Running in Place (Mending Hearts) (9 page)

“It’s okay. I didn’t bring anything, so I’ll just work through lunch today. Thanks, though.” I turn away from him, crouching down to pick up my paint brush and start my next wall. He remains in the doorway for a while before offering, “Well, you have to eat. And you’ve been at it for a solid
hour
, so I’m sure you’re famished.” He chuckles softly at his lame joke. Sadly, it seems Noah the Asshat has returned. I miss dreamy Noah already. This one sucks.

“And don’t waste your energy rolling your eyes,” he adds. “Just use it to stand up and come grab a quick bite with me. There’s a place right down the street.”

Just as I start to decline, I hear his footsteps and the sound of him squatting, followed by the warmth of his body behind me. Reaching around my waist, he removes the paint brush from my hand, throwing it back into the bucket. “We don’t have much time. Let’s go, I’m driving.”

Frustrated with his assumption that I would go anywhere with him, I twist abruptly to protest only to come face-to-face with his lips, which happen to be right at eye-level. Surprised we’re so close, I’m at a loss for words so I just stare back at him. The corners of his mouth tip up slightly as he finally rises and steps back, giving me some much needed breathing room while twirling his keys around his index finger as he waits for my response. Stupid-ass, sexy lop-sided grin on his face the entire time.

Just as I’m about to set him straight, my stomach decides to intervene and growls a thunderous roar before I even have a chance to speak.

Seriously, it was that loud.
Mufasa loud.

His half-smile turns into a full-fledged cocky grin as he jerks his head toward the door. “Time’s ticking.”

Reluctantly, I press off my heels and step toward him while his laughter echoes off the walls as he turns to lead us out of the bathroom. Following his lead down the hall, through the kitchen and towards the back door, I snag my purse off the kitchen counter just before we exit the duplex. Once outside, he unlocks his Jeep as I walk around to the passenger side.

So weird. I’ve never been inside his Jeep. I’ve often admired it from afar though, because it
is
a cool Jeep, driver not included. In fact, I’ve dreamed of owning one just like this — black Jeep Wrangler with an open top. Sadly enough, I’ve actually pictured myself standing in the passenger seat, with my arms spread wide open, the wind in my hair, and a huge smile on my face. I would fly, with no worries, no constraints. I would finally be free, from my past, from my present, to conquer my future.

I sigh inwardly. Well, one can dream.

As I extend my arm toward the handle, a familiar hand snakes in front of mine, opening the door before I even come close to reaching it. Surprised, I jump back a little, but quickly recoup and offer him a small, but genuinely appreciative smile. I don’t even remember the last time
anyone
opened a door for me. Especially Cash.

Noah dips his head in my direction as I slide into the seat, making sure my feet are accounted for before he closes the door. Soon after, he climbs in on his side, sticking his keys in the ignition and starting the engine. After sliding on a pair of silver aviators, he turns towards me and shifts into reverse. “Ready?” he asks. I nod, unable to speak as I take in the scent of his cologne. Subtle, but not understated, the clean, crisp smell surrounds me. I face forward, fearing that my ridiculously long inhalations have betrayed my indifference to him.

He places his arm over the top of my seat, just above my shoulders, and twists his body to look backwards, his fresh scent assaulting my senses. After breathing it in once more, I turn my head, gazing out the window as the Jeep starts to gain speed. Once we’re out of the driveway, he removes his arm, placing it on the gear shift between us, and shifting into drive. Gathering the hair not held down by my baseball cap at the nape of my neck, I twist it and bring it over my left shoulder as the rush of wind fills the Jeep. I brave a look at Noah who returns the favor. He obviously feels the same as I do as the awkward silence takes over, because after a few seconds he gestures toward the radio. “You can turn on some music if you want to.”

Surprised by the tenderness of his normally harsh tone, I lean forward and push the power button. Florence and the Machine fill my ears and I can’t help but laugh. I look back at him, still wearing my grin. “You know this is girl music, right?”

He stares at me for a couple of seconds before shrugging his shoulders. “Hey, I can’t control what’s on the radio.” A barely noticeable smile appears as his lips twitch, his head turning away from me to pay attention to the road once again.

I lean back into my seat and sing along until the song ends. When another Florence song begins, my smile widens along with my eyes and I give him a very suspicious sideways glance. I watch from the side as his subtle smile turns into a full on beaming grin. He’s so busted and he knows it.

 “Oh my God! This is so
not
the radio,” I say through my laughter. “This is a CD! You’re a
Florence
lover!”

He belts out a melodic laugh, the sound so foreign and beautiful from his mouth, that I stop my own giggling just so I can hear it in its entirety. After watching him for a while, still in shock at all the different sides of Noah I’ve seen today, I catch my own reflection in his sunglasses as he meets my stare.

