“No!”
He jerked slightly, startled. “You knew that man, Napoleon?”
“No, but—” I swallowed. “I don’t want to ruin Sheryn’s wedding. Not over this.”
He didn’t answer right away. He just stared out the windshield, his knuckles white.
“Noah,” I tried. “He was just a moron. Didn’t think things through. It’s over.”
“I’ll be watching,” he said quietly, still staring straight ahead. “If he shows up again, one step too close, I’ll go to the sheriff. I mean it.”
I didn’t argue.
“He’s probably already on a plane back to Beverly Hills, thinking he got away with it,” I mumbled.
The rest of the ride stretched out in silence, the kind that wasn’t angry but still pulsed with everything unspoken. Every few minutes, he glanced over like he needed to confirm I was still breathing.
And even though I didn’t say it, I felt it.
Noah Lucas had just saved my life.
When he pulledinto the motel parking lot, Noah cut the engine but didn’t move right away. Instead, he turned slightly toward me.
“I’m sorry if I came across as pushy,” he said.
“You did.” I didn’t sugarcoat it.
He nodded like he expected that. “I’ve lost someone before.” He paused, his eyes flicking toward mine. “And I’ll be damned if I’m going to lose you. I know there’s nothing between us…or…hell, we were just supposed to have lunch.” He exhaled hard. “But even if you were just my lunch date, I am not losing you. Not to some bastard on a cliff.”
I stared at him. The intensity in his eyes could’ve leveled a lie before it even left my mouth.
“Understood,” I said.
“Thank you,” he murmured. He leaned back in his seat, and for a second, the tension bled from his shoulders.
Then I turned to him and met his gaze. “And in return, I need you to understand something too.”
He stilled.
“No sheriff. No report. No digging. No questions. Or I promise you, Noah, you’ll lose me anyway.”
A muscle ticked beneath his cheekbone, his thoughts running behind his eyes faster than words could catch.
But he didn’t try to reason or press.
“Okay,” he said at last.
A vow he didn’t like but would keep for me.
Noah helped me into the motel room. I headed straight for the shower, not looking back, because if I did, I might’ve tripped over the fact that he was just outside the door.
Steam filled the bathroom as I peeled off my clothes. Everything ached—my ribs, my back, even muscles I didn’t know I had. But beneath the soreness was something elseentirely. A rush of heat simmering under my skin, knowing he was a wall away.
I checked the damage. No bruises on my face. A nasty one on my left side, but the dress would cover that. And a few shallow cuts, nothing dramatic. I could still pull off the bridesmaid glam. Small miracle, really.
When I stepped out in fresh clothes, my hair towel-dried and limbs heavy, Noah was waiting with a first aid kit open on the table.
“God,” I said, eyeing the contents. “Whatdon’tyou have in there? Are you secretly MacGyver?”
