There was a note on the kitchen counter in my mother’s sharp, cursive handwriting.

come to the emergency room. take a cab.

I’ll never forget the panic, the crushing weight on my chest as I rode over not knowing what to expect.

When I got there, it was in time to see the doctor talking to my parents and grandfather, so I knew it had to be Annabelle. My mother broke out into loud wailing sobs and my knees turned to Jell-O, barely able to hold me up.

They weren’t sure Annabelle would make it through the night.

I spent the next two hours curled up on a hard plastic chair outside the ICU praying to God to let my sister live, throwing everything I had to give into that bargain.

Someone called my name and I looked up to find Noah jogging down the hallway. Face pale and eyes filled with sympathy. A moment later he was scooping me up in his arms and holding me, absorbing the spasms of my body for hours as I finally broke down and cried.

“I got you,” he kept whispering in my ear. “One minute at a time. One hour at a time. We’ll get through this together.”

He didn’t leave my side for five days. Feeding me, driving me back and forth to my house. He slept next to me every night, his big body curled around me, holding me while I cried. Zack didn’t show up at the hospital, or try to call me once even though news of what had happened to Annabelle spread like wildfire in town.

But Noah…he held my hand until the doctors were sure Annabelle was going to make it.

To this day I don’t know how he got the time off from the team, being their number one wide-out. He never did say.

By the time I made it back to school, two weeks later, I knew what I had to do. I walked right up to Zach, who was hanging at his locker before first period, and told him it was over. He made a weak attempt to get me back with a bunch of I’m sorry voicemails and emails, but I never looked back. Any doubt about whether my feelings for Noah were real disappeared the moment I saw him jogging down that hospital hallway.

Little did I know that a year later another tragedy would alter the course of our friendship forever.

* * *

Week four has been quite productive. I’ve mastered the point-of-sale system and gotten to know most of the employees. I’m getting a better idea of what it takes to keep the books in the black––but mostly I’m starting to understand how exhausting Rowdy’s is. I give Noah a ton of credit. Running this club is hard. There are a lot of moving parts and he makes it look effortless.

I’m in his office, using the managers’ computer, when I stumble across something in the older files. A bank statement about a loan taken out a decade ago against the building. I read the bank documents over and over. Then I compare them to the spreadsheets of the first three years Noah took over operations.

I grab a few screenshots and, evidence in hand, fly down the steps to find Noah. In my haste I almost run into another bartender setting up for the night. When I ask him if he’s seen Noah, he sends me to the back room where the pool tables and dartboards are located.

Once I step inside I notice that the pool tables have been moved out and a mechanical bull has been moved in. Three of the larger guys that work for the club are leaving as I walk in. Translation: Noah and I are now alone.

He’s crouched low, inspecting the steel and leather beast in the middle of the room. That’s when my old foe chemistry taps me on the shoulder and says, “Remember me, bitch?” It’s an ongoing battle, trying to keep it in check. So far I’m winning but only by a slight margin.

The curve of his muscular ass is showcased perfectly in his vintage Levi’s…an ass a certain somebody would love to sink her teeth into. Speakingforafriend.

The second he glances over his shoulder at me, his lids get a little heavy and on cue a rude amount of heat grows between my legs and spreads.

“What’s this?”

Noah stands. “What’s it look like?”

I should thank him for dumping a bucket of cold water in my lap. I really should.

“Gosh, so charming. So pleasant to be around. Stop it or you’ll make me blush. When did we get a mechanical bull, jackass?”

He smiles––against his will. It softens the severe air about him.

“We’ve been trying for awhile. Rowdy wanted it but the insurance was an issue. I found a solution.”

Neither one of us mentions that Rowdy isn’t here to enjoy it. And yet I can see the bittersweet thought on his face as clearly as I know it’s on mine. I walk up to it and run a hand over the back, feeling a rather giddy urge to get on.

Tags: P. Dangelico It Takes Two Romance
Source: readsnovelonline.net