Chapter 4 Willow
four
Willow
Noah looks at me, seemingly lost.
Did he not hear Ms. Angela call us all to the dance floor or notice everyone leaving the table just now? I point my thumb behind my back to the wedding party dancing around Kiara and Colton.
His gaze moves beyond me, he adjusts his glasses, then he blushes slightly—so cute—and stands up.
“Um, no, this is actually… this is perfect.”
Perfect? What does he mean? This man is a puzzle.
Good thing I’m over him.
O.V.E.R.
His hand grazes my lower back, bared thanks to this awesome dress. I’m already all gooey inside, when he takes me in a firm grip and sways us to some old-style tune.
Not complaining, though. Especially not now that Noah’s hand is splayed confidently on my naked back, pulling me to within an inch of him while he places our joined hands over his heart.
Over him or not, I’m keeping this memory for my little spank bank. This is a nice change from guys who just wobble from foot to foot or worse, hold onto their beer while dancing because they don’t know what to do with their hands.
I’ll add that to the list of excellent reasons to have a crush on Noah.
Had.
Had a crush.
I don’t anymore.
My gaze catches on Mom frowning at me, and I frown back. I know what she’s thinking, and we start a silent argument yards from each other.
“Everything okay?” Noah asks, prompting me to look at him.
He caught me pulling a face, so I need to improvise, although as I look at him something deeply nostalgic stirs inside me. “My shoes are killing me.”
Stopping us, he lets go of my back but keeps my hand in his. “Kick’em off.”
“What?”
He shrugs and points downward. “Take your shoes off.”
I toe them off while he watches, then he picks them up and sets them neatly to the side. “Better?” He smiles, dimples forming on his cheeks. I can’t remember the last time I saw him smile, and god does it suit him.
“Much better.”
“That was easy,” he says as he turns me in a freaking underarm pass.
Total swoon.
My dress does a pretty little swirl, and he turns me again, making me just the right amount of dizzy and giddy. And what happens?
The stupid tag pops out.
Of course it does!
Acting as if this were perfectly normal, I tuck it back in. I swear the thing is cutting so badly into my flesh, I’m getting more worried about blood stains than sweat marks at this point.
“Let me cut if off for you,” Noah says, pulling the tag back out.
I tuck it back in. “No-no-no!”
He frowns. “Is that actually part of the dress? Some trend I missed?” His lips twitch in the most irresistible smile.
Although it doesn’t look like anyone else noticed, my giddiness turns into embarrassment. I shut my eyes briefly. “Can you keep a secret?”
He smirks. “I didn’t think you knew the meaning of the word. Or does secret mean high value gossip to you?”
I fail to repress the laughter bubbling in my throat. “Very funny,” I concede.
“I’m sorry,” he says, surprising me. “I was out of line. Clearly, the reason you don’t take the tag off your clothes is none of my business.”
He really is clueless, isn’t he? I settle safely back against his chest and say low enough only he can hear, “I’m returning the dress on Monday.”
Then I try to hide my embarrassment by focusing on his bow tie.
This shade of blue is a perfect choice as it brings out the color of his eyes.
Did he choose it on purpose, to look even more attractive?
And what are these little tone-on-tone shapes?
I narrow my gaze, now intent on figuring out these…
are these ghosts? Cute. And… what are these other…
? Are these…? Ohmygod. I suppress my laughter.
“Why would you do that? It looks great on you,” he says.
My throat tightens. “Wh—?” Oh, the dress. Noah just complimented my dress. He definitely is clueless. “I can’t afford it. And no, it wasn’t expensive. But seventy-three dollars is a week of food, so… yeah.”
He frowns, and I expect either some questioning, a pity speech, or an offer to drive me to the food bank. Something demeaning that would fit the dynamic between the Callaways and the Fontaines. But instead he mumbles, “Knew it… Not ethical but not illegal either.”
“I bought it online…” another underarm pass “from a chain store,” I add, needing to be seen in a good light.
“Ooof. Online and chain store? Adding insult to injury.” A discreet whiff of clean laundry and cedar emanates from him, weakening my knees. “I don’t know if I can keep talking to you.” His huge grin brings back the damn dimples.
“But I’m returning it,” I add quickly.
“Good,” he shoots back. Then with a quick frown he adds, “You do this often?”
“It’s the first time,” I confess.
He seems reassured, with a touch of concern. “Your mom?”
My breath catches in surprise, but then again, between the weight loss and the headscarf, anyone can see what’s going on. “It’s been tough,” I admit. “But she’ll get through it.” I smile at him. There’s something about being seen by Noah Callaway that brings the happy out in me.
