Chapter Three
Thirteen years hadn’t changed her much. That was the first knife twist. The second was how good she looked in those tailored pants and that silky blouse pinned up to her neck, which caught the late afternoon sun and made her glow like an urban goddess incarnate.
Her red curls had gotten longer, tumbling past her shoulders in a way that made his fingers itch to touch them, to see if they still felt like warm silk.
“My biggest fan in the flesh,” he called out, unable to keep his drawl from deepening. “Here to cheer me on.”
One of Matthew’s goats, Diana, the ringleader, bleated loudly, echoed immediately by an unholy yowl from the tricolored tabby perched inside Rachel’s truck. Perfect circus soundtrack for this little reunion.
Rachel’s spine straightened, those copper-hued eyes narrowing in a way that used to mean he was in for it. Some things never change. He watched her face pinken with a velvet rose, and her mouth tighten into that stubborn line he’d once spent hours kissing into submission.
“Lieutenant Calvary,” she greeted him with exaggerated formality, extending her hand like they were strangers at a business meeting. “Or would you prefer #TomCatNoah hot firefighter?”
Hmm, she’d checked out his TikTok page. Her hand felt smaller than he remembered, but just as warm. He held it a beat too long, just to watch her squirm. And didn’t that have an undesirable effect on his body? Stupid move, Calvary.
“No need to add the firefighter. You can call me Hot,” he replied, releasing her hand and nodding toward the goats.
A red tint started covering her nose. Noah gave himself a high five for a job well done.
He could still turn her the prettiest shade of red.
Clearing his throat, he said, “Your father’s livestock is obstructing a public thoroughfare. ”
Matt stepped forward with a wry, don’t go there grin. “They’re exercising their First Amendment rights, Noah.”
“Pretty sure goats were excluded from constitutional rights, Matt,” Noah said, but couldn’t stop his lips from twitching. “Unless your daughter and her boyfriend want to argue otherwise.” Yep, he’d noticed the California dreamin’ male riding with Rachel.
“Not that it’s your business,” Rachel began, just as the tall blond man beside her said, “We’re partnered, but not coupled.”
Interesting. Confusing. Noah felt something coiled in his chest, something he refused to acknowledge.
“He’s my colleague,” Rachel clarified, gesturing to the man. “Benjamin Wiles. He’s here to help me,” she belatedly added, “with—”
“Anything else she might require,” the man added with a playful grin that made Noah want to aim a football at his head.
Noah nodded curtly. “Benjamin.”
“Benji,” the man corrected, offering his hand. “And you must be the infamous Noah. I’ve heard absolutely nothing about you, which means I’ve heard everything.” Then he leaned in and sniffed Noah’s shirt.
“Definitely not bologna. Or beer, but no less intoxicating,” Benji said waving piano fingers in Rachel’s direction.
Noah glanced at Rachel, with a what the heck just happened? look. Her cheeks bloomed a soft pink color that made his pulse kick into high gear. He decided right then and there, the what and why of it didn’t make a difference. So, she talked about him. That was something.
“Noah,” Bethany interrupted, mercifully ending the exchange. “You should know, we’ve talked with Rachel about adding her perspective to the redevelopment committee.”
“I’m not interested,” Rachel protested immediately. “I specifically said I couldn’t help.”
Noah felt his jaw tighten. “The committee already has all the perspectives it needs.”
“Think again,” Bethany challenged, folding her arms. “Because last I checked, the citizens need to be informed on designs and plans before a final decision is made.”
“And you think bringing in a fancy city architect will solve that?” Noah gestured toward Rachel with more force than necessary. “Someone who hasn’t lived here in over a decade? Who doesn’t understand what Service needs?”
Rachel stepped forward, the color in her cheeks deepening. “First of all, I grew up here. Just like you. Second, I design public spaces for a living. Unlike you. And third, I have no intention of joining your little committee, so you can relax your cowboy boots.”
“Little committee?” Noah’s voice rose despite his best efforts. “That ‘little committee’ is deciding the future of this town. A town you couldn’t wait to leave behind.”
