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“I’m not sorry I kissed you,” he admitted.
“I hope not.”
It was his turn to laugh. “Would it be bad of me to admit that I was hoping it might happen again?”
“No. I’m afraid I’d have to admit the same thing.”
“Interesting.” He took a sip of coffee, his eyes never leaving hers. The temperature in the room rose by at least ten degrees and it had nothing to do with the hot coffee he was drinking.
“Maybe we ought to learn how to make a pie first.”
Not the exact timing he had in mind, but he could be a patient man when the situation called for it. He nodded. “I’m ready. Teach me pies.”
Noelle proceeded to show him the recipe, reading through the ingredients and then the instructions. It didn’t look too tough. The Caramel Banana Cream Pie she’d chosen looked as if it was more mixing and layering than anything else. However, Wes paid close attention. After seeing the guy at the last Bake-Off burn his cookies, he didn’t want that kind of embarrassment. The whole thing was giving him nightmares already.
They moved from her kitchen table over to the counter and began. He liked the rhythm they settled into. She’d guide him but he was the one doing all the steps, not her.
“You’re a good teacher.” He was cutting bananas into slices to place over the graham cracker crust they’d made.
“Thanks. And you’re a good student. I can’t believe you never learned how to cook or bake though. Your mom never taught you, or Glenna, even how to boil pasta?”
Her teasing flowed through their conversation like it belonged, and Wes waited for the knot to form in his stomach at the subject of his mother, but it never came.
“My mom passed away a few years ago.”
“Oh. I’m so sorry.”
“She died of cancer. She loved it here in Marietta so she spent the last few years of her life here.”
“And that’s why your dad wants to stay.”
Funny how fast Noelle picked up on that, whereas Wes had to have Mike make it clear to him.
“Yes. After she died he made Montana home.”
She showed him how to combine the caramels and heavy cream in a small saucepan over medium heat. As he stirred, she continued their conversation where they’d left off, the whole scene flowing like a dance between them. “But you don’t want to make Montana home?”
Whether she intended the question to be loaded or not, he wasn’t sure. But it was a fair one to ask.
She stood beside him at the stove. With a small spoon, she scooped up some caramel and tasted it. Her “hmmmm” sent heat through him from head to toe. Her eyes met his, the answer to her question still not voiced. A small blob of caramel sat on her bottom lip. Before his brain could catch up with what his body was doing, he leaned down and kissed it from her lips. The only sound in the room was soft music playing, a man singing about how he could die a happy man with his woman beside him. Boy, wasn’t that the truth?
Wes pulled back, appreciating the plumpness of her lips from having been thoroughly kissed, the sugary texture of caramel still on his tongue. “I didn’t want to be in Montana a few weeks ago, but I’m beginning to change my mind.”
She blinked, her mind catching up with the fact that he’d answered her question.
“You would really make Montana home?”
Not ready to make any solid commitments, but falling harder and harder by the second for Noelle, Wes turned his attention back to stirring the caramel mixture on the stove. “It’s an option.”
They continued with the recipe, the moment fading after Noelle realized the caramel was done and ready to pour over the bananas. Distracted by their task, they fell into a rhythm again of reading instructions and adding ingredients. As much as he’d like to kiss Noelle all night long, Wes was grateful for the time to get his head back on straight. Caught up in the moment of her asking about Marietta, not to mention the caramel on her lip that was begging to be licked off, he’d kissed her again and still had no clue what she wanted from a relationship, if she even wanted one at all.
“…Franchesca thinks it will all be fine, but I’m not so sure.”
Lost in thought, he’d missed the first part of what Noelle had said.
“I’m sorry. I missed that. She thinks what will be fine?” He finished washing his hands and drying them on his apron. Noelle was putting the pie in the fridge to cool. She said it had to “set,” whatever that meant.
“Franchesca found out who’s buying our building. She’s actually kind of excited about it. I guess it’s some fancy Hollywood director. He’s even coming to town this weekend. Wants to look at the property.”
