Chapter Sixteen #3
The camper shakes as Ethan walks up the three stairs and through the door.
“Did someone say my sister has a hard head?” His voice is deeper than usual as he spreads his legs and crosses his arms. He shifts his attention between me and Noah, no doubt noticing our frazzled and unkempt states.
I run my fingers up and down Noah’s arm.
“She does,” Noah bravely says, holding out his hand once more. “Noah Prewitt. Heard a lot about you, Ethan.”
Ethan waits a total of three seconds before grabbing Noah’s hand and giving it a firm shake.
I want to roll my eyes at my brother’s dramatics.
He and I both know if Noah really wanted to, he could wipe the floor with Ethan.
But I love my brother and his feigned protectiveness.
What else are older siblings for anyway?
“I thought you two were meeting us at the restaurant?” I ask.
“Got off early,” Ethan states. “Dad said you two were in here, and well, I figured we’d get introductions out of the way before the entire town watches and dissects our every move at lunch.”
“Well, would you look at that,” I joke, clapping my hands and getting Sam and Noah to join in without telling them why. “That’s about the smartest thing I’ve ever heard coming out of your mouth.”
Everyone laughs except Ethan, of course. I place my hand back on Noah’s arm.
After a few minutes of mindless chat, Ethan clears his throat and says, “Thank you, Noah. For saving my sister’s life last year.”
My lips quiver as tears threaten to push their way from my eyes once more, and I wish Mom wouldn’t have given me her “cry at the drop of a hat” gene.
Ethan and Noah do one of those bro-hugs, and the tears find their way out.
Thank you, God, I silently pray. Though I don’t understand, and I likely never will, thank You for bringing beauty to our brokenness.
There is beauty in the brambles, fictional Noah reminds me. I drop my gaze to Noah’s tatted arm, and the words are there, woven around a cross like a beacon of hope.
I catch up with Sam and the theater situation, which has only gotten worse over the past few weeks.
Remi Martin’s and Julien Callahan’s parents and friends are at each other’s necks, and it’s as if the entire community of Willow Bay has taken sides over something to do with the theater, but Sam still can’t figure out exactly what the issue is.
Apparently, the theater owner, Bradford, is talking about sending Sam down there to the coast as a liaison for a while to help smooth things over.
Ethan and Noah go outside to throw a football and talk, and when my parents join them outside, getting ready to leave, we all hop in our vehicles and head to El Mariachi.
“Okay, Noah.” I state as I park my truck at the restaurant. “Listen carefully. Paulo is the owner. He likes to give us free cheese dip because I worked here when I was in high school. He may question you. Also, my grandparents will be here: Larry and Veronica. Pawpaw is the pastor of our church.”
“I remember you talking about them back on the island. You mentioned if you ever married that you wanted him to officiate since your last dud of a guy didn’t want to let your Pawpaw officiate,” Noah interjects.
I nod, that familiar uneasy feeling that Noah may up and disappear back into my novel manifesting. Oh, but kissing him was so very real. “Yes. But let’s please not bring that up this afternoon.”
He grins and winks. “One day. Soon.”
A blush creeps up my neck, but I remind him we’re dating right now. That’s all. Then I add, “There’s also no telling who else will be here. Judging by the parking lot…” I look around at the gazillion vehicles. “I think word got out.”
“About what?”
“That I have a man in town.”
“Yeah, you do.” Noah waggles his brows then kisses me on the cheek. “Calm down, sweetheart. I can handle your town.”
“They will harass you, Noah. Are you sure you’re prepared?”
He unbuckles his seatbelt. “You underestimate my charm.”
“You underestimate this town,” I murmur, getting out of the truck. Noah meets me on the sidewalk and takes my hand.
“Yer let ‘er drive yer here? And didn’t get ‘er door?” Crazy Colt stands by the door to El Mariachi, holding it open as my parents, Sam, and Ethan walk inside.
“Colt, mind your manners. I wanted to drive him,” I bark out.
