The Halo Effect (Cupid Chronicles) (9 page)

Chapter 12

Noble yanked on a clean shirt and his boots wondering why he’d let himself be talked into going over to help Sweet Cheeks. Again.

He ran a hand through his hair with an aggravated sweep. It didn’t take much talking on her part. No, she’d all but run from him and he’d still offered himself up like the sacrificial Mr. Fix It lamb.

It was her eyes. He was a sucker for those bright tawny eyes of hers with those long, long lashes. And the way she shook her . . .

He was a fool. He pocketed his keys and slammed out the door. He would just go, get in, get out, get on with his night.

She waited for him on the front porch. She offered him a lazy smile from where she sat reclined in a deck chair, her tiny bare foot propped on the railing, a beer in her hand.

His first thought was,
Did it take me that long to get my ass over here?
as he slowed his steps and approached her.

His next thought as she tipped the beer to her lips? Well, that was X-rated.

He kept his eyes locked on hers as he took the stairs slowly until he stood in front of her. The sun was setting just behind her right shoulder, casting an orange-red halo around her. A cicada began trilling loudly from the yard.

His eyes skimmed her face. The curve of her throat.

A soft flush was rising on the delicate skin of her chest where the top button of her white lacy blouse was undone.

He’d never seen anything like her.

She took a breath. His eyes moved back up to hers. She blinked once. “You want a drink?” she whispered.

He eyed her beer, suddenly parched. “That’d be great. Thanks.”

Mistake. She leaned to reach into an ice chest he hadn’t noticed, straining what appeared to be perfect handfuls out of a white lacy bra underneath that white lacy top. He averted his eyes to avoid further X-rated thoughts.

She sat up and offered him an ice-cold beer, water dripping off her fingers and onto his. Now those thoughts were nose-diving into XXX territory. “Here you go.” She offered him a genuine smile. “Thank you so much for coming over. I really appreciate it.”

He grunted as he twisted off the cap and took a huge chug.
Man
, he wished the kid were here. Anything to divert his attention off of Sweet Cheeks and her front and center role in his fantasies.

He turned back to her. She’d stood and was close enough to touch. He sidestepped her.

She shot him a puzzled glance as she stooped to pick up a wrapper off the ground near where he’d been standing.

He tilted his head toward the door. “Guess I’ll just get started, then.”

She straightened up. “Okay.” Her brows furrowed. “Thanks.”

He dashed inside, leaving the screen door to squeak and slam shut behind him.

As he entered Braelyn’s house, he was again overwhelmed with the sense of how she’d worked to add the delicate touches to make this a home. Puffy throw pillows decorated the couch, mismatched frames with photos of Tristan smiling at all different ages covered every available surface, colorful rugs littered the floor, sweet candles scented the air. He’d bet she even had a junk drawer in the kitchen. She had knickknacks and the general clutter of a home that was lived in. A home that all of a sudden made him feel, well, homeless.

He’d had nothing and no one for so long, other than a place to lay his head at night, that he didn’t know what the word meant. Sure, he’d seen it at a distance with his best friend Jed and his family. But he’d never truly felt a part of that life. They’d had their country club existence that was never really for him. When he and Jed found the urban culture and the world of tattoos, he’d thought he’d found his home. But it was only a shallow and temporary place. A career home. Nothing more.

But now, he was standing smack dab in the middle of an honest-to-God
home.
He could feel Braelyn clear down to his bones here and he wasn’t sure how to compute that. Nothing like that had ever happened to him before.

He diverted his churning thoughts by making his way quickly to the fridge first as she followed him into the cozy kitchen. A grocery list hung clipped to a magnet stuck to the freezer door. Several other colorful magnets crowded the doors with different images of places she must’ve been, or maybe dreamed of going. One of Tristan’s report cards hung to the side. He ignored it, put his beer on the counter, and moved to the side to yank the refrigerator away from the wall.

