Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
Ginger got up and took a carton of ice cream from the freezer. “So Noah, anything of note to share? New love interests we should be aware of?” Which she always asked over dessert.
They were sitting at the small table in the kitchen, just finishing up lunch.
He’d returned to the house after his run with Danica, and he wasn’t in a rush to head back down the hill.
He liked the thought that she was less than a mile away.
Even though the chance of seeing her soon was close to nil.
She’d sounded willing enough to go running with him again. But she hadn’t made any promises.
“No, Gigi. I haven’t fallen in love since you asked me that same question last time.”
His step-grandmother handed him a bowl of mint chocolate chip. “I know you young people move fast. Just trying to keep up.”
“Wishful thinking is more like it,” Gramps said. “She saw you running with Danica Foster-Grant this morning.”
So that explained it. “Dani and I are just…friends.”
Ginger pointed a manicured nail. “Ha. I heard that pause.”
“Only because I almost said ‘acquaintance.’ Friends might be overstating it.”
“Then work on it. Have you seen her on the cover of that magazine? Va va voom.”
His grandfather groaned. “Gigi, give the poor kid a break.”
“A kid?” She grabbed one of Noah’s arms with two hands and held it aloft. “Do you see the muscles on this one?”
Noah took his arm back. “You two are like a comedy act from the 1950s.”
“Comedy? I’m more of a femme fatale. And 1950s? I’m insulted. I was a baby then, thank you.” She tossed one end of her gauzy scarf over her shoulder. Noah had never seen anyone look so glamorous while also wearing fuzzy bunny slippers.
“Do you think those kidnappers will go after Danica again?” Gramps asked.
“He must not,” Ginger interrupted, “because he’s sitting here right now instead of protecting her.”
Noah’s spoon clanked in the ice cream bowl. “She has her own security detail. I’m not the only bodyguard in existence.”
But seeing that frightened look on her face today? It was haunting him.
Even now, despite his testy response to Ginger, every cell in his body urged him to go to her house, right now. Ensure she was safe. But how was he supposed to do that if Danica wouldn’t let him?
Ginger didn’t want to let the subject drop. “It said in the Vanity Fair article that she has a lot of enemies.”
Noah frowned. “Nobody gets things done in the world by only having friends.”
“Defensive, are we?” She gave him a Cheshire Cat grin.
Gramps cleared his throat. “All right, enough baiting my grandson. Noah, how’re those kids you were volunteering with?”
Noah perked up, grateful for the new topic. “They’re doing well.”
A couple times a month, he and some friends volunteered with teens who were interested in the military.
Noah had started the program and funded it himself.
Probably the most satisfying hours he spent on any given Saturday.
Sometimes, he wondered if he could turn the project into something bigger, but wasn’t sure how.
“We had a couple kids graduate this year,” Noah said, “and both are heading to college on scholarships. One chose an ROTC program, and he’s planning to serve as a Marine after he graduates.”
“That’s fantastic. You must be proud.”
“I am. Definitely.”
“Do you think any will become SEALs?” Gramps asked.
“I hope so.”
“But would that be difficult for you?” Ginger mused. “Your grandfather said how hard it was when you were injured and had to leave the Navy.”
Gramps hit his palm on the table. “Gigi, do you have to bring up every topic Noah doesn’t like to discuss?”
Noah stood, grabbing his bowl. “On that note, I’m going to get cleaned up.”
Their bickering usually ended up with Ginger in his grandfather’s lap, so Noah rinsed his dish, excused himself, and went to his room.
Lucifer, Ginger’s British shorthair, jumped down from his bed and wandered across the rug. She meowed in annoyance at his presence. She liked Noah’s room, but not with him in it.
“Sorry, Lucy. You have to put up with me again.”
Normally, he didn’t spend so much time here in the hills. Yet this house was just as much “home” as his condo in downtown West Oaks.
He spent a few minutes on his phone, checking in with Tanner and his work email, staying on top of the various assignments they had going at the moment.
Then he heard something slide across the carpet. Someone had just pushed a magazine under his door. He got up and scooped it from the floor.
It was an issue of Vanity Fair with Danica on the cover.
He heard Ginger’s slippers receding down the hallway. Such a busybody, that one.
Settling back onto the bed, Noah flipped through the pages until he found the article on Danica. More photos of her were splashed across the pages, and yeah, she did look amazing.
But he preferred the Danica he’d seen that morning. No makeup, hair pulled into a messy ponytail. Sweat dripping a trail down her chest and disappearing into the gap between her ample breasts.
He skimmed the article, then got pulled in. It described how Danica had lost her mother at eight years old to a sudden brain aneurysm. She’d wanted to carry on her mother’s legacy by heading the foundation, while applying her father’s business acumen.
She blew him away. She really did.
Noah had always been ambitious. But when he’d become a SEAL, he’d believed he’d found his ultimate calling. The thing he wanted to do for the rest of his days, if possible.
And the universe had laughed. His back injury had taken that dream away.
Since leaving the teams, he still hadn’t put a finger on what he wanted most out of life. But Danica knew her purpose, and she hadn’t let anything stop her. He respected the hell out of that.
In all the years they’d been apart, he hadn’t met anyone who could compare to Danica. Her integrity and intelligence and outspokenness. That little curve in her upper lip, the clean smell of her skin.
The fire in her eyes in the rain, when she’d asked him back to her house, and he’d known she wanted him to fuck her… And he’d wanted her, too. More than he’d ever wanted a woman before that. Maybe since.
He was getting hard remembering it.
Soren’s older sister. She’d used to boss them around, and honestly? Noah had liked it.
He tossed the magazine onto his dresser. Rubbing his length through his shorts, he glanced over at his door, making sure he’d flipped the lock.
How many times had he beaten himself off thinking of Danica when he was a teenager? And later, when he was in college, even though beautiful girls had surrounded him and he’d had no shortage of willing partners, Danica had still been the ideal. Even after he’d lost her.
He lay back on the bed, closing his eyes as he pictured her. His hand slid inside his waistband and over the head of his cock.
Then his thumb dragged along the underside of his shaft as he reached down to play with his balls. In his mind, it was Danica. Her tongue moving over him. Her mouth on his sac.
He started stroking himself. His grip was loose at first, closing tighter as the need built inside him.
Noah thought about going to the bathroom for some lotion, but he decided to pause and lick his hand instead, adding that to the wetness leaking from his tip.
His fist worked over his dick as the dirty images sped through his brain.
He wanted Danica every way possible. Behind her while she braced her arms against the wall. Beneath her while she rode him.
Anything she asked for, he’d give to her.
Except his heart. He couldn’t afford to make that mistake again. But anything, anything, else.
His balls felt tight and full. Noah moaned.
A feline yowl shocked him out of the moment. “What the shit?” He yanked his hand out of his shorts and almost leapt off the bed.
Lucifer looked at him from the bookcase, where she’d camped out beside his collection of military memoirs. The cat’s tail swished disapprovingly. He’d forgotten she was there, and she clearly didn’t appreciate it.
“I can’t get a moment alone around here? Really?”
He flopped back onto the bed, grabbed a pillow, and shoved it over his face.
From the moment he’d seen Danica again, he’d wanted another chance with her. Even though he knew in his bones how dangerous it was.
She didn’t even live in West Oaks. Her family hated him. Even if he—somehow—managed to win a few nights with her, she’d leave eventually, and his heart would be right back where it was twelve years ago. Crushed.
But he’d grown up since then. Now, he knew better.
If Danica got in touch, he’d be there for her. As a friend. But aside from that? He needed to let her go.