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“I’ll take a kiss.”
The gall of this muther... “The hell you will.”
“Whoa, Callahan,” Jimmy adds.
Eyes blazing, fixed on me, Noah says, “Jim––take a hike around the block.”
“Jimmy, do not do that.”
When Jimmy doesn’t move, Noah’s head swivels in his direction and a glaring match ensues.
Oh brother.
“You know what, Jimmy, let me deal with this.”
“You sure?” Jimmy’s voice is warm and his brown eyes warmer, hardening when they cut back to Noah. “Because I can escort him out of here.”
Noah chuckles. Jimmy isn’t built as robustly as Noah but he’s no slouch, either. He rides bulls for a living. He’s not going to go down easily. I’m almost tempted to let him try.
“Yeah, I’ll be fine. I’m leaving soon anyway.”
With a nod and a peck on the cheek, Jimmy leaves. Not before saying, “He gives you any trouble, Maren, and I’ll be back.”
Eyes narrowed, my attention returns to Noah. “This isn’t a kissing booth, jackass.”
He hides a smile beneath a cough. “Afraid you might like it? I get why that would be awkward for you.”
I’m so desperate to slap the humor off his face, my good hand gets a nervous twitch. “I’m more afraid you might cry. Still shouting mommy when you finish?”
He places his hands on the armrests of my chair and slowly leans forward. I do not move. I do not recoil. I refuse to let him think he can intimidate me. Face-to-face, I breathe in the air we share. For a moment I think he’s going to do it, kiss me, and my chest gets hot and tight, my heart punching my breastbone.
“You have me mistaken with your current boyfriend.” His voice is a low, seductive murmur. “The only person shouting when we were together was you, and if I recall correctly, mostly the Lord’s name in vain.” His liquid-fire eyes soften and slide from my eyes to my lips. “Don’t worry, He forgives you.”
“Fuck you,” I whisper-hiss, low enough that only he can hear.
“Any time, baby. Any time.”
Well that does it. My frustration peaks and blows, boiling over into fury. “I was right. You haven’t changed one bit.”
I don’t know what game he’s playing. I have no idea what his intentions are, but I’m not going to be part of them.
I lean left, looking around him. “I’m done, folks,” I say, speaking to the rest of the people waiting for autographs. A bunch of groans meet my announcement. “Thank you for supporting the PBR.”
I hop off the high chair and push at his chest to get past him. He falls back easily. Before I can get away however, he grabs my upper arm.
“I’ve changed.”
He looks so serious I almost want to laugh in his face. Instead I take off, darting quickly behind one of the tents so we don’t make a scene again.
“Maren!”
Something in his voice stops me. Belatedly, I recognize it as a broken note of distress. I turn and see the struggle on his face, the vein in the middle of his forehead in stark relief. The one I know pops up when he’s really upset. For a moment it gets my full attention.
“Are you in love with him?”
Time to strap in for another emotional rollercoaster ride. I shake my head in disbelief.
“Why do you care?” The disbelief turns into frustration. “What difference does it make? Where do you even get the balls to ask me that!”
“Are you?” His voice is low and quiet and it saps me of my will to hurt him. I don’t have it in me to be mean when he won’t fight back. So I do the only thing I can, I give him the truth.
“I love him.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
“Well, that’s all you’re getting.”
“Ready to go?” Annabelle suddenly appears out of nowhere, bright-eyed and face oddly flushed. Her blue eyes bounce between the two of us.
“Yeah, I’m ready,” I tell her while my attention remains on Noah. “I’ve seen all I needed to see.”
Chapter Twelve
Maren
Noah and I never dated in high school. In tenth grade Noah started dating Crystal Roy. She was fifteen. She was gorgeous. She had a C cup. I was twelve and a half, and had scabs on my knees. There was no contest.
It was only natural that I gradually started seeing less of him. He was the star wide receiver on the football team and when he wasn’t devoting his time to team-related activities during the season, he was spending it with her.
We still had our video game battles once a week. I looked forward to those like a meth head looks forward to their next fix. And he still made time to come to a few of my matches, the ones held at the Westwood Tennis Center in Norman or Oklahoma City Tennis Center. And as always, unless I was traveling for a tournament, I always attended his home games. So it wasn’t a total loss. But as the years trudged on the difference in age became abundantly clear.
