13 #2
“Would you go look for me, honey bug?” she asked sweetly, batting her eyes.
She ran her hand down his arm, and he found himself following the motion with his eyes, even when he hadn’t meant to.
Something about her felt especially magnetic today, more so than usual.
He’d always been drawn to her in a scientific sort of way—like he was conducting an experiment and wanted to record the results—but this was. .. different.
Biology, remember? his mind chided. Oxytocin, dopamine, serotonin. There’s a logical reason for this. Don’t overanalyze it.
He drifted obediently back toward where he’d found the romper, distantly wondering why being sent to find another size didn’t bother him.
It should bother him. This whole thing should bother him!
He had other things to do tonight; he had a test in two days that he should be studying for and every piece of clothing he owned needed to be washed.
So w hy was he so chill about being an errand boy instead?
I owe her for the ride , he rationalized. Besides that, he was still playing a role, just like she obviously was. Would she be making him carry her stuff and fetch her more clothes if she weren’t trying to get under his skin? Probably not. It was all part of the game.
A game you had a chance to end, and didn’t , a small voice reminded him.
Shut up , he told himself, and he jammed the unwanted garment back onto the rack.
He flipped through the outfits nearby until he found one in a medium, and then he brought it back to the dressing room and hung it over the top of the door.
“Special delivery! I want to see this one next,” he declared.
Olivia said something that sounded like an agreement, and Noah went back to his chair to wait.
“Wow, you did good, Campbell,” she said in audible surprise a few minutes later. “Alright, are you ready?”
Noah leaned against the back of the chair and laced his fingers behind his head. “Yes,” he answered, and the door opened.
What he’d thought was another romper was, in fact, a dress—a mossy, green dress with a brown belt around the waist. The hemline was cut higher in the front than the back, and the loose sleeves came almost to her elbows.
She looked like some kind of garden fairy—one who could make flowers bloom with a touch of her hand.
Like a pixie.
Olivia pursed her lips, though she seemed pleased by his silence. “I don’t think you were ready,” she said softly.
No, I don’t think I was , he thought. He’d seen her dressed up before, of course, but this was different somehow. This was a softer, less intentional sort of pretty—the kind that actually came from the inside and not from layers of makeup and lace.
He didn’t know how many moments passed before Olivia broke the stillness with a clearing of her throat.
“I think I’ll wear it to Mom’s party this weekend.
It’s her fiftieth, so we’re doing semiformal.
No jeans allowed,” she said. It almost sounded like she was talking just to fill the silence. “Do you still want to come?”
That got Noah’s attention at last. “Come? To what?” he asked.
Olivia cocked her head. “To my mom’s birthday party. It’s Saturday, in Clarksville.” She paused to casually examine her nails, though Noah got the feeling it wasn’t casual at all. “Most of my family will be there, so I don’t blame you if you’d rather skip it. Cohen men can be pretty intimidating.”
She met his eye, and there was a clear challenge on her face.
Back out, Campbell , she seemed to say. I dare you.
“Sure, I’d love to,” he heard himself answer.
Wait . . . what?!
He had a moment of panic, a fleeting second where he wondered what had possessed him to say such a thing, but then, it faded, and he realized he was actually curious to see what kind of people had created the woman standing in front of him.
He’d never met a date’s parents before. Girls in high school hadn’t taken him home because they knew he lived in the projects and, while he was great for a good time now and then, he wasn’t the kind of catch you brought home to daddy.
In college, he’d simply never gotten that far with anyone.
There was a piece of him—a small piece—that wanted to prove he could do it, that he was worthy.
And if not for her, then who?
“You... you’d love to?” she repeated, almost like she couldn’t believe her ears.
“Yeah. It sounds like fun,” Noah confirmed, and a flicker of something odd crossed Olivia’s face. She’d clearly expected him to draw the line at meeting her parents, but he hadn’t, and now she was scrambling.
Well, you did say you were going all-in , that small voice reminded him, and he let himself smile as Olivia spun away.
There was no turning back now.
Olivia leaned across the pockmarked wooden table and snagged one of Noah’s french fries from the red plastic basket in front of him. It was the fourth or fifth one she’d stolen after making a big deal of not wanting any for herself, and she was waiting for his complacency to break.
Because it had to break, right?
He’d watched her purse and waited patiently while she’d wasted his time in the changing room. He hadn’t batted an eye when she’d asked him to bring her outfits in new sizes or colors. He’d even agreed to meet her family this weekend!
Yeah, what are you going to do about that?
a voice asked, and Olivia had to admit she was drawing a blank.
This whole time she’d always figured that if she couldn’t shake Noah before her mom’s birthday party, then inviting him home would be the line in the sand.
Surely he wouldn’t cross it just to spend the weekend playacting in front of a bunch of people he’d never met?
Surely she wouldn’t let him?
You didn’t have to ask, you know , the voice reminded her. If you didn’t want to take him, you could have just let him forget.
Olivia silently rebuked herself. That ship had sailed now, and she was going to have to ride it.
Somehow .
Noah reached up to scratch the back of his neck, and Olivia saw a sepia-toned tattoo peek from beneath the edge of his sleeve.
She’d noticed it a few times before but hadn’t felt comfortable asking about it.
But now... now she wanted to know. She reached across the table and took hold of his wrist before pulling his arm closer to her.
“What is this?” she asked. She pushed the fabric higher before tracing her fingertip over the twists and turns of the complicated design inked into his skin. A rash of goose bumps rushed across his wrist and up toward his elbow, but he didn’t pull away.
