CHAPTER SEVEN
QUINN
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After Liam and Josh took us on a tour of the facility, Marlene and I got changed, then wandered over to one of the restaurants for dinner with the crew. Those of us who have arrived have been invited to dine with them.
We sit down at one of the tables and start chatting about what we saw this afternoon while perusing the menu.
When a server pours white wine into my glass, I hold up a hand and ask for half a pour.
Alcohol is the last thing I need before launching into intense training... and lowering my guard around Noah.
I haven’t seen him since earlier today, and I’m grateful to catch my breath. I expected him to be here tonight, but glancing around, I don’t see him and hate how disappointed I feel.
Ugh.
I shouldn’t care. Not anymore.
I should be thinking about whether things with Mark could turn serious and if I’m sabotaging the relationship because he’s not Noah.
“I’m having the chicken,” Marlene says as her phone beeps. “For the love of...I’ll be back in a minute. I taught my husband how to cook, but apparently his memory has holes in it.”
I chuckle and focus back on the menu.
My stomach is in knots, if I’m honest. Seeing Noah has thrown me and brought back all my feelings and memories I’ve been trying to suppress.
What if he wants to discuss the last time we saw one another, the night he left Texas? For all I know, he’s dating someone, and I’m just another GI he trained.
Yeah, right.
My eyes lift as someone drops into a seat opposite me. Heart slamming inside my chest, I lock eyes with the man himself. All handsome, clean-shaven, and making my body shiver with sexual anticipation.
“Evening, Ms. Parker.” Noah lifts his menu, shifting it a few inches to allow a server to pour water into his glass.
“Call me XO,” I say, dropping my eyes as I fight my smile.
God, he looks nice.
Tonight he’s wearing a black button-down shirt with the top buttons undone, showing off his Californian tan. The sleeves are rolled up. On his wrist is an expensive-looking gold watch.
Does he still have the bike?
Stop, Quinn.
“This is the first time we’ve been out for dinner together. It’s nice,” Noah says.
I glance around, hoping no one heard that.
What is he doing?
“This isn’t a date.” I frown.
“Close enough.” His lips twitch.
“Noah,” I whisper in warning.
“Yes?” He grins cheerfully, as if he has no idea why I’m annoyed.
“Stop it,” I hiss.
His eyes remain locked with mine, and I feel every bit of the intensity that flows between us as his smile slowly fades. All our history and everything that has taken place, the memories, the desires, the pain...and our goodbye. It’s all there.
I can pretend all I like, but we walked away from one another with scars. Sitting here together, alone, for all intents and purposes, the charade is hard to keep up.
“No,” he replies slowly and quietly, telling me what I already know.
Noah hasn’t given up on me as I thought he had. As I told him to. I’m not sure if the butterflies spinning around in my tummy are there because that makes me excited or very nervous.
Likely both.
I open my mouth to argue, to remind him of the cost here, but Marlene returns in a flurry, dropping her phone on the table and plonking down into her seat.
“Honestly, I even printed out the instructions. That man of mine can’t even boil water.” She sips her wine, oblivious to what’s happening right in front of her as Noah and I stare at one another.
Stop. I mouth the word, a hint of pleading in my eyes.
“Did you know Quinn’s a great cook?” Noah asks, not taking his eyes off me.
Goddamn this man.
He’s going to wreck everything.
“Are you?” Marlene turns her head toward me. “I’ve never seen you cook.”
I rip my eyes from Noah, feeling anger simmering beneath the surface, and force a smile on my face. “Not really. When I’m home, I help Mom out in the kitchen.”
I am a great cook. Noah shouldn’t know that, but he does, and he needs to shut his damn mouth. That night almost cost both of us.
“Spaghetti bolognese. She can make it from scratch. Including the sauce.”
I’m going to kill him.
“My maternal grandmother is Italian.” I shrug. “I had to learn one recipe to appease her while growing up, so I’ve made it a thousand times, and it’s ingrained in my memory.”
“And chicken parmigiana.” Noah nods pointedly at me as if I’m a child he’s caught lying. “Speaking of, I was going to have the chicken, but I think I’ll go with the beef pot pie instead. What about you, Marlene?”
She looks confused but picks up her menu. “Ah, chicken and polenta.”
Her phone beeps again while I begin to regret stopping the server from filling my wineglass to the very top.
Memories of Noah standing in my kitchen in Harker Heights, Texas, where I’d rented an apartment after moving off base once completing my first year.
