Chapter 22 #2
“Just different,” I answered. “It’s all good when people are having fun and enjoying themselves.”
A cluster of pre-teen girls in matching t-shirts spotted Noah and descended on him like a pack of wolves.
“Mr. Barrett! Mr. Barrett! Dance with us!” They tugged at his sleeves, practically pulling him off his feet. Noah’s usual stoic expression melted. “Ladies, you’re supposed to be selling cookies, not harassing people.”
“We already sold out!” One girl with braids announced proudly. “Now you have to dance with us.”
“Girl Scouts,” Brie explained, leaning close to me. “Noah helps them with their outdoor projects from time to time.”
I watched as Noah let himself get dragged onto the dance floor by three determined twelve-year-olds. “Noah volunteers with girl scouts?”
Brie’s eyes followed her brother as he attempted to teach the proper dance steps to his giggling entourage. “Last summer they built a boardwalk with a wheelchair ramp down by Mirror Lake. So people with disabilities could enjoy the view.”
Brie and I watched in amusement as the girl scouts formed a circle around Noah.
To my complete shock, he actually knew how to dance.
Not just awkward swaying, but genuine rhythm and footwork.
His boots tapped against the wooden platform in perfect time with the music as he spun his young dance partner in a circle.
“Okay, who taught mountain man how to dance?” I asked Brie.
“Mom insisted we both take lessons growing up. Said it was a life skill.” Brie grinned. “Though I think Noah secretly enjoyed it more than he let on.”
Noah twirled another scout under his arm with gentleness and grace, then caught our eyes over the crowd. His expression shifted to mild panic as more girls joined the circle. He mouthed “help me” toward Brie with pleading eyes.
“Looks like your brother needs backup,” I said, expecting Brie to be the one to go do the rescuing.
But before I could protest, Brie grabbed my hand and pulled me into the fray. “Come on!” The scouts cheered as we joined their circle, but Brie had other plans. She smoothly maneuvered through the group, then gave me an unexpected push that sent me stumbling right into Noah.
“Your turn!” Brie announced, sweeping several disappointed scouts away with her. “Let’s give them some space, girls!”
Noah’s hands caught my waist to steady me, and suddenly we were standing chest to chest in the middle of the dance floor. The band transitioned into a slower song, as if on cue.
“Sorry about my sister,” Noah said, but didn’t let go. “She thinks she’s clever.”
“Well, you did ask for help.” I placed my hand on his shoulder, falling into the proper dance position without thinking. “Though I’m not sure this counts as a rescue.”
Noah’s arm curved around my waist as we fell into step with the music, the singer’s voice carrying across the square with a slight country twang.
My breath caught as Noah drew me closer, his other hand warm against mine.
The calluses on his palm brushed my fingers, reminding me of the strength hidden beneath his gentle touch.
He moved with the same fluid grace he showed on mountain trails and climbing walls, leading me through the steps without hesitation.
“You really are full of surprises,” I said, looking up at him. The string lights cast a soft glow across his features, softening the usual sharp angles of his face.
“Could say the same about you.” His voice dropped low, meant only for me. “I thought you said you couldn’t dance?”
“When did I say that?”
“At the river. When Diego was trying to get you to salsa.”
“I didn’t say I can’t dance; I said I don’t dance. You’re not the only one with a mother who insisted on dance lessons.”
The now-familiar scent of pine and coffee clung to his shirt. Noah adjusted his grip, thumb brushing the small of my back. His touch sent electricity down my spine, and I found myself leaning into him without meaning to.
As the music swelled, Noah spun me in a perfect turn before pulling me back. When I returned to his arms, we were even closer than before. His eyes met mine, deep blue in the twilight, and the rest of the festival seemed to fade away.
The music slowed, and the final notes of the song hung in the air between us. Noah’s hand slid up my back, steady and sure. My heart thundered against my ribs as he bent his head toward mine, close enough that I could feel his breath ghost across my lips.
Everything else fell away.
Just Noah and I.
Face to face.
He leaned closer still …
Buzzzz … Buzzzz … Buzzzz …
My phone vibrated in my pocket. I ignored it, lost in the magnetic pull of Noah’s gaze. His fingers traced a path up my spine that made me shiver despite the warmth of his embrace.
The phone buzzed again. And again. The persistence of it shattering the perfect moment like a pickaxe on an icy lake.
“You should probably get that,” Noah said, his lips still close enough that I could feel his breath on my cheek.
I pulled back just enough to fish out my phone, already regretting the movement. Marcus’s name flashed across the screen, along with three missed calls and an urgent text:
Marcus Wiles:
VICTORIA NEEDS TO TALK
CALL IMMEDIATELY.
The screen’s harsh blue light illuminated Noah’s face as he read the message upside down. Something shuttered behind his eyes, with the familiar wall coming back up brick by brick. His hands fell away from my waist, leaving cold spots where his warmth had been.
“Duty calls.” Noah’s voice had lost its softness.
“Yeah.” I shoved my phone back in my pocket without responding to the calls. “LuxeLife can wait.”
Noah took a step back, the physical distance between us expanding into something more significant.
“It’s getting late. We should head back so we can take another run at Devil’s Ridge tomorrow. It will be good content for Victoria. So she can sell her resort, and I can hopefully keep my life together.”
“Right.”
“Plus, the sooner we finish this, the sooner you can get back to Los Angeles. Where you belong.”
When I looked back up at him, his eyes were empty, his face hard. It was a stark reminder of what I was really there to do. I was there to create content … not get cozy with it.
“You’ll need your rest,” said Noah.
“Right. More authentic adventures.” The edge in Noah’s tone must have been contagious, because it had infected my voice, too.