Page 17 of Fifty-Fifty

“Good. Then I think you might as well leave now, since you won’t be touchin’ me with a ten-foot pole and all.”

He shakes his head before slidin’ his hands into his front pockets. “Do you want me to touch you? Is that what this is about?”

My body trembles with rage. “How dense can you be? You talk about me behind my back to some guy named Shane, who’s full of horse shit, by the way, and then, when I confront you about it, you ask if I want you to touch me? If that’s what I’m mad about? Completely skippin’ over the part where you basically called me the town slut, joked about my daughter not knowin’ who her daddy is, and then jumped on board with usin’ me so you can get your money?” I find myself yellin’ and stop to take a deep breath before I cause some sort of emotional damage on my two-year-old who’s watchin’ the entire meltdown between me and Noah.

Apparently, her mama havin’ a mental breakdown is more entertainin’ than the damn bird in the yard.

Noah must notice the same thing because he pulls out his phone from his back pocket, opens a child app, and hands it to her.

“Wanna play the dinosaur game again, Mac?”

She nods, smooshin’ a bit of banana over the screen as she attempts to play a cartoon app. I take a step toward them to stop her from ruinin’ his phone when he lifts his hand, motionin’ for me to stop.

I do.

Cautiously, he approaches me. “Let’s go in the other room to finish this conversation. What do you say?”

I look over to the phone again. “But your phone…”

He shrugs his broad shoulders, like it ain’t that big of a deal. “Wet wipes, Beau. They’re a thing of beauty.” He tilts his chin to the kitchen counter where I see a pouch of wet wipes waitin’ to be used.

I put my lips between my teeth and bite down to stop myself from smiling at his joke, even though I’m still angry with him. He looks at my mouth and chuckles under his breath before usherin’ me to the family room. His hand hovers along my lower back, but he doesn’t touch me. The heat of his palm seeps through my shirt anyway.

Clearing my throat, I take a seat on the edge of the couch. Noah mirrors my movements, leavin’ plenty of space between us.

“Look,” Noah starts, “Shane’s an ass. He doesn’t know you, or your kid. It’s not an excuse, but he wouldn’t have said those things if he’d ever met you. There’s…” He looks up at the ceiling, debating with himself for a few seconds before continuing. “There’s a business opportunity for the both of us if we can come up with enough cash to be part of it. That’s all it was about. Nothing personal. I promise.”

He looks down at me, silently pleadin’ for me to cut him slack.

“It was personal to me.”

Noah nods his head in understanding. “Yeah. I get that, and I’m sorry, Beau.”

The room stays silent for a minute as I ponder his apology. Lookin’ over at him, I take in his clear gaze, his stubbled cheeks, his somber expression. I think he means it.

“What kinda business opportunity?” I might not be happy with him, but I like the open communication we’ve got goin’ right now.

He rubs the scruff of his jaw before telling me. “Did you know I’m a tattoo artist?”

I smirk, takin’ in the ink markin’ his arms. “Yeah?”

“Well, the owner of the shop I work at is looking into expanding. He wants to open another location and have someone run it. I was the frontrunner for the position until he decided to make it more of a franchise sort of thing, which means I need some serious cash to get in or else he’s going to give it to another guy who can pay him all upfront. It’s an absolute shit-show, Beau. But I want it. Bad.”

I nod my head, finally understandin’ why he showed up out of nowhere with a bee in his bonnet.

“I know what that feels like.”

He furrows his brow. “You do?”

“That’s how I feel about this inn.” I sigh. “You never really talked to your granddaddy, did you?”

Noah shakes his head but doesn’t say anything, givin’ me the opportunity to continue.

“Jay took me in when I was havin’ a rough time. I ain’t got any family and didn’t know what to do. He offered me a roof over my head. That was it. No conditions. No contracts. Just a place to stay ‘til I got back on my feet. So I stayed. And I watched. He never asked nothin’ of me. Just went about his day-to-day business while I observed everythin’ from a distance. It’s not that I didn’t want to help. I just—I felt so worthless. Like I couldn’t trust my own instincts. Like I was a burden. And that it’d be better for me to blend into the cabinetry instead of offerin’ to help and screwin’ things up. Then, one day, he was at the store pickin’ up supplies, when a family arrived.” I smile wistfully as memories of that day hit me from all sides. “They asked if they could check in to their room and I didn’t know what to say.”

He leans closer. “So, what did you do?”

I grin. “I faked it. I faked the whole damn thing. Pretendin’ to know what papers to have them sign, prayin’ the keys I handed them were to a clean room and not another guest’s.” I laugh. “I thought Jay woulda kicked me out for sure as soon as he got home.”

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