She clicked on a radio behind him and the DJ finished up the tail end of a weather report before Journey came on with “Faithfully
.”
She started humming along as she began to fill the sink with water. He glanced over his shoulder as he shimmied between the fridge and counter. She was staring out the window, lost in thought, her sweet hips swaying to the music.

He swallowed and glanced away. Well, he was no appliance guy, but nothing looked overtly fried or snapped behind the fridge. He glanced down and frowned.

He bent over and picked up the loose plug, flipping it over in his hand.
Strange.
He shoved it into the wall socket and the fridge immediately began to hum to life. He straightened and squeezed out of the tight space. He caught Braelyn’s gaze as she watched him intently from the sink and the song came to its crescendo. He opened the refrigerator door and the light inside came on. Inside the freezer the motor buzzed noisily as it tried to cool itself.

“You fixed it? Just like that?” she asked, disbelief coloring her words.

He grunted as he shoved the thing back into its place against the wall then turned to her. The radio DJ was rambling about some dumb contest, encouraging someone to be the seventh caller. She reached over and turned down the volume. “What was wrong with it?”

“It was unplugged.”

Her chin dropped to her chest. “Unplugged?”

He didn’t bother to answer her and moved on to her oven. Could it be so simple there as well? He could only hope. Then he could get the heck outta there and away from that white lacy top of hers.

Noble heaved the oven away from the wall a few inches and peeked. Damn. The cord was snugly plugged into the wall. All right, time to see about turning the bad boy on. One of the mismatched knobs was barely holding on to its post, but he was able to crank up the heat.

He tried to ignore her, but her scent overpowered his senses in the tiny room as she sidled up next to him. Sweet and floral with just a hint of something darker. He nearly groaned.

“So,” she said as he checked the stovetop burners, “you from Texas, Noble?”

He glanced over. Her huge, amber eyes glowed with curiosity. “No.”

“Where’re you from?”

The burners worked fine. He shut them off. With nothing to occupy his hands until he’d given the oven time to heat, he shoved them into his pockets and propped his hip against the counter. “Arizona.”

“Hmmm,” she mumbled as she hauled herself up to sit on the counter next to him, her hand brushing his arm. “We came to Texas because it’s where my grandma was from and she told me lots of stories about growing up here.” Her soft breath hitched as emotion filled her eyes. Obviously she loved her grandmother a lot. A thing foreign to him. “So it seemed the natural place to go when we needed a new home.” Her face brightened as she forced a smile and tucked away her nostalgia. “So what brought you to Texas?”

He rolled his neck and looked away. “This and that,” he hedged. He hated to talk about his past. It was ugly and he preferred to let it lie.

“How long have you lived here?”

He sighed. “A long time.” How much longer did he have to give the damn oven to preheat?

Her petite foot tapped the cabinet in time to the music. He didn’t meet her eye. “I love it here. The weather for one thing is much better than Indiana. Do you like it better than Arizona?”

He grunted a noncommittal answer and shoved away from the counter. He opened the oven and reached his hand inside. It was still ice cold. He fiddled for several minutes before deciding on the most likely problem. He turned the dial back off and faced her again.

“I think—” He stopped mid-thought. She looked a touch pissy. Her amber eyes sparked with dark shots of gold and her fingers were drumming rhythmically against her perch on the counter. “What?”

She tilted her head. “Do I disgust you or something? Have bad breath?”

“What? No.”

“Do you find my Hoosier manners to be unacceptable down here in Texas then?” She sat forward, her palms braced next to her thighs, her head tilted.

He trained his eyes back up to her gorgeous, albeit frowning, face. “No.”

“So, are you generally just a pseudo-mute man with the conversational skills of a sloth, then?”

“Uh—”

She jumped off the counter, her bare feet landing softly on the linoleum floor. “See? I’ve been trying to make polite conversation with you. You know, be
friendly.
Get to know you?” She ran a frustrated hand through her hair. “And you’ve all but ignored me.” She turned around and seemed to be talking to herself. “Not that I’m surprised. You’ve been doing that since we met.” She spun back around. “Why do you come over here if you don’t even like me?”

