Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
“I don’t pretend to be wise, but I am observing, and I see a great deal more than you’d imagine.” ~Louisa May Alcott, Little Women
S tupid Noah Wilson! Teeth gritted, Nat brushed her shoulder-length hair up into a ponytail in preparation for high tea at the farmhouse. It would only be the wedding party. Plus, Jerome’s husband Tobey, Mathew, Carmen’s husband, and Ryan, Viet’s husband. Including Noah and Willa with whatever they had going on, she’d be the rainbow sprinkled single scoop… Again .
“Fuck it!” she said aloud, putting on the glittery rose teardrop earrings Elle had given her last year. If she was going to be the single scoop, then she’d put on all her rainbow sprinkles.
After shimmying into her hot pink dress with a tulle skirt that stopped just above the knees, she twirled in front of the sleeping loft’s gold-framed mirror. Yes, she actually fucking twirled. If everyone was going to treat her like the little sister, she’d do what she’d done throughout her residency program when others discredited her for her being younger than everyone else, her petite size, or her gender; she’d put on something that surged her confidence and shake it off before facing them. Even if she chose her battles, she could always be prepared with a cute outfit and an assured smile.
With her newfound confidence, she descended the stairs to the living area. Stretching her arms, she let out a small yawn. All night, she’d tossed and turned. She’d flipped between stewing about Noah’s unwanted intervention with Duncan and fixating on that electric heat that came with proximity to both men. Two men. The same reaction.
Plopping onto the green couch, she leaned her chin on her hands. Noah had been the real-life Prince Charming who’d starred in her daydreams from the age of ten. Eighteen years ago, he’d gone from Clayton’s best friend to the star of all her schoolgirl fantasies when he’d come down the escalator at the Buffalo-Niagara Airport in his Marine uniform. Both families greeted him with signs welcoming him back after his first deployment. Excitement rioted through her as she held her handmade Did you bring me a present? rainbow-glitter-covered sign.
Noah’s stoic face erupted in a million-watt smile, and laughter rumbled as he pointed to the sign proclaiming, “That’s my girl!”
He’d never called her “his girl” before. It was always “Nat” or “Little Sis.” It would be eight years before he called her “his girl” again. It would also be the last time. The memory of that moment ten years ago both soothed and tormented.
Nat’s cell pinged, pulling her from the walk down crush-memory lane.
Duncan: Call me impatient. Dinner this Wednesday?
A hesitant giddiness accompanied the message. Duncan Ellis was asking her out. Dinner would not be a platonic catch-up session. It was the first flick of a lighter to rekindle what had once been.
She worried her bottom lip with her teeth. Did she want that old flame to reignite?
Nat lifted her head at the sound of a soft rap on the front door. Placing her phone on the coffee table, she stood and walked to the door.
Her breath caught. “Noah.”
Of course, he stole her breath. He stood there in all his sexy small-town-hero glory, holding a bouquet wrapped in the signature rose-patterned paper of the Village Rose Florist. Dark stubble outlined the contours of his strong jawline. A button-up shirt that matched his blue eyes molded to his muscular frame. His throat was exposed by the unbuttoned collar, and the rolled sleeves of his shirt revealed corded forearms.
He was the living, breathing embodiment of her fantasies. How often had she daydreamed of him standing at her door, dressed like the handsome lead of a rom-com, and holding flowers? How often had she fantasized about him saying, “It’s you,” and taking her lips in a long kiss?
Only he wasn’t dressed up for her. He was here for the tea.
He will never be for me. Nat stiffened. To him, she was only Clayton’s little sister. Someone to protect. Someone to not take seriously.
“You look pretty,” he said, his gaze sweeping over her. “May I come in?”
Disarmed by his compliment, she stepped to the side to let him in. “Are those for the tea? Did Willa wrangle you into helping with decorations?” A soft sigh captured her tone.
Ugh! Don’t be that girl. Willa’s nice. Noah’s nice. They deserve each other. She glanced downward, focusing on her hot pink ballet flats.
He handed her the arrangement. “They are for you. An apology for last night. I’m really sorry.”
She took them. “Noah?—”
“I know what you’re going to say.”
“Well, if you know what I’m going to say, then you don’t need me here for this conversation,” she sniped.
“Damn it, Nat.” He took the flowers back and stomped to the small island that separated the kitchen from the rest of the open space and set them down. Sucking in a deep breath, he placed his hands flat on the counter as if anchoring himself. “Why are you so pissed at me? It’s not like you to get so angry. Are you okay?”
