Chapter 20
Olive knew she should move away from Noah, but his leanly muscled, tall frame was solid and warm, and her own body refused to give him up. It wasn’t often that she could let a silence go by without filling it, but in that moment, with the fire crackling, the drum of the rain pounding on the roof of the yurt, and the delicious heat of him seeping into her, she felt oddly at peace. It made little sense. Actually, it made no sense.
The unplanned intimacy should’ve made her uneasy, but it didn’t. Instead, she felt an ease she couldn’t explain, like they were out of time and place.
Maybe . . . maybe whatever happened here could stay here. “Like Vegas.”
Noah raised a brow.
“Nothing,”
she said quickly. “I didn’t mean to say that out loud.”
A slow smile crossed his face. “Like Vegas,”
he repeated. “As in whatever happens in Vegas stays in Vegas?”
“No, of course not!”
But also . . . totally.
His smile widened. “You just squeaked. Means that’s a lie.”
Great. “How’s your leg?”
“What leg?”
Closing her eyes on a rough laugh, she dropped her head to his chest. “I shouldn’t have asked you to do this.”
“Because you’re not a fan of visiting Vegas?”
She rolled her eyes, but then lifted her face to his, her smile fading. “Because I know it’s drudging up old memories.”
He was quiet a moment, but his eyes were locked on hers as he lifted a hand and gently stroked a finger along her temple, tucking a stray strand of hair back from her face. “I’m not sorry I came,”
he said. “I couldn’t stomach the idea of you making this trek alone.”
“Not to mention there was no way I could’ve done it alone,”
she muttered.
“Was that a thank-you?”
That made her laugh. “Yes. A big thank-you.”
She hesitated. “I owe you.”
“And I owe you for coming back to Sunrise Cove to help out, so let’s consider us even.”
“I’m not sure I was all that big of a help,” she said.
“Just your presence is a help. I know I’ve been . . .”
He shook his head, clearly looking for the right words. “Distant. And you were right on the mark about old memories surfacing.”
“About us?”
“That,”
he said. “And other stuff that happened between then and now.”
She cocked her head and studied him. “Your dad?”
He nodded.
“I’m sorry,”
she said softly. “He died so fast after his diagnosis.”
“Yeah, and it didn’t help that just before that, he was barely speaking to me, and vice versa.”
She looked down at their joined hands, at the way his thumb lightly ran over her knuckles. “He was hard on you, but he loved you.”
Noah laughed roughly.
The truth was, in her opinion, his dad hadn’t really understood Noah. He’d wanted a puppet. But Noah was no one’s puppet. All he’d ever wanted was to be accepted just as he was, imperfections and all.
“I could never please him,”
he said. “It got worse after our ATV accident. He knew what the doctors said, that a career in baseball would be improbable, but he still pushed me. And when I pushed back, he wanted me to find a way to stay in baseball, or get a business degree and take over the shop.”
“Neither of which you wanted.”
Noah shook his head. “As soon as I rehabbed my leg and was mobile again, I left to work in the forestry department. I got the experience I needed in law enforcement and special investigations, and was invited to become an ISB special agent.”
“And that made you happy.”
“Oh, hell yeah. The freedom to be who I am . . .”
He hesitated. “I came home when I could, especially when my dad got sick. He didn’t soften through that, by the way. Nothing got better between us. I guess I thought we’d have time to figure our shit out, but we didn’t.”
“Noah.”
Her heart ached for him. “I’m so sorry.”
He shook his head. “When I look back objectively, I can see that it wasn’t all bad. My growing up years. He taught me discipline, and how to harness my impulses. I was a wild card, and in that regard, he was good for me. I mean, I didn’t think so at the time,”
he added with a wry smile that stirred something in her chest. “But he taught me to be proud of what I do. It was a turning point for me. I def wouldn’t have the life I have now if it hadn’t been for his influence.”
He squeezed her hand. “And we’re going to find your parents. You guys still have time to find middle ground.”
She looked into his eyes, saw his own regrets, and felt her heart squeeze. “That’s why you’re helping me.”
“I’m helping because I care about you. I’m just saying that when we do find them, maybe you can take the time to open up and express how you feel about your relationship.”
“No regrets,”
she said quietly.
Eyes on hers, he nodded. “No regrets.”
She cleared her throat. “So, um, speaking of regrets . . . we didn’t get a chance to talk at your dad’s celebration of life. I’m sorry about what happened to him. How you lost him. Tell me you know what happened wasn’t your fault.”
“I do, but I still feel like shit for not fixing things sooner. Luckily my mom and sister don’t seem to hold it against me.”
He cocked his head. “And . . . you knew that already.”
“Yes, because I didn’t ban Katie from saying your name.”
She laughed at his wince. “I’ve always asked about you, kept up with what you were up to.”
She paused. “Truth?”
“Always.”