Grin still present on his face, he offers up his defense. “Hey, she writes mad lyrics. Mad of course meaning both amazing and well…angry. The way she evokes so much emotion with her words,” he gives me a sheepish shrug, “it’s just very admirable.”

I couldn’t agree more. I don’t tell him that though.

Giving him a slight chuckle before turning away to gaze out the window, I nervously bite my thumbnail and watch the trees pass for some time before we start to slow and turn into a parking lot. Once we’ve come to a complete stop, I take one look and raise my eyebrows in surprise. I guess the dilapidated shack in front of me is where we’ll be dining for lunch. I make a personal note to Google this place for any recent health code violations.

Noah, obviously catching onto my suspicion of his choice of eatery, laughs as I open my door and step out of the Jeep. I can tell he’s disappointed he didn’t get to it first. Creature of habit, I guess.

Once he climbs out, we meet up in front and turn towards the rundown building. His eyes fall to the ground before he speaks. “I know it doesn’t look like much, but they have the best burgers in town. Trust me,” he says as we walk together towards the entrance.

I glance over at him, and the embarrassed expression on his face makes my heart stop as well as my feet. “It’s okay, Noah. I trust you,” my voice timid with the admission. His steps cease, and he turns back in my direction, his face marked with that of trying to decipher any underlying meaning in my statement. After a couple of seconds of awkward silence as we stare at each other, I look back at the diner. “But seriously, are you sure?”

Another dimple presents itself just before Noah pivots around, heading again towards the entrance. I follow, surprised when he opens the door and grandly gestures for me to enter ahead of him. After offering him another sheepish smile, I say my thanks and pass by him. Maintaining my grin as he steps behind me, I lead us to the nearest table and start to pull out the chair, but before I reach it, his hand deliberately skims the top of mine before he tugs it out from underneath the table and motions for me to take a seat. Blood rushes to my cheeks, and when I glance up at him to apologize, I’m met with a sexy half-smile.

A nervous flutter begins in my stomach. I’m not really sure why — maybe it’s because of this completely different side of Noah that I’ve never seen, or maybe the fact that this is starting to feel peculiarly like a date, but the feeling is one I’ve never encountered. It’s…really nice.

After nodding my thanks, I sit as he pushes the chair underneath me. Unwrapping the napkin from around the silverware, I’m thankful when I find crayons that must have been left on the table from the previous diners. There’s nothing that eases my mind like nervous doodling. I’ve been doing it since I was six years old.

Grabbing them, I start my masterpiece as Noah takes the seat directly across from me. I don’t bother looking at him. I just doodle.

By the time I’ve drawn approximately ten hearts, thirteen smiley faces, and five huge flowers — oh, and my name about forty-two times, our food arrives. Not a word has been spoken, with the exception of our placing our orders.

My stomach growls loudly once again as the chargrilled aroma of the burger floods the air. I look down at my plate, surprised at how mouthwatering the food looks. Picking the burger up, with both hands because it’s
huge
, I bring it to my mouth only to lock gazes with Noah, who’s almost about to devour his own.

Pausing briefly, he asks, “Well, do you trust me?”

With sincerity filling his brown eyes, I don’t really know how to answer his question. Thinking about all the caring, sweet, vulnerable, and gentlemanly Noah’s I’ve been introduced to today, mixed together with the perfectionistic, know-it-all, serious-all-the–time, fun-sucker Noah’s that I’m so familiar with, his question is a very dangerous one for me.

He holds my eyes with his until I make my decision.

Once it’s made, I do something I never thought I’d do.

I take a bite.

After inhaling my burger,
because that shit was good
, I move on to the fries while I watch Tatum finish off her own. I can’t believe she cleaned her plate before I did.
Impressive.
Nothing worse than chicks who don’t eat.

She must notice my surprise because she looks up at me and giggles, her blue eyes illuminated by humor. The notes of her laughter make lyrics explode in my head like fireworks. I’m half-tempted to grab my journal from the console in my Jeep, but I don’t want to waste a minute of this lunch with her. This is the first time we’ve managed to hang out without wanting to kill each other, so I plan on using it to my advantage in my quest to make some sort of sense out of her.

To understand her.

But just before I have the chance to start my mini-interrogation, she stops laughing and clears her throat to speak. “So, I just wanted to let you know that eleven o’clock will
not
be my normal starting time. I…uh, well — I’ve had a rough couple of nights.” She casts her eyes away from mine, directing them down to her empty plate. Since there’s nothing interesting down there, I’m assuming her lack of eye contact means she’s embarrassed.

“It’s okay, Tatum. He was there with another girl. While your actions probably weren’t the wisest of choices, I get that you were upset. I probably shouldn’t have been so hard on you this morning,” I say softly, my tone hopefully non-threatening. Anytime Cash comes up in conversation, or is anywhere within a fifty-foot vicinity of me, I tend to get highly irritated. The fact that the girl was his cousin, I decide to keep to myself. She seems to be humiliated enough.