Chapter One Jacob
The Boston skyline sprawls out like a damn postcard, drenched in gold as the sun dips lower, its glow ricocheting off the windows and painting everything in warm hues. The rooftop buzzes with Noelle’s unmistakable energy—string lights zigzag overhead, casting a soft glow over mismatched dishes piled on tables. She insisted on making everything herself, and it shows. There are way too many people here for my liking.
Way too many.
The crowd includes my family, of course. Mom and Dad are here, as they are every Saturday. I’m still not sure how Noelle convinced them that her house should host at least one weekend meal. That’s usually a hard no for Mom, who prides herself on always being the hostess. But somehow Noelle worked her magic and persuaded her to give up the reins for once.
Max and Zoe are here too, with Emma toddling around. They come often—though not as religiously like my parents. Zoe’s expecting baby number two, and our entire family is over the moon about it.
Liam, my brother-in-law, hovers over Legend, my nephew, who’s supposedly learning to walk—or so Liam insists. It mostly looks like wobbly flails and near-faceplants to me, but whatever makes the guy proud.
And then there’s Mom. She’s biding her time, no doubt waiting to corner Noelle and me about setting a wedding date. Once that’s locked in, I’m positive she’ll inevitably launch into her next campaign: grandchildren. She insists that she must have at least six. Two from each of her kids, like she’s planning her own family baseball team.
Caleb and Emmersyn are out in San Diego, but they’ve promised to join us for Labor Day. Noelle’s already scheming another “little reunion,” which, based on tonight, will snowball into a full-blown festival.
Ethan and Lily are running late, predictably. If I had to guess, they’re probably somewhere “dealing with” her pregnancy hormones—which is their not-so-subtle code for sneaking in a quickie. Classy.
I lean against the grill, nursing a beer, content to stick to my corner of the world. Noelle flits around, her sundress catching in the breeze. She’s at the food table now, fussing over a tray of cookies like the fate of humanity depends on their arrangement. My gaze follows her, and I take another sip of beer, watching her out of the corner of my eye.
“Jacob? Hello?” Audrey’s voice cuts through my thoughts like a whip.
“What?” I glance over, realizing too late that I missed whatever she just said.
“I asked if you actually cook, or if you just stand there looking grumpy while the food burns.”
Should I tell her to go and watch her son and husband? I mean Liam could use a break from trying to show how smart their son is, right? “I’m grilling, not burning,” I reply, taking another sip.
She arches a brow. “You look very unhappy.”
I glance across the rooftop, crowded with people I don’t really want to be around. Have I mentioned there are too many of them here? Then my attention shifts back to Noelle. She looks up, catches me staring, and smiles—soft and quick, a sucker punch to the chest. The flirtatious wink she throws in makes it worse, promising things I’m already anticipating for later.
Oh yeah, I’m getting lucky tonight. Putting up with my family, her family, the neighbors, and what feels like half the town of Maple Ridge has earned me that much. Damn her and her so-called “small reunion.”
I should tell her to cut this short, that this is not what I signed up for. But then she glances at me again with that maddeningly pretty face, and all my annoyance evaporates. She’s a goddamn sunbeam, too bright, too much, and yet I can’t resist her.
Noelle saunters over, her hips swaying, a plate of cookies in hand.
“Everything okay, McCallister?” she teases, her voice dripping with that playful lilt that drives me insane.
“Fine,” I say, stuffing my free hand into my pocket. “Just starting to think you turned this little shindig into a full-blown festival.”
She smirks, tilting her head. “Not yet. But give me an hour, and I might find a few strangers to invite.”
“And this is why I love you,” Audrey says. “You’re the only one who can put up with him. Just remember, no backsies.”
“I’ll keep him forever,” Noelle says, holding up a cookie like it’s some kind of peace offering. “Cinnamon shortbread. Wanna try?”
I hesitate, caught in her gaze, her eyes bright and expectant. “You know I don’t do cinnamon.”
“Liar,” she counters, grinning. “You didn’t complain about the snickerdoodles last night.”
“That was different.”
“How?” she challenges, stepping closer.
I sigh, snatching the cookie from her hand, mostly to shut her up. One bite, and of course, it’s good—because she’s good at this kind of thing, and she knows it. Her gaze locks on mine, waiting for my verdict like her life depends on it.
“Well?” she prompts, her grin daring me to admit the truth.
“It’s . . . edible,” I mutter, brushing crumbs off my fingers.
She laughs, soft and warm, the sound wrapping around me like a damn spell. “You’re impossible, you know that?”
“So I’ve been told,” I reply, shrugging. Despite myself, I find myself leaning in closer, her gravity pulling me in.
Her gaze flickers to my mouth, and that’s all the invitation I need. I lean down, closing the gap, and kiss her. The world fades—the crowd, the noise, all of it. It’s just her. Always her.