Chapter Twenty #3
Cheyenne, either oblivious to the rise in tension or the best community theater actress Service had produced, gave Noah a dazzling smile.
As she sauntered over, giving Noah an affectionate peck on the cheek, Rachel watched his eyes roam.
But not over Cheyenne’s body. His gaze locked on Rachel’s stiff posture.
She felt a hot flash of anger and hurt mix with the jealousy already burning in her gut.
No doubt, the exact response Pete wanted.
The man was a hater. Like she hated the thought of leaving Noah.
Wanting to explore the possibilities… until Pete pushed in to ruin what could happen. Not for the first time.
“Are you surprised, Noah?” Cheyenne’s body bounced, especially her chest, with the light gaiety of a beach ball. Rachel wished she had a safety pin handy. “Pete mentioned you needed help up here at the Johnson place. I thought I’d lend an extra set of hands.”
Hands, Rachel thought. The woman flashed a fresh set of red-painted gel nails. She came to a construction site with a day-old manicure. And the way she swayed from side to side, her generous cleavage a rotating jeweler’s turntable. It was a wonder she stayed upright.
“You two know each other?” Rachel heard herself ask in a tight voice. Cheyenne looped her arm through Noah’s, holding him close.
“Aww,” Cheyenne cooed as if Rachel had asked a stupid question, “we work together, and other things,” she giggled. “It gets cold at night, you know?”
No, this pinup doll didn’t go there.
She knew why Pete had brought Cheyenne here.
Rachel had never been welcomed into his bromance.
Noah was smart and empathetic. He genuinely cared about people.
Pete used Noah’s star power and easy charm to lure the masses into his corner.
Noah couldn’t see the viper Pete camouflaged beneath his sweet-as-an-angel smile, but the Judelson restaurants and Johnson family farm had history—all of it bad.
“Rachel,” Bethany said, looking from her to Noah and back again, “everything okay here?”
To her credit, Bethany paid little attention to the mayor and even less to Cheyenne.
Clearing her throat of the genteel spirit her stepmother had laid down on her behalf, Rachel said, “I’m good.” Rachel turned to face the object of her desire. “Noah?”
“Sure am.” Never breaking eye contact, he asked, “You ready for me? To work, this labor of love?”
“Did someone say ‘labor and love’? Count me in,” Benji called, running up from the direction of the barn, his blond strands damp and hanging past his collar.
“You’re the Benji who challenged my Noah on the football field?” Cheyenne said with way too much enthusiasm when directed at her plus one.
My goodness. Pick a man and stick with him, Cheyenne. Pete narrowed his eyes, not pleased that his giggly monkey wrench had started to work on a plan different from the one he had in mind.
Benji, noticing the wicked intention flaming in the woman’s eyes, took an assessing step back.
“Aw, and you are?”
“Cheyenne,” she giggled. “My friends call me Chey or”—she pointed at her hair—“Red,” she whispered a little too theatrically.
“You should get away from this old farm and come over to Whynot,” she added, belatedly.
“Pete’s family owns a wonderful bistro. It’s got such a nice ambiance, being in Whynot and all.
We could eat, and… you know, see the sights. ”
Rachel sputtered, then choked on a laugh.
“Oh… that sounds lovely. Fair warning, I’m an expensive date. What time will the driver arrive to pick me up?” Benji crooned.
Cheyenne’s eyes widened, then to Rachel’s delight, awful red blotches erupted from exposed chest to cheeks. “Oh… ah, excuse me?”
“Permission granted. You’re excused.” Benji blew a kiss. “Bye-bye, now.”
Noah jumped in after Benji managed to douse the smoke coming from Cheyenne’s fire. “Come on, Benji. I need help hauling the lumber.”
“Yep. I’m on it. Go TeamRachel,” he yelled before stalking off.
Rachel had to laugh, but more than that she said a silent thank you to her plus one.
“Six,” Noah called to her. “Care to join your plus one across the Red Sea to safety?” he asked. “I’ll deal with these two.”
It was like Noah to put someone else’s needs before his own. It came naturally to him. He was a Calvary.
Like her, they valued family and community.
Rachel had forgotten so much about this town and how it had shaped the woman she viewed in the mirror.
After her mother died, townsfolk and entire families flocked to the farm, eager to lend a hand to a grieving father stuck raising a daughter.
Death was a shared experience. The entire community mourned with them.
She expected the visits to trickle to a drive-by visit here or there.
They never did. The faces here this morning had been in her life back then, too.
She’d been the one to walk away. To run, because someone made her feel as if she didn’t belong.
Well, this was Service, her home. No one would make her run… again.
Noah reached for her. But Rachel had a better idea. One that Mrs. Dawn, and maybe her mother, had birthed in her for a time such as this.
“You go ahead.” She smiled, hefting a twenty-pound bag of cement mix onto her shoulder. Rachel set her sights on Noah’s friend. “Cheyenne, get ready to use those hands,” she called.
“Sure thing, Rachel. I know how Noah likes to operate.” Cheyenne’s innuendo stung. Was this what Rachel wanted? Fighting off a brood of women who’d personally had an up-close handling of Noah’s hoses?
“Pete told me about your face. But now that I see it for myself, you poor thing.” Cheyenne looked down at her, eyes hard and critical. “You’re not Noah’s type. He needs to be a hero, hun. Loves helpless, beautiful things… That’s not you, sorry.” She shrugged.
Rachel tightened her grip on the cement bag. She wasn’t naive. Noah had had intimate encounters with other women. Albeit limited, Rachel had dated on and off. But none of her former beaus would be in Noah’s face, telling him he didn’t meet the mark. “Don’t be. I’m not.”
As soon as she was in striking distance, Rachel dumped her load into Cheyenne’s beautifully manicured hands.
“Good gracious, this is hea-vy,” the woman cried, those long legs wobbly. “I think I broke a nail.” Several, Rachel assumed.
“Pete,” Cheyenne whined, her voice more shrill than before. “Come give me a hand.”
The town mayor stood a few feet away. “Can’t. Important call expected from a developer any moment, darling.”
Rachel closed the distance between her and Cheyenne.
“You’d do well to remember, I’m still a farmer’s daughter.
I can break a horse. Rope a calf. And I toss hay bales bigger than you.
Be careful with those nails, you poor thing.
” Rachel’s voice dropped to a whisper. “On the Johnson farm, we work for what we want.”
Returning to the truck bed, she dragged a second bag forward. Pete stood with his back to them, the phone pressed to his ear.
Tobias finally made his way up from the barn, just in time to see Rachel’s petty on parade.
“Hey, Rachel, I can take that cement bag wherever you want.” Tobias grinned, arms bent to share the load. “My brother’s gonna topple mountains if you get hurt powerlifting weighted bags.”
“Not this time, T. I got this.” Rachel hoisted the bag higher, striding in the mayor’s direction. “Got something for you, Petey.”
“Alrighty, then.” Tobias grimaced. “Think I’ll need my first aid kit?”
“Yep,” she called. “Double up on the painkillers and ice packs.”
She couldn’t make Noah’s decision for him, but she never minded getting dirty to stake her claim.