Chapter 12 #2
Dahlia walked around to the back of the house and yanked open the screen door.
What was the truth? She was still no closer.
She squeezed her eyes shut, feeling her throat constrict.
She knew time was running out, with just over three weeks to piece together this puzzle and list the house.
Which reminded her that she needed to call the realtor.
She flipped on the light. The lights flickered, a loud zapping sound rippled overhead, and everything went dim.
Dahlia flicked the light switch up and down, but nothing.
“No, no, this can’t be happening. Not now,” she murmured.
Harry ran in, and her body suddenly went cold.
She laid the bags on the counter. She wanted to text Noah, but stopped herself.
What could he do anyway? He was an hour away.
Dahlia pulled on her lip, pacing the worn linoleum floor.
She wanted to take care of this herself, but after the small electrical fire during the renovation of her Connecticut farmhouse, she didn’t want to take any chances.
Maybe he could tell her what to look for.
Hi, it’s me, she texted. I know you’re busy, but my electricity just went out, and I’m freaking out.
She waited and waited, and nothing. Shit, shit, shit! she yelled in her head.
“Harry, you stay here. I’m going into the dungeon.
” Dahlia grabbed a flashlight from the cupboard.
The basement was her most feared area of the house.
Dahlia swatted at the cobwebs that hung from the ceiling, wincing as she walked under them, praying a spider wouldn’t crawl into her hair.
It smelled musty and damp down here. Dahlia lit the way, navigating around the boxes left on the floor and bumping into a stack.
She brushed the dust off the top and coughed.
It read Pressed flowers in script. She promised herself she’d come back for the box.
Dahlia walked past the furnace and spotted the electrical box. “Thank you, God.” While steepling her hands, she felt her pants vibrate. She answered quickly. “Hello?”
“Hey, you okay? I got your text.” Noah seemed concerned.
“Yeah.” Dahlia’s breath hitched. “A little spooked out by the basement, but I’m okay.” As many times as she’d been down there, it still freaked her out. It seemed like it was a place where secrets were kept.
“You’re in the basement. That’s good. Go to the panel and tell me if all the breakers are tripped.”
“Okay, hold on, it’s dark down here.” Dahlia opened the door. “Yeah, they are.”
“Do you smell smoke?”
“No, but should I call the fire department?” she asked, feeling her brows furrow.
“No, wait for me.”
“Umm, not to sound ungrateful, but you’re an hour away, if not more.”
“I’m about to make a right onto our block.”
Our block. She liked the sound of that. “Wait, our block?”
“Yeah, I had enough of the boys’ weekend. I wanted to come home. I …”
“Yeah?” She felt the urge to squeal but instead waited for his response.
Was he feeling what she was feeling? Is that why he came back?
Did her picture drive him mad with desire?
His early return was a good sign. But was it for her or some other reason altogether?
The seconds felt like minutes, and she had to force herself to breathe.
“Nothing. Hang tight. I’ll see you in a few. I’ll grab my tool bag and be right over.”
“Sounds good,” she said while inside wanting to scream. She looked up at the rotting wood ceiling and cringed, not wanting to spend another minute down there.
Dahlia sat on the front porch, impatiently waiting for him.
Once she heard his motorcycle pass by, she was all too eager.
There was still enough light left, perfect to watch his entrance.
The instant she heard the crunching of the pebbles, she knew he was on his way.
Winged creatures took flight inside her stomach.
Out of the darkness, he strutted over in slow motion.
It was like something out of a movie. There he was, looking all Terminator meets Grease in jeans, a white tank top, and a leather jacket, holding a toolbox, like a man on a mission.
Tonight’s mission: to save Damsel Dahlia and fix her box.
Her mind leaped to a dirty place, and she could feel her hands moisten.
She snapped herself back to earth as he walked closer and met him with a great big smile.
“Hi,” he said quickly as he breezed right past her with his sexy, windblown hair. No smile, no hug, no hello, nothing. “Still no smoke, right?”
“No. Hi to you too,” she mumbled under her breath. That wasn’t the greeting she was expecting, especially after their textathon yesterday.
“Hey, boy,” he greeted Harry, giving him a sturdy pat on the head.
Okay, now she was officially annoyed that her dog got a warmer greeting than she did.
Without hesitation, he charged into the house.
