Chapter 18 Maya
MAYA
Wind moved through the tall grass on the open hill, bending it in loose, uneven waves. The air had cooled, carrying the dry scent of sagebrush.
I swung my leg over and dismounted Caramel, my side protesting the movement. It had been a lot easier getting up. Noah’s gaze flicked to me, assessing the wince I barely had time to hide.
“Blue?” he asked, his hand hovering near my side. “You holding up?”
“Yeah.” I shifted a little, soaking in his touch, even if it barely grazed me.
Twilight meant relief. It meant shadows stretching long enough to cover me. Soon, nightfall would creep in to grant me another shot at what I came here to do, which was to retrieve the necklace and vanish before the hurt ran too deep.
Noah tended to the horses, tying them up the way every cowboy did. His nice ass was a downright distraction, but that wasn’t what had my resolve unraveling.
It was me. I wanted to be here.
And the valley seemed made for it. It was a night thick with promise, the kind that made you want to sit close to someone just for the hell of it. Above us, the first stars were beginning to prick through the dusky sky.
Noah spread the blanket over a patch of springy grass, then set the bag down and pulled out a dish, still warm to the touch.
My lips parted. “Is that—”
“Mrs. Sutton’s finest,” he said.
I hadn’t been in Buffaloberry Hill long, but I knew Mrs. Sutton’s pies. Everyone did. She was picky about who got them fresh. You had to wake up early or know her personally. And somehow, Noah had managed to bring one straight from her kitchen to this quiet little setup.
He didn’t make a fuss about it, but the effort was there, in every small detail.
I sat down as he reached into the bag again, pulling out a mason jar filled with something deep amber.
I arched a brow. “Homemade moonshine?”
Noah chuckled. “Close.” He unscrewed the lid and handed it over. “Try it.”
I took a cautious sip. A rich, smoky sweetness hit my tongue, laced with the tart bite of berries and the smooth burn of bourbon. My eyes widened.
“Huckleberry Bourbon Smash,” he said, settling beside me. “Figured you meant it when you said you’d take bourbon over champagne.”
I stared at him, still processing. “You made this?”
He smirked. “What? You think just because I lived in the city for a while, I forgot how to mix a decent drink?”
I took another sip, letting the flavors linger. “No. I just didn’t expect…” I trailed off, waving a hand at the whole setup—the pie, the drink, the spot.
He was watching me carefully, waiting.
“This is really nice, Noah.”
His smirk gave way to something like pride. “Yeah,” he said. “It is.”
And for the first time tonight, I let myself enjoy it.
“So let me get this straight. You owned half of a hockey team in Utah, know your way around sports injuries, and used to work in media?”
“Sounds about right.” He took a sip of bourbon. “Now I’m just a peaceful rancher.”
I narrowed my eyes. “What kind of media?”
He shrugged. “Ever heard of TwoByTwo?”
“Oh, that kind of media.”
“So you have heard of it.”
“I mean, I was in prison, not under a rock. Sheryn swears by that app! Isn’t it in the top six social platforms in the country or something?”
“Sounds about right again.” His smirk was maddeningly casual. “TwoByTwo’s more than just social media. We handled digital newspapers, magazines, and streaming. I owned those too, once.”
I stared at him. “Two elephants on a boat. Two by two…Noah’s Ark…” I gasped. “Damn, Noah Lucas. You’re that Noah? You friggin’ own TwoByTwo!”
“Owned,” he corrected.
As if that erased the fact. He’d been one of those golden tech boys who made it big. And once you reached that stratosphere, the shine didn’t just rub off. Unless…
“Let me guess. You blew it all on a spaceship and gas-station tequila?”
He chuckled. “Would it matter if I did?”
It might’ve, if he carried himself like a man haunted by his lost treasure. But he didn’t. He had decency that money and status couldn’t fake.
“You seriously don’t look or sound like a billionaire,” I pointed out.
“Don’t have to, do I?”
No. Not with those rolled-up sleeves and slow-burn charm. Not with the way he made me feel like I was the only one in his world.
Noah glanced up at the sky. “Isn’t it getting dark out here?”
Sunset had already dipped past the horizon.
I smirked. “That’s usually what happens around this time.”
“Smartass,” he huffed. “I meant, I forgot to bring the portable light.”
“Well, I’m not afraid of the dark.”
“Yeah, but eating in the dark?” he insisted. “Kinda hard to tell if I’m cutting into my pie or my thumb.”
“Sounds like a you problem. At least we won’t have to see each other’s messy faces.”
“True,” he mused, leaning back on his elbows. His hand shifted against the ground. “Huh. What’s this?”
“What?”
“Feels like…a cable or something.” He brushed his fingers through the grass. “Weird.”
That was enough to pull me in. I leaned closer just as he gave it a tug.
And the world around us transformed.
Gauzy, milky lights flickered to life, stretching in a perfect, glowing arc around us, casting everything in a dreamy haze.
I sucked in a breath. “Noah…”
He shot me a smug grin. “Borrowed these from the wedding inventory. But hey, no one’s gonna notice before I return them. Eventually.”
I shook my head, but a tiny smile crept onto my lips. I couldn’t stop it if I tried.
Noah offered me a slice of pie. I took a bite, the flaky crust giving way to rich, savory filling. My eyes fluttered shut for a second. “Damn, that’s good. And how the hell did you keep it warm?”
