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Nothing.
“Okay, then,” she murmured. She’d approach this from another angle.
Willow pulled out her phone and scrolled to Recents. Finding Noah Tannehill’s number, she typed out a text.This is Drew’s mom. I’m standing on your front porch and want to speak with you.
At least half a minute ticked by before her phone pinged with a response.Why?
I want to thank you. Among other things.
No need.
Well, yes, there is, too, a need.I can’t leave without speaking to you.
I’m busy.
Busy doing what? Torturing an animal? Setting another fire?Please. It’ll only take a minute of your time.
Another half a minute passed before he texted back.Did your kid get his stubbornness from you?
I’m afraid so.
Willow stared down at her screen, holding her breath. Finally, she heard footsteps approaching. She pasted on a smile as the door swung open. Her smile abruptly faded.
A fallen angel stood glaring down at her.
It was a fanciful notion. Ridiculous, really. Likely it popped into Willow’s head as a result of that paranormal romance she’d read last week. He did look a lot like how the main male character was described.
Noah Tannehill was absurdly handsome. His thick mahogany hair brushed the collar of a gray flannel shirt. His eyes were mesmerizing, a glowing cat’s eyes amber, though that didn’t come close to describing them. Willow figured she would need at least a dozen more adjectives to adequately do that job. He had strong, sharp bones and a complexion that appeared tan even in the middle of winter. His mouth was… well, Willow couldn’t tell how it was shaped because, at the moment, it stretched in a grim line to match his furrowed brow.
She was tall, but he towered above her—six foot three or four, Willow guessed. As he folded his arms across a broad chest, his shoulders appeared to be as wide as the front range of the Rockies.
Even with all that angry on, he was a beautiful man.
Okay, maybe he was a Ted Bundy type, after all.
“Well?” he asked.
Off-balance, Willow stuttered out the first thing that popped into her mind. “I’m a grinch, too. In fact, my sister calls me Grinchette upon occasion.”
“Excuse me?”
“Drew said you’re a bah-humbug type when it comes to Christmas, and so am I, so we have that in common.”
He folded his arms. “This is why you badgered me to answer the door?”
“I didn’t badger,” Willow defended. “I texted.”
“Multiple times,” he shot back. “That’s harassment. All because I played Good Samaritan to your kid.”
“I know. I’m a pest. It’s part of the job description when you’re a mother in today’s world.” Since she’d already dipped her toe in that particular pool, she might as well jump all the way in. “May I use your bathroom, please?”
Noah’s mouth gaped. “Whatisit with you people?”
“I have my grandmother’s small bladder. It’s a trial.”
He hesitated for a long moment, and Willow wondered if he’d deny her request.What are you hiding, Mr. Tall, Dark, and Cranky?
Finally, he exhaled a little sigh, stepped back, and opened the door wider. “Fine. Be my guest.”
