Chapter 4
Chapter Four
Josy
I’m fuming as I march back toward the coffee shop, my footsteps quick and determined.
I can’t believe I actually gave Noah the bird just now.
I mean, what was I thinking? That’s so unlike me.
But something about him just got under my skin, and before I knew it, my hand was up, flipping him off like some angry teenager.
Ugh, why does he manage to get such a reaction out of me?
As I push open the door to the shop, I’m still replaying the whole encounter in my head, trying to figure out how he managed to rile me up so much. It’s infuriating because I don’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing he got to me.
Inside, the shop is warm and bustling with the usual lunch crowd. But all I can see is Violet standing behind the counter, a big grin plastered across her face. Great, just what I need.
“Why are you smiling, bitch?” I snap, feeling my irritation bubble over. My voice is sharp and makes a couple of customers glance our way, but I don’t care. I’m too wound up to care.
Violet bursts out laughing, doubling over as she tries to catch her breath. “Oh my goodness, Josy, your face is hilarious!”
I cross my arms, feeling embarrassed and frustrated. “Why is my face funny? I’m not amused right now.” I can hear the defensiveness in my own voice, but I can’t help it. Violet’s laughter is only making me feel more on edge.
Violet finally manages to get herself under control, taking a deep breath as she straightens up.
“I’m sorry, it’s just… when you were walking back from Noah’s truck, you looked so pissed off.
And then—” she giggles again, “—you flipped him the bird! It was so funny! And the best part? He just smiled at you like you’d paid him the biggest compliment.
” She has literal tears running down her cheeks. I hate her right now.
Feeling a blush creep up my neck, I groan. “He smiled at that? Of course he did. The man is insufferable.”
“Insufferable, sure,” Violet says with a smirk. “But he’s got you where he wants you. And from the way he was looking at you, I’d say he enjoys your little outbursts a lot more than you think.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t,” I grumble, leaning against the counter.
“Why does he have to show up today? He has never been here before except for that one time a few days ago as I was leaving the shop. I don’t even know if he stayed and order something that day.
Can you believe that? All this time and he just decides to show up so frequently,” I say with a huff.
“And then he smiles and acts like all is okay. It’s like he’s making it his mission to annoy me. ”
Violet raises an eyebrow. “Or maybe he’s making it his mission to get you to talk to him.”
“I talk to him,” I protest, but even I know it sounds weak.
Violet rolls her eyes. “Yeah, if you call arguing and flipping him off ‘talking.’ You know, Josy, maybe he’s not so bad. He obviously likes you. A lot.”
I snort. “He doesn’t like me. If he liked me, he would have come to the coffee shop when I opened it and congratulated me.
Or he could have reached out after I stopped talking to him and came back to Honey Springs.
But guess what? He didn’t. We have not talked at all in the past ten years.
And the few times that we talked was because we were in the same place as you. ”
“Or maybe,” Violet says, leaning in conspiratorially, “he is just tired of not talking to you. Period.”
I open my mouth to argue, but the words die on my tongue. Because the truth is, a small part of me—a part I’m desperately trying to ignore—wonders if Violet might be right. And that thought scares the hell out of me.
“Whatever,” I mutter, straightening up. “I’ve got work to do.”
But as I start to walk away, I can’t shake the image of Noah’s infuriating smile from my mind. And I can’t help but wonder why after all this time he is talking to me.
Sitting down at my desk, I take a few deep, calming breaths to calm down and stop overanalyzing Noah’s actions.
Why today? Why all of the sudden is he showing up and being all cute and shit.
He’s had ten years to come and talk and NOW he chooses to bug me?
I don’t want to talk to him. Even though, deep inside, my body craves him.
He is so freaking handsome, and as time has passed, he’s only gotten hotter.
Now, he looks like a man—a real man. His body is a work of art that I just want to stare at, maybe even…
No, stop. Stop thinking about him. This is never going to happen.
The sooner you get that through your head, the better.
The Sunday morning sunlight spills through the window, bathing my bedroom in a golden glow.
