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She threw the silver Honda Civic into reverse, backed out of her parking space, and made her way to the Cortez house.
Twenty minutes later, she pulled off the George Washington Memorial Parkway that led out to historic Mount Vernon and onto the narrow roads of her old neighborhood. Neither she nor her parents lived here anymore, her parents having moved to Philadelphia while she was in college so her mom could take a new job, but Noah’s family still lived in the same house that she’d half grown up in. As she pulled into the big gravel circular drive in front of the two-story brick house, Kristina once again felt like she was coming home.
Noah’s dark green Ford Explorer sat in the driveway. Perfect.
When knocking failed to bring an answer, Kristina found the spare key under the middle flowerpot where it had lived for at least fifteen years. She unlocked the door, returned the key, and stepped inside. She almost called out, “Honey, I’m home,” but after what had happened between them the other night, maybe that wouldn’t be funny?
That she had to even give it a second thought represented all the issues their kissing raised in a nutshell.
“Noah? It’s me,” she said instead.
She poked through the first floor but found everything quiet and empty, so she headed downstairs. Running water told her the shower was on.
No problem. She’d just wait for him to be done and then she’d let him know that she was there. She sat on the big leather couch and flipped through social media on her phone. And tried like hell to ignore all thoughts of Noah in the shower. Naked. Wet. Muscles glistening.
Stop it, Kristina! Right.
She flicked through her Facebook newsfeed. Read the new comments about her summer workshop position. Liked a video about cats jumping in and out of boxes. Congratulated a friend announcing a promotion.
The water turned off.
Noah is wet and naked and getting out of the shower now.
Ack! Stop it!
She could be normal. Just like she’d been for the previous nineteen years that she’d known him. Determined, she pushed off the couch and crossed to his bedroom door. It sat a few inches ajar, so into the opening she called, “Noah, it’s Kristina. Just didn’t want to scare you by being out here.”
The click of a door opening. “Kristina?”
She chuckled at the surprised tone of his voice. “Yup. Get decent and get your butt out here,” she said.
The bedroom door whipped open, and there stood Noah dripping wet holding a white towel around his hips. So close she could’ve reached out and tugged it off. “Everything okay?” he asked, his brows set into a deep frown.
“Uh…what?” she asked, her gaze stuck on his abdomen. He had the hint of a six pack. Since when did Noah have a six pack? Her gaze raked upward. And he had a tattoo on his left arm where his biceps reached his shoulder. The Marine Corps eagle-globe-anchor symbol in stark black.
“I asked if you were okay,” he said, a weird tone in his voice. Maybe because she was standing there slack-jawed and drooling? Crap.
She tore her eyes away from his body and finally looked at his face. Water droplets ran from his hair. They continued down his neck to the warm, olive skin of his chest. She wanted to lick him dry. When had Noah Cortez become so freaking hot? Her friend Noah Cortez.
Kristina cleared her throat. “Yeah. Yes. Definitely. More than okay.”
“Then why are you here?” He raked a hand through his hair, making his muscles move in all sorts of fascinating ways. “Not, of course, that I’m not glad to see you.”
She forced her gaze to stay locked with his dark brown eyes. “I’m here because you’ve been avoiding me. So I’m making sure you can’t avoid me anymore. I want Seven Guys and you’re coming with me.” Her use of the nickname eked a small smile from him. Five Guys was their favorite burger joint, and always had been. Add Ben and Jerry to those five and you got seven… It had made sense when she was sixteen, anyway. And they needed some old-time normalcy right about now. At least sh
e did. “So, uh, go get decent.”
Before I tackle you to the ground and make us both wet.
“Yeah, okay. I guess I could eat,” he finally said.
Good. Because she wasn’t giving him a choice.
Five minutes later, he walked back out in a dark gray T-shirt and a pair of jeans that hung low on his hips. Kristina rose and nearly fumbled her phone, but finally managed to pull herself together. “Mind if I use your bathroom real quick?” she asked, stepping toward his bedroom door.
“Course not,” he said as she disappeared into his room. “Oh, uh, wait. It might be better if you go upstairs.”
“I can’t wait,” she called as she flipped on the bathroom light. “I’ll be quick.”
