Page 72 of Someone Knows

No, when I leave here this time, I’m never coming back.Never ever.

Maybe a distraction, then. That’s what I need.

I get in the car, decide to take a ride. Twenty minutes later, I’m crossing a bridge, driving with the woods on both sides of me. But there’s even less to occupy my mind out here than at Mom’s, and my thoughts start to wander to a dark place again. Without warning—I’m lucky there’s no one behind me because I never even looked—I slam on the brakes, pull to the side of the rocky dirt road, and cut the wheel sharply. Not long after, I’m heading back through town. A quick glance at the bar’s parking lot tells me Noah’s not there, and suddenly, I’m not meandering anymore—I know where I’m going.

I pull into the driveway, park, sit there to the count of ten, debating.

But then I step out of the car.

Turns out, I need a different kind of distraction. A different kind ofride.

CHAPTER

35

The front door is open again.

It makes me wonder if he knew I’d come, knew I’d need to work out my frustrations after the funeral today. Though if that’s the case, it’s pretty cocky of him, considering Sam showed up at the church.

The door creaks open. It’s dark downstairs. Quiet enough that I might think no one is home if it weren’t for the truck in the driveway. My heels clack against the wood floors as I walk, the sound echoing off walls since there’s no furniture to catch it. I could take my shoes off, but why? I have no reason to hide that I’m here. Then again, maybe he has company already. A woman. With those cavernous dimples and the way he gives a woman his full attention, I’m certain there’ve been many visitors taking this walk. My pulse pounds as I climb the stairs.

The second floor is dark, too, except for a streak of light spilling out into the hallway from the master bedroom. I briefly debate getting undressed like I did the other night, but decide shimmying my underwear down my legs is quicker.

I stop a few feet from the door when I see him. Noah sits on the bed shirtless, his back propped against pillows, engrossed in whatever he’s typing fervently into a laptop. The soft glow of the screen illuminates his features, highlightinghis chiseled jawline. He really is a good-looking man. His hair is tousled, like he’s run a hand through it a few times. But it strikes the perfect balance of mess with his otherwise flawless features. And he’s wearing glasses tonight—horn-rimmed, perched on the bridge of his nose like something out of a Ralph Lauren ad. I like it.A lot.

“Did I get you in trouble with your boyfriend?” he asks without looking up.

I step to the door and push it open halfway, staying inside the doorframe. “Don’t have a boyfriend.”

He looks up. “Because of today?”

“Because that’s the way I like it.”

He smirks and shakes his head. “I’m glad you came.”

“Did you know I would? Is that why the front door wasn’t locked?”

“The lock is broken. It’s always open. But if it weren’t, I would’ve left it open for you. Wasn’t sure you would show. I was hopeful, though.”

I lift my chin, gesture to his laptop. “What are you working on so intently?”

“A book. Thriller. Started it a few years ago. Had to set it aside a while back. Writer’s block.”

“I take it you’re feelingunblocked?”

The corner of his lip quirks up, causing a positively charming dimple to pop out. “I’m feeling inspired lately.”

I tilt my head. “I’m feeling . . . something right about now, too.”

“You didn’t know he was coming today, did you?”

I shake my head. “No, I didn’t.”

“He’s a little old for you, isn’t he?”

“I didn’t realize there was an age limit on the men I spend time with.”

“Is that what you do? You ‘spend time’ with that guy?”

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