Chapter Six #2
“Use the towel on your hair. It’s dripping.
” Oh, the irony. He lifted a clump of her locks with his long fingers, tucking it over her shoulder.
“You want my shirt?” And cue the blatant stare at his big, broad man chest. The faded navy blue T-shirt bore the firehouse logo, with his name embroidered beneath in white stitching.
Rachel shook her head at the absolute wrongness of the jolt of pleasure that shot through her at the possibility of slipping his shirt over her chilled skin, the delight of his scent buried under the covers with her tonight. “Urgh, no. Just render aid so I can go.”
He propped one hip on the picnic table where she sat. Unzipping the bag, he removed an elastic bandage, a small roll of tape, and scissors. “And the magic word is…”
“Please,” she muttered, grabbing the towel. With one hand she rubbed the moisture from the tendrils stuck to her neck before completing a quick once-over of her face, torso, and legs.
“Good girl,” he whispered. “I’ll wrap you up, and then we’ll drive to Whynot for an X-ray.” He gently took her injured wrist in his very large, capable hands. Hands that once upon a time caressed—
“Urgh, I can get myself to Whynot. Can you hurry this up?” She rolled her eyes. “If my hand weren’t throbbing, I’d—
“Slap me?” he gave a lopsided grin before bringing her wrist up to rest on his jean-clad thigh.
“What—no. Just no. I don’t even want to touch you like that,” she stammered, while she lowered her gaze to his full mouth framed by an onyx five o’clock shadow.
Stop it, Rachel.
Don’t look at him. Don’t think about lips or biceps.
Or how many months it had been since her last intimate anything.
That was it. Her lady parts had been out of practice too long.
Her reaction wasn’t because of Noah. It couldn’t be, but she couldn’t think with her digits in his big strong mitts.
She thought his naked silhouette had overwhelmed her senses.
But feeling the pad of his thumb brush over her racing pulse, the way he assessed each of her fingers, stroking her knuckles one by one, oh so gently, had her sinking her teeth into her bottom lip.
“Something wrong with me?” Slowly, he wound the bandage around her wrist, tugging to ensure its added support. Rachel’s skin heated with each rotation, her temperature climbing, her breathing more unsteady.
She glanced at his mouth again. “It’s not for me to judge.”
“Now you don’t want to touch or explain to the leper. What do you like to touch?”
She swallowed, digging deep for strength. For a new, thicker barrier to erect around her heart and mind. Finally, she said. “I like to run my hand up and down walls. Solid, immovable, impenetrable walls.”
He stood, careful not to jostle her wrist. She stood, too, which in hindsight brought her impossibly close to temptation. His scent, his size, and his sheer presence all appealed to her. This was so wrong. She couldn’t do this again.
“Hmm,” he smirked. “I like a good sturdy wall myself. Keeps fire contained.”
Rachel’s breath hitched at the sudden fire blazing in Noah’s eyes. Okay, that was enough innuendos for one night. She scrambled backward. “My cat isn’t here. I need to go.”
He pointed. “We’re not done with your hand.”
Wrong answer. The pain, though present and intensifying, did nothing to detract from the Noah effect. ClamClam might be MIA, but Rachel’s kitty was definitely purring. If she stayed a second longer, more thoughts of his lips, his hands on her body, might have her embarrassing herself.
“I’ll toss back a few pain pills when I get home.” Maybe wash it down with a beer or two.
“Wait here. I’ll drive you to the Whynot Clinic.” Noah came to stand in front of her.
“Why can’t you put away your superhero cap and let me go?”
He met her eyes. “Does it bother you that much to let me take care of you?”
Rachel’s heart flipped at the confusion marring his tightening expression. Of course, he reduced this interaction to its surface appearance. She was injured. He wanted to help. She wanted to run for the hills—literally.
“Noah, you don’t have to do anything for me.”
He nodded. “I remember. You told me enough times. But”—he brushed one thumb across her cheek—“you don’t like hospitals. So, I’ll drive. Stay with you.”
