Out of the Blackness (15 page)

Sam grabs my hand where it still rests against the table. “Aves,” he says slowly, “calm down. It’s okay. Kyle says Noah's a good guy. If all you can give him is your friendship, he won’t push for more.”

He’s holding something back. I can tell by the tone of his voice. It’s the same tone he used six months ago when he had a really bad day at work—and, oh yeah, some cranked-out drug dealer had shot at him. But as much as I’m trying to figure out what that
something
is, it has to take a backseat to keeping control of myself. As much as I want to spin out and let the panic chase me down the hall to my room, I recognize this as the first true test of my newfound determination to stop living in fear. If I’m going to be well enough to be on my own when Sam and Kira decide to get married, then I have to start now. Somehow, starting down that road because of something related to Noah seems appropriate on a multitude of levels, none of them comfortable.

***

Kyle leaves shortly after lunch so he can go open Go-Kart World for the Christmas Day crowds. I almost wish I could go with him, but I have a feeling the crowds would be way too much to handle today. Instead, I let Sam and Kira talk me into playing another Scrabble tournament. For someone who’s always surrounded by books, I’m lousy at the game.

Noah shows up about four o’clock, arms laden with gift bags, a string of ringing sleigh bells around his neck.
He really is a dork
, I think, unable to hide my smile. I watch his arrival from the kitchen doorway, a strange mix of emotions racing through my body. On one hand, I’m relieved he’s finally here because the anticipation and dread have been killing me. On the other hand, holy crap all six foot four, two hundred twenty pounds of Noah Yates is now in my house, my sanctuary, smiling at me from the entryway as Sam helps him with the bags. On the other hand, the twinkle in his eyes and that wide smile combined with the ridiculous sleigh bells spread warmth through my body. On the other hand, holy crap all six foot four, two hundred twenty pounds of Noah Yates is in my house!
Wait, how many hands was that?
I shake my head, waiting for the fear to grip me with its icy talons. But much to my surprise, I feel nothing more than a mild anxiety
for
Noah, not
because
of him. What really catches me off guard is the hope that Noah enjoys being here. Suddenly, Noah having a good time is the most important item on the day’s agenda.

I smile at him. “Merry Christmas, Noah,” I say quietly as I move further into the room.

“Merry Christmas, Avery,” he replies gravely, then gives me a dimpled smile that sets off explosions of tingles all over my body. Before I can contemplate or freak out over that, he extends a medium-size gift bag to me. “Don’t say I didn’t contribute to the everybody-get-fat theme.”

He chuckles as I take the bag and look inside. Nestled amongst red and green tissue paper is a Ziploc bag. I look up at him and laugh. “Cookies?”

“Hey,” he says, bringing a hand up to his chest as if I’ve wounded his heart, “don’t mock me. I told you they’re the only thing I’m good at in the kitchen. Give ‘em a try. I dare you.”

Sam laughs. I’d forgotten he’s there. I glance at him and he holds up a hand in surrender. “I’m just hanging up the man’s coat. Don’t mind me.”

Noah grins wider. “Sorry about the presentation, but I realized too late I didn’t have a pretty party platter or anything and I wasn’t sure I could carry everything with one anyway.”

Kira waves away his apology as she comes over. “Don’t worry about it. We don’t stand on ceremony around here.” She gives him a hug and I remember belatedly that our cozy little group all knows each other separately from me. “It’s good to see you again, Noah.”

He returns the hug but doesn’t take his eyes off me. “Good to see you, too, Kira. It’s been too long.”

“It has. But I don’t think that will be a problem anymore.”

I swear I hear an innuendo-laden wink in her voice. My cheeks light with a fire of embarrassment. Before anything else is said, I vanish into the kitchen, grateful to be out of the spotlight.

A few minutes later, I’ve just finished arranging the last of Noah's cookies on a platter when I hear his soft voice behind me.

“Have you tried one yet?”

