Chapter 7
A kiss that is never tasted,
is forever and ever wasted.
Billie Holiday
For several minutes after she recited the famous line, Noah had studied Scarlett. He didn’t for one minute doubt she was just as tough and resilient as the iconic character she quoted.
Thoughts of her had continued to occupy his mind into the wee hours of the morning, preventing sleep until the light she seemed to crave softened the sky.
And when he drifted off to doze for a bit, Scarlett had visited Noah in his dreams.
The instant his phone alarm startled him awake with Mandisa belting “It’s a Good Morning,” heady anticipation flooded his brain. Noah couldn’t wait to see her.
He had it bad.
Admitting is the first step to addressing.
Acknowledging the fact that he was over-the-moon, 100 percent taken with a virtual stranger should’ve set off warning bells.
But no. . . Only a sense of rapt delight accompanied Noah as he showered, dressed, picked up coffee and donuts, and drove to the little apartment on Main Street.
He was downright giddy jogging up the stairs. Giddy!
“Good morning,” he said with a goofy smile when she opened the door before he’d even come to a full stop on the landing.
His eyes scanned over Scarlett — from her coppery-brown tousled waves.
. .to a ruby-red sweatshirt and the same quilted, sand-colored jacket she’d worn the two previous days.
. .to hip-hugging, faded, and slightly ripped blue jeans, which were rolled to sit on the top of faux-fur-lined duck boots.
. .and back up to the frazzled gleam in her enchanting slate-blue eyes.
“Nice boots!” Noah complimented Scarlett without giving her time to respond to his original greeting.
Her shoulders sagged with a mournful moan.
“I stole them,” she said woefully. “From Maree. I found them in the closet, tried them on, and couldn’t take them off. They’re just soooo comfortable.”
She made it sound as though she’d committed five sins and kicked a dog.
Noah half-suppressed a chuckle, trying not to garner too much joy from her tangible misery.
“I’m sure you’re safe from Chief Crockett — for now, at least. Maree won’t be home for a few more days.”
“You know the chief of police? Personally?” Her voice hit a higher octave with each question.
“Relax,” Noah cajoled, handing her one of the disposable cups of coffee so he could turn her around and nudge her into the apartment.
He closed the door, shielding Scarlett from the chilly morning air.
“I was teasing. If Maree wanted or needed those boots, they’d be at her and Rhys’s house, not here.
I’m sure she’ll be happy to know you put them to good use. ”
Scarlett eyed him, clearly unconvinced, but she followed him to the breakfast nook and settled into the chair he pulled out for her.
“Trust me,” he urged, to which she responded with a mean-faced growl.
Muffling a giggle, Noah shook his head. Even her attempt at grumpy anger charmed him.
“What’s in the bag?” Scarlett asked, adorably willing to set aside her strife.
“Donut heaven.”
“Where’d you get it?”
“Donut Heaven.”
She sneered.
“I’m serious,” he swore, raising both hands in surrender. “These are the world’s very best donuts. . .literally heaven on earth. And I bought them at a shop called Donut Heaven. Try one and tell me I’m wrong.”
He opened the bag and pulled out a pile of napkins. Noah then divided them into five stacks on the table.
Methodically, he placed a chocolate-iced éclair on one napkin.
He placed a cinnamon twist on another napkin.
An apple fritter went on the third napkin.
He stacked a pair of cake donuts — one blueberry and one devil’s food — on the fourth napkin.
Then he dumped the bag upside down to pile a mound of plain glazed donut holes on the final napkin.
“Pick your poison,” Noah challenged.
“Should a heavenly donut be poisonous?” Scarlett countered.
“I promise. . . Like a potent poison or a really addictive drug, you’ll be hooked after the first bite.”
Scarlett surveyed Noah, her eyes skimming down his body as he’d looked her up and down at the door.
In his haste to get out the door that morning, Noah had grabbed aged, brown leather work boots and well-worn Wrangler work jeans with an old hunter-green, pearl snap denim shirt with the sleeves rolled up — to protect his arms from limbs and scratches while working.
