Page 25 of Until Then

“I’ve seen him somewhere,” Mom adds, her chin on the claw of her hand.

Their gazes are locked on Noah as he rounds the table, aimed at me.

Deep breaths. Hopefully he won’t smell delicious.

I cuss in my head when he crowds too close to me and I get a full lungful of his spicy, clean cologne. It’s like he stood in a winter forest, then jumped in the morning tides.

Noah looks ready to speak, before he catches sight of the two women ogling him next to me.

“Noah Hayden.” He takes Nan’s hand first. “Are you Miss Hayley’s mother?”

Curse him and that stupid southern drawl that comes out as he pleases. Nan looks ready to get married for a second time.

“You schmoozer.” She giggles—yes, giggles—and pats the top of his hand. “I’m Alice, Hayley Mae’s grandma. This here, is her mom.”

“You’re kidding. I would never have guessed that.”

Great, now he’s flirting with my mother.

Mom flushes. “Where have I seen you before?”

“He’s in a TV show, Mom.” I take his arm and tug him away.

“Wicked Darlings, Ms. Foster,” he says over his shoulder.

My mom’s eyes go wide. “I’ve seen the first season. And . . .” Her face goes even redder, then she whispers something to my Nan who barks a laugh, fanning her face.

Noah smiles, but when I look close enough the one blue eye gives up a bit of nerves. “That usually happens when people realize they’ve seen a lot of me.”

Oh. My. Gosh.

My eyes go wide. “My mother has . . . no, no, no.” I cover my face with my palm. “She’s seen you naked. Great. Awesome. Can’t wait for the ride home.”

Noah leans close to my ear. “Well, not entirely naked if she’s only seen the first season. Just the top half. The rest comes in season three.”

I frown. “I don’t need to imagine my mother seeing . . . ugh, never mind.”

By now, music is playing and the other pairs of the wedding party are already laughing and dancing with a touch of theatrics. As though they all know Briar and Tyrell had them perform merely for the fun of it and they’re playing their part.

When Noah’s arm circles my waist, when my body smashes against the hard planes of his chest, I’m not sure if I should kill my childhood best friend or thank her.

The way Briar whispers to Tyrell, then lifts her wine glass in my direction, I have a feeling this was planned from the beginning.

I square my shoulders to Noah and let my arm drape over his shoulders. “So. The wedding. We’re going to . . . call a truce.”

“Sure,” he says. “We wouldn’t need one if you’d just apologize for ghosting me, Wildfire.”

“I’m not apologizing when I had my reasons.”

“Such as?” He tilts his head, swaying with me to the music. “Not satisfied? I’m embarrassed, but I can take the critique.”

“No, I”—I close my eyes for a breath—“You should’ve told me about your job.”

Noah doesn’t answer right away. “You’re right. I should’ve. But I apologized already. Why’d you run?”

The walls seem too close, the room too hot. The way he looks at me—silently pleads with me—I want to tell him everything. I want him to know I’ve never felt the way I did when I was wrapped up in his arms.

I want to tell him how my mind instantly painted such a devastating picture of losing it when I fell.

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