“Mrs. Sutton’s finest,” he said.
I hadn’t been in Buffaloberry Hill long, but I knew Mrs. Sutton’s pies. Everyone did. She was picky about who got them fresh. You had to wake up early or know her personally. And somehow, Noah had managed to bring one straight from her kitchen to this quiet little setup.
He didn’t make a fuss about it, but the effort was there, in every small detail.
I sat down as he reached into the bag again, pulling out a mason jar filled with something deep amber.
I arched a brow. “Homemade moonshine?”
Noah chuckled. “Close.” He unscrewed the lid and handed it over. “Try it.”
I took a cautious sip. A rich, smoky sweetness hit my tongue, laced with the tart bite of berries and the smooth burn of bourbon. My eyes widened.
“Huckleberry Bourbon Smash,” he said, settling beside me. “Figured you meant it when you said you’d take bourbon over champagne.”
I stared at him, still processing. “You made this?”
He smirked. “What? You think just because I lived in the city for a while, I forgot how to mix a decent drink?”
I took another sip, letting the flavors linger. “No. I just didn’t expect…” I trailed off, waving a hand at the whole setup—the pie, the drink, the spot.
He was watching me carefully, waiting.
“This is really nice, Noah.”
His smirk gave way to something like pride. “Yeah,” he said. “It is.”
And for the first time tonight, I let myself enjoy it.
“So let me get this straight. You owned half of a hockey team in Utah, know your way around sports injuries, and used to work in media?”
“Sounds about right.” He took a sip of bourbon. “Now I’m just a peaceful rancher.”
I narrowed my eyes. “What kind of media?”
He shrugged. “Ever heard of TwoByTwo?”
“Oh,thatkind of media.”
“So you have heard of it.”
“I mean, I was in prison, not under a rock. Sheryn swears by that app! Isn’t it in the top six social platforms in the country or something?”
“Sounds about right again.” His smirk was maddeningly casual. “TwoByTwo’s more than just social media. We handled digital newspapers, magazines, and streaming. I owned those too, once.”
I stared at him. “Two elephants on a boat. Two by two…Noah’sArk…” I gasped. “Damn, Noah Lucas. You’rethatNoah? You friggin’ own TwoByTwo!”
“Owned,” he corrected.
As if that erased the fact. He’d been one of those golden tech boys who made it big. And once you reached that stratosphere, the shine didn’t just rub off. Unless…
“Let me guess. You blew it all on a spaceship and gas-station tequila?”
He chuckled. “Would it matter if I did?”
It might’ve, if he carried himself like a man haunted by his lost treasure. But he didn’t. He had decency that money and status couldn’t fake.
“You seriously don’t look or sound like a billionaire,” I pointed out.
