22. Bailey
Bailey
We grabbed dinner at Nonna’s Kitchen, a hole-in-the-wall Italian joint where the pasta servings were bigger than my head, and the garlic bread never stopped flowing, like some kind of carb-based love language.
I didn’t know how Noah knew this was exactly the kind of day I needed, but boy, did he deliver.
“If I eat another bite of meatball, I’ll never recover. You’ll have to roll me out of here Willy Wonka style.”
Noah sipped his beer, a smile tugging at his mouth like he knew something I didn’t.
“Aren’t you curious why I asked you to wear your cowgirl boots today?” he asked.
I looked down at my worn-in boots, which had been with me through many a night out on the town.
I hummed. “I figured you thought I looked extra cute in them.”
The top of his shoe brushed against mine under the table, lingering this time.
“You would be correct about that. However, we have one more spot to hit before we head home, and the boots were a necessity.”
I nearly vibrated in my chair.
“Do I get a hint?” I asked.
“The only place to be on a Saturday night in Bexley.”
We were barely in the car five minutes before we arrived outside a large, warehouse-looking building. There was no bright sign, nothing to indicate where we were, and while I trusted Noah implicitly, showing up at an abandoned warehouse would freak any woman out.
“We’re here,” he stated.
“Where is here exactly?” I asked. I peered out the window again.
There were other cars parked in the lot, but that didn’t really mean anything.
For all I knew, this was one of those coworking spaces for finance bros—except instead of networking, they lured naive women inside.
Noah circled around the car, pulled me out, his hand warm and sure around mine as he guided me toward what was supposed to be a front door.
“This is Robby’s Tavern,” he said, a glint in his eyes.
He pushed open the door, and I was suddenly inundated with music, dancing bodies, and the smell of beer and french fries.
Neon lights wrapped around the room in a hazy glow, and a country singer crooned over the speakers about winding roads and cold beer.
The floor pulsed beneath my boots, worn wood sticky in places from years of spilled drinks and heel stomping.
“We’re going line dancing?” I shouted over the music.
“Two-stepping,” he corrected.
“Sounds like the bougie version of line dancing.”
He pulled me over to the bar, hands firm on my waist as he lifted me onto a barstool like I weighed nothing, then flagged down the bartender for two beers.
“What if I didn’t want beer?” I quipped.
He playfully pinched the side of my hip.
“Robby only sells beer here, peaches.”
He pulled my stool closer, slotting me between his knees, the heat of him at my back unmistakable as he handed me the bottle. His arm settled around my shoulders like it belonged there, his thumb brushing absentmindedly against my arm.
The dance floor was packed with couples moving in practiced rhythm, boots scuffing in unison, laughter rising above the music. Tables lined the edges, crowded with empty bottles and people catching their breath.
Oh, I could definitely get used to Bexley.
Noah pointed out people he knew—some I had met, others still strangers—a former teacher, a running buddy, someone’s cousin who apparently “couldn’t keep a plant alive to save his life.”
“I’m not going to run into an ex-girlfriend in the bathroom, am I?” I asked, only half joking.
He pulled me off the stool and straight onto the dance floor.
“Nothing for you to worry about here, Bailey,” he assured me.
I barely had a second to think before his hand found mine, his other settling at my back, guiding me into the rhythm like he’d done this a hundred times before.
“I didn’t know you could dance,” I said, shock coloring my tone.
He was good. Like, unfairly good.
“Well, you’re still learning a lot about me,” he said.
“So far I’ve discovered dancing and bossiness.”
“Those are my best traits,” he quipped.
We dipped, spun, and two-stepped until my feet ached and my lungs burned, and I managed to only step on Noah’s toes a handful of times, which felt like a personal victory. I hadn’t laughed this hard in ages, the kind that made your stomach hurt and tested the limits of your waterproof mascara.
Every so often, his hand tightened at my back like he wanted to keep me exactly where I was, and for once, I didn’t feel the urge to run. I didn’t have a backup plan prepared or an exit strategy lined up in the back of my head; I was present in the moment, and it was invigorating.
I peeked over Noah’s shoulder, spotting a familiar head of hair.
“Is that Grant?” I asked.
He was chasing after a gorgeous blonde who clearly had better things to do than entertain him. Noah glanced over his shoulder.
“Ah,” he groaned. “Give me a minute. I’ll be right back.”
I drifted to the edge of the dance floor, happily trading chaos for a glass of water while Noah went to deliver, what I assumed was, a much-needed reality check. A familiar face slid up beside me, cheeks flushed and hair wild from dancing.
