Chapter 10
Olivia
“I should have changed into sneakers. These heels are killing my feet.”
“I bet.” Noah glances at my shoes, then directs his gaze ahead again. “They still look amazing on you.” He stops in front of our building as if the compliment is part of our everyday conversation. Yesterday, I would have been annoyed. Today . . . not so much. Is he growing on me?
If I were to analyze the complicated feelings he brings out in me, I think it’s that no one else in that office, even my father, would have checked on me. But Noah did. Without anything to gain, he put all my snide remarks aside and was there making sure I was okay.
I’m starting to believe I wanted to hate him to protect myself and Maxwell. It would be easier to be a mama bear in this difficult situation than to open the door and allow him to take my baby away from me.
Instead of lining my ducks up in a row to be prepared for a court battle, Noah appears to be the kind of guy I’d want Maxwell to have in his life. At least from what I’ve witnessed so far.
So instead of focusing on the negatives of the situation, maybe it’s time to acknowledge the positives.
He’s not a stereotype.
Sure, he’s drop-dead gorgeous with incredible eyes that make me want to strip off my clothes, but he’s not another jock without a brain. He’s clever and always asking questions to educate himself.
He smells so good. Do villains smell like the ocean on a sultry night? No.
Noah Westcott is an in-the-flesh, walking seduction.
His ambition goes beyond the job. He doesn’t seem to want to settle based on all he accomplished in college. I might have peeked at his file . . . judge away.
Other than my mom, he’s the only one to ask me how I’m doing. I can’t remember the last time anyone asked me. It feels like Noah is always well aware of my moods and cares.
He asks, “Your feet are already hurting. Don’t feel pressured to go to the deli.”
Standing beside him, I just realized that I feel good around him. Something about him makes me feel safe and, more importantly, seen.
I look toward the deli one block down and then back at him. First, he comes to the park just to make sure I’m okay, and now, he’s giving me an out to save my feet. His concern hits me sideways, right in the heart.
“I want to go with you. I’m a little hungry myself.” I’m not hungry in the least after the big salad I tackled at lunch, but I’ll take any reason to get to know him better.
He stares at me like he’s seeing a different person. Two lines dig between his brows as he studies my face. He does that a lot, stares at me. He did in the Hamptons as well.
Not in a creepy way, but more like he has a lot going on in that head of his. Maybe I misjudged him, pegging him as the knight in shining armor coming in to save the company. My father talked him up.
I’m getting a bitter aftertaste of jealousy.
Is that what it is?
My feelings are hurt because my dad never talked about me like that.
I nod in the direction of the deli, and we start walking together again.
It’s strange feeling comfortable in his presence, but I probably shouldn’t be surprised since I was extremely comfortable with him naked once.
My cheeks flame from the memories I used last night to help take the edge off that damn tingling he created inside me.
The traitor.
He knew what he was doing . . . God, did he know. So good.
“You need water?” he asks, pulling open the door for me.
“Water can’t cure me.”
“Huh?”
Oops. Didn’t mean to say that out loud. Fortunately, Antonio calls out, “Hey, Noah! What can we get you two today? You gotta try the pastrami.”
Noah chuckles. “How are you doing, Antonio?”
“I’m good. Buried elbow-deep in potato salad today. Got a catering job over at a pier later today. They’re shooting a commercial for that real estate agent on some of the benches. Bigwig. Loves the potato salad and our homemade rye bread sandwiches.”
“Sounds like a big job. Congrats.”
“Thanks.” Antonio comes to stand in front of me, leaning his arms on the high cold case. “What are you thinking today?”
I don’t want to insult the guy, so I’m not sure what to say. It smells good in here—fresh baked bread wafting through the air. I hold my hands up. “I didn’t bring my wallet. I came to keep him company.”
His arms go wide. “Noah, my man. You gonna let this pretty lady starve?”
“No. No,” I say, shaking my head. “I’m not starving. It’s okay.”
