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“You’re terrible!” Noemi’s hand flashed out, fast, but he was faster.
She tried to hit him. She was aiming for his face, but likely would have struck somewhere around neck level. He’d never been smacked there before and anticipated a good Adam’s apple punch wouldn’t feel great, so he captured her wrist in his hand. She tugged, trying to dislodge her hand from his grip, but he wouldn’t unwind his fingers no matter how much smoke was pouring out of her ears.
“I am,” he agreed. “Even I’m surprised to say, I felt less terrible when I was with you. Actually, I felt the least terrible I have in years. Ages. Decades. Since my mom died. And that’s the honest truth.”
“I’m not going to believe a single word that comes out of your mouth ever again.”
“That would also imply that you’re going to stick around to hear more lies.”
“I’m not!” She tried to tug her hand away again and this time, he let her, unwinding his fingers so that she actually stumbled back and nearly fell on her ass.
“Can you tell me, Noemi, since you’re so into truth telling, what you hate most about me? Was it the fact that I lied to you about my name so I could try and get you to understand that I’m not so bad and things spiraled wildly out of control because we’re actually a good fit, or was it because I’ve made you come harder than you ever have in your life?”
“I faked it,” she hissed.
“All, let’s see…” He pretended to do a little mental math. “Eleven times? Or just ten?”
Noemi actually flipped him the bird, which he found totally adorable.
“That’s still the same thing as saying fuck you and we already established that you’re not going to do that. Unless you’re having second thoughts.”
“I hate you.”
“How did you find out anyway?”
“I pieced it together. The house. The fact that you knew my name when I didn’t tell you it. When you talked about growing up in New York, but you’re out here now.”
He rolled his eyes. “Maybe I don’t know what you’re talking about. Maybe I don’t know who the hell Byron is. Maybe I just moved into this house because the last one I was in was shit. Maybe your name was written on the coffee cup when I saw you in the shop. And maybe I moved across the country after my father died because I couldn’t stand anything that reminded me of him.”
She actually wavered for a second before she realized what he’d done. She shot him one last death glare, spun on her heel, and marched down the sidewalk.
“See you tonight, Noemi,” he called after her. “We both know you can’t stay away.”
She marched down the driveway, slammed her way into her rental car, and peeled away from the curb so fast that the tires actually squealed.
Before she was even halfway down the block, Byron had already turned back into the house in search of the keys for his own car. The thing might be a sedan when he was used to driving import sports cars, but he was pretty damn sure that even a four-cylinder engine was fast enough to catch Noemi.
There was no way he was going to let her go.
She didn’t know it yet, but she was made for him.
Maybe she did know it and that’s why she was so pissed. Okay, she was pissed because he’d acted like a douche. She was right about that. He was going to apologize, right after he got her back, dipped nearly to the ground like a princes in the movies, and kissed her breathless.
The thing was, he knew she was made for him.
Even if that thought scared him half to death, even if he never sold a single shoe in Europe, even if they never actually got married because she wasn’t into it and honestly, neither was he when it came right down to it, even if it took her years to fully earn her trust back, he’d work for it. He’d do anything it took.
There was only one thing he wouldn’t do.
Let her walk out on him.
For the first time in his life since his mother died and everything went to near total shit, he’d found meaning. He wasn’t that much of a coward and that much of an asshole that he was going to let it go. Even if he should.
He’d always been a fighter and it wasn’t in his nature to give up.
So yeah, the eighty year old, grey haired neighbor lady with the pink muumuu on the porch next door got an eyeful of his half naked form as he raced out to the car like a maniac and peeled out of the driveway like he was auditioning for the racetrack. He even remembered to wave at her shocked smile as he drove by. She must have enjoyed all the action, because her watering can paused in midair, spilling water all over the porch, while she waved back.
