10. Noah
Chapter 10
Noah
T he inn was beautiful. The historic structure sat on a peninsula overlooking the ocean. I stood at the end of the dock, surveying the vast rocky coastline. I’d missed this.
I was an inland guy. We usually rolled our eyes at anything related to Downeast, as it was called, but the hoity-toity lobster and lighthouse part of Maine was breathtaking.
I hadn’t been here since I was a kid. Mom would rent a beach house in Wells every summer, and we’d run wild for a week, tide pooling and competing to see who could catch the coolest ocean creatures.
Where Jude carefully caught his crabs with a net, I used my hands. Naturally, that involved getting pinched many times. I probably still had a few faint scars from those adventures.
I smiled at the memory, deciding then that I’d carry on the tradition. I’d bring Tess down here in the summer to enjoy the ocean. To feel the sand between her toes and experience the joy of finding a starfish at low tide. Maine was large and diverse and consistently underestimated. The natural beauty was incredible, and the salty ocean air had already helped clear my mind.
Living in survival mode made it difficult to stop and enjoy the small moments. And becoming a parent had taught me that life was full of small moments that needed to be savored.
Currently, I was missing those small moments. I missed my baby girl. Mom had already texted me dozens of photos and videos, but my chest ached with longing to snuggle her, to press a kiss to her head, to sing her to sleep.
I didn’t regret coming, though. Vic hadn’t been herself for the past couple of days. Not that I could blame her. I could only imagine how difficult this weekend would be for her.
As I waited for her to come down from our room so we could head to the rehearsal and cocktail reception, I vowed to give her my all. I’d make sure she had fun and I’d distract her from the pain and bad memories. I’d kidnap her if I had to and take off in search of the best lobster roll in town.
She’d barely spoken on the ride down. Aunt Lou didn’t allow for silence, though. She spent the trip filling us in on all the gossip going around at her assisted living facility. She had always been a live wire, that lady. I could see why Vic loved her so much.
Dressed and ready for the evening in clothing Owen’s guy insisted on, I hung out by the dock for a while, taking in the scenery, and FaceTimed with Mom and Tess. Eventually, Vic joined me.
I’d left the hotel room so she could do her hair and makeup in peace. There were two beds, thank God, but it was still tight quarters and I didn’t want to make her uncomfortable.
Her simple black dress was short and flowy and showed a lot of leg. The way she’d styled her hair, down and all shiny and wavy, took a moment to get used to. I hadn’t seen her without her hair in a ponytail since I’d come back to Lovewell. The heels she wore were sexy as hell, only accentuating her toned legs.
Staggering a little, I put my hand over my heart. “Damn, I have the hottest date.”
She swatted at me. “Don’t flirt with me.”
“Can’t help it. I’ve got a hot date and we gotta make it look like I’m head over heels for you.”
“I know.” She huffed a laugh. “I’m sure it’s a great hardship.”
I took her hand and spun her around, making her swishy skirt flare out and giving me a glimpse of her thighs. “Not at all. This weekend will be a piece of cake.”
Vic was kind and funny. She was also very, very pretty. I’d been keeping her firmly in the friend zone in my head. But I was a red-blooded man, so it was impossible to ignore her shiny hair, her chocolate brown eyes, and her very round ass.
So I compartmentalized. Vic was a friend; I couldn’t look at her like that.
I was good at keeping all my thoughts where they belonged. When I went into fire mode, I was all business. If someone asked for my birthday while I was directing a disaster response, I doubt I could recall it.
“Are you ready?” I asked, offering her my arm.
The long, boring rehearsal was on the beach. Within minutes, it was clear the bride was a bit of a diva, but I smiled, chatted, and held Vic’s hand. Playing the supportive boyfriend was not difficult. The gratitude shining in my date’s eyes every time she looked at me only made it easier.
After the rehearsal, we were ushered to an oceanfront patio area where a string quartet was playing and waiters were at the ready, bearing silver trays of champagne and small, complicated foods.
I still couldn’t square it with my childhood memories. The Randolphs hadn’t always been rich. Mr. Randolph was a plumber and Mrs. Randolph ran a dance studio in town. Our paths didn’t cross much, but everyone in town knew their success story. It was practically part of the town folklore by now.
“Hard to believe plumbing supplies paid for all this,” Vic mused, sipping her champagne and watching her parents double air-kiss guests.
