Chapter Sixteen Odette #2
While I know I should tell my best friend what’s going on with her brother, it won’t last, so what’s the point? No point in bringing it up and freaking her out, especially not when she already has so much on her plate with the wedding.
“I’m, uh, grabbing some cupcakes,” he answers, shoving his hands into his pockets and dragging his eyes away from me and to his sister.
“You are? Since when did you develop a sweet tooth?” Izzy asks.
I shift in my chair, remembering the other night in his truck. The ice cream I licked off myself. The words he uttered later, when he told me how cotton candy might be his new favorite flavor as he bent me over his couch, unable to make it to his bedroom.
He crosses his arms over his chest. “Can’t a guy buy a damn cupcake without getting asked a million questions?”
Izzy holds her hands up. “Sorry, sorry. But now that you’re here . . .” She kicks out the third chair that Sybill abandoned a while ago while we make final decisions. “Can you help us decide which one to choose? We can’t pick between the triple-chocolate cherry and the vanilla with orange mousse.”
Our eyes meet, and I know he’s remembering our discussion about my feelings on vanilla.
I expect him to argue or make up an excuse as to why he can’t join us, but to my surprise, he drops into the chair next to me, his thick, strong thigh settling alongside mine.
I could move. I could give him more space to stretch out.
I don’t, and I have a feeling he wouldn’t want me to anyway.
“Here. Try this one,” Izzy says, giving him a forkful—my fork—of the triple-chocolate cherry cake.
He closes his mouth around the same piece of metal I just had my lips wrapped around, and I have to hold back my groan.
God, seriously? A groan over that? What is wrong with me?
He chews, then swallows. “Damn, that’s good. Like really good.”
“Yeah?” Izzy’s eyes light up. “Okay, now try this one.”
She loads the fork up with the vanilla one, and as soon as he takes a bite, I know that’s the one he loves the most.
“Holy fuck.” He moans, and the sound does things to me that it really shouldn’t be doing in public. With his sister right here. “That’s delicious. That’s the one.”
“Really? But the chocolate is so good.”
“It is, but that orange is fantastic. It just screams summer wedding to me.”
“Oh, so now you’re a wedding expert, huh?”
He rolls his head my way, one brow lifted high, and he looks so cute right now that I could kiss him. I refrain.
“Am I wrong, Odie?”
He’s not. It’s the perfect cake and will satisfy the most people.
“Oh no.” Izzy deflates. “You agree with him, don’t you?”
I nod. “As much as I love the chocolate—and I do—Noah is right. But we could always do different flavors for different layers.”
“Or cupcakes,” Noah offers.
“Ah yes. I forgot your new cupcake obsession.” Izzy narrows her eyes at him like he’s up to something. “But the different layers don’t sound so bad.”
“Or a smaller, separate cake just for you.”
“Do you think Sybill will hate me for making her do that? That’s a lot of cake to make.”
“I think Sybill has known you since you were a baby and would do anything for you. And plus, you’re paying her.” I wink at Izzy.
“All right. We’ll do the main cake with the orange and a smaller chocolate one just for me.”
“Good. Glad that’s settled. Can I go now?”
Izzy shoos her brother away. “Yes, leave us be. We’re busy.”
“Yes, because I invited myself to this gathering,” he says sarcastically, pushing from the table with another look in my direction.
I admit that for a second, I’m sad about it. I hate that he’s essentially ignoring me, but I get it too. We said we wanted to keep this from Izzy, and he’s just upholding that.
Still, I keep my eye on him as he heads to the counter, only half listening to Izzy as she waffles back and forth about whether she wants to get Craig his own groom’s cake as well.
“Noah, my boy! How are you, sweetheart?”
“Hey, Sybill. How are you?”
“Oh, you know. I can’t complain. Especially not when you’re here.” I grin at her flirting with him. “What brings you in today? Been a minute since I’ve seen you.”
“Thought cupcakes sounded good.”
“That so? What can I get you then?” she asks, grabbing the paper to-go box that’s stamped with her logo.
“Can I get three vanilla and three cotton candy?”
“See?” Izzy points at her brother, and I honestly had no idea she was paying attention to him. “That’s weird. He doesn’t even like cotton candy.” She huffs. “Sounds like something you’d get.”
It is something I’d get.
What she doesn’t know is that Noah’s buying cupcakes for me.
And damn if that doesn’t make me smile.
“Do you want another lemonade?”
“No!” I yell to Noah, who’s in his kitchen. “But I need chocolate!”
“What kind?”
“Surprise me!”
I listen as he moves around, talking to Pork, who keeps meowing at him.
