5. Noelle #2
Too heavy for Ruby. She pranced through life like a rainbow unicorn. Must be my mystery date. This is it. Wait. Ruby hadn’t told me what to do. But I was ninety percent certain standing here like a scarecrow wouldn’t cut it.
You’re overthinking, Macy hissed in my head.
I’d moved from overthinking into a whole new zip code—panic. A patient in cardiac arrest I could handle; interacting with a strange guy I could not.
Just do it. I whirled around, and my heart jumped right over sinking and straight to plummeting. All the way down to the bottom of my laced-up ankle boots. My eyes slid shut in horror. No, no, no!
Piercing blue eyes, broad shoulders, and a backwards cap—the stuff dreams were made of.
Cal Satterfield himself.
If this was a crime scene, we’d need that tape where they outlined the collapsed victim. Yup, this was a clear case of death by a phantom.
Except the ghost choked, and a stream of water doused the front of my sweater.
And look, I was an ER nurse. I’d worn plenty of unmentionable liquids in my time. But water spewed out of a cute guy’s mouth was a first.
Pounding Cal’s back—man, he was solid—I wiped the front of my sweater. Hopefully it wouldn’t show up on camera.
“Noelle?” he rasped when he could finally talk. It was unfair how warm and chocolatey his voice was after choking on water. He could have had the decency to sound like he’d sucked on a helium balloon or was auditioning for an Alvin and the Chipmunks remake.
But no.
Instead, that gorgeous voice sent shivers down my spine. It’d been over ten years since I last heard that voice in person, and yet it still affected me.
He spit on you. You should be disgusted with him.
He’d aged well. His ocean eyes were as bright and soul-searching as ever. But I didn’t want him to see my soul. I was a mess, and the last time we’d been face to face, I’d left him without a proper goodbye.
“Cal,” I whispered, trying to wrap my brain around the familiar face in an unfamiliar body.
Gone was the lanky frame and the teasing grin.
Shock bathed his face, and I wished it were the good kind.
Instead it was the same face he’d made in high school biology when we had to dissect a frog.
The man was green around the gills, then and now.
Cal the teenager was the love of my life, but Cal the man .
. . He’d filled out, broad and muscled in all the right places—ever the hockey player—and that backwards hat . . .
I averted my eyes. He was attractive, but he wasn’t mine.
“What are you doing here?” His voice was deceptively casual, but I recognized the telltale stress signal in his tight shoulders and the way he rubbed his thumb in a circle over his medium-wash jeans. He was anything but casual. “Ruby said this was a strangers’ couple shoot. We aren’t strangers.”
“It’s been more than ten years. I’d say that makes us strangers,” I said quietly.
“Thirteen years, two months, and seventeen days.” His jaw ticked. He’d always been obsessed with numbers—time, dates, hockey stats, everything. I used to love that about him.
Oh yeah, anything but casual.
I grimaced, trying for a joke. “I’m as thrilled to see you as you are to see me.”
A half smile exposed his southwest dimple, but it wasn’t a happy smile. It was laced with a challenge. He stepped closer to me. Too close. “Putting words in my mouth now, Holiday?”
“Just facts,” I hissed at the familiar nickname.
Once it used to make me feel warm and fuzzy, now .
. . Well, it still did that, but that was the wrong response.
I was going to kill my sister. Stranger, indeed.
The man was married. That reminder fueled my anger.
What was Ruby thinking? Especially after everything that happened with Mom.
“Not sure how a surly guy like you ended up with an angel like Khia. She must get it from your wife.”
Cal flinched like I’d slapped him. “My . . .” He cleared his throat. “She got the best of Izzy.”
Izzy. It was a perfectly pretty name. “Maybe I’ll get a chance to be the judge of that.” Not that I really wanted to see him with another woman. Why is he even here in Serenity Springs? He’s supposed to be in Seattle.
“You’re four years too late for that.” He shifted uncomfortably. “She passed.”
What? My hand flew to my mouth. Shoot. Me. Now. And no one thought to warn me? I was now the worst jerk in history. “Cal, I . . . I had no idea. I’m so sorry.”
His blue eyes narrowed. “So you weren’t stalking me on social media all these years?”
I swallowed hard. “Nope.” Truth was, I had in the beginning—until the day I’d found his wedding announcement online. I hadn’t been able to since. And my best friends were under strict orders to never mention the man. Somehow it worked.
Pain pinched his eyes.
Did he want me to?
“Why are you here?” His tone overcompensated for his face with sharpness. The plastic water bottle he held crackled under his grip.
“Ruby.” I peered around, but the sneaky traitor had vanished.
“Noelle. The truth,” Cal demanded, stepping closer. Fully in my space now and assaulting me with his cologne. The same one he used to wear. Spicy and charming, exactly like him.
A tidal wave of emotion washed over me, trying to suck me in, but I stood strong.
This wasn’t all my fault. Or maybe I was too scared to see the censure on his face.
Or the pity, which was far worse. I didn’t need sympathy and didn’t do vulnerable.
I was supposed to be able to confront him on my own terms, not be tricked into it by my conniving sister.
I wasn’t mentally prepared for this conversation.
So I donned my armour and resorted to my weapon of choice—sarcasm. “Is this town not big enough for both of us?”
Cal barked a laugh, his Adam’s apple bobbing, and I hated that I noticed. “For once in your life, Elle, shoot straight with me. You owe me that much.”
I threw up my hands. “You want the truth? Fine. I’m a failure, and I’m broke.
I lost my job after an accident that kept me bedridden and relearning how to walk, so now I’m back in town to figure out what I’m supposed to do with a body that hates me and no job prospects.
” I leaned in, jabbing my finger against his Henley-clad chest. Yup, he was solid. “Happy now?”
Cal blinked steadily, like my outburst didn’t surprise him. It should have. I’d never raised my voice in an argument with him—with anyone. “It’s about time you got angry and told me what you were thinking instead of giving me the edited version of what you thought I wanted to hear.”
How dare he. Breathing hard, I backed away from him, pulse thrumming in my ears. “Or maybe you’re finally listening.”