Page 48 of Until Then

When I’m frozen too long, long fingers take my phone out of my hands. I gape at Noah when he slowly places the phone against his ear, then whispers. “I’ll handle this.”

No. My mind is screaming to stop him. He isn’t permanent, no doubt he doesn’t really want to be, and I don’t want to get attached. If he’s sweet to the women in my life, I’ll fall even harder.

I need to stop this.

I do nothing but watch.

“Hi there,” he says into the phone. “This is Noah. Yeah, from the other night. It was awesome to meet y’all too. Sorry for the uproar. Yes.” He nods. “Yes, ma’am.”

Okay, I’ll never get over the Southern drawl when it slips out. My thumbnail is tucked between my teeth; I’m not sure I breathe when Noah chuckles at something my mom says.

“Will do. All right, bye now.”

“Wait—”

Noah hangs up the phone. “Sorry. She was done talking.”

“Wha—what was that? You talked to my mom.”

“You were panicking.” He takes hold of his ice cream cup again as though the world was not careening out of control. He slurps up a bite. “I thought you could use your tag-team.”

Tag-team. It’s almost sweet he considers us partners—maybe accomplices—and also stacks on another layer to the chaos in my head.

“But we . . . weren’t supposed to get my family involved.”

Noah adjusts in his seat. “Listen, my promise still stands. I’m not in the business of hurting you or your family. We needed to pivot since we didn’t have a contingency plan for a Gen Z-er catching sight of a video. Sounds like the one posted on social media might’ve been an inside job, not the rogue paparazzi.”

My face pales. “A wedding guest?”

“That’d be my guess. Briar will be livid.”

I’m livid for her. She kept her wedding small to avoid this very thing. I scrub my hands down my face, no mistake smearing my mascara. I hardly care. “Okay. Fine. We’re fine. What did my mom say?”

“Oh.” Noah takes my ice cream cup off the console, stacks it with his, then fastens his seatbelt. “She told us to come over to the ranch together. So, we better get going, Wildfire. Looks like I’m meeting the entire family.”

FIFTEEN

Noah

Sweet Cream Ranch is a place straight out of the Old West. Forget the modern equipment and the updated farmhouse, and it would be wide pastures, arenas, and saloon-style buildings.

Like a toddler going to a museum, I press my forehead to the window, watching as sheds and barns and thick, round hay rolls fly past.

Each fence post is wrapped in Edison style bulbs, and only adds to the ethereal feel of being transported back to a different time.

“You have a bull.”

“Two,” Hayley says.

There’s still a nervous lilt to my Wildfire’s tone. I plan to rid her of it before the night’s over.

“This place is amazing.”

Her face softens. “It’s my safe place.”

I roll down the window and let the warm air, the smell of sweet hay and damp soil, fill my lungs. “I get why.”

“Well, here we go.” Hayley stops her car in front of the farmhouse.

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