“I soaked up any info about you that I could get.”
Their eyes locked and held for a beat before he said, “I know it was a long time ago, but I’m sorry I hurt you that night at the party.”
She managed a genuine laugh. “You mean when I wanted to sleep with you, but you refused so I acted like an idiot by throwing myself at Trev What’s-His-Face, only to have you tell the whole world I was a virgin, and that if he slept with me, you’d kill him? Oh, and then when I tried to take off—mortified, by the way—you jumped on my grandma’s ATV with me, and . . . well, you remember the rest.”
He grimaced. “I like my version better.”
She laughed again. “Do tell.”
“I thought Trev wasn’t good enough for you, and I definitely knew I wasn’t good enough for you. And I never said I wouldn’t sleep with you, just that I wouldn’t do it that night, not with emotions running so high. I offered you a raincheck.”
A faint smile curved his mouth. “You told me where to stick that raincheck.”
She had. “I might’ve been hasty.”
He shook his head, not willing to be sidetracked. “There was no way in hell I was going to let you drive home by yourself because I knew you weren’t experienced enough to even be on that ATV in the first place, but it wasn’t like your grandma knew you’d”—he used air quotes—“?‘borrowed’ it.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Rewind back to the you weren’t ‘good enough’ thing.”
His eyes softened. “I wasn’t, Oli. I was a fuckup, an adrenaline-fueled fuckup who craved nothing more than getting away from anything that resembled connections and roots. You were so sweet and naive, and I—”
“Sweet and naive?”
she asked, her voice going up a few octaves. “Sweet and naive implies the personality of . . . a golden retriever!”
He shook his head, thankfully not smiling or she’d have to hit him. “Not sweet and naive like a golden retriever,”
he said. “Sweet and naive like a kitten—with sharp teeth.”
When she laughed, he smiled. “You were also sarcastic, and maybe a little wary, but never jaded.”
He looked marveled by that. “You found joy in simple things and were quick with a smile.”
“Were?”
“Are,”
he said. “Also smart as hell, sharp as the pocketknife you always carried, and resourceful. You didn’t take shit from anyone. Still don’t. You were—and are—incredible.”
“So then why—”
“Because you wanted everything I was trying to escape from . . .”
He ticked off the reasons on his fingers. “Emotional ties, roots, family . . .”
Right. He’d spent his growing up years having to be something, someone, he wasn’t. And now that he was free to be his own person, he didn’t understand—or care—that love, true love, wouldn’t require him to change. It took her a moment to brave her next question, but she had to know. “You see anything changing for you anytime soon?”
He paused, regret in his gaze now. Cupping her face, he rested his forehead against hers. “I’ve always been so sure the answer to that question would forever be no, but looking into your eyes makes me hesitate.”
Her heart skipped a beat, but if she’d once been naive, she was no longer. “Don’t give me false hope, Noah.”
“I’m trying not to. I’m just saying, if I could change for anyone, it’d be for you.”
“That’s the thing,”
she said. “I’d never ask you to change a single thing about you.”
She started to climb out of the bed and heard him take a deep breath before catching her, then tugging her back to kiss the bejeezus out of her.
“What was that?”
she asked breathlessly.
He flopped to his back and stared up at the ceiling. “Hell if I know. You drive me crazy.”
“Flattering,”
she said with a good amount of sarcasm. Hard to pull off when she was still panting.
His smile was wry as he rolled to his side, propping his head up with a hand to look at her. “If it helps, you’re the only one who can make me crazy.”
They stared at each other, the air going supercharged. Not with bad temper like it had been only a few moments ago, but with . . . awareness. Anticipation and hunger pulsed around them in tune to the rain coming down. The fire crackled, and Noah’s intoxicating scent surrounded her. How was it after such a long day that he still smelled so good? Or the way he looked at her, like he thought she was beautiful and remarkable, his pupils darkening with heat and desire.
Even knowing this wouldn’t, couldn’t, be a thing, she still wanted him. And given that at the moment she happened to have him all to herself, she scooted close enough to feel every inch of him against her, some of the inches making her heart pound in a matching rhythm of the rain pounding the roof. With a sound of need, she fused her mouth to his.
Something she already knew about Noah—he loved to kiss, and he was unbelievably good at it. He started off slow and deep and delicious, but eventually moved his focus from her mouth to nibble down her neck. The sensation drew a throaty moan from her, one that had him pulling back just far enough to look into her eyes. “The raincheck’s over a decade old,”
he murmured, his voice husky low and sexy as hell. “Any chance it’s still good?”
Here was her problem. Noah was like fire. Hot and consuming. She wanted what he was offering, but she wasn’t stupid. She knew it was all he had to offer. Or at least, all he would offer.
And yet, there was something behind his smile, a haunted cast that made her suspect he needed the connection with her every bit as much as she needed it with him. He’d shared a side of himself that she’d never seen before, and now she wanted to do the same. “You’re just in time,”
she said. “It was about to expire.”