“Children,” Matthew interrupted, placing a hand on his daughter’s arm. “Maybe we could continue this discussion after everyone’s had a chance to settle in?”
But Noah was just getting started. Thirteen years of bottled words were bubbling to the surface.
“You know what, Matt? I’ll make this clear.” He turned back to Rachel. “We don’t need Rachel showing up for all of two seconds and taking over. She left. Didn’t look back. Why change now?”
Rachel’s expression faltered. “Leaving for college—for a career, isn’t a crime, Noah.”
“Never said that.” But he felt betrayed at the ease with which she closed the door on him.
“Service stopped existing for you the minute you crossed the county line.” The words were unfair.
He knew it, but he couldn’t seem to stop.
“Now you show up”—he paused—“fancy truck with big city ideas, and you think what?”
“MRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAOWWWWWWW!”
The unholy screech preceded a flash of fur that shot from the truck window and landed directly on Noah’s left boot. Before he could react, ten pounds of feline fury dug its claws into his uniform pants and began climbing his leg like he was a tree.
“That—that hurts!” he bellowed.
“Oh shoot!” Benji yelped.
“ClamClam!” Rachel yelled, lunging forward. “Let go right now.”
Noah stood frozen, torn between his dignity and the very real danger of sudden movement. The cat had reached his thigh and stared into his face with what could only be described as malevolent judgment.
“A little help here?” he managed through gritted teeth. Was Benji recording this?
“Don’t move,” Rachel instructed, approaching slowly. “She’s only got a loose grip.”
“I know a lie when I hear it, Six.”
“Don’t call me that. We don’t have each other’s backs anymore.
” Rachel moved closer, close enough that he could smell her perfume—something citrusy and expensive that made his head swim.
“ClamClam,” she cooed in a gentle voice that seemed to belong to another woman entirely. “That’s Mama’s sweet girl.”
Why did that sound like praise for a job well done? To Noah’s astonishment, the cat released his leg and leapt gracefully into Rachel’s waiting arms, immediately transforming into a purring machine.
“Good kitty,” Rachel murmured, scratching behind the cat’s ears. Then she looked up at Noah, those bright amber eyes dancing with barely suppressed laughter. “Sorry.”
“Your remorse is overwhelming,” Noah deadpanned. He glanced down at his uniform, now sporting several runs where claws had snagged the fabric. “What is wrong with your cat?”
She tilted her head, just enough to raise that stubborn chin. “You left her for me to find. So answer your own question.”
Five years ago, when she’d returned, he’d wanted her to have a reminder of Service, the folks who were always in her corner.
Him. An online post had mentioned a building permit backlog on one of her projects in California.
Though her interest in being his biggest fan had waned, he still cheered her on.
Duty had kept him shackled to the station, but Noah had left the cute kitten gift-wrapped in a giant basket with a red bow on the farmhouse’s porch before the start of his shift.
It had been his way of delivering on a long ago promise.
Back then he’d held out hope. She’d commented on a few of his social media posts.
Mainly emojis. After all the false starts, he’d thought that time could be different…
until the bachelor auction fundraiser to save Eli’s veterinary clinic.
She’d placed the winning online bid for a date, then ghosted him.
No explanation. No communication. Nothing.
Humiliated. He’d ended all contact. “Your knack for destruction rubbed off,” he muttered.
“Excuse me?” Rachel’s voice sharpened.
“The cat,” he clarified, though they both knew he meant more. “Destructive tendencies.”
“Actually”—Rachel stepped closer, still cradling the now-docile feline—“ClamClam is an excellent judge of character. She only attacks people who deserve it.”
They were standing toe-to-toe now, the cat purring between them like some kind of furry chaperone. Noah was acutely aware of every breath Rachel took, of the exact distance between their bodies, of the fact that thirteen years hadn’t diminished his awareness of her one bit.
“Well, then,” he drawled, allowing his gaze to drift deliberately from her eyes to her mouth and back again, “I guess I had it coming.”
Suddenly there was a very audible flapping of wings before an ear-splitting “Paaa cawww.”
“Geezuz, what in the Foghorn Leghorn?” Benji jumped backward, narrowly avoiding the aggressive Rhode Island Red circling his feet.
