Chapter 6
Chapter Six
Paige
When I mention Noah’s father, I almost tell Aaron the truth. After all, the entire town knows what happened to James. Noah will have to carry that truth with him for his entire life. Aaron might as well know how I ended up a single mom now.
Something holds me back from telling the truth, though.
I want to hold on to tonight. Tonight was as perfect and light as a first date should be, even if that isn’t what’s happening here. Somehow, we made it from the wedding to the hospital and back to my house.
To me, that means something about what’s going on between us. I vowed never to bring a date home to meet Noah until I was ready. Yet, now I’m being as indiscreet as my mother.
I want Aaron here right now.
More than that, I simply want him. I want another one of those unexpected kisses, heat unfurling in my muscles like I’m sinking into a relaxing bath.
“I should go and let you put him to bed,” Aaron says, drawing me back to the present.
Noah presses his cheek to my shoulder, a telltale sign that he’s minutes from falling asleep.
“It won’t take but a minute to put him down,” I say instead, surprising myself. “I’ll meet you in the living room. Help yourself to the drinks cart.”
Aaron holds my gaze for a beat, as if trying to decide whether I mean it. Whatever he finds in it, he must like it. He nods and winds his way through the crowded halls to the living room at the back of the house.
Anticipation bubbles up in me, threatening to spill over. The only thing separating me from an enjoyable evening of adult conversation is bedtime.
Noah settles into the toddler bed as I drape the light duvet over his tiny form. Not wanting to rush him into sleep, I sit on the edge of the bed and run a hand through his lengthening curls. He leans into my touch and closes his eyes.
Just like every other night, my mouth opens to sing. I sing the last song his father ever wrote, the one about how excited he was to have a son. One of the few positive memories I have of James from the last few years of our lives together.
Gazing at our son falling asleep under the covers, I remember how badly I wanted things to work between us. How I fought for him to get help for his addiction. How I tried to love him through it.
I take a moment to remind myself why getting involved with someone new might be a bad idea. I don’t listen.
Then, I follow my instinct out to the living room, where Aaron’s large frame sits on the small couch. A tumbler of whiskey rests in his hand, while a glass of chardonnay waits on the table for me.
“You have a lovely home.” He clears his throat, as if he isn’t used to speaking.
“It’s enough for the two of us, for now. I paid it off two years ago, so we have no intention of leaving.”
“Must be nice to have roots somewhere.” I hear the ache in his voice.
I want to ask what he left behind when Crown Hill came into the picture, but I’m afraid I’ll hear about who he left behind.
“Crown Hill will eventually feel like home,” I promise him.
I sit next to him on the couch, only an inch separating my thigh from his. Electricity seems to jump between us in the gap.
Aaron nods. “It certainly feels more like that now than it did last week.”
“I appreciate what you did for me today at the wedding. You have no idea how humiliating that would have been.” A smile surfaces at the memory of Alexander trying his hardest not to look at us.
“All in a day’s work.” Aaron sips his drink casually and drapes his arm over the back of the couch, dangerously close to my shoulders. “Fires fought, damsels rescued, nitwits deflected.”
“You were off the clock today,” I remind him.
“Guess I have a hard time leaving work behind, then. Bet you haven’t heard that one from the rest of the guys.” He laughs, his entire face lighting up. He looks different tonight, relaxed and at ease.
“No, my brother is definitely not married to the station.” My own laughter threatens to break down the walls.
It’s a feeling I’d almost forgotten—conversation, a little flirtation, nothing about loss or children or work. I take a quick sip of wine to remind myself to rein in my happiness.
It can’t last, my brain tells me.
The conversation meanders from one topic to another while our drinks get low. We talk about the guys at the station, the free coffee he just learned about, and his favorite parts of Crown Hill.
“You mean to tell me that you don’t have a single favorite part about this town?” I ask after he says that everything feels the same.
“I didn’t say that,” he says, his eyes narrowing as he looks at me. I catch myself blushing, even though I’m not entirely sure he meant me. “But since you’re so insistent, what is your favorite part?”
I think for a minute. “The spot where the park meets the tiny creek. It’s peaceful there. Noah plays in the background, and I sit with my feet in the water, listening to the birds.”
“And here I thought you were going to say the burned coffee at the fire station,” he laughs.
“That’s a close second.”
It’s one in the morning when he looks at the clock and sets his empty tumbler on the coffee table.
“I should probably head out,” he says reluctantly. “Noah will be up before you know it. You should rest.”
Part of me protests, wants him to stay just a little while longer. Another part of me—the practical part—knows that I’m exhausted after the full wedding day, the dancing, the fun. I’ll tumble into bed and undoubtedly fall into a deep sleep right away.
“You probably have a shift in the morning.”
He can sleep at the station, though. Once Noah is up for the day, I won’t get to rest until he takes his usual one-hour nap around noon.
Aaron leads the way to the front door, stepping around piles of toys and unfolded laundry that never seem to get put away. At the door, he turns and faces me, his eyes searching my face for some kind of answer.
Not wanting to break the spell, I don’t speak.
“Paige,” he says, his voice rougher than usual. “I actually had fun at the wedding today. You don’t know this about me, but I don’t do big social things.”
“You? Not social?” I joke, and he visibly relaxes, his shoulders loosening.
“Listen, I’d like to take you out sometime. No pretend dating. Just you and me and a nice dinner at whatever restaurant you recommend. Let me take you on a date—a real one.”