Noah glances down at me out of the corner of his eye. “I’m happy to buy you lunch, Liv.”
It’s the first time I’ve heard that name from his lips and don’t want to snap back at him. Oh God, I’m softening to him. He has always been quite charming. “Why do you call me Liv?”
“That’s how you introduced yourself.”
I grin. “I know I used that name in the Hamptons, but not many people call me that.”
“Ah.” He nods his head, looking back at the menu. “Let me guess, the honor is reserved for friends and family?”
“No. Most of them still call me Olivia.”
Antonio grabs a hunk of meat and starts slicing. “I’m telling you, man, the pastrami is the only way to go.”
“Sold,” Noah replies. “I’ll have the pastrami on—”
“Rye. Only rye, my friend.”
“Rye it is, then.” When Noah laughs, I admire how his smile is magnetic in the ease of the lines, his lips full enough to land a great kiss, and the slightest of his five o’clock shadow already appearing before one o’clock.
He nudges me. “What can I get you?”
I turn back and point at the chips. “The original kettle chips and a water, please.”
“You got it,” Antonio says, rushing to grab a bag from the clip on the rounder.
Taking the bottle of water and chips, he hands a cup to Noah and then gets busy behind the counter constructing the sandwich. I decide to sit at a table to let other customers who have walked in get closer to the counter.
With a cup full of soda, Noah sits next to me, resting his arms on the table. “Why’d you tell me to call you Liv?”
A small shrug keeps my shoulders light. It’s that or the company, and I’m willing to bet that Noah plays a big part in creating the comfort level between us that I can’t take credit for.
“Here you go, Noah,” Antonio calls him to the counter. While he holds the sandwich out to him, it gives me a moment to realize how good it feels to be with Noah.
His calm, casual tone has no expectations. It’s almost hard to look away from his naturally handsome face.
I saw how women eye him on the street and have heard a few people talk about him in ways that HR would get involved if they knew.
But when I really look at him, I don’t just see a great face and incredible body.
I remember how he took care of me in the Hamptons—sexually, emotionally—checking in with me and making sure that it was more than physical, that I was okay and good in all ways.
Watching him pay, I bite my lip, taking in the strength of his profile—a bump on the bridge of his nose that only adds to how attractive he is, his jaw that cuts sharp underneath, shadowing his neck under the width, and the wave in his hair that reminds me of a breeze across the water of the bay.
Until he catches me staring and smiles as he slides back into the chair beside me. “What’s on your mind?”
I could be honest and talk about the tone he uses with me that eases my defenses or how his grin feels personal, like a secret that only we know.
I don’t, though. My emotions have been all over the place regarding him this week.
Now that Chip is back in the mix making my life hell again, is it wrong to want to enjoy the peace Noah and I share?
“You asked why I told you to call me Liv. For one night, I wanted to be someone else. You gave me that chance.”
“Why’d you want to be someone else?”
“I’m not sure this story is meant to be told over pastrami.” He grins, standing and picking up his soda. “Another time?”
Telling him about a failed relationship or how atypical it was for me to rebound with a one-night stand doesn’t feel like a conversation I want to have, ever. I like who we are right now at this moment—friends—too much to ruin it. “Maybe another time.”
“I hate to cut this short, but I need to get back.”
“Me, too,” I say, standing and scooting around the table toward the door. I don’t. All I have is a bunch of numbers that don’t change the pace of my day or anyone else’s. “This demanding marketing associate insists on receiving some over-the-top detailed accounting file.”
Chuckling, he holds the door open for me. “He sounds like a nightmare.”
I laugh. “Totally, but . . .”
“But?” He stops on the sidewalk, curiosity getting the best of him. Cocking an eyebrow, he waits as if I’m about to say something monumental.
Not wanting to let him down, I reply, “Maybe I misjudged him.”
“Ah.” He sips his drink, his gaze lengthening the path back to our building. We start walking again, and he asks, “Maybe?”
“I did. Does effort to change my perception count for anything?”
Smirking, he gives me a wink. “Everything.”