She hated that hospital scent, the thick stench of antiseptic cleanser and citrus air freshener. It clung to her mother, even when Rachel picked fresh flowers from the garden to place on her mother’s bedside table. There was no way to sweeten the smell of death.
“Right.” She rolled her eyes. “’Cause we’re neighbors. Doing what neighbors do. Helping each other in a time of need.” As if she could pretend her heartbreak never happened.
“Sure, Six. You’re just the girl next door.” He reached for her hand, interlocking their fingers. “That’s why you’re going to let me take care of you.”
“I don’t need—”
He held up a hand. “Me. You don’t need me or my help. I know.”
“Good.” She nodded. “’Cause you don’t get a second chance to wreck my heart.” Oh, she should have kept that part to herself.
He pulled her up short. “You wanna battle over who’s the most broken? I tried. I tried to fix us.”
“No,” she bellowed. “You tried to nail me down.”
“Oh,” he sneered. “That’s rich. Good ol’ Noah Calvary, a ball and chain around your pretty little neck.” He spun on his heel, her hand in his. “Let’s go. The sooner we get back, the sooner I can prepare for tomorrow’s town hall.”
She matched his stride, going along of her own free will, not because he had convinced her to change her mind.
Her father had counted on her to build the arch.
She couldn’t do that if she’d done real damage.
And the pain pulsing through her wrist screamed, Make a decision, Rachel.
“I never said our relationship was holding me back.”
He led her toward his truck. Like him, it was beautiful under the moonlight. It had a sleek metallic blue finish, chrome running boards, and massive tires.
“Huh, fooled the heck out of eighteen-year-old me.”
Her mouth hung open. How dare he play the victim? Noah ignored her shock, lifted her body into the truck’s cab, secured the seat belt at her hip, and closed the door.
“Did you just go there? That ruining us was my fault?” Behind the wheel, he shifted the truck’s gears into reverse. She jolted at the fast roll downhill.
Noah turned to look at her, his features a twisted sculpture of yearning and pain. “Tell the truth, shame the devil.”
Somehow in his twisted hot-guy brain, she was the evil one?
This conversation was the reason she didn’t do Noah and this town.
Why did he have a need to drag her down a lane of memories best left undisturbed?
Whatever they had didn’t last. It certainly couldn’t scale the wall separating them now.
She knew a version of the man who sat beside her.
And warning bells reminded her that, behind his gentle touches and whispered words of help, he’d hurt her.
Rachel lifted her chin, determined to stick to her blueprint. “You tell the devil, since I know for a fact, he’s a personal friend of yours, I will smack him in the mouth. As for the version of us back then, we were two kids who fooled around before they understood the rules of the game.”
“Say what you will. But those two kids meant every word of what they promised to one another. Those two kids dreamed of fighting fires and building houses. And they did. Look at you, a successful architect who’s traveled around the world.”
Only to end up back here. The one place she couldn’t fully tear down because of him.
Among the rubble, there were pieces of them she’d squirreled away in her heart.
And now he was pulling fragments out of storage, demanding she find a place to display them.
She thought of the ring he’d promised, to make her his wife.
“We did some, not all of it,” she muttered.
“Six,” he breathed, the sound rough and weighty.
“I’m only here for two weeks, Noah.”
“So it does not matter.” He didn’t look at her when he spoke. “Is that it?”
“Exactly. I’ll be gone, and tonight will have changed nothing.”
“This is Service, Rachel. Expect the unexpected.”
Rachel’s heart kicked into high gear at the possibility of having some version of Noah in her life. But was it dread or anticipation? The truck picked up speed as they rounded the mountain under a purple and navy sky. “Speak for yourself. My life’s just fine.”
Right? Life had led them on separate journeys, which he reminded her of in front of Bethany, Benji, and a band of billy goats. It didn’t make sense to replay a game where the winner and loser had moved on.
Noah gestured to her hand. “Brace your wrist. Crossing Cattail Creek can get bumpy.”
She did as instructed, but she was more concerned with the bumps and bruises to her heart if she spent more time with Noah Calvary.