Page 29 of The Enforcers: NOAH

Chapter10

Mina couldn’t believe she’d let Angus McHottie, aka Noah Reilly, talk her into going out with him. She was a twenty-nine-year-old almost-divorced mother with more problems that she even wanted to think about, and she was going out on a date with a twenty-four-year-old unemployed ex-soldier who thought it was okay her son believed in werewolves.

No. Wolf-people.

Of course, Noah was also sweet and hot and supportive, and he didn’t scare easily. He made her feel safe and cared about. He’d brushed off Robbie’s bullpoopie like it was nothing, and gone right on to playing on the floor with her little boy.

Who kept asking when he was going to see Mr. Noah Gray Woof again.

Noah had called her every day since Wednesday. Last night he’d called her when Robbie was there, and made wolf-howls on the phone with him before he went to bed.

At this rate, they were both going to fall in love with him.

Which could not happen. She’d told her lady parts that a bunch of times, but they kept intercepting her sane, sensible thoughts with flashes of Noah’s lips and dimples and the way his zipper bulged over his package, and fantasies of sliding the zipper down and wrapping her hand around that yummy shaft and licking it like a lollipop.

Those were not thoughts a broke unstable mom with pudgy thighs and a werewolf-obsessed son should be having. It would only lead to heartache.

But she still put on her lacy underwear Saturday night. Not that anyone was going to see it, because she wasn’t that kind of girl and this was only the first date, but what if she died of a heart attack brought on by overactive lady parts? Would she want the EMTs and the ER staff to see her in her holey granny panties? No, siree.

And when Noah drove up to her house in the muscle car, with its low sexy rumble, her lady parts started dancing the watusi.

Freaktards. This was not going to end well for anybody.

Okay. Okay. It was just a date. Just some food and a little conversation, and she’d eat lots of onions and forget the breath mints, and he’d be grossed out and her lady parts would be safe.

Mina opened her front door to nothing but flowers topped by a cowboy hat. Three bouquets filled her doorway. One was roses, one was exotic tropical flowers, and one was daisies and baby’s breath.

Um, okay. Sweet, but a little over the top for someone who looked like Angus McHottie and probably had girls spontaneously dropping their panties when he walked by.

Was he secretly a pathologically insecure psycho-stalker? Frack.

Gorgeous flowers, but…well…frack.

Noah peered out from behind the wall of blooms and registered her expression.

“Shit. I mean shoot. It’s too much, right? Overkill? The thing is, I started with roses, because they’re classic. But then I thought, no, they’re generic and boring, so I got the tropical flowers because, you know, exotic and special. But then I thought no, she studies nature and stuff so maybe she wants something more wildflower-y…”

He looked down at the bouquets. “So I got all three,” he finished lamely.

Her heart went a little squishy, knowing he’d put so much thought into it. “They’re beautiful,” she said.

“But it is overkill,” he said. “Admit it, you’re the one who’s scared now.”

Mina started giggling; she couldn’t help it.

“Little bit,” she said. “But it’s also really sweet. I can’t remember the last time someone brought me flowers, let alone tried this hard to figure out what I’d like.” She suddenly felt a little shy. “Thank you.”

He smiled, those smoky blue-green eyes lighting up. “Um, should we put them in water?”

She found jars and vases for all the flowers, taking some time to arrange them, her fingers lingering on the roses—an unusual shade of peach.

She’d always loved roses.

“You do like roses best,” he said, watching her.

“Now it seems boring and generic,” she teased. “But this color is gorgeous.”

He reached out and brushed a strand of hair out of her face. “You could never be boring. Or generic,” he said.