It was at least a year after kissing him. He’d been promoted so was no longer my direct CO. I still saw him regularly. If he passed us while training, he’d find a reason to speak to me, or if we passed one another somewhere, we’d say hi, discuss something random, and then walk away.
Any hope that my attraction to him would fade was futile. Every year he seemed to get hotter. Now at thirty-four and in his prime, Noah was this handsome mix of both Chris Hemsworth and Henry Cavill.
Drop-dead gorgeous.
My body never got the memo that we weren’t allowed to lust after him, and each time I’d walk away wishing Noah would drag me into an empty room, rip off my uniform and do naughty things. Dirty things. For hours.
I would let myself see the flicker of need in his eyes and pretend that he was wishing the same things. Me pressed against the wall as he slid his hand into my pants, under my panties and felt the wet desire his touch created.
That he’d palm my breast and tell me to pull out his cock. Then moan as he spun me around, bent me over and plunged into my pussy.
God.
The things I’ve imagined over the years.
But that night, the spaghetti bolognese night, took place on Saturday during Easter last year.
Noah and I were both rostered on, unbeknownst to me.
It was late when I packed up and stepped out into the brisk early spring evening.
Rain was threatening as I strode across the parking lot to my car.
I tossed my bag into the passenger seat, eager to get home, and started the engine.
Except it wouldn’t start.
The almost fifteen-year-old car needed a service, but I’d been too busy. I figured it was the battery, so I popped the hood and climbed out.
It began to bucket down.
“Typical,” I ranted, shoving the metal stick in the right place to keep it up, then stared blankly at the engine as if the very act of glaring at my car would magically fix it.
I tapped the terminal.
“Need a hand?”
I squealed, jumped and put a hand on my chest. “Jesus, Noah. I mean, Captain Jenkins, Commander. Shit.”
His grin almost undid me.
“Noah is fine when we’re alone. I’ve told you that before.”
“We shouldn’t be alone,” I mumbled as the rain fell around us.
“Well, I’m not going to ignore a damsel in distress, so what’s happening? Is the battery dead? Is that why you were tapping it?” His sexy grin appeared again.
“I wasn’t tapping it.”
I was tapping it.
“Sorry, were you doing some reiki on it, or would you like to try some chargers?”
Hot and funny...but I was never going to let him know how much that affected me.
I gave him a look. “I just got the hood open, and I...fine, I tapped it. Whatever. The battery should be working. Gah, I don’t know what’s wrong.”
He nudged me away, and several minutes later Noah confirmed the same thing. The battery was fine, and jumping it didn’t help.
“Probably the starter. You’ll need to wait until after Easter to get a spare part.” He wiped the rain off his face while my core clenched in response.
I’m pretty sure there was a porno movie which started like this, and if not, a part of me was willing to be a sacrifice to create one.
With Noah.
Despite holding an umbrella I fished out of the car, we were both drenched. Noah stripped off his shirt to unscrew something, and his army-regulation T-shirt was clinging to his washboard abs.
God was punishing me; I was sure of it.
“Okay, I’ll call an Uber and arrange something for next week. Damn car,” I replied, because cash was tight.
“I’ll give you a ride home. I was on my way home, so grab your things and jump in the truck,” Noah offered.
“You sure?” I bit my lip, unsure it was a good idea.
“No, I’m going to leave you out here in the rain.” He shot me with an annoyed look. “Get in, Parker.”
I heard a beep and realized Noah’s SUV was nearby. It was just a short drive, and I was being stupid. Grabbing my bags, I jogged over and climbed into the passenger seat...to find him shirtless.
“What are you doing?” I gasped.
“Not dying of pneumonia.” Noah started the engine. “You should get that jacket off.”
What? No!
“I’m not stripping right down,” I snapped as he turned up the heat.
“Suit yourself.” He pulled out of the parking lot while rubbing his T-shirt over his chest, and I tried not to watch.
Halfway home, I began shivering despite the hot air being turned right up. I cursed my car for putting me in this situation. Of all the men on base, Noah had to be the one to find me out there in the rain. He had to be the one to offer me a ride home and half strip.
I tried not to look, but it was impossible. He was already blessed with gorgeous olive skin and a build any woman would salivate over, but his tattoos and the cut muscles everywhere made it even harder for me to maintain my resistance.
Which was weakening with every mile.
I already knew how he kissed. That he was capable of making my knees weak, flip my tummy and no doubt make me fall to pieces if we ever crossed the line.
And God, I wanted to.
So damn much.
Instead of losing interest in one another, it was becoming almost impossible to ignore when he was near me. Noah was frequently on my mind.