Mia
I grip the steering wheel as I drive toward the coffee shop, my body still humming from last night with Blake.
God, the man was incredible. The memory of his mouth on my body, the way his muscles flexed under my palms, and just how deeply and completely he filled me.
Heat pools low in my belly just thinking about it.
And now I'm driving to meet another man.
What the hell is wrong with me?
I've never been this person. The woman who sleeps with multiple men.
The woman who can't seem to keep her legs closed or her heart guarded.
But Blake was so good. So attentive. The way he touched me, like he was memorizing every curve.
The way he made me feel safe and desired and completely wrecked.
I shift in my seat, trying to ignore the pleasant ache between my thighs.
Focus, Mia. You're meeting Noah to establish boundaries. I nearly choke on laughter. Boundaries? Apparently, I don't have those. But apparently, I can't stop thinking about how good Blake looked naked.
Except Noah looked pretty damn good naked, too.
I groan and press my forehead against the steering wheel at a red light. I'm a mess. A complete disaster of a woman who apparently can't resist attractive men who show her the slightest bit of attention.
The coffee shop appears on my right, and I pull into the parking lot.
Through the window, I spot Noah already seated at a corner table, his dark hair slightly messy, those green eyes focused on the book in front of him.
Even from here, I can see the way his shoulders fill out his button-down shirt, the way his long fingers turn the page.
My stomach does that annoying flipping thing it's been doing around all three men lately.
I take a deep breath and force myself out of the car. Professional. Boundaries. That's what this meeting is about.
Yeah, right.
Noah looks up as I enter, and the smile that spreads across his face makes my knees weak. He stands, closing his book, and I notice the title. Some dense historical text about the Civil War. Of course, he reads for pleasure.
"Hey," he says, his voice warm. "Thanks for meeting me."
"Of course." I slide into the chair across from him, hyperaware of how his eyes track my movements. "Can I get you something first? Coffee? Tea?"
"Coffee would be great. Black, please."
He returns a few minutes later with two steaming mugs and settles back into his chair. The silence stretches between us, awkward and charged.
"So," I start, wrapping my hands around the warm mug. "About the other night."
"The night we had incredible sex?" Noah's lips quirk into a small smile. "That night?"
Heat floods my cheeks. "Yes. That night."
"I'm not going to pretend it didn't happen, Mia." He leans forward, his green eyes intense behind his glasses. "And I'm not going to pretend I regret it."
"Noah, we work together. We can't—"
"Can't what? Be attracted to each other? Because that ship has sailed." He takes a sip of his coffee, his gaze never leaving mine. "Look, I know this is complicated. But I can't stop thinking about you."
My heart hammers against my ribs. "We barely know each other."
"Then let's change that." He sets down his mug and reaches across the table, his fingers brushing mine. The contact sends electricity up my arm. "Tell me about you. The real you. Not the professional teacher version you show at school."
I should pull my hand away. Should maintain distance. Instead, I find myself relaxing slightly, my fingers curling around his.
"What do you want to know?"
"Everything." His thumb traces circles on my palm. "Start with why you came back to Riverside after all these years."
The question hits harder than I expected. I look down at our joined hands, gathering my thoughts.
"My father is dying," I say quietly. "Stage four pancreatic cancer. The doctors say he has weeks, maybe a few months if we're lucky."
Noah's expression softens with genuine sympathy. "God, Mia. I'm so sorry."
"I haven't seen him in ten years. We haven't spoken since I left." The words tumble out before I can stop them. "I ran away in the middle of the night without saying goodbye. Just left a note that said nothing real."
"Why did you leave?"
I can't tell him the truth. Can't explain that I was pregnant with my father's best friend's babies. That I was terrified and ashamed and convinced I'd destroy everything if I stayed.
"I had my reasons," I say instead. "Complicated ones. But coming back now, facing him while he's dying, it's harder than I imagined."
Noah squeezes my hand gently. "How did he react when he saw you?"
"He was cold. Angry. He said I was nine years too late." My throat tightens with the memory. "He asked what could possibly justify abandoning my family. And I couldn't tell him. I still can't."
"Some secrets are too heavy to share," Noah says softly, and something in his voice makes me look up. There's understanding in his eyes, like he knows what it's like to carry weight you can't put down.
"What about you?" I ask, needing to shift the focus. "You mentioned you left your doctoral program. What happened?"
Noah's jaw tightens slightly. He pulls his hand back and wraps both around his coffee mug.
"My younger sister died two years ago in a car accident.
She was twenty-three." His voice is steady but I hear the pain underneath.
"I was in the middle of my dissertation, completely absorbed in my research and I missed her last three calls because I was too busy with my work.