Out of habit, he’d picked up his favorite snap-back cap.
. .his lucky one, with an embroidered bass on the front panel, the one he always took when he went fishing at Daisy Lake.
He’d dressed to spend a day working in the fields and woods at Twin Oaks — not to impress.
Noah got the sense that it didn’t matter when her slow-moving gaze reached his eyes. In hers, he saw a look of pleasant approval. Noah grinned. He could work with that.
It would be his favorite job for the day: helping Scarlett understand he wasn’t going anywhere, and neither should she.
The thought brought with it more than a cheerful smile; it evoked a sensation of completion, like the last piece of a puzzle snapping into place. It just felt right.
“You don’t look like someone who knows much about a potent poison or a really addictive drug,” Scarlett said, breaking the spell locking their eyes with one another’s.
“Well, looks can be deceiving.”
She cocked a softly arched eyebrow at him.
“Pray tell. . . What do I look like?” he asked, changing tactics.
“Hmm. . .Ranch Hand Ken?” Scarlett offered an apologetic shrug at the same time she slid the éclair to her side of the table.
Noah bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. He flattened his lips and nodded with measured slowness.
“Huh,” he interjected.
Scarlett lifted one shoulder as if to say The truth hurts. But her donut received all her attention.
Noah watched her.
The bliss written all over her face thrilled him. By the look of it, Scarlett had indulged in sweet delicacies far too rarely. He intended to correct that tragedy.
“Why aren’t you eating?” The enormous bite she’d taken garbled her words.
When he didn’t answer, Scarlett paused, looking up for his answer.
She was breathtakingly beautiful — even with a glob of icing on the outer corner of her mouth. Noah’s heart skipped a beat.
Time to tap the brakes.
And he would. . .after he swiped his thumb across her bottom lip to remove the chocolate.
Scarlett eyed him; she resembled a stone statue.
“You never know,” Noah said, his voice quiet and husky. “I might surprise you.”
With that, Noah cleaned his thumb with a napkin, lifted his thumb to his lips to lick the sugary remnants from his skin, stood from his chair, and snatched a handful of the donut holes. He never stopped looking directly into Scarlett’s stunned eyes.
Then Noah headed for the door.
“I need to make a quick phone call,” he explained over his shoulder before stepping outside. “I’ll meet you in the truck when you’re ready. No rush,” Noah added with a wink. “Enjoy your breakfast.”
Noah stuck to his guns to tap the brakes throughout the day by limiting the number of times he indulged in casual touches and refraining from teasing and flirting, but the task proved more challenging than he’d imagined.
When he yearned to ask personal questions while they worked on the pumpkin patch, he instead quizzed her on inconsequential things like her favorite color or if she preferred late nights or early mornings.
Not surprising, she loved all shades of red and admitted to wearing something red every day. It fit her — symbolized the courage, passion, and strength she exuded.
And like Noah, Scarlett confessed to being an early bird.
She’d described being at her best first thing in the morning when the fresh day lay before her like a blank canvas and her energy knew no bounds.
He’d witnessed the truth of that, amazed at how much she accomplished by lunchtime and humored by how quickly her gusto faded late in the afternoon.
Perhaps the impersonal questions weren’t so innocuous after all.
The only way Noah found to preserve a distance from Scarlett was to stay on the opposite side of the pumpkin patch. Even then, his eyes betrayed his efforts, seeking her out and keeping tabs on where she worked at all times.
Sharing dinner with a few of the teenagers from the youth group helped his efforts.
The kids had shown up after school to assist at Twin Oaks and had provided a convenient buffer, both while working at the ranch and while they ate, allowing Noah to sit at the far end of the table from Scarlett.
Best of all, the chatty kiddos carried the conversation throughout the meal, sharing their most entertaining memories from their years of attending the Pumpkin Spice Fall Festival.