My stomach flips at the idea of a real date with the man I’ve been unable to stop thinking about since the moment he freed my hand at the hotel.
I open my mouth to answer him, but nothing comes out.
* * *
Aaron
There’s no doubt in my mind that I want to spend more time with Paige. I haven’t had much luck with dating in the past, probably because it’s so hard for me to connect with other people. Fred is still the only person who truly knows me, despite how many times he’s tried to set me up.
But I can tell from the expression on Paige’s face that she has some reservations about me.
When I ask her on a date, her eyes widen. She sucks in a sharp breath, her shoulders rising an inch closer to her ears. I doubt she thought to do it consciously, but her eyes drifted to the stairs and up to Noah’s room.
If the reason she doesn’t want to date me is that she really is worried about her son, I can respect that. I would have done anything for a parent who cared about me like that when I was little. I still would.
And I’m prepared to prove to her that I can be there for him, too. It will take time, but I’ve always loved little kids. Noah is special, even I can tell that from the few interactions I’ve seen with him.
Surprise gives way to something deeper as Paige remains quiet. Her brow furrows. She clasps her hands together, twisting her fingers as if she can wring the answers from them somehow.
I’m tempted to take her hands and squeeze them, but I force my body to remain still until she has had time to process.
Finally, a cloud passes over her face. The easy smile she had in the living room is gone, though the flush from the wine still clings to her creamy skin. She takes a step away from the door, cold air rushing into the space between us.
“Aaron…”
I quirk an eyebrow, waiting for the rest of her excuse. Her voice drips with resignation, making it obvious what comes next. I just don’t know what reason she’s going to give me, what I’ll have to work with.
“Thank you for your help. With everything.” She blushes and rubs her wrist, reminding me that she has been on my mind all week. “I just don’t think I want to date right now.”
“Are you sure about that?” I keep my distance from her, just as she wants. But I’m not about to let her off the hook so easily.
“That date was the first time I’ve dipped my toe in the dating pool for fifteen years. I married my high school sweetheart and then…” she trails off. “I thought I wanted a casual relationship. I thought I wanted to explore that part of my life again, you know?”
She lets out a humorless laugh and shakes her head, as if the idea of being a woman with needs is ridiculous.
“Now, I don’t want to date anyone for another fifteen years,” she says softly. Her eyes don’t meet mine anymore. She doesn’t look at me, even when I take a half-step closer to her.
The space between us is a chasm, but I can bridge it. Without a second thought, I reach up and brush my fingertips against her soft cheek. I trace a pattern from her cheekbones down her jaw and back again.
I tilt her chin up so that she has to look at me when I speak.
“A beautiful woman like you alone?” I shake my head. “You shouldn’t deny yourself companionship.”
“I’m not—”
“Or pleasure,” I add, watching as the word warms her face. I have a brief glimpse of what her skin would look like flushed with pleasure. With something that my touch can provide.
I drop my hand from her face, but she doesn’t tear her gaze from mine. It’s all the encouragement I need to continue.
“If you want casual, I’ll do casual. But it’ll be during a dinner date on your next day off, which is on…?”
“Sunday,” she whispers.
“Sunday, then.”
All of this tension and closeness make me feel bolder than I have been since I stepped into her house. But Noah is asleep. Paige is right here in front of me, in her beautiful bridesmaid’s dress. I need her to know I mean business.
Moving slowly, I wrap one hand around the back of her neck. She doesn’t pull back from the rougher touch. If anything, it seems like she leans into me further, melting into me.
It could be my imagination. Wishful thinking. But it doesn’t stop me from kissing her.
Unlike at the wedding, when my lips landed softly on hers in the middle of the crowd, there is no reason for restraint here. My lips crush hers, all of the pent-up hunger from the week surfacing in our kiss.
To my surprise, she matches my intensity. She rises onto her tiptoes to kiss me back. I cradle her head, resisting the urge to wrap my fist in her long hair.
Surprise and desire shoot through me when her tongue runs over my lower lip, her teeth grazing the skin. I open my mouth to welcome her in, beginning my own exploration of her mouth. She flicks her tongue against mine, her lips expertly moving over mine.
I can’t help it. My hand leaves the back of her head and grabs her hip, pulling her body flush against mine.
Her breasts press against my muscled chest. Through her thin bra, I can feel her hard nipples. I want to reach down and cup her soft, full breasts, but I know she isn’t ready for that. Her breathing is already ragged from just this kiss.
I trail my lips from hers to her jaw and down to her neck. My tongue traces a line down her salty skin, my teeth finding the hollow above her collarbone, where I nip until she lets out a soft moan.
I want to moan myself, grind my cock against her. She needs to know what she does to me. Then, maybe she could trust that this attraction she feels isn’t so one-sided.
I move my lips from her throat back to her lips and kiss her one more time. This final kiss is tender. It’s a promise that I will be back, that there is more of this to come if she’ll allow it in her life.
My lips find the curve of her ear, and I whisper goodbye. “Be a good girl. Don’t tie yourself up or set anything on fire until Sunday.”
Then, I pull back from her and let my hands fall away. Paige leans into the absence of my touch but quickly catches herself. She nods, but says nothing.
After taking one more look at her mussed hair and disheveled dress, I slip out the door into another Crown Hill night.
There’s no way she’s going to deny me our next date, not with a goodbye like that in her memory.