It’s been weeks since I’ve had a moment to breathe, let alone enjoy a day off.
Between equipment orders and training plans for the new coffee shop, my to-do list feels endless. But today is mine—or so I tell myself.
I pull on a pair of black yoga pants and a teal sports bra, tossing a loose, white shirt over it.
My curly hair, refusing to cooperate as usual, gets wrangled into a braid.
Grabbing my backpack, I double-check its contents: water bottles, protein bars, and my favorite gummy snacks. Perfect for a nice hike.
When I step outside, the crisp morning air greets me, along with the faint scent of freshly cut grass. Violet’s guest house, perched above my garage, isn’t far. As I climb the stairs and knock on her door, hearing Adrian’s excited voice before Violet opens up.
“We’re ready,” Violet announces, beaming. She’s dressed similarly, her blond hair tied up in a messy bun.
“Austin will meet us there,” she adds casually.
“Okay,” I reply, slipping on my sunglasses.
Violet and Adrian follow me to the car, and we pile in. Adrian chatters about everything and nothing, his enthusiasm contagious. The drive to the park is short, and by the time we arrive, I’m already feeling lighter. That is, until I see him.
Noah is standing beside Austin, leaning against his truck with the kind of casual confidence that drives me insane.
Today he is wearing black shorts with a grey shirt that stick to his perfect torso.
His dark hair is slightly messy, as though he just ran his hands through it, and his usual cocky grin spreads across his face as his eyes land on me.
Of course.
I wait for Adrian to hop out of the car before I turn to Violet, narrowing my eyes. “What is he doing here?”
Violet shrugs, her smile far too innocent to be genuine. “I don’t know. I guess Austin invited him.”
“Right.” I cross my arms, glaring at her. “You knew and didn’t tell me. I hate you.”
“Oh, don’t be so dramatic.” She waves me off, clearly enjoying herself.
“Dramatic? Violet, this is a hiking trail. There’s no escaping him here! It’s not like I can duck into my office to avoid him.”
“Then don’t avoid him,” she says with a pointed stare. “Talk to him.”
I snort. “Talk to him? About what? How I’ve been strategically dodging him for the past ten years?”
Violet laughs, grabbing her backpack. “You’re impossible, you know that? Just try to enjoy the hike. Who knows? Maybe he’ll surprise you.”
“Yeah, surprise me by leaving,” I mutter under my breath as we join Austin and Noah.
Noah’s grin widens when I approach, his eyes flicking to the braid over my shoulder. “Morning, sweetheart. Nice hair. Did you do it yourself, or did Violet help?”
“Good morning to you too, Noah. First, my name is not sweetheart,” I say, forcing a smile. “And second, yes, I did it myself. You’d be surprised what I’m capable of when I’m not busy dodging annoying people.”
His chuckle is low and irritatingly charming. “Dodging, huh? Is that why you’ve been hiding in your office all week?”
My jaw tightens. “I wasn’t hiding. I was working. You should try it sometime.”
Austin raises an eyebrow at us but wisely says nothing, while Violet shoots me a look that clearly says, Behave.
“Okay, lovebirds,” Austin finally interrupts, “can we start this hike before the sun melts us into puddles?”
“Lead the way.” Noah gestures with an exaggerated bow.
The trail winds upward, shaded by towering trees that sway gently in the breeze. Adrian darts ahead with the energy only a twelve-year-old could muster, while Austin and Violet walk a few steps behind, chatting about something I’m too distracted to catch.
Because Noah is beside me.
He’s been keeping pace with me, despite my best efforts to outwalk him.
“You know,” he says, his voice light and teasing, “I was starting to think you’d forgotten my name with how hard you’ve been avoiding me.”
“I’m not avoiding you,” I lie, focusing on the path ahead.
“Oh, really? So the sudden fascination with your office at lunchtime was just a coincidence?”
“I have work to do, Noah,” I snap, though my tone lacks conviction.
“Of course you do, sweetheart,” he says, his grin practically audible in his voice.