Noah smirked. “I’ll take full credit, thanks.”
“Hey, you didn’t bake it!”
“Okay, maybe not full credit. Mrs. Sutton gave me strict instructions.” He leaned in like he was letting me in on a secret. “Three-fifty, ten minutes. No more, no less. And that bag—” he glanced at the insulated food bag, “—did the rest.”
“So, basically, you followed directions. Amazing.”
“Hey, don’t undermine my effort. That oven and I went to war.”
I took another bite, unable to hide my grin. “Well, you won.”
The night settled around us, the river a slow-moving mirror for the stars stretching above. We lay back on the blanket, side by side, close enough that his arm brushed mine.
Noah exhaled, watching the sky. “You ever think about how small we are?”
“Existential crisis in the middle of pie?” I mused.
“Just saying, all that up there? It makes me wonder.” He pointed at the stars. “I spent so much time chasing big things like career, success, and proving I could make something of myself outside the ranch. And now? I’m here. And it doesn’t feel small at all.”
I traced a finger over the fabric of the blanket. “Yeah, I get that.”
He turned his head slightly, his eyes on me now instead of the sky. “You do?”
“I grew up thinking wealth meant security. My family had money. More than enough. But it never made us…safe. Not from people like my uncle or Annamaria. Not from what happened after.”
Noah didn’t look away, didn’t try to say something shallow. He just listened.
I licked my lips. “Turns out, money isn’t the problem. People are.”
A beat of silence. Then—
“My sister always said money makes you more of what you already are,” Noah murmured. “If you’re an ass, you become a bigger ass. If you’re good, you do good things with it.”
I frowned slightly. “Your sister?”
At first, he didn’t react. He just watched the sky like he hadn’t realized he’d said it out loud. But then I saw it, something shifting in his expression, something I hadn’t noticed before.
I smiled a little. “You never mentioned having a sister.”
Now that I thought about it, no one ever had. When people talked about the Lucas family, it was always about one person—Elia. At least at first. Even Sheryn hadn’t known about Noah right away.
Noah didn’t answer for a long time.
Then, finally, he murmured a quiet, “She died.”
The words landed like a stone between us.
I didn’t push or ask for details. I just let the silence hang there, filling the space between our bodies and stretching across the blanket, the stars, and the night.
He didn’t move. Didn’t say another word.
And I understood.
He turned his head slightly, just enough for me to see the look in his eyes—something serene and grateful. Perhaps he hadn’t expected me to let it be, that he’d been bracing for questions, pity, and something he didn’t want to hear.
Instead, I gave him space.
And in return, he gave me something else entirely.
His gaze dipped, briefly and almost imperceptibly, to my lips.
A breath passed between us, charged and heavy. And there it was again, that trace of sawdust I’d come to recognize as his signature. The one that scrambled my brain like a switch had flipped.
I knew what he was thinking.
I knew what he wanted.
And for one, reckless second, I wanted it too.
But I couldn’t.
Not when I was leaving. Not when I knew how this would end.
I turned my head, breaking the moment.
His throat bobbed as he swallowed, but he didn’t say anything. He just exhaled, letting the tension slip away.
I sat up, smoothing down my shirt. “We should go.”
It was too dim to really see his expression, but I felt it—understanding, patience, maybe even restraint. “Yeah. Okay. How about we ride back before you turn into a pumpkin?”
We packed up, Noah handling most of it while I shook out the blanket and dusted off my jeans.
“You know, for a guy with a romantic streak, I’m surprised you’re still single,” I teased. Not that it mattered. But I was curious.
He shot me a look. “Romantic?”
“Yeah. Horseback ride and dinner under the stars? Classic.”
He shrugged, securing a load onto his horse’s saddlebag. “Guess the setting did all the work. I just had to show up.”
“And heat up the pie?” I smirked.
“Ah, so you admit I deserve some credit?”
“Maybe.”
His expression shifted just a fraction before he said, “The truth is, relationships and I…we don’t last long.”
My heart hit a weird little pause. “Is that a warning?”
“Oh, no. Nothing like that.” He sighed. “I think I just got used to leaving first. Beat them to it. Figured if I didn’t stick around, it wouldn’t hurt when they didn’t either.”
I stared at him for a beat. No mask. Just Noah.
“You’re different, Blue,” he added. “And I don’t say that lightly.”
“You said that to every girl you dated?”
He grinned. “Plenty of sorries. But never that. I’m not a liar. In fact, I’m maybe too honest for my own good.”
“I’m a convicted thief, but honesty matters to me,” I said, like I wasn’t about to shatter everything I’d just laid out as truth.
“How about you?”
“Prison made me single,” I said, a half-smile tugging at my lips.
We let it sit between us, unspoken but understood, while we cleared the rest of our dinner mess.
Once everything was packed, he turned to me with his hand extended.
“Come here,” he said, his voice sure. “You are special, Maya Belrose.”
I placed my palm in his, and with a smooth pull, he helped me up onto Caramel. His hands lingered at my waist for just a second longer than necessary, like he was making sure I was truly settled. Or maybe he just liked touching me.
I liked it too.
Once he was up on his own horse, we rode side by side, the valley stretching wide before us, bathed in moonlight. How I wished I could forget everything else, like the trouble waiting for me back at the ranch.