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Noelle nodded. “I’m a dancer. Well, I was.” She looked over toward Annalise, now headed back to her uncle. She stepped beside him, settled her little hand inside his big manly one. Noelle’s insides tingled again. For heaven’s sake, she needed to get her act together.
The child smiled up at them, a glimmer in her eye. If Noelle didn’t know any better, she would guess there was some kind of matchmaking going on. But that was impossible. A five-year-old girl wouldn’t have the ability to cook something like that up. Or would she?
Franchesca nudged Noelle with her elbow. Her thoughts spun with all that had occurred in the last few moments, knocking her mentally off balance. “Oh. Sorry. This is Franchesca.” Noelle motioned toward her friend beside her. “She runs the drama school next door.”
Franchesca held out a hand for Cute Guy to shake, which he did.
“I’m Wes. Wes St. Claire.” He spoke to Franchesca but looked at Noelle, one corner of his mouth lifted in a smile, an unspoken exchange that Noelle couldn’t have introduced him if she’d wanted to. With a tilt of his head, he turned to Noelle with his hand out for her to shake and said, “And you are…?”
She smiled at his teasing. “Noelle Olsen.” Their hands met and warmth flooded her unlike ever before. Even as they’d danced, there’d been a connection, but not this. This was more like…coming home.
Noelle pulled back first, uncertain how to handle all the emotions that crackled in the air. Her eyes never left his, however, which were filled with mischief. He was enjoying this. Her frazzled state at them meeting again, not knowing his name. The man exuded confidence. The kind where people didn’t say no to him often, if ever. The kind where he walked into a room and respect was implied, if not demanded.
Noelle had met the type. Men like Wes St. Claire moved through the arts and culture crowd in San Francisco. She’d spent many a night at a fundraiser or event promoting the arts where guys just like him wandered the room. Noelle didn’t have too high an opinion of such people, but Wes came across different. A genuine warmth brewed underneath the armor of Armani.
It was funny. She recalled the same sort of confidence in the few interactions she’d had with his brother when he dropped off or picked up Annalise, but not at this level. Maybe fatherhood had softened him? Who knew? In the few moments she’d seen Wes with his niece, she imagined the child had done some softening with her uncle as well.
They stood there, looking at one another, questions and answers wanting to be voiced, but neither one made the first move. Annalise tugged on his arm. “Uncle Dubs, are we still going out for ice cream?”
Pulled from his trance by the child’s words, he looked down at his niece. “Of course, My Lise. We can even make it a double scoop, but that’s our secret, ’kay?” He put a finger to his lips and winked. The little girl’s face lit up. Noelle felt as if her face was on fire from having the man look at her. She understood Annalise’s reaction.
“Ice cream? On a day like today?” Franchesca asked.
Wes looked at them again and shrugged. “It’s her favorite.” As if that explained getting a frozen treat on a January day in Montana when it was actual freezing temperature outside.
“And Miss Noelle said she would help you learn to bake for the action Grandfather put you in.”
With that, Noelle’s eyes grew wide and her heart sank to her stomach. She guessed not much threw Wes off his game, but even he had the same reaction.
He looked down at his niece, now staring up at him, her little eyelashes fluttering. Man, this kid was good. “What are you talking about, My Lise? Action?” He looked to Noelle for help, but words escaped her. Her mind couldn’t figure out how to explain what the child meant, as well as get herself out of it without sounding like she was turning him down. Which she would be doing but…
“She means auction,” Franchesca cut in, still beside Noelle and as engrossed in the scene as she would be a blockbuster movie. “She heard us talking about the bachelor auction coming up and got this idea that, well…” Her voice trailed off as she looked to Noelle to finish.
Annalise did it for her. “I said she could help you! Isn’t that a great idea, Uncle Dubs?” She pulled on his arm so he’d lean down closer to her level. She whispered as a child does where those standing nearby can still hear. “I know Glenna makes all our food so you can’t bake. Daddy does a little, but that’s because Mommy taught him. You don’t have anyone to teach you. Glenna is too busy. Miss Noelle is the best teacher I know so you’ll win that action for sure.” She attempted to wink at him as he had done to her moments before, but ended up blinking both eyes instead.
Under any other circumstance, the moment would be oozing cuteness, except Noelle still struggled to figure out how to get herself out of this mess. Cute Guy…Wes was someone she was curious about, for sure, but maybe go out to dinner, meet for drinks. Not bake together. That sounded so domestic and homey. Not first date material.
Franchesca’s stifled giggle beside her did not go unnoticed.
Wes cleared his throat. He looked back at Noelle. “As appealing as that arrangement sounds, I’m afraid my precious niece here has jumped the gun. I haven’t agreed to be in any auc…”
“Sure you did, Uncle Dubs. Grandfather said you had to. And when Grandfather says to do something, we have to be ’bedient.” Her eyes got huge as she nodded to the adults, hammering home that whatever her grandfather said was law.
“It’s o-bedient, My Lise,” Wes corrected. “And no, I haven’t agreed.” He spoke the last part more to Noelle than anyone else.
“But Unc…”
“Annalise. Put your coat on, please. We’ll go get your ice cream.”
At the sound of her uncle calling her by her actual name as opposed to what was obviously his pet name for her—point in the “turn her insides to mush” column of Wes St. Claire’s attributes—Annalise said a quiet “Yes, sir,” then walked to get her coat from the coat rack, much less spring in her step than before.
“She’s pretty stinking cute,” Franchesca said, breaking some of the tension.
Wes took a deep breath in and let it out. “Yes. She is. And she uses it against us constantly.”
Noelle laughed. “She is pretty hard to resist.”
His grin, along with the look in his eyes, made her knees go weak. “Does that mean you’re agreeing to help me learn how to bake?”
