Page 7 of Until Then

He’s beautiful and sexy and every woman’s daydream.

But tonight, he’s mine.

“Okay.” Noah leans against the closed glass door, keeping something behind his back. “Once upon a time, I was obsessed with being a cowboy. My brother and I always played Sheriff and bank robber. He was always the bad guy.”

“Obviously.” I lift my chin when he takes a step closer to me. Two more and we’ll be chest to chest. “How could you ever be anything but morally golden?”

Another step. “I don’t know. Maybe you don’t know me well enough to see the dark side yet?”

Unbidden, a shiver dances down my spine. Maybe I wouldn’t mind seeing every edge this man wanted to reveal.

“Anyway. I’ve been living a lie for twenty plus years. I told people I outgrew my love of all things Western and cowboy but—now you can’t laugh.”

I mimic zipping my lips.

From behind his back, Noah pulls out flannel pajama pants coated in Texas longhorns, old-time revolvers, and a few tan cowboy hats. “The truth is, I’m still obsessed, and I just pulled these from my dryer because I wear them all the time.”

My lips curl inward, pinched beneath my teeth, but it’s no use. A barking laugh breaks out and I can’t stop.

“Miss Hayley.” A bit of that Southern drawl he must still have from living next to the bayou slips out. In the next breath, Noah has my back pinned to the rail once more, only now his arms cage me on either side. His lips hover close. One slight movement and I might feel his stubble scratch my mouth.

Breaths come sharp, heavy, needy.

His beautiful, different-colored eyes are hooded when he tilts his head to one side, glancing once, twice, at my lips. When he speaks again, his voice is low and dark, and I want him to never step away. “You promised you wouldn’t laugh.”

“No.” Great. The word slips out more like a gasp than a reply. “I never promised.”

“You’re mocking me.”

I shake my head, mortified by the way my chest heaves like a total cliché once Noah presses the hard planes of his body against mine.

This. Is. Happening.

Long fingers on one of his hands touch the edge of my jaw until he cups one side of my face. “I think you are.”

“I would never mock someone who loves horses.”

“I do,” he says, his free hand dropping the pajama bottoms and sliding down the curve of my waist. “I ride a lot for work, actually.”

“Oh.” There is a small part of me that is convinced I must’ve been hit by a car earlier because this is too perfect. Gorgeous and a horse lover? Thank you, I’ll take him in all sizes, please. “What is it you . . . do?”

I can’t breathe. Officially, Noah’s lips are brushing over the shell of my ear.

He hesitates. “Right now”—Oh, oh, he presses a little, feather-light kiss to the side of my head, drawing his nose across my cheek—“I’m focused on teaching kids to get involved in theater. Sometimes we learn how to ride horses for scenes.”

Unexpected.

“Um, that’s awesome. And a little endearing.”

“Never been called endearing. I’ll take it.”

I close my eyes and fight back a groan when Noah’s face dips and he adds another soft kiss to the side of my neck. “You . . . you like acting?”

The man can’t be a teacher and live here. Maybe he comes from Old Southern money. Or maybe he runs a theater business. Maybe he’s in the film industry like Jasper.

No. He’s too . . . amazing.

Jasper, those he introduced to me, and others I know in the glitz and glam of Hollywood always had a tiny bit of haughtiness no matter what was said or done.

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