“Bailey,” Tessa exclaimed. “It’s so great to see you! Are you here with someone?”
I glanced down, nodding before gesturing toward Noah.
“Oooooo,” she said. “Lillian owes me fifty bucks.”
My jaw dropped.
“I’m sorry,” I said slowly. “There was a bet?”
She winced. “Technically three bets,” she admitted. “But one involved karaoke, and we decided that was cruel and unusual punishment.”
I sighed dramatically.
“Would it help if I said we had good intentions? I bet Noah would bring you to Robby’s tonight. Lillian thought it wouldn’t be until next weekend.”
I laughed, shaking my head. Honestly, what else should I have expected from a town like Bexley? At this point, I was fairly certain there was a group chat dedicated entirely to updates about Noah and me.
I spotted Noah making his way back, and I couldn’t help but smile. It had only been a couple of minutes, but I was already itching to be back in his orbit. He pulled Tessa into a quick side hug before wrapping his arms around me.
“How many drinks have you had, Tess?” he asked.
She slowly held up two fingers…then added two more like she thought we wouldn’t notice.
“And how are you getting home?” he followed up. “I’m happy to drop you off.”
“Not needed whatsoever. That’s the beauty of rideshare apps.”
Noah grumbled, and I tilted my head up at him.
“Eli’s going to kill me if I let you get driven home by a stranger,” he said.
“Well, Eli’s not here, is he?” Tessa responded.
The front door swung open, and speak of the devil, Eli sauntered in, his blond hair catching the neon lights as if he had his own personal spotlight.
“Fudge,” Tessa muttered. “Did you call him?” she accused Noah.
“I wouldn’t dare face your wrath if I had,” he said.
Eli strolled over, his eyes immediately scanning Tessa like he was doing a full systems check.
“Grant texted me,” he said. “Barely coherent and something about needing a ride home.” His gaze shifted back to Tessa. “Although it seems like maybe you do, too?”
“Nope,” she said, popping the p.
“How are you getting home then, Tess?” he asked, frustration creeping in.
“On my own? With a guy from the bar? It’s really not any of your business,” she shot back.
I glanced up at Noah, wondering if we should intervene, but he just shook his head and gently guided us backward.
We made it halfway to the door before their voices rose.
“Don’t tell me what to do!”
“Stop being so stubborn, woman—”
“I’m not afraid to make a scene!”
And then we were outside, the cool night air cutting through the noise.
“Should I even ask?” I said.
He chuckled, pressing a kiss to the side of my head.
“Definitely not.”
I laughed, and Noah’s hand found mine again instantly, like even in the middle of all the chaos, he’d always find a way back to me.
“Time to head home?” I asked.
“Yeah, baby, time to head home.”
Today was everything I didn’t know I needed.
The way Noah offered comfort and security without ever pressing for more made me feel things I probably should’ve been afraid of.
After the encounter with Liam, all I knew was that I needed Noah.
I didn’t know how or in what capacity, just that he made me feel safe.
He made me think opening up my heart wouldn’t be such a bad decision after all, and my resolve was weakening by the second. Being wrapped up in him all day was doing dangerous things to my heart…and other parts of me.
Competence was sexy, and I’d basically been turned on since noon. Something about casual Noah really did it for me—the effortless charm, the quiet confidence, the way he always seemed one step ahead—it all made my toes curl and my core ache.
I thought about the last time I was here and the amount of pleasure he brought me simply with his fingers.
God.
So far, Noah had been the one to initiate most of the intimacy between us, like he understood exactly how hesitant I was, how much I could lose.
But maybe it was time to show him just how much he meant to me, too.
We were back at the house, and I immediately snuck into the bathroom, feigning an upset stomach.
My plan involved minimal clothing, and I needed a second to build up my confidence.
I stripped off my clothes and bent over at the waist to fluff my hair, making sure to avoid knocking my head on the counter because a concussion was not sexy.
I took some deep breaths and launched myself out of the room before my confidence could fizzle out.
“I think I have some ginger ale in the garage, Bailey. Do you want me to grab you some? Or I’m happy to—”
He paused before he could finish.
I walked into the kitchen, tucked a rogue curl behind my ear, and stopped in front of Noah. He audibly swallowed, and I could see his fists clenching as he kept himself from touching me. I wore nothing but an oversized towel and a fragile kind of bravery.
“Hi, Noah.”
“Hi, baby. What are you up to?” he asked, his voice deeper than normal.