Chapter 6
NOELLE
“Anyone else for a hot dog?”
Ace turns away from the grill to glance across the deck before adding, “We’ve got beef, pork, turkey”—his face pinches in distaste—“and cheese-stuffed. So there are plenty of options.”
“What about the steaks?” Rafe calls over from the outdoor bar. “I thought you were cooking steaks.”
“I am,” Ace replies. “The hot dogs are just an appetizer. Soon, I’ll put the steaks on.”
Rafe pulls two cans of beer from behind the bar and pops them open. “In that case, I’ll take whatever’s the unhealthiest.” He shakes his head. “Turkey dogs at a barbecue? That’s a travesty.”
“I bought the turkey dogs,” Eden says. She grins at her husband. “And you’re having one. They’re healthier.”
He gives her a look of mock offense. “Are you saying I’m out of shape?”
“Of course not.” She smiles as he takes a seat on the couch beside her, then rests her hand on his thigh. “You’re in great shape.” Her lips twitch. “But you aren’t getting any younger, you know. And I’d like to keep you around for a long time.”
Webb snickers, and Rafe glares at him. “I don’t know what you’re laughing about, Spidey. It’s not like you’re that much younger than me.”
“I’m still in my thirties,” Webb parries back. “Unlike the old man of the group.”
“I’m in my early forties,” Rafe clarifies. Turning his attention to me, he asks, “Are you sure you want to spend time with this guy? Do you see how he’s harassing me about my age?”
“I’m just kidding.” Webb takes my hand and gives me an earnest look. “And Rafe knows it. If it really bothered him, I wouldn’t bring it up.”
Indy chokes on his drink, and Bea gives him a few hard whacks on the back. When he’s finished coughing, he asks, “Are we talking about the same Webb I know? Because I seem to recall someone calling me a certain name even when I told him not to.”
My gaze bounces around the seating area, a U-shaped collection of outdoor couches set just off to the side of the outdoor kitchen.
Indy, Bea, and Tyler are sitting on one couch, Rafe and Eden on the second, with Sam, Webb and I on the third.
In the center of the U is a large firepit with a ledge around it for drinks.
Mason jars filled with strings of fairy lights hang from the pergola above us, giving the space a cozy feel.
“The lights were a housewarming gift from Dante’s mom,” Webb explained when we first sat down. “Dante heads up the Bravo Team. And when his mom came to visit for our official branch opening, she gave us the lights to use out on the deck.”
“They look really nice,” I told him. “It all does.”
I wasn’t sure what to expect before I came—of the property, the house, or the deck.
All Webb had told me ahead of time was that the Shadow Team headquarters—that’s what his team is called—is located in a newly-renovated eight-thousand-square-foot house, and it’s surrounded by nearly fourteen acres of wooded property.
But of anything I could have imagined, this far exceeds it. The house is beautiful—a modern three-story with plenty of windows to let in the light and simple but immaculate landscaping—and the way it’s tucked into the woods makes me think of the fairy tales I loved when I was little.
The deck is enormous, with separate areas for eating, lounging, and games. There’s the outdoor kitchen with half a dozen tables arranged nearby, the seating area where we are, and then a rec space, with games like foosball, cornhole, and shuffleboard.
“We wanted a place where we could all feel comfortable hanging out,” Webb explained. “Someplace safe, too. Since we have people here for their protection sometimes.”
Given that Webb was a Night Stalker and his four teammates are former Green Berets, I’m pretty sure I’d feel safe wherever they are. But safety aside, their headquarters are far more comfortable and welcoming than I expected. And I can definitely see why Webb likes living here.
“Are you still mad that I called you Windy Indy?” Webb asks. “Because I’m not the one who came up with that name, you know.”
Beside Rafe, Eden giggles. “It has a certain ring to it.”
While I’m enjoying myself, I can’t help feeling a bit like an outsider. Webb and his friends all have their inside jokes and decades of history between them. And then there’s me. The newcomer who doesn’t know why Webb is called Spidey or where Windy Indy came from.
It’s almost as if Bea reads my mind, because she catches my eye and says, “I’m sorry, Noelle. Sometimes we get going with the old jokes and forget that not everyone understands.”
My cheeks warm. “It’s fine.”
Webb turns to me, concern written all over his features. “Shit, Noelle. I’m sorry. I should be doing a better job of explaining things. You’re probably sitting here, bored out of your mind—”
He looks so contrite, my instinct is to immediately reassure him. “I’m not bored. I’m just listening to your stories.”
