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Her voice through the phone line made him think of warm nights by a fire cuddled under a blanket, the two of them watching snow fall outside. He shook his head. Where had that image come from? Maybe his desire to be near Noelle ever since the moment he laid eyes on her at Grey’s. He’d admitted to himself sometime after he and Noelle had said goodnight the night before that he had feelings for her. He just hadn’t figured out what the hell to do about it.
“Hello?”
In his mental trip down happily ever after lane, he’d not spoken.Smooth, St. Claire. Real smooth.
“Hello. It’s Wes.”
“I know. Your name popped up on my screen.”
He could almost sense her smiling as she spoke. “What are you up to today?” Beyond making plans to bake together, as well as their initial coffee date, they hadn’t done anything together. And he wanted to see her.
“Franchesca, Holly, and I are up to our eyeballs in plans for the theater performance. We’re ready, but all the last-minute details are swamping us.”
Hmmmm. It didn’t sound like she had time for any kind of date. But, that didn’t stop him from asking.
“How about dinner?”
“I really wish I could, but I just can’t. I don’t think Holly and Franchesca would ever forgive me if I left them to this to go out.”
Her words gave him an idea.
“You’re right. You need to stay focused.”
“I really am sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. Will you ladies be working at your studio through the evening?”
“Yes.” He heard the sound of papers ruffling and Holly’s voice muffled in the background. “I’m afraid so.”
“Okay. Another time then.”
“Yes. I’ve gotta go. We’ll talk soon?”
“Absolutely.”
They said their goodbyes and hung up. Wes gave himself a mental pat on the back as he tapped out a name into the map on his computer. If he couldn’t take Noelle to dinner, there was no reason why he couldn’t take dinner to her.
*
Noelle looked upas the sound of the chime over her studio door twinkled through the air. The three women had had their heads down working for Lord only knew how many hours. Music played from the iPod dock in the corner and Holly and Franchesca chatted over Holly’s laptop about the look of the flyers she was designing. But it all faded away as Noelle took in the sight of Wes in her doorway, his hands filled with two huge bags from Rocco’s Italian Restaurant across the street.
Her brain wasn’t sure if she was happier to see him or the food, her mouth now watering at the thought of eating. They’d had a quick lunch of homemade sandwiches Holly had brought with them that morning, but other than that, she’d had little food all day. In dress pants and a button-down with a sweater overtop, his long winter coat completing the look that was all Wes St. Claire, Noelle decided she was definitely happiest to see him. The flutter of her heartbeat said so, although the rumble of her empty stomach gave it a hearty run for its money.
“Oh my gosh! You are the most amazing man on the planet!” Holly’s exclamation drew Noelle from her daydream of Wes standing there holding loads of Italian food.
“Well, that’s one I haven’t heard before.” He spoke to Holly but never took his eyes off Noelle.
“I highly doubt that,” Franchesca said, leaving her chair to take a bag from Wes and invite him inside.
Wait. Right. It wasn’t a dream. He was here looking good enough to eat, yet bearing the gift of food. The manwasamazing.
And she must look a wreck. Sitting on the floor, her legs bent back behind her, Noelle was poring over signs they’d worked on all day to place in the window of the dance studio as well as the drama studio. Her yoga pants were old and worn, her long sweater an enormous one she’d bought for days lounging around the house, and her hair had worked its way out of the braid she’d hastily done earlier that day.
Wes let Franchesca take the bags of food to the back room where they had plates and utensils and such. The aroma of marinara sauce, garlic, and fresh-baked bread tantalized Noelle’s senses as her friend walked by. Her stomach growled again. She and Holly had gone to dinner once at Rocco’s, a cute restaurant with red-and-white checkered tablecloths, and candles in empty Chianti bottles on each table. Although a tad cliché in its decorating, the food was fantastic.
“You didn’t have to bring us dinner,” Noelle said, wanting to be polite, but beyond grateful he’d chosen to do so.
“I know I didn’t have to. But you said you were swamped here and you all need to eat so…” He shrugged as if what he’d done wasn’t monumental in Noelle’s mind. Most of the men she’d known would’ve been sore with her for not being available for dinner. But he’d brought dinner to her door. Any thoughts of talking herself out of falling for Wes took a permanent vacation.
