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“Have fun! Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!”
“That leaves me with way too many options,” I say, rushing over to press the button to let Noah in the main door. Ever since the Wood Brothers took over this building, the door buzzer thing actually works consistently, keeping out some of the sketchy characters that used to come knocking on random doors looking for Presley. It was really unsettling for a while. I didn’t know her that well before she moved out, but rumor has it that Wade Wood had to pay off a Russian oligarch to make the trouble go away, and then the FBI got involved.
Jasmine blows a raspberry at my comment then blows me a kiss.
“Thanks for your help, friend. Have a good night.”
“Wait! I want to see this boy!”
“Jasmine, no.”
“After everything I’ve done for you? You didn’t listen to me when I warned you against you-know-who. Let me have this.”
“Fine,” I say, rolling my eyes and going to the door, my stomach twisting and the sound of heavy boots on the creaky stairs below.
I open it, swallowing hard.
Noah is on the other side, still in his work uniform, a duffel bag in one hand. He removes his hat and looks like he’s genuinely happy to see me.
“Hi.” His wide smile is utterly heartbreaking.
“Hi,” I say, all breathy and stupid sounding, leaning against the edge of the door to hold myself up.
“Wow. I mean…wow,” he says, blinking at me.
I blush, and I think I manage a “thank you.” We both stand here like smiling fools, taking each other in, until Jasmine reminds me she’s still on the phone.
ChapterSeven
Noah
“He’s a cop?! Ursula, you didn’t say anything about this guy being a cop!”
Apparently, I interrupted a FaceTime call with a friend, and said friend spotted my badge and uniform.
I move away from the door. “Should I wait outside until you’re off the phone?”
Ursula opens her mouth to speak, but the person on the phone hears me and jumps in. “You stay right there and let me look at you.”
This person has the tone of voice that reminds me of my grandmother, and I don’t dare not obey.
“Yes, ma’am,” I say automatically.
Ursula holds the phone up for my inspection and mouths,I’m sorry, Jasmine is a lot.
On the screen, a woman I don’t know adjusts her glasses and peers out at me. “I heard that, Ursula,” she says, then lets out a long sigh. “What are your intentions with my friend here, young man?”
There is no way I’m telling this woman my truth—that I fell in love with Ursula the moment I saw her. That I sign up for every blood drive, toy drive and disaster relief effort because, well, I love my town, but also because I know Ursula will be there. And, this person does not need to know that her friend is it for me. Ursula is endgame.
“I intend to take her to a very wholesome Christmas ball and have her home by midnight.”
The woman nods and narrows her eyes at me. “How wholesome are we talking?”
“It’s a community fundraiser for a group that specializes in providing comfort animals to hospice patients.”
“Hm. And will there be booze at this event?”
“Most certainly.”
