muscle and strength, making my heart race.
"I know for a fact he thinks you're incredible." His fingers graze my collarbone as he gently tugs on my collar, drawing me closer.
"Go ahead," I hear myself whisper, the words escaping with a hint of longing.
I meet his gaze and see the unspoken question in his eyes: "Can I kiss you?"
When I smile, the unspoken answer is undeniable: "Yes."
He leans down, his lips softly brushing mine. Once, then twice. I open my eyes to find his gaze locked on me, intense and consuming, leaving me breathless.
"I'm not made of crystal," I say softly, "I won't break. Kiss me, Noah. Kiss me like you mean it."
And he does.
His lips feel firm against mine, still cool from the lemonade, their sweetness mingled with a tangy hint of lemon. I close my eyes and wrap my arms around his neck, letting his lips tease me slowly until I feel as though I might unravel in his arms. His mouth explores mine so gently, so thoroughly, that I feel shivers course through me. As he deepens the kiss, little by little, the passion I knew I'd find in his arms builds and floods over me. His hands cradle my face as he takes his long, sweet time, leaving me completely lost in the moment, enveloped in the tender intensity of this one all-consuming kiss.