The earnestness in his words softened the tension in her muscles. “You’re right. I’m sorry. It’s fine. I’m fine,” she said, deflated.
Twisting to face her, he leaned on the counter. Forehead creased, he studied her. “No, you’re not, and it’s not. Talk to me.”
His gaze was like a thief stealthily breaking into a safe, eager to coax all her secrets out.
He took two steps forward and then stopped. “We’ve always been able to talk to each other. You’re one of my favorite people.”
“You’re one of my favorite people.” A tiny quake trembled in her voice.
“Nat, what’s going on? I know I stepped over the line about Duncan last night, but you were tense before then. You weren’t smiling last night. Not the real Nat smile.”
The real Nat smile? She moved her fingers to her lips, tracing their outline. “You really do see so much, don’t you?”
“I see you,” he said, his stare tight on her, almost possessive.
What? Her heart thundered. Surely Clayton and Elle could hear the erratic thump in the farmhouse. Hell, her parents may hear it from their house two miles away.
The reaction her body had to him wasn’t new, but the way he looked at her was. What did his attention mean? Was it just more of someone with the protective gene looking out for someone as, say, a little sister? Probably. Everyone saw her as the youngest Owens, a little girl. Why would he be any different?
He cleared his throat. “You’re not happy.”
“It’s been hard since I’ve come home.” She exhaled, walked to the couch, and sat.
“Why?”
“Because I’m Natalie Owens here.”
His head jerked. “What’s wrong with being Natalie Owens?”
“You wouldn’t understand. You’re Noah Wilson. The former high school quarterback. The decorated veteran. The one who came back to revive the village with not one but three businesses. People respect you.”
“Who doesn’t respect you?” The calm seas of his blue eyes almost stormed.
She tossed her hands in the air. “Everyone!”
“I respect you.”
“You protect me. Big difference.” She crossed her arms.
“Do you think I respect Clayton?”
“Yes.”
“Do you think I protect Clayton?”
She didn’t say anything. Just nodded. Damn him and his logic!
“So, we’ve established that I respect you. Anyone else that doesn’t respect you…fuck them.”
Her eyes widened. “Did Noah Wilson, the man that is nice to everyone, just say, ‘fuck them?”
Noah smirked. “Yup. Fuck them.”
She couldn’t fight her grin. It spread like peanut butter on hot toast. This is why Noah remained one of her favorite people. It was why this goddessdamn crush wouldn’t go away anytime soon.
“Thank you.”
“I’m here anytime you want to talk. I know I’m Clayton’s best friend, but I’m also your…”
Nat prayed he wouldn’t say big brother.
“…friend.”
Not sister, but friend. A quiet happiness bloomed in her chest. She may never be the woman he looked at with heated eyes or pulled into his arms to kiss, but as a friend, hope lived that she was no longer relegated to the little sister image in his vision. Most people loathed the idea of being friend-zoned. At that moment, she was living for it.
She jumped up from the couch and walked to the counter. “Let’s see these flowers. Isn’t the Village Rose closed on Sundays?”
“I called in a favor with Janet.”
“Nice.” She ripped open the paper.
“ Typical … You open everything like it’s Christmas morning.” The corners of his mouth turned up in amusement.
Delicate yellow gardenias sat in a clear glass vase tied with a rainbow ribbon. Breathing in their scent, Nat closed her eyes. “Beautiful.”
“Yeah,” he murmured.
She turned her gaze, finding his stare fixed on her.
Like a killer from a slasher movie who refused to die, the electric heat of her long-standing attraction to this man returned. Each nerve ending exploded into awareness as the tropic-level heat radiated in the inches between them.
The muscles of his throat worked. Each flex and swallow telegraphed the careful consideration of what to say. He cleared his throat. “Janet has an eye for flowers.”
“She does… Thank you for these.”
The elixir of his pine and mint scent coiled around her. It both tensed and relaxed her muscles. It had never been like this. Awkward and comfortable at the same time. Even with her long-lasting crush, the space between them had never been clumsy. They’d never sniped at one another. There’d never been a reason for either to apologize. She didn’t like it. She’d never have him the way she wanted, but she could have his friendship.
“Noah, I’m sorry about snapping at you last night and my snide comment about Willa. I like Willa a lot, and I’m happy for the two of you.”
“There’s nothing going on between Willa and me. We’re just friends.”
Friends? Like us? Only you don’t let me touch you the way you let Willa. Of course, I’d never dare.
Shaking away the errant thought, she said, “Okay.”
“Let’s head over to the farmhouse.” Noah tipped his head toward the door.
“Okay, let’s go…friend.”