Page 10 of Loving Josy
His chuckle is low and irritatingly charming. “Dodging, huh? Is that why you’ve been hiding in your office all week?”
My jaw tightens. “I wasn’t hiding. I was working. You should try it sometime.”
Austin raises an eyebrow at us but wisely says nothing, while Violet shoots me a look that clearly says,Behave.
“Okay, lovebirds,” Austin finally interrupts, “can we start this hike before the sun melts us into puddles?”
“Lead the way.” Noah gestures with an exaggerated bow.
The trail winds upward, shaded by towering trees that sway gently in the breeze. Adrian darts ahead with the energy only a twelve-year-old could muster, while Austin and Violet walk a few steps behind, chatting about something I’m too distracted to catch.
Because Noah is beside me.
He’s been keeping pace with me, despite my best efforts to outwalk him.
“You know,” he says, his voice light and teasing, “I was starting to think you’d forgotten my name with how hard you’ve been avoiding me.”
“I’m not avoiding you,” I lie, focusing on the path ahead.
“Oh, really? So the sudden fascination with your office at lunchtime was just a coincidence?”
“I have work to do, Noah,” I snap, though my tone lacks conviction.
“Of course you do,sweetheart,” he says, his grin practically audible in his voice.
Ugh. Why do I love it when he calls me that? I shouldn’t, but I can’t help it. Every time he says the word, there’s this tiny smirk tugging at his lips like he knows exactly what it does to me. Like he knows it’s bothering me and he’s using it to rile me up.
Spoiler alert: it works. Every. Single. Time.
I glance at him, letting my irritation simmer. His smirk is in full force, lazy and confident, like he has all the time in the world to push my buttons.
“Ourchats,” I say, my tone dripping with sarcasm, “are about as enjoyable as stepping on a Lego barefoot.”
He laughs, the sound rich and infuriatingly warm. “That bad, huh?”
“Worse.” I narrow my eyes at him, willing him to take me seriously for once.
But instead of backing off, he leans in slightly, his smirk softening into something almost... fond? “You wound me, sweetheart,” he says, clutching his chest dramatically. “Here I thought we had something special.”
“Special? Sure,” I say, rolling my eyes. “Special in the way poison ivy is special.”
“Poison ivy?” He grins, clearly unfazed. “Now that’s creative. Did you come up with that all by yourself, or did you spend all those hours in your office Googling comebacks?”
My mouth falls open, a mix of indignation and begrudging admiration for how fast he came up with that. “You’re impossible.”
“And yet,” he says, his voice dropping just slightly, “you’re still walking beside me. What does that say about you?”
It says I’m an idiot. Or a masochist. Or maybe both.
He chuckles again, falling silent for a moment. But, of course, it doesn’t last.
“You know,” he says, his tone shifting to something softer, almost thoughtful, “you’re cute when you’re mad.”
I stop dead in my tracks, spinning to face him. “Did you seriously just?—”
But the words catch in my throat becausewow. His shirt is soaked through with sweat, clinging to his chest and shoulders in a way that should be illegal. The faint sheen of sweat on his skin only highlights the sharp lines of his jaw and the mischievous glint in his eyes.
I force myself to look away, my cheeks heating.
