“What?” Noah says, clearly reading my expression. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
I grin. “Tell me you're the oldest, most responsible brother without telling me you’re the oldest, most responsible brother.”
Noah gives me a sheepish grin. “I’m probably too hard on them.”
“I totally get it,” I say. “My brother is super protective of me. Annoyingly so sometimes.”
Noah’s eyebrows lift. “Should I be concerned about that?”
The question sends a thrill racing through me. Because it speaks of a future we haven’t talked about yet—a future I wasn’t sure Noah was going to want.
He must realize the same thing because he quickly backpedals. “Not that I’m saying we’re—or that we’re not. But if we were—if that’s something you wanted, then maybe?—”
I lift a hand to his chest. “Hey,” I say, patting him gently. His pectoral muscle twitches under my hand, and for a split second, I wonder what Noah might look like shirtless. He’s broad-shouldered, with a trim waist, but I’ve only ever seen him in multiple layers, so there’s a lot left to the imagination. Still, this is not the time or place to give in to that particular distraction, so I force myself to meet his gaze.
There’s a question there, and a healthy dose of trepidation, like he’s bracing himself for bad news. “Whatever you’re thinking, I want it,” I say. “I have no idea how or where or even when, but I’d like to try.”
He smiles, then picks up my hand, lifting it to his lips to press a kiss against the pad of my thumb. “Then I guess you should probably give me your number.”
I step a little closer, and he pulls me against him, wrapping his arms around my waist. “That is a very good idea.”
From the other room, a loud chorus of laughter erupts followed by cheers and applause.
I tilt my head in the direction of the noise. “I should probably go check on everyone. See if they’re ready for dinner.”
He nuzzles his nose into my hair. “Do you have to?” His lips are close enough that I feel their movement against my skin, and the sensation sends a cascade of gooseflesh down my arms.
“It’s why I’m here,” I say. “But you’re welcome to come with me.”
Noah leans back and grimaces, and I immediately start to laugh.
“Fine, forget I asked,” I say. “Go hide in your room while I host the party.” There’s something endearing about his reluctance to stay if only because it’s so completelyNoah.And now I know him enough to realize as much.
“I’ll stay with you if you want me to,” Noah quickly says. “I promise I will.”
I lean up on my toes and press a quick kiss to his lips. “My words might have sounded teasing, but I meant them. I’ll be fine. Just a reminder, though: if Olivia hadn’t hired me for the week, it would probably beyouhosting this party.”
“My cousin is brilliant,” he says. “Smartest woman on the planet. Well, second to you.”
“That was the right answer, Noah Hawthorne,” I say, then I let him pull me in for one last kiss.
Thirteen
The reunion is bustlingand happy, and there isn’t much for me to do other than stand back and make sure everyone is having a good time. Especially once they start dinner.
But there’s one member of the family who keeps catching my eye—a little girl, maybe ten or eleven, who really doesn’t look like she feels well. Halfway through dinner, her dad walks her over to a couch in the living room and helps her stretch out, propping a pillow under her head.
I grab a blanket off a nearby chair and walk over. “Everything okay?”
“Thank you,” the dad says as he takes the blanket and drapes it over his daughter. “She’s just got a tummy ache. Is it okay if she rests here for a bit?”
“Of course. I can keep an eye on her.” I look down at the little girl. “Do you want some water? Maybe some ginger ale?”
She gives her head a shallow shake. “I don’t want anything.”
“Hey, Joe,” someone calls from the dining room. “Come tell the story about you and Bree in Chicago.”
Joe looks toward the table, then looks back at me, uncertainty marring his expression.