Needing him even closer, she threw a leg over his.
He winced, but tried to hide it.
“Ohmigod,”
she gasped. “Did I hurt you?”
“No.”
“I totally did.”
“Maybe just a little.”
“I’m so sorry!”
“I’m fine.”
“Are you sure—”
But she never finished that sentence because his big, warm hands slid under her shirt and cupped her bare breasts. His heartfelt groan was nearly as thrilling as his touch.
“Pain is a small price to pay for where this is going,”
he said roughly.
“Yeah?”
She leaned into his big hands because they were the best thing she’d ever felt. “And where is this going?”
He nipped her earlobe. “Wherever you want it to.”
She wanted him, more than she could remember wanting anything, even if he had stupid rules about it. Even if it was only for the moment. The moment would at least be all consuming and blazing, and would eradicate the cold she felt, inside and out. “I want a home run.”
At her use of the baseball term, he laughed that rare, deep, full-throated laugh of his, and then slowly, holding her gaze, giving her plenty of time to change her mind—as if—he slid her shirt up and over her head, tossing it behind him before kissing her again, a questioning kiss that she answered with a resounding demand of more.
He answered by removing any and all remaining clothing between them, which at this point was only her sweat bottoms and his knit boxers. Taking him in, that hard warrior’s body, had desire and hunger skittering through her. Seeing it echoed in his gaze, along with something more than just a need for sex, something deeper, something from his soul, something that existed for only her, had her heart thundering in her chest.
His hands danced over her entire body from top to bottom and back again, always in motion, always in tandem with his knowing mouth, until she had to bite her bottom lip to keep from begging for more. Closing her eyes, she arched into him in silent surrender, all rational thought gone. The only thing she could focus on was his touch, teasing one minute, serious the next, until, fingers fisted in his hair, she begged after all.
He gave her everything she wanted, and when he lifted his head and whispered, “About that condom you asked me about . . .”
Slipping out of the bed, she went to his survival bag and pulled out the condom in an inner zipped pocket, laughing as she turned back to the bed. “I take back everything I said about your go-bag.”
He was laughing too—until she rolled the condom on him. Because as she touched him, taking her time about it, he switched to a combo of a rough groan and heartful swearing. When she’d finished torturing him, he reversed their positions with an easy strength, pressing her into the mattress, spreading her out beneath him, kissing and touching every inch of her. She was trembling from aftershocks when he finally slid inside her, the exquisite fullness having her moaning already, clutching at him.
He lifted his head, eyes dark with hunger, forearms on either side of her head, his big hands fisted loosely in her hair. “Hello, Oli.”
He smiled. “It’s been too long.”
A sobbing laugh escaped her as she clutched at him, viscerally brought back to five years prior when they’d run into each other at his mom’s fiftieth birthday party. They’d had an argument about . . . God, she couldn’t even remember. She’d gotten so mad, she’d put her hands on his chest to shove him away, but her brain had become confused and she’d yanked him to her instead. And . . . they’d accidentally slept together.
She, of course, had very maturely slipped out of his bed before dawn and caught a plane rather than face any fallout. Chickenshit, that’s what she’d been. Because there’d been fallout anyway. Her heart, for one, and maybe even his.
She’d seen him a few times since then, of course, but they’d never talked about it, or even acknowledged that it’d happened, not once.
He said her name again, in a voice that had her looking into his eyes, driving that night from her mind.
She was talking raw, scorch-the-earth, sheet-clawing sex, with the silk of his voice sliding over her body like a caress, the intensity in his eyes burning into her.
The man had a single-minded focus that could make her forget everything, including her resolve to not fall in love. She simply couldn’t get enough of him, and she sure as hell couldn’t hold back. Around them, the room was dark, save for the luminescent glow coming from the woodstove. Silent, except for the crackling of the fire and their twin moans of pleasure, and of course the ever-present rain falling, a dissonant symphony of water cascading off the rusting and weathered metal of the yurt’s frame.
She honestly had no idea what she’d expected. It certainly hadn’t been that she’d completely lose herself in him. But she did. She lost herself, even as she was found.
After, they lay there entwined under the blanket, the fire bathing them in flickering light. The romance of it all struck her and she wanted to lift her head, look into his eyes, and know what they’d just shared meant something to him.
But she didn’t, afraid she’d see something she didn’t want to.
They dozed, but she was too keyed up to stay asleep. At her side, Noah’s breathing was deep, slow, and even. He looked utterly relaxed and completely peaceful.
And totally doable.
Gah, she needed to get a grip. And not on one of his body parts. As always, he stirred up a maelstrom of powerful, complex emotions inside her, some of which didn’t even have a name.
