Chapter Twenty-Seven
Surrey
My excitement builds as I drive down leafy, tree-lined streets and pass by gated mansions. It’s finally the weekend, and I’ve made it to the posh village in Surrey that Noah calls home.
Even though I only had dinner with him a few nights ago, I couldn’t wait to wrap up my day at the gift shop and hit the road to get to Surrey.
So I can get to know Noah better in the place he calls home.
He told me this village is home to footballers from multiple teams, with some even commuting from London to live here. He explained the main reason is for security. Most homes, like Noah’s, have high-tech security systems and panic rooms. Gated entries. Noah’s road is monitored by twenty-four-hour security cameras.
Of course, this wealth has poured into the main village. When I drove through it a few minutes ago, I passed by chic eateries, hip coffee shops, and posh boutiques. Oh, and all were frequented by people driving luxury sports cars and SUVs.
Finally, I reach Noah’s road, and sure enough, there’s a large sign posted at the entrance saying it’s a private drive and monitored by closed-circuit security cameras. I make my way down the road, passing by gorgeous mansions, until I come to Noah’s home. I pull into the driveway, taking a moment to study his house. It’s a traditional-style mansion. At least from what I can tell from behind the shrubbery and trees that are obscuring parts of it from my view.
I drive up to the gate and decide to have some fun with Noah whilst I call him to let me in.
I pick up my phone and call him. One ring, two rings …
“I hope you are calling to tell me you are at my gate,” Noah says.
I swoon as I hear the smile in that low, sexy voice of his.
“Well, that depends. Is this the home of Daddy Darby?” I ask playfully.
Silence.
“Hello?” I tease.
“I am not Daddy Darby.”
Ha! The smile I heard in his voice previously has now changed to a tone of complete embarrassment.
“According to TikTok, you are not only Saucy Shorts, but Daddy. Or Daddy Darby. Do you know there are multiple users with an account name that includes DaddyDarby?”
“Violet, if you call me Daddy Darby one more time, I’m not letting you in.”
I can’t help it. A loud shout of laughter escapes my lips.
“Okay. I’ll just go find another footballer who will let me call him Daddy. It can’t be that hard.”
The gate immediately opens.
I put down my phone and grin. I love that Noah gets so embarrassed about what the girlies call him on TikTok.
And his modesty, his sweet embarrassment, is another reason I’m falling in love with him.
I drive through the entrance and pull up in front of a beautiful white stucco house and detached three-car garage. Noah is already waiting for me, leaning against the door frame in that completely hot way he has. To my surprise, he’s dressed up, wearing black trousers and an aubergine-coloured button-down shirt. He has the sleeves rolled up, revealing his inked arms.
My throat grows dry as I drink him in. He looks so damn hot, it’s not even funny.
I turn off the engine, and Noah immediately approaches the driver’s side of my car, opening the door for me.
“If I would have known you were going to look so sharp, I would have put on a dress,” I say, instantly regretting the shorts and T-shirt I changed into before I hopped into the car.
“You look perfect,” Noah says, his hand on the top of my door.
“I’ll change into a dress before dinner,” I promise. “I even have one that is purple. You’ll love it, Saucy Shorts.”
“I think your new nickname is going to be Troublemaker,” he teases, closing the door after I exit the car.
“Noah. You need to lean in to your nicknames. You must accept the fact that you are hot.”
“I only care if one woman thinks I’m hot,” he says, sliding his arms around my waist.
“Well, she does,” I say, moving my hands up his chest. “Very, very, hot.”
Noah drops his mouth onto mine for a kiss. “I missed you,” he whispers against my lips.
I step back from him so I can gaze into his eyes. “I missed you, too. Like as soon as you left Dorset, I missed you.”
Noah stares down at me. “It’s so good to be missed.”
“You were,” I say, playing with his hair and brushing my fingers through it. “It’s stupid how much I think about you. Even when I’m doing something aimless like scrolling on Connectivity Story Share, I’m given videos of you, Saucy Shorts, so I think of you even more. Or is that Daddy Saucy Shorts?”
He blushes, and I smile happily the second I see it.