“You already had dinner.” Meow. “You did too.” Meow. “You’re not getting more.” Meow. “Do you want a treat?” Meow. Meow. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”
I laugh at their interaction. For someone who claimed they weren’t going to be a cat dad, he sure has taken to his new friend over the last three weeks.
I can’t count the number of times I’ve heard people talking about them in town, especially since Noah takes the little guy just about everywhere with him.
It’s cute and does nothing to make me like him less.
Just like him leaving a cupcake I found sitting on the hood of my car last week didn’t help.
There was a simple note tucked under the treat that said See you tonight.
He did see me that night. And the next one too.
Beans hasn’t been happy with me leaving her so often, but I promised her I’d make Noah come to my place soon, mostly because I can’t remember the last time I slept in my own bed for more than two nights in a row.
Actually, I haven’t spent much time at my apartment in general.
From working on the barn with Noah to planning the wedding—which I’ve taken to working on at Stick Taps for .
. . reasons—to always running around town so I can meet with vendors, I haven’t had much time to spend at my place.
And that’s solely because I’d rather spend my nights here.
Luckily, the TV flicks back to what we were watching before I can analyze that too much.
“It’s on, it’s on, it’s on! Hurry!” I call.
I grin when Noah’s footsteps pick up, and he skids into the living room. “What’d I miss?”
“They just walked into the exam room.”
Noah settles onto the couch next to me, his eyes on the episode of The X-Files on his TV with a gigantic bowl of popcorn in his hands. He kicks his other arm up over the back of the couch, and I resume my spot attached to his side.
We found an app that lets you watch live TV, and we’ve been in the middle of a Mulder-and-Scully marathon for days now.
The only rules? We can’t pause anything.
We have to use the bathroom and get snacks during the commercials, like you used to have to do before the days of TiVo and streaming.
It was all Noah’s idea, and while at first I didn’t get it, I can see the appeal now.
There’s a certain rush from getting all the things done before the show comes back on.
We’ve even perfectly timed how long it takes to make a new bowl of popcorn during the breaks.
“This is some trippy shit,” he says, shoving a handful of our snacks into his mouth. Half of it falls back into the bowl, but I don’t care.
I’m having too much of a good time, and all we’re doing is snuggling on the couch.
“Did you grab the peanut butter M&M’s?”
He leans over, pulls the already half-gone bag from his pocket, and hands it to me. “We should probably go to the store soon. We’re running low on supplies.”
We.
It sounds so . . . domestic.
And honestly, what we’re doing is domestic. It reminds me of the date night that Lydia Stevens described to me. That same kind of night I longed for.
I don’t want to think about that too much.
I can’t. These last three weeks with Noah have been going so well, and the wedding planning is right on track even with us having just shy of four weeks until the couple says I do.
The last thing I need is to get too happy and let the curse break my spirit like it’s done over and over again.
I scoot off him, giving him a bit of space and giving myself a bit of space.
My heart hammers in my chest, and I have to take deep breaths to try to get it under control.
I’m panicking, and I don’t know why I’m panicking.
No, that’s a lie. I do know, but I don’t want to think about it.
I like Noah. Like like him, actually. Too damn much.
“You okay?”
“Huh?” I turn to Noah, startled a little. “Oh, yeah, I’m fine. Why?”
He looks like he doesn’t believe me, but he lets it go. “Just making sure.” He gives me a gentle, reassuring smile, and it instantly chases away the fear running through me. He nods toward the half-eaten dessert on the coffee table. “You like your cupcakes?”
“Like them? I love them.” I smile up at him as I open the bag of candy. “Thank you. You really didn’t have to get them, but I appreciate it.”
He shrugs. “It’s no big deal.”
“You say that a lot.”
His eyebrows inch together. “Say what?”
“It’s no big deal. You say it a lot, even when it is a big deal. You went out of your way to buy me cupcakes. Took time out of your day and drove into town so I could have something sweet.”
“It’s just a cupcake.”
Maybe to him it is, but to me, it’s more than that. He thought about me. He wanted me to be happy. He cared.
I’m not sure I’ve ever had anyone care like that before.
I lean up, pressing my lips to his. It’s a slow kiss, a soft one. Even as he slips his hand into my hair and tugs me closer. There’s nothing hurried or hard. We’re just kissing without it needing to lead to more.
When we part, he has a dopey grin that makes him look about ten years younger than he is.
“What was that for?”
I shrug. “Wanted to.”
His grin grows, and so does mine, and we tune back in to the show.
While Noah’s watching it, I’m not. I can’t.
Because I’m starting to realize that this thing between us? It might not be so casual after all.