Harvest of Love: Insta-Spark Collection - Page 24

When I arrived, my place was filled with the aroma of dinner preparation. Surprised Noah hadn’t greeted me at the door, I followed the trail of rose petals down the hall to the bathroom, pushing open the door. A bunch more roses filled my one and only vase, their fragrance heavenly in the steamy room. Candles were scattered all around, and bubbles spilled over the edge of the tub.

Noah himself filled the tub, one leg hanging over the side as he smirked at me, beckoning with one long finger to come closer. He pulled my head down, kissing me passionately. “How was your day, dear?” he murmured against my lips, his eyes dancing with mischief.

I slid my hand along his wet arm. “Not as good as my night is going to be.”

He flexed his shoulders, lowering his leg into the water and patting his chest. “You want to join me, Sprout?”

“I could be persuaded.”

“Get in here. Now.”

That was all it took to get me into the tub with him.

But it took six towels to dry off the bathroom floor.

His dinner was delicious, and I patted my lips with my napkin when I finished eating. “That was the best risotto I have ever eaten.”

After we’d dried off from our bath and cleaned the floor, I had watched him make the risotto. He was a natural in the kitchen, chopping, stirring, tasting. He had me stir the risotto for the last few moments as he pan-fried some large shrimp in garlic, wine, and tomatoes, then filled the dishes with the rice and seafood on top before garnishing them. He was an artist, the plates so lovely I didn’t want to ruin their perfection, except the meal was too good to resist.

Noah grinned. “At your service, my lady.”

“Did you bring all this with you?”

“Some, but I stopped at the market and got a few things after coffee with Daniel.”

“How was he?”

He smiled. “Great. He’s really good. We thought maybe we could get together soon and have dinner. He has a new girlfriend he is crazy about.” Noah winked. “Another thing we have in common.”

I laughed at his words. “I’d like that.”

“You were okay today?” he asked after he finished his dinner. “Calm, I mean?”

I nodded. “Everything was great. No panic, nothing. I was just having a bad couple of days.”

He frowned but didn’t argue. He stood and kissed my head. “How about a walk?”

“Sure.”

We wandered around the neighborhood, the area vastly different from the space that surrounded his home. Noah was noticeably tenser than he was when we were in his world, and he admitted he found the noise and bustle unsettling.

“I’d forgotten how many people there are around all the time. Everywhere I went today, there were hundreds of other people trying to get to the same place.”

“Did you live here long?”

“Four years.”

“Where?”

“Right downtown. I had a condo—I used to walk everywhere. The only time I drove was to go home and see my family, so I would rent a car on those rare occasions.”

“You didn’t see them a lot?”

“No.”

That surprised me, given how close they seemed.

“Why?” I asked quietly.

He led me over to a bench, and we sat down. He didn’t say anything for a moment, leaning his elbows on his thighs, lost in thought.

“I was living a different life from my family. One I thought I wanted—that was right for me. I immersed myself in it. And when I went home, I felt out of place there, so I stopped going back very much.”

“You liked it better here?”

He leaned back, draping his arm along the back of the bench and pulled me closer. “For a while, I thought so.”

“Something changed?”

“I did.” He rested his chin on my head, silent and reflective. “For a long time, I was stuck, Dani. Lost.”

“What do you mean?”

“I was busy pursuing a life here, except I came to realize it wasn’t what I wanted. I didn’t belong here, and I didn’t think I belonged in the world my family lived in. It took me a while to figure it out.”

“To figure what out?”

He huffed out a sigh. “To figure out I was wrong. To know what really made me happy.”

“But you did figure it out.”

“Thanks to the love of my family and their patience, yes. And some good advice I finally listened to.”

“What kind of good advice?”

Abruptly, he stood and held out his hand. “The kind you only listen to when you’re ready to really hear what the person is saying.” He tugged me to my feet. “Let’s go back. At least your townhouse is quieter.”

Tuesday morning, I woke beside Noah. I was curled up against him, my head on his chest. He was awake, staring at the ceiling, his fingers absently stroking my arm. I tilted up my head, and he smiled down at me.

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