He took off his jacket and threw it onto the entry bench.
Dahlia’s eyes roamed over his thick, corded, and veiny arms until he turned the corner down to the basement.
She shadowed behind. “Harry, stay.” Dahlia barreled down the stairs, willing him to wait for her.
Noah opened the breaker box. “Yeah, this isn’t good.”
“Really? What do you see?” A mix of dread and anticipation coursed through her body.
“Well, it’s corroded.” He held the light up toward the exterior wall. “Probably from water getting in. You’re lucky, Dahlia.” He looked right at her. “This could have caused a fire. God.” He shook his head and grumbled.
Dahlia stared at his profile, hoping to get a glimpse inside his head. How could he walk past her like that? She was now convinced she’d misread this entire thing between them. She was just as concerned with what he was holding back as she was with the hypothetical fire.
“I’ll get someone here for you tomorrow to replace it.” He closed up the box. “In the meantime, you can stay with me if you want.” Noah walked to the bottom of the stairs and headed up, still not quite looking at her.
Was this a pity invite, or did he want her there?
Dahlia held onto the banister, watching him from behind.
She was getting whiplash from his wavering.
She wanted to know, either way, where they stood.
She knew if she went, she’d most likely be tortured, so she said, “I’ll be okay here.
I’ve got candles and maybe an LED lamp.”
“Don’t say I didn’t offer.” He laughed, reaching the top of the stairs.
That was it? She was getting frostbite from his ice-cold attitude. Dahlia hesitated, reaching the landing. What was she doing? She was too old for this.
“Can I wash my hands?” Noah put the tools and flashlight on the counter. The light giving a warm glow to the ceiling.
“Sure, help yourself.” Dahlia wanted to bite her knuckle.
She couldn’t believe he was standing in her kitchen after she texted him that picture last night and wasn’t going to make a move.
Aside from showing up on his white horse in his white tank and fulfilling her acts of service dream list, he was acting like a wishy-washy teenage boy who’d forgotten he’d texted her the night before.
“What did you do today?” he asked, creating quite a lather.
“Oh, this and that. Housework mostly.” She smiled through the small talk while feeling her insides tangle like vines. The truth was, she wasted way too much time thinking of him. But he would never know that. She was done.
He wiped his hands on the towel and looked her up and down. “Did you go out or something?”
“Yeah,” she said, leaning back on the counter. She secretly wanted him to swirl a little. Let him think maybe she had a date.
“You look nice.” He quickly looked away again, grabbing his flashlight. “Okay, so if anything happens through the night, call me. I’ll keep the phone by my bed.”
He was killing her softly. “Okay, sounds good. And thanks for coming so quickly.” She saw him out the back door.
“Happy to help.” He turned back, the light from the moon highlighting his silhouette.
She watched him fade into the dark landscape. Now it was like something out of a horror movie.
Dahlia ran her fingers through her hair in frustration. She had to remind herself that not all stories ended with happily ever after; to her knowledge, most didn’t. The single life sounded really good right about now. I mean, Lil had always seemed happy.
Harry barked as if he agreed. “You are so smart; you know that?” She nuzzled her nose into his.
Dahlia walked back in and locked the door.
She pulled candles from the pantry and tried to find the LED lantern Lil had bought years back when she attempted to camp under the stars with Daisy.
Dahlia was on her tippy-toes when she heard a knock at the screen door.
Her heart swelled. Maybe he’d come to his senses.
She ran down the steps like an eager teenager and opened it.
“I forgot my toolbox,” he said, gently pushing his way in.
“Oh.” Her heart sank.
“And something else.”
“Your jacket?”
“Not quite, Dimples.” Noah eased her against the cedar shake wall.
With each step, she melted into his well-built frame.
The body contact left her blood singing.
But it was more than that. She was safe in his presence, in his hold.
To her, that was everything. The force of his Caribbean blues captured her soul.
His gaze was deep and unending, as if he saw right through her.
Through to her memories, some that were heavy and painful, and yet he wanted to stay anyway.
He brushed her hair off her face and smiled.
Dahlia’s heart felt like it was going to burst open.
The moon cast just enough light to see every beautiful curve and ridge of his face. She imprinted it in her mind and filed it under Take My Breath Away Moments.