“Surely you can watch something else? Like the coverage of Camden and Bella being over in the United States for his brother’s wedding this weekend?”
“That’s not nearly as interesting as your arse,” I tease.
He laughs. “You’re impossible.”
“I know. It’s charming, isn’t it?”
“Come on, Butterfly,” he says. “Let me get your bag and give you a tour of the house.”
“Let me pop the boot,” I say, pressing the release on my key fob. Noah lifts my bag out and carries it inside, and I follow him. Mila races up to greet me, and I immediately drop down on one knee so I can receive her welcome kisses.
“Looks like you weren’t the only one who missed me,” I say, ruffling Mila’s head.
Noah sets down my bag in the hallway. “It’s strange. It’s always been me and Mila since I’ve been with Stonebridge United. But now? After spending so much time with you? My house seems too quiet. I don’t like it.”
Happiness bubbles up inside me. I stand up, facing him. “You don’t?”
“No. I like the new normal. Me with you.”
Ooh!
“Come on, let me give you a tour,” Noah says. Then he flashes me a grin. “I hope you don’t find it too shabby; I only have seven bedrooms.”
I giggle at that. “How can I find it shabby? I don’t even have my own flat, I live at home with my parents.” I pause for a moment. “Are you sure that’s not a deal breaker for you? A woman who lives at home with her parents?”
“Um, no, it’s not.”
“Well, to be fair, I’m working on getting to London, and I won’t be living with them then.”
“How is the art plan coming along?” Noah asks. “You had a lot of it done when we talked about it over dinner.”
“I’ll tell you about it after I am given my tour.”
He grins. “Hint taken, Butterfly.”
Noah reaches for my hand, and as soon as our fingers are entwined, he begins leading me through his home. It’s bright and spacious, with beautiful hardwood floors and cream-coloured walls. The entry foyer itself is huge. Directly in front of me is a staircase, and all the way at the end of the long hall I can see a breakfast room, with large windows overlooking the garden.
“I’m going to use the terms that my estate agent used when showing me this house, to make me sound more like a tour guide because I know you expect that,” Noah teases.
I smile. I love that I can bring out his sense of humour.
“Here on the right is the so-called drawing room,” he says, leading me inside. It’s large, with a white fireplace with a marble inlay and windows that overlook the circular drive out front.
And the room is completely empty.
“I see you’re going with a minimalist approach for decor in this room,” I quip.
Noah chuckles. “I’ll be honest with you, I didn’t see the need to decorate every room in the house straightaway. It’s just me, and if I have the guys over, we’re in the media room playing video games. It hasn’t been a priority to me to fill every room with furniture.”
I relinquish his hand and walk across the room, thinking of all the possibilities for it. “But Noah, this is like a blank canvas screaming for paint,” I say, moving around and picturing different ways to furnish it. “It’s too beautiful not to be decorated.”
“Maybe you can give me your ideas for it.”
I turn to face him. “I would love that.”
“Then you have an open invitation to serve as my interior decorator.”
I move back to him and thread my fingers through his once again. Noah leads me across the hall. “You’ll like this room. It’s furnished.”
I smile at that.
“This is my study,” Noah says, popping open the french doors. “Confession. I did hire a decorator to do the rooms I thought I would use in the house.”
I step through the doorway and take in the room. The focal point is a contemporary black marble desk. A light grey leather chair sits behind it. The walls are painted in a dark slate grey, but windows that overlook the drive provide lots of natural light. I cast my gaze to the bookshelves behind the desk, with books and art pieces displayed in an aesthetic way.
“Are these books for display or books you actually read?” I ask as I slip behind the desk to examine the titles more closely.
“You tell me,” Noah says, coming around to the desk and leaning against it.
I begin to look at the titles, and I can’t contain the grin that spreads across my face when the first book spine I read is about Norse mythology.
“You picked these,” I say, turning around to look at him.
“I did. You’ll find mythology. Books about football. Biographies of famous athletes. All books I have read or intend to read. I have more on my Kindle, though. Including a lot of these because it’s just easier to use the Kindle.”
I stare at him. Noah has a Kindle.