“No.” He scoots closer to me and loops his arm around my shoulder. “You shouldn’t have to sit back and listen. I brought you here so you can get to know everyone. And they can get to know you.”
“Webb’s not used to this,” Sam says with a smirk. “Bringing a woman home to meet his friends, I mean.”
He isn’t?
“You aren’t?” I ask Webb.
“Not really, no.” Then he shoots Sam a quelling look before adding sarcastically, “But thanks for mentioning it.”
“I think that’s a good thing,” Eden offers. She threads her fingers between Rafe’s and kisses his cheek. “It means that when he does, it’s because—”
Webb interrupts her with a loud cough. Then he actually blushes, which might be the cutest thing I’ve ever seen. “Anyway. Noelle. I bet you’re wondering where Windy Indy came from.”
“A little,” I admit.
He hugs me closer to his side. “So, Eden is Indy’s younger sister. And apparently, when Indy was being particularly annoying as a kid—shocker there—Eden would create these concoctions that smelled like farts.”
“I’m a scientist,” Eden offers. “Even as a kid, I liked experimenting.”
“So Eden would set off the stink bombs when Indy had friends over, then accuse him of farting,” Webb continues. “It was only fitting he got a nickname to go with it. Thus—”
“Windy Indy,” Ace chortles as he comes over with a large platter of hot dogs. “I think it’s great. Personally, I like using it as often as possible.”
Indy sighs and shakes his head, but he’s smiling as he does it. “We could just use my actual nickname, you know.”
I glance at Webb. “Do you all have nicknames? Is that where Spidey comes from?”
He nods. “Yeah. With the whole web-spider thing. Not very inventive, unfortunately.”
“I like it,” I reply. “It’s cute.”
Sam snickers. “That’s Webb. Cute.”
“You guys,” Webb grumbles. “I’m trying to make a good impression on Noelle.” To me, he adds contritely, “Sorry. Maybe we should have had dinner in Williston instead.”
“No, this is good.” And it is, even if some of the comments went over my head initially. I wondered how Webb would be with his friends, and it’s clear from seeing them together that they’re all really close.
It reminds me of my friendship with Jaz, actually.
We love to tease each other, but if one of us is going through a hard time—like when Jaz lost out on a part she’d been dreaming about for years and I flew to New York to spend the weekend with her watching sad movies and eating gallons of ice cream—we won’t hesitate to do whatever it takes to help.
Well, assuming we tell each other what’s bothering us. But that’s something else entirely.
“So, Noelle. I heard you went to the Bigfoot museum,” Tyler says. So far, he’s been the quietest of the bunch, so I’m a little surprised to hear him talking. “What did you think?”
“I really enjoyed it,” I reply. “I wasn’t sure what to expect, but it was pretty cool. You could listen to what Bigfoot is supposed to sound like, how he smells…”
Webb wrinkles his nose. “Not great,” he adds. “But Noelle’s right. It was pretty cool. I’m glad we went.”
The memory of it makes me smile—the two of us exploring the museum, taking silly photos of ourselves beside the life-sized Bigfoot and comparing our feet to the impressions supposedly found in the woods, and finally checking out the gift shop, where Webb insisted on buying us matching Bigfoot T-shirts.
“I’m glad we went, too,” I tell him quietly. “That was a really great day.”
Webb gazes at me, something deep and unreadable working in his eyes. “It really was.”
Then he looks over at Ace, who’s perched on the edge of Rafe and Eden’s couch, polishing off a hot dog. “How long before dinner’s ready, do you think?”
“Maybe twenty-five, thirty minutes,” Ace replies. A knowing smile tugs at his lips. “Or longer, if you’d like.”
Webb stands, then extends his hand out to me. “Do you want to go for a walk? There’s a path through the trees that takes you to where Tyler, Rafe and Eden, and Indy and Bea live.”
I take his outstretched hand, wrapping my fingers around his. “That sounds nice.”
Once we’re out of range of the deck, he says, “I apologize, Noelle. When I invited you over, I didn’t think about how it might be uncomfortable for you.”
True, there were a few moments when I felt a little left out. But they were far and few between. And the entire time, Webb was right there, checking on me, touching me, holding my hand…
Plus, it’s not like I’m some shrinking violet who can’t speak up for herself.
During my years as a stage manager, I’ve had to insert myself into plenty of unfamiliar situations, and I’ve been just fine.
I think it’s just that my self-confidence has taken a hit in the last couple of months, making me quieter in a group than normal.
“I’m not uncomfortable,” I reply. “I wasn’t.”
Lit only by the moon overhead, Webb’s features are set in strong angles and lines. His eyebrows arch up. “Really?”