Riding the elevator together this time doesn’t worry me. It never should have in the first place. I’ll never please some of the other employees, the gossipers, the energy drainers, or the soul suckers.
Instead of making sure I never give them any ammo on me, I enjoy the conversation with Noah and walk off the elevator in a fit of laughter. “What happened during the next game?”
“The umpire had a decision to make. Expel me from the game because his daughter liked me or piss her off more.”
“What did he do?”
He laughs. “I was thrown out, but the coach fought the call, and I was back in by the third inning. As for his daughter . . . um, yeah. That’s a story for another time.”
“Seems we have a few stories to share one day.”
Audrina looks utterly annoyed with her crossed arms and puckered face. Her eyes stay on Noah, but when I look at him, he smiles at me. I don’t know what possesses me, but I smile right back, not caring about anyone seeing or judging me for it.
It feels good to have that weight off my shoulders.
Just a few days ago, I thought Noah was here to ruin my life, but in less than an hour, he made me feel comfortable enough to lower my guard and give him a chance. I’m glad I did because I saw the real him, and I’m grateful for that opportunity.
We reach my office, and I stop outside my door. Noah stands in front of me, his gaze dipping to my mouth and then back to my eyes, lingering between blinks as if he has other things on his mind. Me, specifically.
If he only knew that I was starting to feel the same. That will be short-lived once I tell him he’s a father. I can only imagine how much he’ll hate me.
Today was good, a step closer to seeing the kind of man he is and telling him. But since we’re in the office and surrounded by others, now is not the time to share the news.
Surprisingly, those same conditions exist, making it feel like the end of a first date—a little awkward, a lot of anticipation, and that moment.
That moment, like now, when it’s so tempting to close my eyes and kiss him again.
Just once would be enough to satisfy my craving since I left the Hamptons, left the bed with him sleeping, and thought we’d have a second chance.
That chance never came . . . until now.
A throat clears, and we both step back. My shoulders hit my door, and the doorknob stabs my ass. Leanna smiles, sympathetic to the reality that she’s definitely interrupting something.
It’s in the air, the tension, that anticipation.
Instead of rushing to make excuses or apologize, I breathe it in, reveling in the connection I’ve only ever had with this man. I lick my lips and look down at the shoes that he admired earlier.
Leanna says, “Mr. Bancroft wants to see you.”
Noah nods. “I’ll be right there.”
Reaching forward, she takes the drink and the sandwich. “I’ll put this on your desk.”
“Thank you.”
She slowly turns and walks away, leaving us alone again.
My heart races, and I suddenly feel a little awkward, like other peoples’ eyes might be on us, so I say, “I’m almost done with the Torres file.”
“Good.” Shoving his hands in his pockets, he clears his throat. “That’s good. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” When I swallow, his gaze grazes over my neck as if the sight of it alone could bring him to his knees. My breathing deepens as memories come racing back to me . . .
His lips kissing my inner thigh.
The tickle of his fingers against the back of my knee.
The scrape of his tongue against my clit . . .
Oh God. “I need to go,” I say, scrambling to open my door. I’m absolutely certain that if I stand here another second, I’ll combust before his very eyes.
“Bye, Liv.”
“Bye.” I shut the door behind me and toss the bag of chips on my desk. I rub the cold bottle across my neck and chest for relief from the fire burning inside me. “Good lord, that man.”
Rushing to my desk, I sit down and quickly pull my phone from my purse. Holding the bottle to my cheek, hoping it can cool me off, I dial my mom. As soon as she answers, I say, “I’m in trouble.”
“What’s happening?” she replies in a panic.
I really shouldn’t worry her like this. I giggle, though, through a silly grin. “Mom, he’s nice.”
“Who’s nice, Olivia?”
Going against everything I had told myself to do, I instantly recognize the feeling coming over me. After setting the bottle on the desk, my shoulders sag in defeat. Emotionally, I’m right back there in the Hamptons with him again. “Noah.”