I turn to see him standing just inside the doorway, not blocking it closed but near enough to it I hesitate trying to get around him. “No, I—” My gaze flicks up from the smile on his luscious lips to his eyes and I’m instantly lost and found at the same time. The way he looks at me, it’s like I’m the only one in his world, the only one who matters to him. I know that look from Sam and Brian. It’s the way they look at Kira and Molly. It should frighten me more than it does, but instead, I’m flooded with a sense of calm. It takes me by such surprise that I can’t speak. I simply stare into the most amazingly beautiful pair of hazel eyes I’ve ever seen. I know I can do that, can look Noah in the eyes because what I see there makes me think Sam might be right, that Noah will never, ever hurt me physically. I feel it in my bones. I know it’s as true as the sky is blue. The realization zings through my body like a live current. “I was waiting for you.” My cheeks color at the different ways that statement can be interpreted—and on the many levels I mean it.

“Were you now?” Noah's smile turns to a grin, like he’s just read my mind.

“Well—I, uhm—I didn’t mean
you
specifically,” I stutter.

“Mmhm.” He nods to the platter. “Better bring ‘em in then,” he says, then rolls away from the wall and disappears back into the living room.

I take a few breaths to steady my nerves and push the chaotic anxiety to the back of my brain. I can’t deal with Noah and these new thoughts about him at the same time. Since thoughts are easier to boss around than Mt. Man-Everest out there, they get to take a hike for a while. Besides, I’m certain to have much more to think about as soon as Noah leaves.

***

“These are the most amazing things I’ve ever put in my mouth.” Kira shoots a look at Sam. “No offense, honey.”

Sam’s so busy making orgasmic sounds around his own mouthful of cookie that he just waves away his girlfriend’s comment. Noah, however, almost chokes to death. He coughs and sputters around the cookie in his mouth.

I glance between Kira and Noah and the half-eaten cookie in my hand. As ridiculously delicious as it is—Mrs. Fields, Little Debbie and Sara Lee would all be jealous—Kira’s comment has kind of put me off it. Regretfully, I fold my napkin around it and put it on the coffee table. Noah's still coughing, so I cross the room and hand him his glass of milk. He looks up at me with watery hazel eyes, his surprise and thanks evident in them. He takes a sip or two, wetting the pieces in his mouth and making them easier to swallow correctly. Once I know he’s not going to die on us, I retake my seat in the armchair across the room from him. Kira and Sam are sitting together on the couch.

I feel curiously detached from the moment. As much as I try to shut them down, I can’t stop the Noah-centric thoughts from zooming around my head. He’s here in my home, sitting six feet away from me and I feel no fear, only the usual mild anxiety, but even that’s dulled. I’ve felt more anxious around him in the book store than I do here, in the one place he absolutely should not be. Even Kyle’s earlier revelation that Noah's been “mooning over” me, and my physical reaction to him in the kitchen a few minutes ago are more fodder for contemplation than fuel for fear. And really, that’s what bothers me the most.

The man is beautiful and undeniably sexy. He’s funny in his own way and obviously smart, though why he uses his muscles more than his brain is a question for another time. So why would he be the least bit interested in a guy like me, with panic and social anxiety issues enough to write volumes about? What could he possibly find attractive about me? Perhaps I should suggest he see Kendall Moorhead. The man clearly has more issues than I gave him credit for.

I watch him surreptitiously as he gets himself under control again after the near death-by-cookie experience. He really is a fine specimen of manhood with all those hard muscles and that blond hair, those glorious hazel eyes surrounded by long, thick lashes.
All that and as gentle as a kitten
. I sigh quietly and drop my gaze to my hands in my lap, reminding myself that even kittens have razor-sharp claws. If only I were a different person, someone who could ever be worthy or capable of receiving love I would let him pursue me until I caught him. The squeeze of pain in my chest startles me so much I let out a little gasp. As much as it might hurt to see, I have to convince Noah he needs to go moon over someone who deserves his affections. The great question is how to do that.

“Noah, those really are delicious cookies.” Sam’s voice drags me from my painfully circular thoughts and I look up at him. He’s looking at Noah while tearing of and feeding himself pieces of what must be his fifth cookie.

My gaze flicks back to Noah in time to see his eyes move from me to Sam. How long was he watching me, I wonder, hoping the pain my thoughts had brought hadn’t shown on my face.

“Thanks, Sam. It’s my grandmother’s recipe. When I was ten Kaleb convinced me to jump off the roof of his house. I broke my ankle and spent almost all of summer vacation in a cast.”

“Oh, I remember that summer!” Kira interjects.

Noah nods. “I spent a great deal of time with my gran in the kitchen. She taught me how to make these.” He chuckles ruefully, undoubtedly picturing that summer in his head. “She tried to teach me other stuff, too, but this is the only thing that really stuck.” He shrugs and a surprising bit of color touches his cheeks. “Well, I guess I can still peel and whip potatoes with the best of them.”

