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"A little," he says. "The sheriff brought over some photos for you to look at. And I had to make some calls."
"Practice!" I cry. "You had practice this morning."
"It's cool, Dimples. I let Coach know what was going on. He's not stressing about me missing one practice." He grimaces. "We do have to bus out for a game the day after tomorrow, though. It's in Oklahoma."
"So you'll go to your game, and I'll stay here," I say.
His brows furrow. "I already talked to Jack. If the sheriff hasn't caught the fuckers who broke into the shop by then, we're going to hire a bodyguard for you until I get back."
"You're…what?" I splutter, certain I heard him wrong.
"It won't be permanent, baby. Only while I'm gone," he says, confirming that I didn't mishear him at all. The crazy man actually wants to hire a bodyguard.
"Are you insane?" I press my hands to my overheated cheeks, and the sheet slips.
To his credit, his gaze only drifts to my boobs for a brief second before returning to my face. "Someone tried to shoot you this morning, Aspen. Had his aim been better, he would have shot you."
"I'm aware. I was there," I remind him. "I'm the one who had to flee for my life. But hiring a bodyguard is taking this to an extreme."
"They'll sit outside," he says, trying to convince me. "I'd feel a helluva lot better leaving if I know you're not completely on your own while I'm out of town."
"Before we get carried away, can I at least see the photos Dillon dropped off?" I ask, more to buy myself time to think than anything. The more he talks, the less I like the thought of being on my own right now, and I'm not sure I really like how that feels. I've never been afraid in my own home before. I don't want to be afraid now, either.
"Shit. Yeah." He hops up from the side of the bed. "I'll go get them."
"Wait!"
He turns to look at me.
"Um, just give me a minute, and I'll come look," I mumble, not really wanting to look at them in here. This room is my sanctuary. Maybe it's silly, but I don't want to pollute it with bad memories or painful things.
Noah's expression softens as if he understands. Maybe he does. It's overwhelming how easily he sees through me. It doesn't feel as if I've known him a day. It feels as if he's been part of my life for so much longer than that. There's a sense of…fatalism, perhaps. As if we aren't learning one another for the first time, but simply relearning one another.
It's disconcerting and thrilling at the same time.
"I'll wait in the kitchen," he says, ducking out of the room.
I flop backward on the bed, pulling a pillow over my face. I don't know what happened to my life in the last twenty-four hours, but it's become a strange, strange place. And I don't entirely hate it. "You've lost your mind," I mutter to myself, tossing the pillow aside and rolling off the side of the bed. I quickly shimmy into my clothes and then scurry to the bathroom.
The woman staring back at me in the mirror doesn't even look familiar. I'm not put together or composed. My hair is a tangled mess. My lips are swollen. There's a look in my eyes I've never seen before now. It's…happiness.
Ah, crap. I'm falling in love with him.
Hard.
It's the only explanation for the buoyant feeling bubbling up from deep in my chest. Even though I should be afraid and angry, I'm not. I'm overwhelmed. I'm anxious. I don't want a bodyguard. But I'm not mad at Noah for being concerned enough to think I need one. I just…part of me can't help but wonder if he's doing it because he cares or if it's doing it because Nash would expect it.
Ask him, a little voice whispers.
I meet my gaze in the mirror, resolving to do just that. It's better to know than to keep spinning in circles, right? My stomach quivers with nerves.
I splash water on my face, brush my teeth, and then run a comb through my hair, trying to tame it. When it still doesn't lay right, I give up and scrape it into a messy bun before heading toward the kitchen to look at the photos Dillon sent over.
Noah's leaning against the counter with Brick in his arms. My cat is purring so loud, I hear him from halfway across the room. He looks perfectly content with Noah scratching his ears.
"He likes you," I murmur.
"Surprised?"
