Page 49 of Until Then

Two levels, but sprawling. Complete with a wrap around porch, there are eaves and shutters and the same wrapped strands of lights around the front posts.

I slip out of the car, and go to Hayley’s side. She’s out before I can reach the door. When she blows out a breath and shakes out her palms, I place my hands on her shoulders.

“Not that I don’t enjoy unsettling you,” I say with a grin. “But try to relax. It’s going to be fine.”

“You don’t understand,” she says softly. “My family . . . they don’t care much for the whole Hollywood world.”

“Not many people do unless it’s kept safely behind their TV screen.”

“It’s . . . it’s more.” She casts a wary glance at the door.

“Miss Foster,” I put on my best Bayou boy accent. “I was raised in the throes of Southern hospitality. I swear to you, I’m not going to be a complete jerk. My Gram would kill me right after she disowned me.”

Hayley presses a palm to my chest, and I have to fight the urge to take it in mine. “Don’t take this wrong, because my mom and Nan are the best, truly, but I’m . . . getting defensive for you. I don’t want them to . . . only see the famous Noah.”

Me? She’s worried about them disapproving of me because of my job? I take a risk and cover her hand against my heart. “What Noah do you want me to play, then?”

“The real one I know.” Hayley hesitates, and I almost miss the next part (which would be a tragedy). “MyNoah.”

I slip my fingers through hers. “I won’t even mention the show.”

“No. I mean, my mom has already seen you in precarious positions.” She shakes her head. “You should be proud of your work, but having you here, with me, they might be a little standoffish, is all.”

“Don’t tell me they believe the same as prick-pickle and think I wouldn’t look twice at you.” Unbidden, I lean into her, enjoying the same little gasp she does whenever I draw too close. I lower my voice. “Trust me, Wildfire, I’m looking twice.”

“You can’t say stuff like that,” she whispers, a little breathless.

“Why not?”

“Because it makes all this sound too . . .”

“Real?” Then she’s beginning to catch on to my evil plan.

Hayley doesn’t answer. She clears her throat and uses her thumb to point at the house. “They don’t feel the same as Jasper. But they have their own reasons to be suspicious about men in the spotlight, and I’m afraid they might be a little cold toward you.”

Okay. Got to say, I’m intrigued more than nervous. “I can handle it.”

“I’m not sure anyone can handle the Foster ladies.” Hayley doesn’t release my hand and leads us up two wooden steps that groan under our weight.

When she opens the front door, we’re met with pandemonium.

“Hayley . . .”

“. . . we only met him for a minute, now this. . .”

“. . . your dress is stunning.”

“. . . I wanted to start the next season, but . . .”

“. . . never want to see that sorry excuse for a man again. Jed, Jack what was his name?”

The door closes at our backs and the throng of new bodies and voices pins me to the door while Hayley is absorbed into the chaos of women, men in dusty jeans and flannel shirts, even a few tweens and teens.

A girl near the narrow staircase bounces on her toes, dressed in a jean skirt and thick combat looking boots, practicallyshaking a stern, bearded cowboy half to death. “Daaaad, see! It’s him.”

The cowboy only grunts and adjusts the toothpick between his teeth.

Three feet away, Hayley’s mom is speaking to her daughter, her dark hair tied high on her head. “A warning might’ve been nice. All of a sudden my daughter’s face is blowing up online . . .”

---