“You have the most beautiful heart-shaped lips. You know that?” he whispered. His face was so close she could hear the gentle tempo of his breath.
“I do?” She looked up at him, searching his eyes.
“Can I kiss them?” he asked with a soft, unwavering tone.
Was this actually happening? Noah Sterling, reality TV star, wanted to kiss the girl next door. This was a moment she’d wanted with every fiber of her being. She felt weightless, like petals floating in the wind.
“Yes.” Her entire body wilted into his touch, hoping she remembered how to do this.
He took her lips between his, and she was a swooning bubble of bliss.
Noah kissed Dahlia like no man ever had.
His lips were pillowy and plump, and his mustache surprisingly gentle.
He teased her mouth, and then with one slip of his tongue, all bets were off.
Her body flooded with warmth. He stole her air and her will.
Their lips moved in sync, like a dance between old lovers.
At that moment, all she wanted to do was surrender to this all-encompassing feeling and shed every piece of armor she’d ever worn.
Noah slid his hands around her lower back and brought her hips to his.
Dahlia could feel the heat from his body as she drew closer.
The whiff of his perspiration made every microcosm of her skin tingle and her toes curl.
It was a mix of sawdust, sea salt, and musk.
She’d never known explosive feelings like this existed.
Maybe she wasn’t so dead inside after all.
Dahlia could feel how firm he was. His hard zipper grazed her skin, but she didn’t care. She was ready to tear off her clothes and give herself to him. At that moment, she craved nothing more than to make love to him under the stars on Lil’s porch.
He cupped her face as his lips slowly released from hers. “I’ve wanted to do that for so long.”
“You have?” Dahlia’s pulse quickened, wanting more of his beautiful mouth and chestnut whiskers. Their eyes connected with what little light was left, and she anchored her fingers inside the top of his jeans.
“God, yes. Every time I was close to you.” He leaned his forehead on hers. “But I need to take this slow. Are you okay with that?”
Dahlia reached for his hand. “Noah, I like you, and I don’t need more time. But if you do, it’s okay.” Even though Dahlia wanted this thing between them to start yesterday, she wanted it to be right for both of them.
With that kiss came an innate urge to confess her age.
He trusted her, and she felt guilty. There was a possibility that if he knew how old she was, he wouldn’t want her the way he did.
Her eyes darted around the room, trying to orchestrate the right words for the age announcement.
But not the Daisy announcement. That was off the table; she wasn’t ready for that.
She wasn’t done reliving her twenties again.
The truth wasn’t any match for her freedom—not yet, anyway.
“Hey, Noah, how old do you think I am?”
“I don’t know. My age, I guess.” His soft lips roamed the nape of her neck.
“It never crossed your mind?” She was regretting this already. What if this was a deal breaker? It was better she knew sooner than later before she became more emotionally and physically invested.
“I’m more interested in your zodiac sign than anything else,” he said, continuing to explore her skin in a very PG way.
“My sign?” Dahlia was limp with pleasure but managed to laugh. He was into astrology, and that was hot too. Damn, he was full of surprises in the best way.
“I have a sister, remember? Gretchen is crazy about crystals and chakra and all that.”
“You’re adorable. You know that?” Dahlia liked Gretchen so much more now. She drew his face to hers. “Take a guess.”
“On your sign?” he asked.
“No, my age,” she playfully responded.
“Dahlia, it doesn’t matter.”
“Well, it might, Noah. I’m …”
“What are you, like, fifty?” he blurted.
“No. Thirty-eight.” Dahlia pinched her eyes shut but then opened one eye.
He had zero facial expression. This was it, the end of their summer fling. Dahlia felt faint, woozy by his unresponsiveness.
Then he smiled, with one corner higher than the other. “That doesn’t scare me off. In fact, I’m not sure anything would at this point.” And with that, he pressed his lips to hers again and lingered.
“I’m a Pisces, by the way.” She didn’t ask about his age or sign; she knew he had a birthday coming up, and she looked forward to the day when she was only nine years older, not an entire decade.
Dahlia also knew the zodiac, and the idea of two water signs cosmically seemed too good to be true.
The energy between them was rare, explosive, peaceful, and cathartic.
Every cell in her body was awake and in a state of wonder.
She was at the top of the Ferris wheel and didn’t want to come back down.