“Good,” he says, worry still marring his forehead.
“No, really. I mean it,” I insist.
He takes a sharp inhale, as if he’s about to ask me something, but stays quiet.
“What is it?” I prompt him.
“It’s uh… this is going to sound weird.”
I’m insanely curious now, and at the same time prepared to be disappointed.
Weird in Noah Callaway’s world is bound to be my ordinary boring.
Maybe he doesn’t know how to tell me that Wednesday before last, when he came to the bakery and I served him a Two Millers, I chose a sightly under-baked one and he’d really prefer, in the future, the darker, crustier ones.
It’s got to be something along those lines.
He leans into me, his lips almost grazing my earlobe. “How would you feel about helping me out with… a project?”
His breath on my neck sends a ripple of desire down my spine. I try to suppress it as best as I can and jerk my head back. “Sure! What is it?”
He looks around and leans dangerously back into my space, his scent impressing itself on me like a childhood memory. “I can’t tell you here.”
Now I’m really curious. “Is it illegal?” I tease.
He raises an eyebrow. “Some people might object to it.”
Noah is a color-inside-the-lines person. A rule stickler. Hell, he’s a rule setter. He had me tickled curious. Now I’m hooked. “Then I’m your girl.”
“You should wait until you know what it is,” he says as the song ends and morphs into another.
“I trust you,” I answer. Besides, how bad can it be?
We change dance partners and before long, all the girls are dancing together around Kiara. Then the parents’ generation joins us, I dance with Uncle Bill, Mom dances with Ms. Angela, then Ms. Angela switches us so Mom and Uncle Bill are dancing together.
Finally a circle forms, someone inevitably spins a beer bottle, and we end up in a showdown of How low can you go. Lane wins, closely followed by Cassandra.
Sweaty and out of breath, I step out of the tent to cool down, my still-bare feet digging in the dewy grass as I walk down toward the river. Once at the shore, I raise my eyes to the starry sky and take a deep breath. Best day of the year so far.
A faint jingle has me turn my head. Noah is stepping out of the tent, nursing a bourbon. Against the brightness of the party behind him, I can’t tell where he’s looking, or if he even sees me.
“Willow?” he calls out.
Damn it—the sound of my name in his mouth… I shake my head, chuckling at my silly self. Let it go, Willow. Jesus.
“Over here!” When I’ve established he’s heard and seen me and is coming down in order to, in all likelihood, tell me about this project of his, I turn around and sit on a bench to admire the river at my feet, gilded as it flows under the fairy-light covered bridge to my left, then on my right turning to a silver shimmer reflecting the moon.
Because frankly, I don’t need to feast on Noah’s rolled-up sleeves, his dangling bow tie, the messiness of his hair. Besides, I’ve decided it does nothing to me anymore.
Nothing.
“Hey,” he says softly.
“Hey,” I answer, not turning around.
“Brought you these,” he says, standing in front of me, my shoes dangling off his fingers.
I can’t help but giggle. “Careful, Prince Charming, they might actually fit.”
He tilts his head. “Funny. Well, anyway,” he starts, placing the shoes carefully at my feet, “about what I said earlier.”
“Yeah?”
He takes a long draw on his drink, finishing his glass, and exhales loudly. “We should get married.”
The desperation on his face cracks me up.
I laugh out loud and look to the river. “I don’t need to do anything like that.
Just because all our friends are getting married doesn’t mean we need to feel peer pressure.
They’re all happy now, but give ’em two, three years, and watch them all bitch about married life and sleepless nights as they ‘start a family,’” I say, making air quotes.
“But you orchestrated Colton and Kiara’s relationship.” He sounds puzzled, maybe even a bit upset.
I sigh. He’s right. “Look, except for our friends’ rare cases, I don’t believe in marriage.
But I take back what I said. They’re all great together, and they’ll be happy until their tits and balls get in the way of their walking.
But it doesn’t mean you or I have to get married.
There’s nothing wrong with being single. And I’m never getting married.”
He chuckles bitterly, and I wonder if he’s heartbroken over his ex-fiancée.
“Wait. D’you need relationship advice?” That has to be it.
He saw the magic I made happen with Kiara and Colton.
He just mentioned it. “Who is it?” I sit taller, feeling a lot better about myself now.
Since I’m O.V.E.R. Noah, I have no problem helping him out.
There’s something about feeling of value to others that just fuels me.
My sight is adjusted to the night now, and I can clearly make out the crease between his eyebrows.