Page 53 of Small Town Boy

He tightens his grasp on my hips, twisting me in the seat so my legs dangle out the open door, and pulling me closer to him. Pressing a chaste kiss on my lips, he winks at me.

“Tell me what you’re thinking.”

For a split second I consider making something up, but then I think better of it. This evening is supposed to be about us getting to know each other. Or, well, getting to know each other more. We’ve spent almost every night since The Giddy Up last weekend talking or texting well into the wee hours, playing the get to know you game, sharing odd facts and trivia.

One might think that after six straight nights of talking to the same person until one or both of you fell asleep would mean that you run out of things to say. But with Noel, it’s the opposite. I feel like I’ve only scratched the surface of this enigma of a man, and I want to keep digging. Because I know I’m going to strike gold.

“I was thinking about prom.”

“Prom? That’s random.”

“That was the last time I was this excited.”

“I don’t know if I should be flattered or concerned about the lack of excitement in your life.”

He kisses me again, swallowing my laughter. He makes a very valid point about my lack of excitement—I have been very all work and no play—but really, it’s mostly him.

“Flattered. Be flattered.”

He nods, lifting me from the truck and gently setting me down on my feet. I swoon, getting the impression that I’ll be doing a lot of that tonight, his gentleman side already on display. Of course, if that other side were to make an appearance, the one from the side of the road, I wouldn’t complain either.

Kicking the door shut, Noel grabs a large bag and two fishing poles from the back of his truck, then turns to me. He takes my hand, leading me toward the jetty.

“Who did you go to prom with? Anyone I need to worry about?” I joke. Well, half joke. If he says Kitty Cattaway, I might puke.

“Considering you’re living in her cottage because she moved in with the town vet, pretty sure you got nothing to worry about.”

“You went with Sylvie? Was there something between you two in high school?”

My interest is piqued, wondering if I stumbled on to some sweet, small-town high school love story. Especially after her confession the other night. The face Noel gives me shoots that idea down instantly.

“Just friends. We’ve all always been just friends. Well, ’cept Dustin and Kenzie, who were a couple by that point. Since they were paired off, the rest of us decided it was easiest to do the same. That way we didn’t have to deal with any outsiders.”

“Didn’t Camden like her in high school, though, too?”

“He did. Even asked her to prom. But we’d already agreed to go together. I told her she should go with him, but she felt bad about leaving me high and dry since Nash and Willa were going together. Don’t tell Camden that, though. She probably already has, but in case she hasn’t, that doesn’t need to come from us.”

“Secret is safe with me. But, wait…” I stop in the middle of the jetty, still holding his hand. He turns to look at me, taking the couple of steps to put slack back in our arms. “Nash and Willa went to prom together? They can’t stand each other.”

“They were actually really close back then.”

He tugs my arm, pulling me toward the pond. I give in, trying to wrap my mind around Willa and Nash being close. I’ve never heard anyone bitch about another human being as much as she does him. Nor have I ever seen two people bicker as constantly as those two do when the whole group is together. Now I’m extra curious.

“What happened?”

Noel shakes his head. “Like I said, I don’t know the full story. Just the few details Nash has shared, but that’s between us. I’ll tell you anything you want about me, but I won’t betray his secrets.”

“You really are a vault.” I gesture toward his other hand, the curiosity of all that overtaking the curiosity about my new friends. “What’s up with all of that?”

“As promised, we’re somewhere it’s just you and me, no audience. And we’re gonna do something that you can only get away with in the country.”

“What’s that?”

“Fishin’ in the dark.”

I chuckle. “We have fishing in Boston. Matter-of-fact, we’re rather known for our seafood.”

“Not like this you don’t. And this isn’t seafood.”