“It’s a birthmark,” he said.
She stared at him skeptically, one eyebrow raised. “A birthmark?” she repeated. “That looks like a sailor’s knot?”
“Yes. I come from a long line of seafaring men.”
“And you were born with it?”
“How else does one get a birthmark?”
She pursed her lips, and he smirked at her—obviously aware of the frustration he was causing. “No, really,” she insisted.
She saw him glance from side to side and then twist to look behind their booth. When he turned back to her, he leaned across the tabletop and beckoned for her to do the same. “Alright, I’ll tell you, but you have to keep it a secret,” he said when they met in the middle.
Olivia’s curiosity spiked to dangerous levels, but she eyed him with suspicion. “Okay...”
He looked to either side again, then looked down and pointed to where her fingers still rested on his arm. “It’s a brand. I got it when I joined the mafia.”
Olivia jolted away and released his arm, shaking her head at her own gullibility. “Noah Campbell!” she exclaimed. “You are full of it. ”
He laughed and settled back in his seat. Then he crossed his arms over his chest and stretched his legs out beneath the table—which Olivia knew because one of them was suddenly pressed against hers from the knee down.
But she didn’t move it.
That would show weakness , she told herself, although something in the back of her mind knew that wasn’t the reason.
“Why won’t you just tell me?” she asked again.
Noah smirked from his seat. “Because it requires a blood sacrifice, and I’m too pretty to die,” he said.
Olivia snorted. “That’s a matter of opinion,” she replied.
He retrieved another french fry from his basket and then pushed the remaining pile toward her. So, he had noticed her thievery. Interesting.
“Do you have any?” he asked, and Olivia had to remember he wasn’t talking about fries.
“What, birthmarks?” she shot back.
“Or tattoos, whichever.”
She crunched on a handful of his cast-off treats. Now that he’d given them freely, there was no reason to sneak them one by one. “No,” she admitted. “I’ve thought about getting three birds somewhere for me and Michael and Danny—”
“Who?”
“My brothers.”
“Oh yeah, the Marines.”
She nodded, surprised that he’d remembered that tidbit of information. “Yeah, but I can never decide for sure where to put them, so I haven’t had it done. Someday, maybe.”
There was a lull in the conversation, and Noah nudged her leg with his. “So, you said your family is scary, but like, how scary? ”
Olivia smiled and took a drink from her straw. “Are you having second thoughts?”
“No, I just want to be prepared. I mean, do I need to increase my insurance plan or something?”
She laughed. “No, but my dad will probably threaten you with bodily harm.”
“Can’t be any worse than his daughter.”
“When have I ever threatened you?” she demanded, and Noah scoffed loudly before leaning his elbows on the table.
“Umm, let’s see, I believe you once threatened to scoop out my eyeballs with a spoon,” he started, ticking items off on his fingers. “Then you said your brothers could remove my arms and beat me with them, and then there’s the unforgettable time you mentioned castration.”
Olivia laughed and mirrored his position. “Alright, the first one is legit, but the arms thing is something Danny and Michael would do, not me personally, and the castration comment was meant for Lexie’s old boyfriend, Colt.”
“Even so, you were very committed to the concept, which was frightening.”
She chuckled again and wondered how exactly she’d ended up having dinner with Noah and actually having fun when she’d intended to go straight home from work and curl up under a blanket with a bowl of popcorn.
“What’s your family like? Any siblings?” she asked.
For some reason, she pictured a whole horde of little pranksters with dark hair and mischievous eyes.
Noah’s expression shifted slightly, becoming more guarded than it had been, and he seemed to focus on something over her shoulder. “Nope, just me,” he said lightly.
“And what about your parents? Who taught you to cook? ”
“My mom,” he answered. “She’s a chef.” He pulled away from her and lifted his drink before draining the rest of the glass in one long swallow.
“Oh! No wonder, then,” Olivia said in surprise. “What does your dad do?”
Noah brought the glass down to the tabletop with a thunk that rattled the basket of fries. “He’s a magician,” he said curtly, his eyes hard. “Are you wanting to leave Friday or Saturday?”
Olivia furrowed her brow at his unexpected reaction and the abrupt change of subject. Had he really said his dad was a magician ? Was that a real answer or—
“And what should I bring to wear? You said no jeans.”
Olivia didn’t respond right away. Instead, she scanned his face for further explanation, but it was like he’d wiped it blank. Apparently, she’d found a touchy subject. “Saturday morning,” she said, “coming back Sunday afternoon, if that’s okay? And maybe dress pants for the party.”
Noah nodded in acknowledgement and let out a quiet breath that Olivia only noticed because his shoulders visibly relaxed, like maybe he’d been afraid she would push for more information. “Sunday is fine,” he said. Then his normal impish smirk returned to his face. “Do I get to bunk with you?”
Olivia narrowed her eyes and leveled him with a serious stare. “You’ll sleep on the couch in the den, and the stairs will be booby trapped,” she told him.
Noah stuck out his lower lip in a childish pout that almost made her laugh. “We don’t even get to share a bathroom?” he whined .
She shook her head firmly. “If you talk like that, we won’t even share a roof. My dad is not above pitching you a tent in the driveway.”
He grimaced. “So, you’re telling me to be on my best behavior?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t know if that’s possible.”
“I’m sure you can find a way.”
He groaned as if this would be a huge imposition, and Olivia did her best not to worry. She didn’t know how the weekend would go, but she did know one thing for sure: it would be nothing if not interesting.