After dinner, Scarlett declined the kids’ invitation to join them at the Wednesday evening church service, claiming exhaustion after a long day.
Her pace had slowed, and she too had been quiet at the restaurant. Noah didn’t doubt she’d hit the end of her rope for the day.
He drove Scarlett home and walked her up the stairs, carrying two more tubs of fall decorations and donated stuff.
Noah had almost made it through the entire day remaining true to his resolve. . .doing nothing that screamed I’ve known you three days, but I think I love you.
Almost.
Scarlett unlocked the door and stepped aside for Noah to go first. He juggled the heavy containers and set them down to flip on the lights so he wouldn’t run into anything.
“Today was—” He started to say productive.
“Thank you for—” She’d spoken at the same time, also moving toward the light switch on the wall by the open door.
Their hands collided over the switch plate; their eyes met and held, despite the darkness.
The world disappeared around them as the small apartment shrunk to an itty-bitty bubble. Slight inches separated the two as they stood face-to-face in the tight entryway.
A heady scent filled Noah’s senses, an intoxicating blend of Scarlett’s herbal shampoo, her floral hand lotion, and an earthy trace of the ranch land they’d traipsed all day.
Desire assaulted him. His ever-present want to caress and test the velvet softness of her cheek, to pull her close, and to taste her lips transformed into pure need.
The clear reflection of yearning in her smoky-blue eyes didn’t help.
Giving in to the powerful urge, Noah smoothed an auburn wave from her face.
“Today was great,” he said, electing for more honesty than simply pointing out how much they’d accomplished. Tucking the strand behind her ear, he forced his eyes to follow the movement. Otherwise, he might’ve drowned in the telling expression — the vulnerable hope — on her face.
Scarlett didn’t answer with words but lifted and lowered her chin in quick succession.
“We make a good team. I mean, it’s coming together so well.
Looks fantastic,” he said, striving for casual and friendly.
He added a platonic smile and praised the Lord that his voice hadn’t sounded as raw as his nerves felt, zapping and snapping like a live wire.
“Everyone’s going to love it,” Noah added, resorting to eager rambling.
Anything to cool the sizzling air between them.
“Noah?” Scarlett said in a soft, quiet voice.
He couldn’t help but meet her gaze. And croak.
Noah looked away, anywhere but at Scarlett.
“Thank you,” she said. “I couldn’t have done any of this without you.”
“Happy to help.” His attempt at nonchalance died a quick death when Scarlett lifted a hand to his cheek, forcing Noah to look at her. His end-of-day scruff acted as a conduit rather than insulation; though her touch was gentle, it might as well have singed his skin, he was so aware of it.
“Please don’t shrug it off — my gratitude,” she said, her voice both insistent and pleading at once.
“Relying on others is. . .well, a foreign concept. I’ve been an army of one and oftentimes on the defensive before anyone can offer to help me or get too close.
I’ve discovered the hard way that there’s one person I can count on, and that’s always been me.
But you’re different. You’ve been by my side all week, and I appreciate it. ”
“Scarlett—” She cut him off by placing her fingers against his lips — like he’d done to her, but also nothing at all like that moment the day before.
“You don’t have to say anything,” she whispered. “I just wanted you to know I appreciate you.”
Scarlett moved her hand to cup his cheek again. Scarlett did not have a future in poker. An open book, her emotions — gratitude, yes, but also so much more — were easy to read.
Noah laid his palm over her hand, relishing the heat of her soft skin.
“There’s no place else I’d rather be,” he told her, fighting one mighty internal tug-of-war.
The devil on his shoulder told him to kiss the girl. He wanted to — badly.
But his conscience said Stop. Between moving to a new town, starting a new job, and taking over the main event of a festival she’d never attended, Scarlett had a lot on her plate.
Adding another flaming baton to her juggling act didn’t seem fair.
And above all else, Noah strove to make her life better, not add to her stress.
He exhaled his emotions, forced a kind smile, and stepped away from the most irresistible earthly temptation he’d ever known.