Chapter Six
Elsie
Living across from Noah is turning me into a mad baker. The smell of cookies and freshly baked bread permanently lingers in my kitchen now because I can't stop making him stuff.
I couldn't even button my favorite jeans this morning.
Clearly, I need an intervention.
Does that stop me from starting a batch of chocolate chip cookies as soon as I sail through the door after work? No. Do I regret it? Also no. Baking for him means watching him eat what I've baked. And watching him eat what I've baked means listening to him moan when he does it.
I'm fueling my own sexual fantasies here.
I have no regrets. Well, aside from my expanding waistline, but that doesn't even count because he consumes most of the calories, and I enjoy the show.
Honestly, it's a win-win.
"What is that sound?" Alice asks, her voice rife with suspicion when I drop a cookie sheet on the counter.
"What sound?" I cringe when I accidentally drop another one on top of it.
"That sound!" she cries. "Oh my god. Are you baking for Mr. Mafia again?"
"What? No." A lie of self-preservation isn't really a lie. It's a carefully crafted delusion meant to make me feel better about myself. Not the same thing.
I doubt Alice will agree, however. She's been teasing me relentlessly about Noah since we started hanging out damn near every day.
I probably should stop telling her the lurid details of my sex dreams. They're only fueling her amusement.
I can't help it, though! Every day, he knocks on my door, looking like sex on legs, smirking like he'd rather eat me than anything else, and my mind goes to places that definitely aren't friendly.
I don't even know how we ended up in this weird friendzone to begin with, not when I want to jump him every time I see him.
He looks at me like he wants the same thing, but aside from kissing me on the cheek every night before we part ways, he never makes a move.
It's driving me nuts!
My vagina is being held hostage by the friendzone. He's a cop. Surely, he should be fixing the issue by arresting reality, right?
I may have to resort to drastic measures, like standing naked in front of the window with a sign that says, "Wanna fuck our way out of the friendzone?" I mean, that's probably not a good idea because we have other neighbors, but… Yeah, no. It's a terrible idea.
"Elsie Jean Cameron," Alice drawls. "You're baking for Noah again!"
"It's a sickness. I can't stop." I groan, burying my face in my hands. "I think I need an intervention."
"Uh, no. You need to get laid."
"Obviously. He had me plastered up against the door last night in my dreams. I was in handcuffs, Alice. Handcuffs." I whimper at the memory of the dream. I never even knew I had a fantasy about being restrained. Apparently, I have a lot of them. Who knew?
"You know, you could solve your problem by telling him that you're into him. Then you can stop being Betty Fucking Crocker over there, get laid for real, and have cute little cop babies."
"Who said anything about babies?" I squeak, peeling my hands from my face.
"Oh, please." She laughs hysterically. "You're dying to have his babies."
"Am not." Again, not a lie. A carefully crafted delusion.
"Uh-huh. So, out of curiosity," she says, "what would you name a baby?"
"Nina, if it's a girl. Lincoln, if it's a boy."
"Uh-huh." I hear her smugness practically dripping down the line and realize I fell right into her trap. Again. Dammit. "You have it so bad."
"So bad," I whisper, not even trying to deny it. Noah is…amazing. He can be so bossy sometimes, but it's always in the sweetest, most protective ways. He's also funny as hell, kind, and considerate. He's one of those people who actually enjoys helping people.
The man was born to be a cop. He just has this air of authority about him, but he never abuses it. He genuinely just wants to do the right thing.
Every time we spend time together, I find a new reason to obsess over him.
Like last night, when he told me that, even if he had been good enough to play hockey professionally like his brother, he wouldn't have done it because that was never his dream.
It just paid for college so he could follow his dream without his education costing his parents a fortune. I love that he knows what he wants.
In my experience, most people don't have a clue what they want. They just make it up as they go along and hope something sticks. Not Noah.
I love that.
"Are you going to tell him?" Alice asks.
I pull the phone away from my ear to gape at it.
"Uh, have you lost it? I'm absolutely not going to tell him!
" I shudder in horror at the very thought.
"I'm going to bake for him until he realizes that he's in love with me, or until he falls in love with someone else and breaks my heart. You know, like a sane person."
"You little coward," Alice says, laughing at me. "You're afraid to tell him!"
"Obviously." I start dumping ingredients into a mixing bowl. "If I tell him, it'll make things weird. He'll stop coming over or inviting me over. And eventually, we'll do that thing neighbors do when they run into each other and are forced to interact, but it's awkward. No, thanks."
"So, you have it all figured out, huh?"
"Yep."
