“I guess it’s safe to say you really weren’t upset about the engagement announcement then?”
“No.” I laugh lightly. “I’m happy for her, you know? Things between us might not have worked out, but I still want her to be happy. That’s all I ever wanted for her, actually. I hope she gets that.”
Odette gives me a sad smile, and if she were anyone else, it might piss me off. But it’s her, and I find myself not minding it as much.
“I’m sorry,” she says. “Though I’ve clearly never been married, I have seen my fair share of people go through divorce, and I know it’s never easy. So I’m sorry things didn’t work out with Chelsea.”
“Thanks.”
“But for what it’s worth, you deserve your happiness too. And I don’t think you need to change anything about yourself. You are enough, and I like you just fine, Noah.”
I’m sure that’s easy for her to say. We’re just having sex and having fun. We aren’t in a real relationship. I might not be enough for her, just like I wasn’t enough for Chelsea. I’m afraid what I’m doing for the barn won’t be enough for Izzy’s wedding either. That it won’t be enough to bring in more revenue so we can make the iceplex happen. That no matter how hard I work, I am still not enough.
Still, I give her a soft smile, then hide all my doubts behind a bite of food.
But I really want to tell herI like you just fine, too, Odette.
And I’m not quite sure how to feel about that.
We finish our dinner with much lighter topics than my divorce, then head to the ice cream shop up the street.
I hadn’t planned to spend my evening with her, but I’m glad I am. I was just going to go back to my place and read in bed until I fell asleep with my book on my face, but this is much better than that.
“Now you’re getting the worst kind of ice cream too?” she complains as we leave the shop, each holding a cone.
“How is vanilla the worst?”
“Because it’sboring. It’s what people who can’t make up their minds get. Or old people.”
That’s the second time tonight she’s called me old, and the second time I feel like I need to prove to her I am far from it.
I grab her hand, tug her into a nearby alleyway, and press her up against the wall, pushing my knee between her legs.
She grins up at me, then brings her ice cream cone to her lips and licks it slowly. “Well, hi.”
I growl, then kiss her, not caring that she tastes like cotton candy ice cream or that my own cone is leaking down my hand, making a mess.
I have to kiss her. I can’t wait for another second.
I told myself I would leave her be tonight, yet here I am anyway, making out with her in an alleyway because I just can’t seem to get enough. It’s reckless. Anyone could walk by at any second, but I can’t seem to find it in me to care. Not with the pleased noises she’s making or the way she rocks against my thigh. How she’s pulling me closer and begging with her body for more.
Not when she’s got me completely under her spell.
“Noah,” she groans. “What are you doing to me?”
“Kissing you.” I echo her words from the night she showed up at my house, then take her mouth again.
Our ice cream is definitely a melted mess on this warm July night, but so what? It’s worth it to feel her body that’s so damn soft under me.
Her knee-length blue skirt that matches her eyes is bunched up high, and I can’t help myself as I snake my hand between us and cup her pussy through her panties.
She’s wet.
No, not just wet. She’s drenched, and it’s all for me.
I want to taste her. I want to hike her skirt up and see how she compares to this sweet dessert dripping down my hand, but I can’t.
Not here.