“If you can make these, you can make real food, too.” The sound of my own voice surprises me. I hadn’t intended to speak, but now that my gums are flapping, I may as well continue. “You should see what he considers lunch, Sam. It’s gross.”

“Hey!” Noah protests, sounding surprised and slightly affronted.

“White bread!” I warm to my subject now, glad to have anything else to think about than how delicious Noah looks in that dark brown turtleneck sweater. If that blue plaid shirt was a favorite, it’s now a very distant second to Noah in a turtleneck. “And processed lunch meat!”

“It was lean!”

I roll my eyes and look to Sam. “You should thank me for not letting you go to work with stuff like that.”

Sam grins at me and shrugs. “Maybe he just needs a boyfriend who cooks.”

I gape at him, the idea causing yet another squeeze of pain in my chest.

“Do you cook, Avery?” Noah inquires “innocently” around a small, sly smile.

I narrow my eyes at him. “You know I do.”

“Convenient,” he smirks. “I don’t have time to learn. Between work and school and the gym, I hardly have time to hit the grocery store. And when I do try to cook I usually end up setting off the smoke alarms because I forget what I’m doing. I have a very short attention span when it comes to food.”

But not when it comes to me. And isn’t that just the weirdest thing.

“Maybe you should cook for him, Avery,” Sam suggests oh, so helpfully.

My wide eyes cut to Sam’s. It’s not like the idea hasn’t been in the back of my head since I saw Noah's sad, sad lunch, but I’ve been forcefully keeping it there, afraid of what it would really mean if I let that particular genie out of the bottle. It would mean spending time with Noah, spending more time thinking about him. It would mean doing something for him that I only do for Sam and me. “I—I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I finally stutter.

“Actually, it’s a brilliant idea,” Noah enthuses. “Aves, I could pay you per meal. You could do like ten to twelve meals a week, if you wanted to go that far, and I’d never have to rely on white bread and processed lunch meats again!”

“You don’t even know if anything I cook is edible!” I protest.

Noah frowns a little. “You just said you can cook. And I saw what you had for lunch the other day. It looked delicious.” He shrugs and pops the last bit of his cookie into his mouth. He thoughtfully chews while the rest of us watch him in silence. “But if you don’t want to, Avery, I understand.” He grins. “I won’t even try to guilt you into it.”

I roll my eyes and sigh. “You’re all just going to gang up on me anyway.”

“Hey!” Noah protests.

“Not true!” Kira says.

Sam, however, just smiles lazily at me as he pops the last of his cookie in his mouth. “I don’t know why you’re fighting it, Avery. You’ve already started doing it.”

“You have?” Noah's grin makes me tingle with heat, but I’ll blame it on the blood rushing to my face in embarrassment. He wasn't supposed to know I made the Orange Fluff specifically for him.

“No.” Catching Sam’s look, I hastily modify my denial. “Well, I mean, not really.” Noah's grin widens and I’m quite sure I hate him. “I may have made a dessert with you in mind.”

“May have or did?”

“Oh, definitely did,” Sam interjects with a laugh. “He wouldn’t even let the rest of us sample it for lunch.”

Noah's eyes go wide. “Really? Wow. Aves, that might be the nicest thing anyone’s done for me in ages. When can I have some? What is it?”

I turn to him from scowling at Sam who simply smiles back and cuddles in closer to Kira. “With dinner. It’s nothing special, Noah. It’s not Bananas Foster or anything.”

“I have no idea what that means, but if you made it for me, it’s special.” He rubs his big hands together. “So when’s dinner?”

Sam and Kira laugh but I roll my eyes again. I swear Noah is just an overlarge kid. “In a couple of hours,” I tell him, feeling very much like the only grown up in the room.

Noah pouts momentarily but then breaks into a grin again. He turns to Kira and stage whispers, “Help me break him down, okay?”

Kira giggles, Sam pretends not to hear and I groan.

“So what’re we gonna do until then?” Noah asks like he’s done nothing wrong. “Strip poker? Yahtzee? Scene it? Twister?”

“As cute as you are, Noah, I have no desire to see you naked,” Kira says with a shudder. “It would be like seeing one of my brothers that way.”