“What was it again?” I asked, marveling at our surroundings.
“It’s a tool to clear vent stacks,” she explained. “When I was in high school, Dad came up with an idea for how to make it easier. It had come to him while he was on a roof. He came home, built a prototype,tested it a few times, and then called his cousin, who's a patent lawyer.”
She shrugged and blew out a breath, making her cheeks puff out.
“The rest is history. With it, plumbers don’t have to get on roofs as much, which makes the job safer, faster, and easier. Once Dad found investors, Randolph Plumbing Supply was born. Plumbers use Dad’s tools every day, and my parents get a portion of the sales.”
“Impressive,” I said. “I’ve seen the trucks all over the US.”
“It was bizarre. One day we were a normal family, and the next we were rich. And not like let’s go to Disney World and buy new cars instead of used rich, but live in a mansion and vacation on the French Riviera rich.”
I hadn’t known Vic for long. Not really. We’d run in different circles as kids. But one of the things that struck me about her was how down-to-earth she was. How she loved hiking and good coffee and greeted everyone in town with a smile. It was hard to square this person I knew to the people surrounding us.
“I don’t belong here,” she said as if reading my mind. “My parents and sisters changed after we left Maine. While I went to college, they moved to an expensive Boston suburb and bought a big house. My sisters went to private school, and my parents joined the country club.”
“And that’s not you.”
She gave me a glare. “Of course not. I’m the last person who belongs at a country club. Trust me, my ex-husband reminded me of that frequently.”
I looked over to where the happy couple was greeting guests. Graham was exactly as Vic had described. A tanned, Botoxed, capped-teeth Ken doll. His suit probably cost more than my car and he had a shiny watch on his wrist, but his pompous attitude was doing most of the work.
“Let’s go find more of those scallop things,” I said, pulling Vic away from where she was staring at them.
For the first hour, we made pleasant chit-chat with out-of-town guests and checked in with Aunt Lou often to make sure was comfortable.
Vic was finally loosening up, and for a while, I hoped that things would not be as tense as she feared.
But then her mother descended.
I’d only heard tidbits of information about Miranda Randolph from gossip in town and from Vic herself. None of it did her justice. She had a harsh dark bob and she wore a lot of jewelry and a sneer. She cornered us by the bar, forcing introductions and interrogating her eldest daughter about her job, her friends, and how she’d met me.
“You’re looking a bit hippy,” she said through gritted teeth. “I suppose there are no Pilates classes up there in the sticks.”
Deflating beside me, Vic smoothed down the skirt of her dress.
It wasn’t my place, but I was having trouble keeping my mouth shut while Miranda listed all the things she believed to be wrong with her daughter.
I almost lost it when she leaned in, running her fingers along Vic’s cheek, and said, “Surely there’s a decent dermatologist in Bangor. You should make an appointment. You won’t be young forever. A few laser treatments could go a long way.”
God, this woman was a fucking delight. As Mrs. Randolph’s face was pulled so tight she resembled a rabid dog, I had to bite back the urge to comment.
Thankfully she moved on from judging her daughter to grilling us about our relationship and my job. So I shifted gears and focused on being a supportive, friendly plus-one as Vic went with the story we’d settled on. That we were neighbors who started as friends and eventually became more.
“A Hebert?” Her mother scoffed.
Her derision wasn’t a shock. My family didn’t have the best reputation. My dad was doing time in federal prison, after all.
As Miranda yammered on, several people came over to say hello. The bride, who wore a serene expression, rubbed at her stomach, which looked pretty flat to me, continuously. Then a tall and painfully thin woman I assumed that was Vic’s other sister appeared.
“What do you do?” Alexandra asked me, still unnecessarily cradling the nonexistent bump. The tone of her voice indicated that anything less than investment banker or CEO would be insufficient.
“Firefighter.” It wasn’t technically true, but something told me that mentioning my state of unemployment would not have gone over well.
The moment the word came out of my mouth, all three of their faces fell. It was apparent that I was no longer worth speaking to. It was for the best, really. This interaction needed to end.
I put my arm around Vic. My protective instincts were screaming at me to throw her over my shoulder and make a run for the nearest lobster shack for beer, real food, and a break from this bullshit.
Before I could put my foolproof plan into action, though, another woman came barreling through the crowd.
