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I’m twenty-two years old. I’ve only ever had eyes for Noah. If he thinks I’m going to have regrets, he’s dead wrong.
I’m sure of this. I’m sure of him.
“I do.” I finally answer his question about my date then wink. “I better go meet him.”
Noah reaches and pulls me against his chest. “Like hell you are,” he murmurs before bending to kiss me.
Oh, these lips.
I love them. I’m falling so hard for this guy. Surely he knows I won’t have regrets. Yes, I’m a virgin. And yes, I am a little…let’s say, selective and protective over who I trust with my body. But I want Noah. I don’t know why I’m any different to him.
I moan against his mouth.
A low growl rumbles from his throat in response and he deepens the kiss, but I pull away. “I made dinner. But…we could skip to dessert.”
He lifts a brow and backs up. “Dinner, huh?” He looks over my shoulder and I’m suddenly jealous of the three-course meal I planned. “Smells delicious.”
“I guess dinner first,” I mumble, my disappointment clear.
He strokes my hair and lifts my chin. And it's the second or third time I see that same conflict in his eyes. Until he blinks it away. “Come on. I know how much you hate reheated food.”
I guess the whole skip-to-dessert thing only works in movies…or fantasies…or for literally anyone but me.
We never made it to the table. I raced out of there and went to the one place I had no business going to in the mind frame I was in.
The bar.
3
Present
Ibang hard on his door, probably bruising my knuckles in the process but worth it. He needs to know how serious I am.
It’s a real bitch to get here so he better be home because I am not making this trip again.
There’s no answer and I turn my head back to the narrow, winding road leading up to the property. The small ranch-style house is settled in the outskirts of the hustle and bustle of Hideaway Springs. Which makes sense for Noah. He’s not exactly the type to live communally. He’s always liked his privacy. His quiet.
Here, civilization is replaced by nature. Tall pines line the gravel road, their branches swaying in the mountain breeze. Early morning sunlight filters through rustling leaves, and it smells…different here. It smells like the best parts of Hideaway Springs in a bottle. And…a little bit like him.
Noah pulls open the door. He’s in flannel pajama pants and a clean white t-shirt that looks like it was just thrown over his torso. It’s slightly folded over at the chest, and I itch to pull it down for him.
My eyes widen as I realize what I’m doing. And at what time.
It’s barely seven a.m. and I too am in my pajamas ready to ream out the guy who’s heart I crumbled three years ago.
When the initial shock of my appearing at his doorstep wears off, his expression turns bored.
I hate bored.
I prefer hard, cruel, angry, hell, I’ll even take hurt over bored.
“Stop it,” I grit out, standing beside five grocery bags I had to schlep all the way here.
Noah looks down leisurely at them, then back at me.
“Stop. Sending. Me. Food.”
He crosses his arms and sighs. He actually sighs.