Ugh. Why do I love it when he calls me that? I shouldn’t, but I can’t help it. Every time he says the word, there’s this tiny smirk tugging at his lips like he knows exactly what it does to me. Like he knows it’s bothering me and he’s using it to rile me up.
Spoiler alert: it works. Every. Single. Time.
I glance at him, letting my irritation simmer. His smirk is in full force, lazy and confident, like he has all the time in the world to push my buttons.
“Our chats,” I say, my tone dripping with sarcasm, “are about as enjoyable as stepping on a Lego barefoot.”
He laughs, the sound rich and infuriatingly warm. “That bad, huh?”
“Worse.” I narrow my eyes at him, willing him to take me seriously for once.
But instead of backing off, he leans in slightly, his smirk softening into something almost... fond? “You wound me, sweetheart,” he says, clutching his chest dramatically. “Here I thought we had something special.”
“Special? Sure,” I say, rolling my eyes. “Special in the way poison ivy is special.”
“Poison ivy?” He grins, clearly unfazed. “Now that’s creative. Did you come up with that all by yourself, or did you spend all those hours in your office Googling comebacks?”
My mouth falls open, a mix of indignation and begrudging admiration for how fast he came up with that. “You’re impossible.”
“And yet,” he says, his voice dropping just slightly, “you’re still walking beside me. What does that say about you?”
It says I’m an idiot. Or a masochist. Or maybe both.
He chuckles again, falling silent for a moment. But, of course, it doesn’t last.
“You know,” he says, his tone shifting to something softer, almost thoughtful, “you’re cute when you’re mad.”
I stop dead in my tracks, spinning to face him. “Did you seriously just—”
But the words catch in my throat because wow. His shirt is soaked through with sweat, clinging to his chest and shoulders in a way that should be illegal. The faint sheen of sweat on his skin only highlights the sharp lines of his jaw and the mischievous glint in his eyes.
I force myself to look away, my cheeks heating.
“You were saying?” he prompts, a smug tilt to his lips.
“Nothing,” I mutter, marching ahead.
“Come on, sweetheart,” he says, easily falling into step beside me. “You can admit it. I’m growing on you.”
“Like a rash,” I quip, not daring to look at him.
His laugh echoes through the trees, and despite myself, I feel my lips twitching upward. Stop it, Josy. Don’t let him win.
By the time we reach the top of the trail, my legs ache, and my resolve is dangerously close to crumbling. Adrian runs ahead to a clearing where the view stretches for miles—rolling green hills and a blue sky so clear it almost looks fake.
“Wow,” Violet says, dropping her backpack and sitting on a nearby rock.
Austin follows, dragging Adrian with him to point out landmarks in the distance.
I sit on the edge of a boulder, pulling out a water bottle. Noah sits beside me—too close, of course.
“You okay?” he asks, his voice softer now.
“I’m fine,” I say, refusing to look at him.
He leans in, his shoulder brushing mine. “You sure? You’re not as chatty as usual.”
I glare at him. “Maybe I’m just enjoying the peace and quiet.”
“Peace and quiet? With me here?” He grins, and it’s so maddeningly charming that my heart betrays me, skipping a beat.
“Exactly,” I say, taking a long sip of water to distract myself.
We sit in silence for a moment, and I almost start to relax. But then he shifts, his shirt stretching taut over his chest, and my eyes betray me again, flicking to the way it clings to him.
“You’re staring, sweetheart,” he says, his tone dripping with amusement.
I snap my gaze away. “I am not.”
“Sure you aren’t.” He leans back on his hands, his smirk widening. “Don’t worry. I get it. It’s hard to look away from perfection.”
“Perfection?” I snort. “You’re so full of yourself.”
“And yet,” he says, his voice dropping to a murmur, “you can’t seem to stay away.”
The words hit harder than they should, and I hate the way my stomach flips.
“Let’s just go,” I say, standing and brushing off my hands.
But as we start the hike back down, I can feel him beside me—persistent, infuriating, and impossible to ignore.