“You said you weren’t dating,” Mrs. Dupont insisted, fluffing her teased blond hair. Her late husband had been mayor when I was a kid. She was one of those mean, insular types who thought she was better than the rest of us.
Though she wasn’t too good for gossip. That was her main stock-in-trade.
Vic’s mother and sisters exchanged looks, their expressions all narrowing. Several conversations nearby quieted, as if everyone within earshot was listening in.
Next to me, Vic stiffened. “We were keeping it quiet,” she said, her tone soft and her cheeks going pink.
“This one doesn’t date much,” Mrs. Dupont announced loud enough for the entire room to hear. “Probably still in love with the groom.”
In response, Vic gasped. Alexandra rubbed her baby bump, wearing a smug smirk.
Fuck. This had to be Vic’s worst nightmare come to life. People were staring and whispering, their judgment and gleeful looks impossible to ignore.
“Of course they’re dating,” Aunt Lou said, batting at ankles with her cane as she pushed her way into the group. She threw Mrs. Dupont an absolutely murderous look, then eyed me up and down. “Look at him. If she didn’t lock him down, I would have. You know I have a weakness for firefighters.”
I pulled Vic closer, rubbing a hand down her upper arm.
“He looks like that.” Lou gestured to me, almost hitting Alexandra with her cane—likely on purpose. “ And he’s a hero?” She put her hand over her heart. “Swoon. My Victoria’s taste has improved so much since she moved north.” She shot a glare in Graham’s direction.
Alexandra glowered, and beside her, Miranda rolled her eyes. I was pretty sure that was the only facial expression she was capable of making.
Mrs. Dupont’s nostrils flared. “They’re always together,” she said, “but we all know they’re only friends. His own mother confirmed it at knitting group last Tuesday.”
Anger ignited in my chest. Why this vile woman was so concerned with my personal life was infuriating. But the heartbreak I felt for Vic, who was shrinking little by little beside me, was far more acute.
I had to remedy this situation. Make her feel better. No, Vic wasn’t my girlfriend. Though I wouldn’t admit it to this old biddy or the snobs surrounding us. But she was my friend. I cared deeply for her. And just being here was traumatic. There was no way I’d let her be humiliated like this.
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Dupont,” I said, keeping my tone disgustingly polite. “But I take offense. There’s no way on earth I could spend even a small amount of time with this woman and not fall wildly in love with her.”
Aunt Lou smiled at me. I was smiling back when movement behind her caught my eye. It was Graham. The bastard ex-husband himself was sauntering our way, wearing a smug smile and one of those preppy sport coats, looking like he’d come in from fox hunting.
Blood boiling, I clenched my fists.
He was at least a few years older than Vic, maybe over forty, and brimming with the kind of unearned confidence his daddy’s money had probably bought him.
I was several inches taller and, from the look of things, could snap him in half if I needed to. And it was beginning to look like that may be the only way to escape this nightmare.
Holding a glass of what I imagined was expensive scotch, his sneer fully in place, he ambled over. He had the absolute audacity to blatantly look Vic up and down.
My heart pounded in my ears. There were two options here: grab Vic and make a run for it or stand our ground and shut these snobby jerks up for good.
I did what I’d been trained to do. Assess, strategize, and find a way to minimize the damage. I chose the second option.
Turning to Vic, I tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.
She peered up at me, her eyes swimming with discomfort. Fuck. More than anything, I wished I had the power to fix it all.
Since I couldn’t take away the hurt, I did the next best thing. I stared into those chocolate brown eyes and said, “I’m crazy about you. Please, no more secrets.”
Then, cupping her chin, I angled in and gently brushed my lips against hers.
She rose up on her tiptoes to meet me, and what should have been a quick peck evolved quickly.
With a groan, I pulled her closer. Instantly, her fingers were in my hair, her arms around my neck.
Fuck. This was a mistake.
It felt too easy. Too natural and too damn hot.
Very hot.
Weirdly hot.
My brain switched off, and instead of being the affectionate peck I’d envisioned, we lingered.
The world around us faded into the background. No one else mattered.
When I pulled away, she blinked up at me, her pupils blown wide and her lips parted. We stared at each other for a moment before I turned to her family and grabbed her hand.
“If you’ll excuse us, my girl needs a drink.”
Without a second of hesitation, I pulled her toward the bar, leaving the crowd gaping.
Behind us, a whistle rang out. I didn’t have to turn around to know it was Aunt Lou.