I think I just fell a little bit more for him knowing just how much he loves to read. I mean, I knew he read, but the fact that he has the same books in his study and on his Kindle?
Next level.
Noah resumes his tour of the house, showing me an empty dining room, then a gorgeous combined space containing the breakfast room and the kitchen. More windows flood the area with light, and I can see the manicured lawn and swimming pool through them.
I look around the kitchen, which has hardwood floors and cream cabinets. The island is long and runs the full length of the kitchen, with ample room for working and dining. There’s a farmhouse sink and a copper vent hood over the hob. The breakfast room has a long wood table, surrounded by six wood chairs for a rustic yet modern style. The space also includes the living area, which has a cream-coloured sofa with lots of cushions and two grey armless chairs for seating.
“This is gorgeous, Noah.”
“Let me show you the rest of this floor before we head upstairs,” he says. Soon I’m whisked through the boot room, the utility area, and Noah’s home gym, which is obviously suited to a professional athlete, with all kinds of cardio equipment and weight machines. There’s even a shower room down here.
Then Noah pauses outside of another door. “Now, I hope you never have to use this, but this is the panic room,” he says quietly.
My mood instantly changes to one of fear. Not for myself, but for Noah. That he has to think of panic rooms and what might happen if someone tries to breach the security system that he fortified his home with.
Suddenly the expression in his eyes changes to worry. Noah frames my face with his hands and lowers his forehead to mine. “I’m so sorry I have to even bring this up with you,” he says, his voice quiet. “I told you I didn’t want you to stay here alone, but just in case something happens whilst you’re here with me, I want you to know where this is. I don’t want to scare you, Violet. I only want to protect you.”
Protect me.
I think of how Noah has treated me the whole time we’ve been getting to know each other. He’s listened. Stopped my self-sabotaging thoughts as soon as I spoke them. Noah’s encouraged me. Laughed with me. He’s been vulnerable and told me things he has never spoken to anyone else about. He’s shared his pain with me, which is probably one of the hardest things he’s ever done.
Now he’s talking about protecting me, and his words have my heart racing inside my chest.
He’s speaking like a man who loves me, I think wildly.
And I love him.
The thought comes as easily to me as knowing how to breathe. I know it now. It’s like this moment has clicked something into my heart that allowed it to fully fall in love with this man who has his forehead resting against mine. I put my hands on his forearms and inhale his familiar scent, dizzy with the fact that for the first time in my life, I’m truly in love.
I take a step back so I can look at him, my heart feeling so full of joy, it might burst wide open.
But I’m not going to reveal my feelings just yet. Noah might need more time to say the words, or hear them, so there’s no need to rush on that front.
However, I do need to explain my thoughts on something else.
“You’re misreading my expression,” I say. “I’m not worried for myself. I’m worried about you. That you must live with this worry hanging over your head, just because you play football.”
“I’m not worried about me,” Noah says instantly. “The break-ins still happen, but they are rare when players are playing at home. That’s why I don’t want you staying here when I’m travelling for matches.”
I smile up at this wonderful man I love. If we continue on our path, and we end up together, I will be staying here alone in the future, but I won’t argue with him about that now.
“You don’t have to worry about me,” I assert. “I can handle this.”
“I know you can,” he says softly. His eyes search mine for a moment, and then he clears his throat. “This is going to sound odd, but can I tell you how good it feels to have someone to worry about like this? I never thought I’d have this feeling or a person I could care about so much. But you’ve given that to me, Violet.”
My throat grows thick with emotion. “It doesn’t sound odd to me. I like that you worry about me. Because I worry about you, too.”
Noah’s hands rake through my hair. “You know what’s weird? You’ve only been here a few minutes, but my house already feels different with you in it.”
“I hope in a good way,” I tease.
“It feels like a home,” he says.
Home. I make this house feel like a home to him.
It’s going to take everything in me not to cry.
“That makes me very happy,” I say, lifting my hands from his forearms and winding them around the nape of his neck. “Because I feel very much at home here.”
Noah’s mouth curves up in a happy smile. “Good.”
Then he kisses me, gently and sweetly. And in this moment, I know I’ve found my home—and my person—in Noah Darby.