“Oh, come on. You need a break. There’s a great little brewery in town, where I got the beers the other night, and you can meet my sister,” he said, heading for the back door.
Hissister?
“I’ll pick you up at, say, four.” He smiled confidently.
Who was she kidding? She was no match for his perfectly sculpted jawline, ’stache that made her core feel things it shouldn’t, and gorgeous get-lost-for-days eyes. “I guess I can spare a few hours on one condition.”
He raised one brow.
“You let me help you with the screens.”
“Deal.” And with that, he shook her hand, sending tingles up her spine.
Dahlia heard the pebbles crunch from inside the entryway. It was exactly four.
He was on time, and she was impressed.
Dahlia hadn’t been on a first date, if you could call it that, in … seventeen years. It felt strange to go on a date now but oddly comfortable. Although she had only known Noah for a few days, it felt like a lifetime.
Right after Noah left, she made an emergency FaceTime call to Kara. Kara was driving, so she pulled over until they found the right outfit. One that said, “Hey, look at me,” without trying too hard. After all, this wasn’t a date; it was a last-minute afternoon brewery trip. Which also screamed casual. It was decided that the short, strappy cream-colored floral dress would be best. Kara tried to convince her to pair it with her slip-on Birkenstocks, but gold flip-flops felt more fitting with the dress.
She pulled up Noah in her contacts, which she’d added the other day.I’ll be right out, Dahlia typed with raw fingertips. All that pinching and pulling of rough metal to get the screens tight enough was hard work. But she was happy to help. It felt like they were a team to some degree, and that the possibilities of their working relationship were endless.
“Harry, you be good while I am gone.” She lowered his bowl of kibble and sliced chicken. “Who has it better than you?”
He just moaned.
Dahlia slid a fireplace screen found in the basement in front of the fireplace opening and anchored it with a basket of wood. The last thing she wanted was more squirrel guests.
She took one last look at herself in the mirror. Her lips were a matte pink that felt like summer, and her hair curled in big, flowy waves. Her lashes were painted with a thin layer of mascara, and a light dusting of bronzer highlighted the high cheekbones she inherited from her mother. She always wanted to feel as pretty as her mother, and in this moment, she did. She tucked a blonde curl behind her left ear and let out a lengthy sigh. All she had to do was be herself and have a good time. If it were only that easy.
Dahlia closed the thick door behind her and walked toward the old, rusted mustard truck, feeling a bounce in her step. Noah had already gotten out like a gentleman and was leaning against it. He had on navy cargo shorts, a white shirt that complemented his tan, and his Timberland boots. His hair was wet and slicked back, and there was something in his hand. Upon further inspection, it was a single Montauk daisy.
“You look …” Noah was at a loss for words as he closed the gap between them. “Incredible.” He held out his hand for her to twirl, and she obliged.
She was on a cloud with cartoon hearts in her eyes.
“Oh, I almost forgot. This is for you.”
“For me, wow.” She took the stem from his grip casually, as if it were no big deal, when inside she was a gooey mess. He was thoughtful, and little by little, all the reasons why she shouldn’t give this a chance were fading away. And more and more, this was starting to feel like a date. “You clean up nice too,” Dahlia said, noticing he’d shaven some of his scruff. “I’m glad you kept the ’stache.”
His eyes sparkled. “You like it?”
“I do.” She smiled. He reminded her of a young Magnum P. I., another classic show she’d watched with Gran and Lil.
Noah opened the passenger side door for her.
“Thanks,” she said, climbing into the truck, feeling her dress stick to the taped pleather seat. Chivalry wasn’t dead after all.
He hopped in and closed the door. “So, you ready for a great night?”
“Yes,” she said with enthusiasm, meeting his assuring glance. A thousand butterflies released inside her. She was warming up to this idea of a no-strings-attached summer fling, but that’s all it could be, as much as she liked him. She had plans, and no boy would stand in her way. Not this time.
CHAPTER TEN
Dahlia glanced at Noah as he casually hung his left arm over the peeling steering wheel, his elbow permanently fixed to the window frame. The cool breeze caressed Dahlia’s hot summer skin. She leaned her head against the door, feeling content. For so long, Dahlia had tried to anticipate Spence’s moods. Surviving her marriage had meant being hypervigilant at all times, which left zero room for inner peace. The worst was when he drank. He knew how to hit below the belt. Things no woman wants to hear, like “I was never attracted to you, get a personality.” And the cherry on the sundae was “You’d have nothing if it weren’t for me.” But now she was never more ready to welcome a new season and a new sense of self in her life.
“You smell really nice. Like … gardenia and coriander,” Noah said softly.