Holy Moses. If she only knew. “Believe me, I wouldn’t do a damn thing for you if I didn’t like you. I’m not that charitable.”

Her mouth popped open then she snapped it shut. She studied him from under her lashes. “Really?”

He barked out a rough laugh. “Really. I’ve never really been known for my social graces.” He shrugged. “Sorry.”

Her million-dollar smile lit up the entire friggin’ room and his stomach tied itself into knots. “That’s a relief. And here I thought I was torturing the good-lookin’ guy next door with my crappy house and teenage son because he was too nice to say no.” She sagged against the counter. “Phew.”

She thought he was good lookin’? He filed that tidbit of information away for later.

“Well,” she continued, “now that I got that off my chest, what’s wrong with my stupid oven? Don’t tell me it was unplugged, too?”

And what a nice chest it was . . . “Nope. I think you just need a new heating element.”

Her delicate brow furrowed. “Is that expensive?”

“Nah. Less than a hundred bucks for sure.”

She pushed herself away from the counter. “All right. That settles it. I owe you big time.”

He waved her away. A cold beer, Hungry Man meal, and Netflix awaited his return. “You don’t owe me anything.”

“Of course I do. Don’t be absurd. You’ve gone way beyond the call of duty as my neighbor.” She smiled. “Dinner? On me?” She tilted her head toward the fridge. “Besides I don’t have a thing to eat and I hate to go out by myself.” She aimed her big, pleading eyes at him.

“No. Really.”

“What? You afraid to be seen with me? I thought you said you like me?” She smiled teasingly. “You backpedaling now, big boy?”

All the blood drained straight from his brain to his groin. Damn, but she was hot.

She winked. “Come on, Noble. It’s just dinner.”

Finally, against his better judgment, he nodded. “All right. That’d be good. Let me go put my tools away.”

Her voice stopped him before he stepped off the porch. “Oh, Noble?”

He turned. “Yeah?”

“I know I asked you out to dinner, but I was wonderin’ . . .?”

He raised a brow and waited.

“I’ve wanted to take a ride in your truck ever since I saw it.” She flicked a glance over his shoulder toward his driveway. “Would you mind driving?”

Wonders would never cease. Women usually hated his big, bad ass truck and his cycles. He shot her a smug grin. “Sure thing.” Sweet Cheeks was surely something else.

Noble helped Braelyn down from the truck with his hand at her tiny waist. She hopped delicately on one foot before putting her weight on the ground and peered up at him with a grateful smile. “Thanks.”

“Ankle still sore?”

She shrugged as he slammed the truck door and followed her toward the small Chinese restaurant. “A little bit. It’s not bad.”

He rushed ahead to get the door for her and was greeted by mouth-watering aromas. He didn’t realize how starved he was. They stood next to a tank full of orange and white koi fish while an older Asian woman collected their menus and silverware. The heavily stringed oriental music overhead reminded Noble of being at work.

He waited until Braelyn was seated, then took the chair opposite hers. She smiled up at the waitress and ordered hot tea. “Coke for me, thanks,” he said, trying to concentrate on the artwork, the fish tank, the music. Anything but the top button that was still undone on her blouse.

She studied the menu. “What’s good here?”

He didn’t pick his up. “Everything.”

She shot him a look from under her lashes. “What’re you getting?”

“I was debating between the garlic shrimp or the pepper steak with a side of chicken fried rice.”

She sweetened her tea and took a sip, murmuring appreciatively. “Covering all the meat bases, huh?”

“Something like that.”

She smiled. “So, are you very protective of your food, or you up for splitting?”

He sipped his Coke. He’d never shared a plate of food with anyone in his life. “I could share I guess.”

She grinned as he ordered all three items and a plate of egg rolls.

“So,” she said after a moment. Her fingers skimmed her ear as she tucked a stray hair back.

He tapped the table with the blunt tip of a finger. “So.” He watched her face.

“I’ve been curious about you,” she finally admitted with a tilt of her head.