“Dad, what’s up with your chicken?”
“For real,” Benji exclaimed, watching the crowing bird with a side-eye. “What kind of rooster pulls a sneak attack?” Benji jerked again, dodging a sharp beak.
“That’s Ricky. Well, he was until your stepsister, my Amarie—she calls him Pretty Ricky because of his huge sickle feather.”
Rachel glanced at the long, arced feather parading over the smaller tail feathers; it was impressive. But she couldn’t ignore Ricky’s bad behavior.
“He’s terrible,” Rachel said.
“On the contrary. He’s protective,” her father defended. He’s got his eye on a hen, and an unknown man is too close.” Her father eyed Benji. “I told you about my rooster,” he gestured toward Benji. “I got mine. You got yours.”
Noah all but bit his tongue to keep his tone peaceable. “Ricky’s terrible, but old ClamClam there is a good girl?” he grumbled.
At the maligning of her name, ClamClam expressed her displeasure with a “MRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAOWWWWWWW!” that sent Ricky on the run.
“This,” Rachel snapped, pointing to her father and Ricky, “is a family matter. So, mind your firefighting business. Not mine.”
Something flickered in Rachel’s expression. A brief flash of the old heat they’d once shared, before she took a deliberate step backward.
“Back at you, Rachel,” he rasped, unsure why her dismissal stung.
“You can add ‘cat attack victim’ to your résumé alongside ‘sole committee chair,’” she said crisply. “Now, if you don’t mind, we’ve been driving for hours, and I’d like to get home.”
“That’s your fault,” Noah shot back. “This is Service. You could’ve hopped on a first-class flight from California, and any of your neighbors would’ve gladly scooped you up from the airport.”
Rachel’s spine snapped into place like an erector set. “Not that it’s information you need to know, but I shipped the truck along with my tools, neighbor.”
That last bit had a mountain of sarcasm heaped on top. She’d basically told him to butt out twice in a matter of minutes. Fine, he got the message. And, he had one of his own.
“The goats need to go,” Noah commanded.
“They’re moving,” Matthew said.
“For right now,” Bethany interjected, already shepherding the animals to the side of the road.
Noah watched as Rachel returned to her truck, murmuring to the cat. She handed the animal to Benji through the passenger window before turning back.
“I’m only here for the wedding,” she called loud enough for him to hear, but not looking back. “Two weeks, then I’m gone. You don’t have to worry about me interfering with your plans for Service.”
“I used to take you at your word,” Noah found himself saying.
Rachel paused, one hand on her truck door. “You still can.”
“Yeah, you were always good at letting me know what you didn’t want,” he replied.
Her eyes flashed with something dangerous. “And always right about it, too.”
She climbed into her truck, the engine roaring to life. As she maneuvered around the goats and the other truck, Noah caught her gaze in the rearview mirror… challenging, unreadable, and achingly familiar.
Matt appeared at his side. “That went well,” he observed dryly.
Noah snorted. “About as well as a bonfire in a trailer park.”
“You know,” his longtime neighbor said thoughtfully, watching Rachel’s truck disappear down the road, “for someone who claims to be over her, you sure got worked up awful fast.”
“Did not,” Noah began, then stopped himself. “The committee doesn’t need outside interference.”
“Mm-hmm.” Matt clapped him on the back. “Maybe not. But you need someone on your side.” Noah knew it was another dig at Pete. But Noah understood his friend better than anyone. Pete had his back. “See you at the meeting with Rachel.”
“She said she wasn’t coming.”
Matt smiled. “She will. That girl never could resist a challenge. Especially one from you.”
As Noah watched Matthew gather his protest goats, he wondered if Matt was right. The Rachel he’d known had never backed down from a fight. But the woman who’d just driven away wasn’t the girl who’d left him standing in the rain on graduation night.
She was something else entirely. Poised, confident, and still capable of setting his blood on fire with a single look. And that made her far more dangerous than he wanted to admit.
Noah climbed back into his truck, wincing at the claw marks on his pants. One thing was certain, Rachel Johnson was back in Service, and nothing about the next two weeks would be simple.
And why did that make him smile?