" He swallows hard, his Adam's apple sliding down his throat, and presses his lips together. "I'll never forgive myself for that."
"That's not your fault, Noah."
"Isn't it?" He looks at me, and the raw grief in his eyes makes my chest ache. "She wanted to talk about something important. She left voicemails saying she needed her big brother. And I was too focused on dead historical figures to call her back."
I squeeze his hand, feeling the surprising strength in his fingers when he squeezes back. "You couldn't have known."
"That's what everyone says." He laughs, but there's no humor in it. "My parents were devastated. Still are. I left the doctoral program and took the teaching position at Riverside to be closer to them. Figured I owed them at least one child they could see and talk to."
The parallel between our stories isn't lost on either of us. We sit in silence for a moment, two people carrying guilt and grief, finding unexpected understanding in each other.
"I've never told anyone that," Noah admits, shaking his head in surprise. "About missing her calls. Not even my parents."
"Why tell me?"
"Because you understand what it's like to run from something. To carry secrets that feel too heavy to share." He turns his hand over, lacing his fingers through mine. "And because I want you to know the real me, not just the history teacher who grades papers and discusses curriculum."
The chemistry from our one-night stand resurfaces with startling intensity. I'm suddenly hyperaware of how close we're sitting, how his thumb is tracing patterns on my wrist, and the way his eyes have darkened with desire behind his glasses.
"This is a bad idea," I whisper, even as I lean slightly closer.
"Probably the worst." His gaze drops to my lips. "But I can't seem to care."
"Noah, I'm already in a complicated situation. Getting involved with you would just make everything messier."
"What kind of complicated situation?"
I can't tell him about Jack. Can't explain that I've been intimate with my boss, the man who fathered my children. And I definitely can't mention that I slept with Blake just last night.
"The kind I can't explain right now," I say carefully.
Noah studies my face, and I can see him processing, trying to read between the lines. Finally, he nods.
"Okay. I won't push." He squeezes my hand. "But I need you to know something, Mia. That night we spent together wasn't just sex for me. I felt a connection with you. Something real."
My heart does that stupid fluttering thing again. "I felt it too."
"Then give us a chance. Let's see where this goes." He leans closer, his voice dropping. "I know it's complicated. I know we work together and you're dealing with your father and whatever else you're not telling me. But I think this could be worth it."
I should say no. Should protect him from the disaster my life has become. But looking into his green eyes, seeing the genuine care and interest there, I can't form the words.
"I need time to think," I say instead.
"That's fair." He releases my hand and sits back, though I can see the disappointment in his expression. "Take all the time you need."
We finish our coffee while making small talk about school, books and authors we like, and pretty much anything that doesn't require emotional vulnerability.
But the tension between us never fully dissipates.
Every time our eyes meet, I remember the heat in them as we'd had sex.
Every time he smiles, I want to lean across the table and kiss those lips.
When we finally stand to leave, Noah walks me to my car. The parking lot is nearly empty, the afternoon sun casting long shadows across the pavement.
"Thank you for meeting me," Noah says, his hands in his pockets. "And for trusting me with your story about your father."
"Thank you for sharing about your sister." I unlock my car but don't get in yet. "I'm sorry you're carrying that guilt. You shouldn't."
"Neither should you." He steps closer, and suddenly we're standing inches apart. "Whatever happened, whatever made you leave, you're here now. That has to count for something."
Before I can respond, he cups my face in his hands and kisses me. It's soft and sweet and completely different from the desperate passion of our first night together. This kiss is a promise. A question. An invitation to something more.
I melt into him, my hands fisting in his shirt, and for a moment, everything else falls away. There's no Jack, no Blake, no dying father or hidden twins. Just Noah's mouth on mine and his hard, warm body pressed intimately against me.
When we finally break apart, we're both breathing hard.
"Think about it," Noah whispers against my lips. "Think about giving us a real chance." He gives me a quick kiss and steps back.
I nod, unable to form words, and slide into my car. He watches as I start the engine, his expression telling me that while he'll wait for me for a decision, he's eagerly anticipating taking me to bed again.
A pulse starts low in my belly and spreads between my thighs as I give him a little wave. I drive away with my mind spinning. Noah's kiss still tingles on my lips. Blake's touch still echoes on my skin. And Jack's presence still haunts every corner of my thoughts.
My apartment complex appears ahead and I pull into the parking lot, exhausted from the emotional weight of the afternoon. All I want is to collapse on my bed and try to make sense of the mess my life has become.
Then I see him.
Jack Lewis stands beside a black sedan in the parking lot, his arms crossed over his chest. He pushes away from his car and our eyes meet.
Well, damn it. Might as well call me Grand Central Station.