Chapter Fifteen #2
The energy surge that had him picking her up vanished faster than water vapor.
Heaven knew, he was exhausted, but he’d nail his eyelids open to watch her move through the rooms touching what he touched, taking joy in his space.
Glancing down at her artwork, he saw that she’d sketched the Johnson farmhouse, the barn, and the clearing between the two.
A half-moon arrangement of hay bale seating on either side of the giant oak filled the space, with a rectangular wedding arch center framed between the lowest branches.
There were different sketches on the adjacent page and website addresses, but he darted back inside, closing the door before she changed her mind about being alone with him.
He handed her the oversized drawing pad, holding on longer than necessary.
“Thanks. I worked on a bubble schematic of the mill. I really think we could create a mixed-use residential and retail space to rival Whynot’s.”
He gave a lopsided grin. “I may have peeked at a few pages.”
She smiled broadly. “It’s allowed, Mr. Chairman.”
“Oh yeah, that is me.”
“Did you see the wedding and reception layout designs I finished?”
“I did. I’ll unload the wood tomorrow.” They stood in his living room, a giant cashew tan leather sectional in the center of the room, an anchor piece drawing the eye to the river stone hearth.
With the cabin recently completed, he hadn’t had the opportunity to enjoy a fire, but he thought it added a homey feel to his place.
Rachel studied the warm walls, the framed family photos, and the stone hearth, her eyes dancing like fairy wings landing briefly before gliding to the next object.
She nodded. “Yeah… no. You’ll sleep in. I got this.
Now back to our regularly scheduled programming, folks.
” She had jokes. “There’s a lot of land between the house and the barn.
The guest list Dad emailed me has over two hundred attendees, but with a space that large, I want to create a sense of intimacy. You know?”
Noah took a step closer, then another. “Intimacy. Yep, got it,” he rasped. “Noticed you included a few of your dad’s tractors.”
“With the wedding and reception happening in the same space, I want to frame each section, the ceremony, the reception tables, and the dance floor. Benji can drape lights on the tractors to form the entryway to the wedding ceremony. You know, like one on each side, to lead people into the ceremony.” She wiggled her fingers, making air quotes.
“We’ll use hay bales to support the plywood for the seating area. I’m thinking, BYOB.”
“Bring your own blanket.” He chuckled. “Sounds nice.”
“Oh,” she breathed, stopping beside the bookshelf that dominated one wall.
He knew what she was seeing. Mixed among his collection of firefighting manuals and a Wednesday Knight novel from Tobias were the remnants of their shared past. The smooth river stone they’d painted with her initials when they were nine.
A photo of them at junior high school graduation, his arm around her shoulders, both of them grinning at the camera.
The origami crane she’d folded for him from a page of her sketch pad, now carefully preserved behind glass.
“You kept these,” she said, turning to face him.
“More like didn’t let go of.” The admission came easier than it should have. Maybe exhaustion had worn down his usual defenses. “I know that probably makes me weird, but—”
“It makes you… you.” She moved closer, close enough that he could see the flecks of gold in her amber eyes. “It makes you… perfect.”
The space between them seemed to shrink, charged with something he’d been trying to recapture for years. Not just attraction, though heaven knew that was there. Not just history, though they had plenty of that. Something deeper. Something that felt like coming home.
“Sit,” she said, studying his face. “You look like you’re about to fall over.”
“I’m fine.” But even as he said it, he swayed slightly on his feet. The adrenaline that had carried him through the night was finally wearing off, leaving him hollowed out and shaky.
Rachel’s hand found his elbow, steadying him. “Lie down before you fall down, hero. Will the couch suffice, or should I put you to bed?”
Talk about a perfect segue to flirtation. Any other night, he’d toss her over his shoulder, taking the steps two at a time. But fatigue had flickered his flame.
“Couch is fine. You can take the bed if you want to stay.” The words tumbled out before he could stop them. “I mean, if you want to stay. I can walk you back to—”
“Noah.” Her voice was gentle but firm. “Bed. For you. You need actual sleep.”
“I’m tired. But I’d have to be in a coma to choose sleeping over time with you,” he protested.
“What if you could have both?” she asked, her steps guiding him toward his loft bedroom. “Let me take care of you this time.”
As in, there would be a next time… with Six in his bed?
Something in her tone made him look at her more closely.
The woman who’d spent years keeping him at a distance was offering to take care of him.
The woman who’d turned down his invitation to see his cabin just days ago was now leading him to his bedroom.
“Rachel,” he started, but she shook her head.
“I know what you’re thinking. That this is some kind of pity gesture because you had a dangerous day.
” She paused at the edge of his bed, her hands moving to the buttons on his shirt.
“But it’s not. I’ve been terrified for hours.
I listened to that damn scanner until my ears rang.
I sat on the roof watching for your headlights like some lovesick teenager. ”
Her fingers worked the buttons with practiced efficiency, peeling away the layers that separated them. Not with seduction, but with care. With tenderness.
“Don’t toy with me because you were scared I’d get hurt,” he said, his voice rough. “Because right about now, my brain is making your being here, your willingness to crawl into my bed instead of pushing me away, into a serious comeback for the two of us.”
“I know.” She helped him out of his shirt, her hands cool against his overheated skin. “And for tonight, whether it’s a fantasy or reality, it’s what both of us want.”
“Just tonight?”
“Does it feel like—just, for you?” She gestured between them, at the space that hummed with unspoken possibilities. “I wanted to be here when you came home. My choice.”
The simple honesty of it stole his breath. This wasn’t the practiced seduction used by other women, or the desperate longing of a lovesick teenager. This was something new. Something real.
“I built this place hoping you’d want to be here,” he admitted, sinking onto the edge of the bed. “Every nail, every board. I kept thinking maybe someday…”
“Someday is now.” She knelt to untie his boots, her movements efficient and caring. “And right now, what you need is sleep.”
“What I need,” he said, catching her hand as she straightened, “is to know you’ll be here when I wake up.”
Something vulnerable flickered across her face. “You think I wouldn’t?”
“I don’t know. You have a talent for disappearing when things get real.”
“I’m not going anywhere, Noah. Not tonight.” She squeezed his hand. “Now lie down.”
Never taking his eyes from hers, he stripped down to his boxers.
He watched with familiarity as she unsnapped the single button on her shorts and slid the scrap of fabric over her ample hips.
He bolted upright when she tugged her tank over her head and tossed it on the floor.
Reaching for her, his body relaxed when she eased into his eager embrace.
She turned in his arms, using his bicep as a pillow.
She’d been here less than an hour, but she already looked like she belonged.
“You don’t have to babysit me,” he said, fighting to keep his eyes open.
“Pretty sure being in my bra and panties speaks volumes to how ill-suited I would be as your babysitter.”
Her hand found his cheek, rubbing the stubble with the same gentle touch she’d used when they were fooling around in the back of a movie theater. “But I’m not opposed to rocking you to sleep.”
The simple words hit him harder than any passionate declaration could have. His pulse took off like a greyhound after a rotisserie rabbit.
Through all his flirting, all his attempts to charm and seduce, what he’d really wanted was this.
Rachel, choosing to be here. Choosing him.
Not because of smooth words or grand gestures, but because she cared enough to wait up for him, to worry about him, to take care of him when he was too stubborn to put his oxygen mask on first.
“Six,” he murmured, already half-asleep.
“I’m here,” she whispered, her fingers combing through his hair. She tossed one arm over his middle, lazily stroking his side. “I’ll stay right here.”
“Stay forever.” He exhaled, letting his mind drift. And for the first time in years, that was enough.