Page 18 of Picture This

Noah took out two water bottles and two wraps rolled in foil. He sat on his blanket, leaning against the foot of the bed, his long legs stretched out.

Lord, he had great legs. Never in my life had I admired calf muscles the way I did today.

“These were probably supposed to be for lunch,” he said, handing me one. “Usually the host will build a fire, cook steaks and potatoes for dinner.”

“Poor Mark.” I’d heard all about the vomit incidents. Both of them.

“He’s the victim in all of this.”

“Except you’re the guy who had to clean up puke,” I said.

“Yes, but I’m also the guy in the tent with a beautiful woman.”

My heart skipped. “Noah Chappel. Are you flirting with me?”

“Yes.” He answered without hesitation. “Want me to stop?”

“Nope.”

“Good.” His smile was infectious as he stared at me, holding my gaze with such intensity I couldn’t look away.

I’d spent most of my life trying not to stare at Noah. Trying to hide blushes and shy smiles. Pretending that a thousand butterflies weren’t fluttering their wings in my belly every time he glanced my way.

Emily had always said that it would be weird, Noah and me. But it wasn’t. Never in my life had I felt this comfortable with a man. Yes, I was nervous. I was so excited that my hands had trembled for our first three poker hands. But there wasn’t a place on earth I’d rather be right now.

“Thanks for coming to get me,” I said.

“I should have come with you from the start.” He twisted off the cap of a water bottle, handing it to me. “I was supposed to come up here, but Emily wanted you to have some alone time with your boy, Jake.”

“Definitely not my boy.” I grimaced. “But Emily’s been on a matchmaking kick ever since I broke up with my ex. She thinks a new relationship is the best way for me to get over an asshole. I disagree.” Dumping the asshole was my way to get over it.

“Bad breakup?”

“You could stay that. He took a bunch of pictures of me while I was asleep in his bed. Naked. He posted them online without my permission.”

“What the fuck?”

“He called it ‘art’ and told me if anyone should understand that concept, it should be me. Oh, and it was okay because he blurred out my nipples. He took the post down because I threatened to press charges if he didn’t, but he thinks I overreacted.”

“Damn.” Noah dragged a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s done now. He’s a forensic photographer too, so our paths cross from time to time, but I do my best to forget he exists. Emily brings him up more than anyone. She worries. If we were at home, I would have told her to forget about Jake. But it’s her wedding weekend.”

“So you came glamping with your boy.”

“Stop.” I laughed, rolling my eyes. “You should have come with us.”

“It’s Emily’s weekend. She gets her way. And let’s be honest, she usually gets me to do whatever she wants. I’m not great at telling her no.”

Noah had always doted on Emily when we were younger, but their dynamic had changed after the accident. Since then, he’d indulged her every request. I couldn’t remember a time since the wreck that I’d heard him tell her no.

When she was a sophomore, he’d been driving her to volleyball practice when they’d gotten into a car crash. A woman on her phone had blown through a stop sign and T-boned Noah’s truck.

Emily had been riding in the back seat because Noah’s football gear had been in the front. Her side of the vehicle had taken the brunt of the impact, and though everyone in the accident had walked away, she’d gotten a few scrapes and deep cuts on her forearms. Three of the gashes had needed stitches, and though they were faint, she still had scars.

She rubbed them whenever she was anxious or upset. It had become a nervous habit that I doubted she even realized she was doing. But if Noah was around, a single touch on her forearms, and he would agree to anything she asked.

“My parents think I spoil her,” he said. “After the accident, I just . . .”