“And she got out the truck before I could get the door for her,” Noah tacks on, shooting me a wicked smile. “Little Miss Independent.”
I mouth, “That’s Crazy Colt.”
He holds the door open for us and mutters, “See. This is whatta real man does,” as Noah passes through. I catch Noah’s eye, and he’s completely unbothered. Hmm. He’s already encountered Crazy Colt, and he’s taking it like a champ. But there’s still—
“Oh my gosh.” The entire town is here tonight, I swear it.
And my grandparents sit in the middle of the dining area, where the rest of my family is taking their seats.
Everyone’s eyes are watching us, the silent atmosphere thick with gossips waiting to take notes.
I swallow, squeezing his hand. “I’m so sorry, Noah,”
Noah, to my utter surprise, leans down and kisses me right on the lips.
Murmurs float above the crowd, intermingling with a few high-pitched whistles.
Noah straightens and announces, “Hi, everyone. My name’s Noah Ashley Prewitt.
I’m from Tuscaloosa, Alabama, twenty-nine years old, have a steady but flexible career, and I’m willing to relocate to Whitney so that you can keep your Esme close.
I love her. She’s my world. I promise to cherish her, protect her, and take care of her until the Good Lord sees fit to split us apart.
” Then under his breath, he sighs. “Again.” But his large smile doesn’t falter as he leads us through the hawk-eyed citizens of this nosy town and pulls out a chair for me to sit in.
I sit down, flabbergasted over his words.
It’s something a man in a book would do—stand in front of the town and declare his love for a woman.
I couldn’t even get Lane to say “I love you” over text before we went to bed.
“See, Colt? I’m a gentleman,” Noah shouts, scooting my chair into the table, and my heart helicopters right out of my chest. Then, he bends down and whispers into my ear, “Until I get you alone later. That kiss from earlier ain’t going to resume itself, baby.”
A shiver runs down my spine as I fight the heat rising to my cheeks. Satisfied, Noah sits down beside me and introduces himself officially to my grandparents. After Pawpaw shakes his hand and tells him how excited he is to meet him, loud chattering resumes around us.
I lean into Noah’s side, a huge smile spreading across my face. “Noah Ashley Prewitt, who even are you?”
He kisses my forehead and takes my hand under the table. “I’m yours, sweetheart. All yours. And if you come with this town—including a guy who calls himself Crazy Colt—then so be it.”
I grin, squeezing his hand before lifting my other to cup his face. “Crazy Colt, though a nuisance, is someone we all try to look after,” I mention in a whisper, eyeing the white-haired man sitting off to himself in a corner booth. “He lost his wife, and he hasn’t been the same since.”
Noah presses his lips together, a distant look haunting his eyes. “I can begin to imagine the pain.”
I fiddle with his hair before moving back to his cheek and then down to his shoulder.
Grannie Bertha hobbles up to me and Noah. I stand to greet her, and Noah follows suit. “Hi, Grannie.”
“Always a pleasure to lay eyes on you, handsome,” she says, patting his arm. I have no doubt Noah is noticing the same tone and inflections used by his actual grandma, Lois. We’ve discussed the uncanny similarities between the two women multiple times since he’s staying at Grannie’s Inn.
He smiles and looks down at her cane. “Tell me, Grannie. Have you ever thought of bejeweling your cane? I know a fine lady who’d help you out.”
“Well I’ll be,” Grannie says, eyeing her cane. “I haven’t thought of it, but now that you mention it, that’s a grand idea.”
“I’ll get you in touch with my grandma, Lois. She has one, and I know she’d love the chance to show it off.”
Grannie pats my arm next. “I sure do like him, Esme.” She leans in close, and Noah and I bend down to hear her whisper, “I knew God would bring you two back together. He told me He would.”
Then, to me, she tsks. “You’re in love.” I scrunch my nose, but Grannie continues, a twinkle in her eyes. “You’re pettin’ him.”