As if he could feel her thinking too hard, he shifted slightly, and their arms brushed. Then she felt his fingers reaching, touching hers, entwining their hands together, which he settled on his chest, right over his heart.
Turning her head, she found him watching her. There was a barely there smile curving his mouth, but his eyes were serious. “You okay?”
She smiled. “I think you know exactly how okay I am.”
He gave a gentle tug on her hand, but it was the pull of his personal force field that had her crawling into his arms. She knew him well enough to know exactly what that force field was made of too—the intensity of his personality, the power of his will, and the sheer focus of his attraction to her, which in turn bound her to him as well. She knew she should pull back and walk away, or she’d drown in him.
But she didn’t move.
He pushed some hair off her face, then wrapped a strand around his finger.
“I suppose it’s gone wild from all the rain,”
she murmured, knowing she had to look like a hot mess.
“I love it. I love the no-makeup look too. You look like the girl I remember.”
She groaned and he flashed a smile, but he wasn’t making fun of her. She knew he meant what he’d said, and her chest went warm. Because she liked the boy he’d been too. So much. And it no longer surprised her to realize that she liked the man he’d grown into as well. Maybe even more than the boy, and now something fluttered inside her chest. Her heart, probably rolling over and exposing its underbelly. She supposed this was what fully loving someone felt like. It kinda sucked, especially when you were in love by yourself. “You said you came with me because you care about me.”
“Yes.”
His smile was half amusement, but also half something else as he echoed her earlier words back to him. “This is what friends do, Oli. Worry. Watch each other’s backs. Stand by each other.”
Right. Friends. Welp, she had no one to blame but herself. She tried to come up with something to say, but Noah’s breathing evened out again before she could. Apparently, his brain was kinder to him than hers was to her. Knowing sleep wouldn’t happen, she started to slip out of the bed.
Noah’s warm hand caught hers. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“Lying again,”
he said quietly.
She sighed. “I don’t want to keep you up.”
“Here’s an idea,”
he said in a sleep-gruff voice that was sexy as hell. “You can worry about your parents, you can watch me sleep, or you can come closer and let me take your mind off the things you can’t do anything about, and then maybe sleep a little as well. The choice, as always, Oli, is yours.”
Turned out, sleeping was overrated, though they did eventually catch some Z’s. A few hours later at dawn, the icy rain had moved on, and as the sun slowly rose, so did steam off the ground. There was nothing as magical as Tahoe after a storm—the colors seemed deeper somehow and the trees swayed lightly as if in happiness.
They weren’t the only ones. Olive and Noah spent some time having a breakfast of each other, and then breakfast with each other.
The second wasn’t nearly as nice, seeing as it consisted of cold food from Olive’s duffel, when what she wanted was crispy bacon, eggs, and pancakes. Big, fluffy pancakes.
Noah smiled at her from across their picnic on the bed. “When we get out of here, I’ll buy you the biggest, most decadent breakfast you can imagine.”
She grinned and he kissed her. He had his moments.
Then, from somewhere in his pants on the floor, his phone buzzed with an unfamiliar tone.
“What’s that?”
she asked, watching him slip off the bed. She couldn’t help herself, the man looked amazing without a stitch of clothing on.
“It’s my work phone,”
he said, searching his clothes for the phone.
“You had it with you? It works out here?”
“Yes, and yes—it’s a satellite phone.”
At his flat voice, she sat up. “Something up?”
“If they’re calling me while I’m on leave after I begged to be put back on duty and my request was turned down flat, then yeah. Something’s up.”
He answered the phone with a short “Special Agent Turner.”
He was quiet, listening, moving across the yurt like a cat, pulling on his now dried jeans in his usual economical yet unconsciously graceful movements.
“Yes,”
he finally said, his expression distant. “I understand. But I can’t come in. I’m stuck in Tahoe.”
He said a few more things as well, which Olive didn’t catch because . . . he was stuck here?
When disconnected, he tossed the phone aside.
Unable to hold her tongue, she said, “Excuse me. Stuck here?”
He ran a hand down his face but still didn’t say a word.
Hating how her emotions blew hot and cold with anger when it came to him, she drew a deep breath. Apparently, she needed a weather forecaster to tell her what to feel. “How can you be stuck with family?”
“There’s a lead on the guy we were chasing when Joe got hurt.”
He picked up his shirt and turned it right side out before meeting her gaze. “I owe it to him to solve this case so it’s not all for nothing.”
“Okay.”
She nodded. “I understand that. But you’re not cleared for work yet. And Joe just woke up. He still needs you looking after his wife and son.”
Noah just looked at her, and she got it like a jackhammer to the chest. “You don’t want to be here. With your family.”
With me . . . “You want to be back out there.”
“I do,”
he said quietly. Unapologetically.
The sound in her head, the one of a vinyl record coming to a screeching halt, was the sound of her own secret fantasy of the two of them making a go at this thing dying, and dying hard.