Page 6

Wow, she makes me want a cookie so bad.

“Oh, I'm sorry!” She grabs my forearms, a knee jerk reaction so she doesn’t stumble again. She peers up at my face, registering who’s holding her for the first time and her cheeks instantly flame. She’s caught off guard, and I wonder if this is the first genuine reaction I’ve seen from her. Perhaps, she’s not so unaffected by me, after all.

My mouth pulls up in a slow, satisfied grin. “That’s alright, angel. You okay?”

She pushes away from me and takes a few steps back. “I’m fine.”

The distance allows me to get my first glimpse of her in her bridesmaid dress. I have to close my gaping mouth to keep my drool from dripping onto the floor. Hot damn, this woman. Her dress is a pinkish red color and fitted perfectly on top, with one thin strap going around the back of her neck. The bodice shows off her slim figure, then the delicate fabric flows out at her waist, giving the dress a fun and youthful flare. Coral is a great color on her, enhancing her fair complexion. I love that I can see her smooth skin and that it’s not marred by a spray tan. The urge to pull her back in my arms and place a kiss on one of those bare shoulders nearly steals my breath away.

I blink a few times, trying to get the Noel-induced-haze from my eyes. “You look—” I’m at a loss for words.

“Like a bridesmaid?” She pinches her lips to the side; she seems unsure, maybe even self-conscious. Another look into the real woman.

“Breathtaking.”

Her eyes widen in surprise, probably because I gave her a genuine compliment. No obnoxious, over-the-top flirting. Just stating the first thought that popped into my head. Her eyes drop down to my feet and then quickly back up to my face.

“You look nice, too.” Her voice is strained, like it literally pains her to pay me a compliment.

“Thank you.”

We stare at each other for a moment, neither of us knowing what to say next. We’ve never had a real, non-sarcastic conversation before.

She blinks a few times, then brushes past me into the spacious kitchen. Noel starts taking items out of the fridge and setting them on the marble countertop.

“What are you doing?” I ask, striding into the kitchen and leaning against the marble countertop.

Her back is toward me as she digs in the fridge. “The bride needs lunch. And as the maid of honor, I’m making sure she gets exactly what she wants today.”

She bends at the waist to take something off one of the lower shelves. I notice the way the skirt of her dress hikes up, exposing more of those long, lean thighs. I squeeze my eyes shut and count backward from ten, trying to get the image out of my mind.

“Why are you making that face?” Noel’s voice draws me back to the present and I open my eyes.

“Uh, nothing. I’ll help you make lunch.”

She sighs, then turns and opens a cabinet. The plates are on the top shelf, and she stretches to grab them. “I don’t need your help.”

Noel is a few inches too short to reach the plates. This is my time to shine. I settle right behind her, placing a hand on her waist so I don’t startle her. Reaching up, I easily grab the plates off the shelf with my other hand. When I step back, I set them on the counter next to the other supplies she’s accumulated.

Her face and chest are pink with a delicious blush, and I have to fight a smile. I decide that although Noel doesn’t want to be attracted to me, she definitely is. Now my curiosity is piqued… if she’s attracted to me, why does she fight it?

Clearing her throat, Noel schools her face back into a neutral expression. She begins opening up a bunch of containers filled with absurdly healthy-looking food and assembling a salad.

“Are those seeds?” I ask, eyeing one that appears to be tiny, brown dots.

“It’s quinoa.”

“And that?” I point to a container full of green liquid.

“Homemade dressing.”

“And what about that?” I nudge a container filled with chopped lettuce, just to be annoying, and hoping she’ll finally look at me.

She groans. “That’s lettuce, Colby.” Her eyes meet mine and she purses her lips.

“Oh!” I grin. “Do you always eat this healthy?”

“It’s not for me. Mel eats a special diet for her anxiety.” The dressing spills as she spoons it over the top of the salad she’s compiled.