"A man doesn't spend all his free time with someone if he isn't interested, Elsie."
"He might."
"Coward."
She isn't wrong. I am a coward. But…he's my only real friend in this city.
He's also quickly becoming something that feels vital to my life, like the piece that's been missing for so long.
I do not want to screw it up by confessing that I'm falling for him, especially if he doesn't feel the same way. That'll just make it awkward.
I'd rather die of sexual frustration first.
"What are these?" I ask two hours later, pointing at the coin display in Noah's bookcase. I've seen the display several times already, but I've never taken the time to actually look at the coins. They're all police department-related.
"Challenge coins." He saunters across his living room toward me, a beer in his hands and a soft smile on his lips. "I've been collecting them since I went to the Academy."
"What are they? I mean, obviously they're coins, but what's the purpose?"
"No one really knows where the concept started," he murmurs, stopping so close I smell his cologne.
I want to bury my face in his chest and stay there.
But I don't. "But during World War I, an Army lieutenant gave coins to his unit to commemorate their service.
It caught on from there. Most police departments, military, fire departments, hell, even sports teams have their own coins. "
"You have a lot of them."
"Yeah." He grins over at me. "I was given my first one when I was a cadet. I've been collecting them ever since. People give them to us on the streets sometimes to say thanks. I always hang on to them. They're a reminder that, even when this shit seems thankless, there's a reason I do it."
"What's your reason?"
"Because it matters," he says, his voice soft. "Because people who can't fight for themselves need someone willing to fight for them. I like being that guy who helps speak for victims who can no longer speak for themselves. I like going to bed at night, knowing what I did made a difference."
"I love that." I smile up at him. "That's why I teach.
I mean, it's not the same thing as what you do, but I like knowing that I'm making a difference in a way that matters.
These kids will be cops and doctors and lawyers one day.
I want them to have the best chance possible.
Being part of that feels so much bigger than just standing in front of a blackboard every day, hoping no one crashes out on me, you know? "
"You're so fucking sweet, Dimples." He dips his head, grinning at me.
At least, it starts that way, but after a minute, his grin slips, and he's just staring at me with this…
look. I can't even read it, but it's deep and warm and so damn perfect.
The air between us goes electric. The tension is so damn thick I feel it.
He lifts his hand, cupping my cheek, and my whole body ignites.
I sway closer, convinced this is it. This is the moment he finally kisses me.
Except Baby Jesus hates me, so, of course, it doesn't work out that way. The shrill ring of his phone pierces the moment, splintering it into a million little pieces.
Noah clears his throat abruptly and steps back, muttering a curse.
I stay right there for a long moment, trying to convince myself that launching his phone into Lake Michigan isn't actually a rational thing to do. I mean, it sounds good in theory, but in reality, it's just a bad plan all around. I'd probably fall in by accident.
"Fuck me," he growls a moment later, glancing at his phone. "I gotta go, Dimples."
I turn to face him, my heart sinking. I know that tone. After spending the last two weeks with him, of course, I know that tone. Crime never sleeps.
"You're being called out?"
"Yeah." He scrubs a hand through his hair. "We're needed at a scene."
"I'm sorry."
"Me too." He stares at me for a moment like he wants to say something, and then just shakes his head. "I'll walk you back to your place."
"I can get there myself, Noah."
"Good to know. I'm still walking you."
I roll my eyes, but I'm not really annoyed. He always walks me back home, like he's worried I might be kidnapped between his front door and mine. It's honestly really sweet.
I straighten up the living room while he grabs his stuff, trying not to leave a mess for him to deal with when he finally gets home. He's always exhausted after a call. He shouldn't have to worry about cleaning up dinner dishes and cookie crumbs.
In less than four minutes, we're heading across the street to my house, neither of us saying much. It's a little awkward, which I hate. But now really isn't the time to address the kiss-that-wasn't.
"Good luck," I whisper, lingering at the door when we make it up the stairs to my porch. I glance up at him to find him staring at me the same way he was back at his place.
He doesn't say anything. Instead, he steps forward, cupping my cheek again. He leans in to kiss my cheek like usual, his beard tickling my skin.
A whimper climbs up my throat before I can stop it.
He pulls back, his green eyes boring into mine. "See you soon, Dimples."
"Bye, Noah," I whisper, not sure what else to say.
He waits until I'm inside before he jogs back to his place. I watch through the window as he turns to look at my house before shaking his head and climbing into his SUV.
I watch until his taillights disappear down the street before I sink down onto the couch, my heart racing.
Noah Kirk almost kissed me.
I think I'm going to need new batteries tonight.