Digging my phone out of my purse, I step away and pretend to know what I’m doing. I really don’t. Brenna already has it programmed, but Noah doesn’t need to know that.
“Hmm...”
“What?” Noah asks.
“It’s not far. I shouldn’t have any problems.” Without another word, I get in my car and back up. Peeking through my rearview mirror, I see that Noah is still standing on his front porch. I sit there for a few seconds, hoping he’ll go inside, but he doesn’t.
This should be interesting.
Looking at my phone, I follow the map, watching as the little blue marker on my screen guides me. I drive to the end of the driveway and turn right, as instructed, following the road forty or fifty feet before stopping in front of another driveway, this one leading up to a quaint little white house with black shutters.
There’s a large front porch with a wooden rocking chair tucked in the corner, and I can’t help the smile that stretches across my face. I’ve always wanted a porch and a rocking chair.
Pulling up to the garage, I put my car in park and step out. Turning toward Noah, across the yard, I shrug. “Home sweet home,” I say, motioning toward the house.
Happenstance at its finest.
He stares at me blankly for a few seconds before turning toward his front door, and although I can’t hear him, I can clearly make out the two words that pass through his lips as he walks inside, still looking my way. “Fuck me.”
Chapter 3
Tease
Lennon
“Leni,” Brenna growls, causing me to flinch. “When I told you to stay out of the news, I didn’t just mean in New York. The last thing your father needs right now is something like this.”
I knew I shouldn’t have told her about the accident. I love Brenna to death, I really do, but she worries about everything. Granted, it’s her job to worry about everything, being my father’s publicist, but sometimes she crosses the line.
“I wasn’t in the news—”
“Not yet you weren’t.” She sighs at the same time I shove a bite of pizza in my mouth. “I just really need you stay off the radar.”
Now I’m pissed. I’ve bent over backward, apologized for the stupid fucking night that got me sent here until I’m blue in the face, but it doesn’t matter. Tossing the pizza crust in the box, I stand up.
“I made one mistake, Brenna. One. And it really wasn’t even my fault, yet you make it out as though I’m the worst daughter in the entire world.”
“Leni—”
“No. You know what? I’m done. I can’t do this with you right now. I have a hair appointment I need to get to.” I don’t really have a hair appointment, but I plan on making one so it’s a legitimate excuse. “Plus it’s been a long, shitty day, and the last thing I need is to be lectured by you. I’m a grown woman, Brenna. I left because my father asked me to, and I don’t want to cause him any more problems. But I’ll be damned if I’m going to sit here and listen to you try to tell me what to do.”
Right before I hang up, I lay the guilt on thick, mostly because I can...and I’m upset. “I know you work for my dad, but we were friends first, Brenna, and if it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t even have the damn job.”
She says something, but I don’t hear a word of it because I mash my thumb against the screen, ending the call. Within seconds, my phone chimes with an incoming text, but I ignore it because I know it’s Brenna, demanding that I call her back.
Instead, I power my phone off, stack a few pieces of pizza on a paper plate, and cover it with plastic wrap. After I left Noah’s house earlier, I went grocery shopping and then splurged on a large pizza. I ate half of it, and knowing Noah probably hasn’t eaten anything, I planned to drop the rest off. I also picked up a box of chocolate chip cookies as a peace offering. I’m hoping if I can talk to him again, I can convince him to let me help out.
Grabbing my purse, I stack the pizza on top of the cookie box and make the short walk across the yard to his front door. I ring the doorbell and wait. Then I wait some more.
Good grief. I figured he’d be slow, but this is a little exaggerated.
“Noah?” This time I knock. “It’s me, Lennon.” Nothing. The crickets might as well be chirping because I don’t hear a damn thing coming from his house—not even a big thud signaling that he’s fallen while trying to get up. I knock once more before calling it quits.
“I’m leaving some food out here for you,” I say, hoping he can hear me. Setting the box and plate down on the porch swing, I pull an old receipt and pen out of my purse and scribble a quick note.
Thought you might be hungry. Don’t eat it all at once and save me a cookie ; )
Call if you need anything.