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Noelle smiled but admitted nothing. At least not out loud. Her sister was right. She’d fallen and fallen hard for Wes St. Claire. But no matter how much she rattled it around in her head, she couldn’t come up with how to make it work.
“Maybe friendship with him is the best plan.”
Their doorbell chimed and Holly stood to open the door. On the other side was Wes, dressed again in jeans and a dark Henley, an apron draped over him that said, “Real Men Bake Cookies.”
Holly laughed as she grabbed her coat and work bag from the chair by the door. She hugged Noelle and whispered, “Good luck with that friendship plan,” patted Wes’s shoulder as she passed him, and headed out the door.
Noelle took one look at the man and had to admit, without a doubt, she was in big trouble.
*
Wes stood inthe doorway, confused by the look on Noelle’s face.
“What? What is it? The apron too much?”
She closed her mouth, her chin having been almost on the floor. A hand placed over her mouth did nothing to stifle her laughter. “No. I think it’s just perfect.”
He looked down. “They didn’t have one that said anything about making pies, but since I’ve already baked cookies, I figured it was all good.”
Noelle looked him up and down. Oh yes, it was all good.
“Get in here.” She motioned for him to come in since he still stood on the doorstep, arms open so she could read his apron.
As she closed the door behind him, he leaned in to place a soft kiss on her cheek. “It’s good to see you.”
“It’s good to see you too.”
Her eyes agreed with her statement as she looked up at him, but he could sense she still didn’t know how to feel about what was happening between them. He hoped their time together learning about pies would be the open door he was looking for to find out. After New York, he’d decided he wanted to pursue something with Noelle, but he didn’t know if she felt the same.
“Come on in. I’ve got everything ready in the kitchen.” She motioned toward the small room to the right of the entry then went ahead as he followed. “Remember, pies aren’t my strong suit, but I’ll do my best,” she said over her shoulder.
Wes eyed the living room and hallway that led to three doors, most likely their bedrooms and a bathroom, before stepping into the kitchen area with her. Maybe a grand gesture such as New York was a bit much for their first date. Although, Noelle had yet to act as if his wealth bothered her, or that her tiny apartment did either.
“Would you like some coffee?”
“Sure. That would be great.”
“I know this is nothing compared to what you’re used to, but the kitchen in the diner won’t have the space your family’s kitchen does so it’s good practice. I think it’s easier to work in a smaller space, myself. Everything within reach and all that, but that’s just me.”
In jeans and a long sweater, she looked comfortable. Her feet were encased in blue socks with white snowflakes. Scenes of her wrapped in his arms by a fire on a snowy night filled his head again. Similar scenes had been doing that more and more the past few days.
She smiled as she handed him a steaming mug. “Do you want to sit and go over the recipe? We haven’t had much time this round to talk. This week sort of got away from us.”
“Is that bad?” Yeah. He’d admit it. He was fishing for positive feedback from her about their trip.
“Not at all. Have a seat.”
Two chairs sat on either side of a little table. She pointed for him to take one while she occupied the other.
“Would you like to take off your apron? I would imagine it’s not that comfortable while sitting.”
Wes looked down. He’d forgotten he had the damn thing on. Huh. Maybe he’d gotten used to wearing one. That thought sent a chill through him. Doing this Bake-Off thing for his dad was turning out to be better than he imagined, but he didn’t see himself in the kitchen a ton anytime soon. “I’m good. It’s not that bad.”
Her laughter floated through the kitchen like a melody. “I don’t believe you, but okay. And thank you again. The trip to New York was amazing.”
“You’re welcome.”
Their eyes met and based on the heat rising in her cheeks she was thinking of the same thing he was.
