Untouchable (Haven Falls 1)

I reach in and pull out the old, silver jewelry box my parents gave me for my eighth birthday. I still don’t understand why they gave me this thing. I mean, it looks freaking expensive and ancient, but I’ve never been one to wear jewelry. Maybe it’s like one of those special things parents just like to gift their children; like fathers give little boys motorbikes and shotguns, while mothers hand out jewelry and dresses.

I flip open the silver lid and grab the roll of cash that I’ve been working on for the past few months. It’s my ‘get the hell out of here’ fund and at this rate, I’ll still be adding to it until I’m an old, old woman. I hate it here. Well, to be honest, I only started hating it since the whole ‘Jackson and Kaylah’ thing, and since then, all I’ve been able to think about is getting the hell out of here.

Though, if I was faced with an actual chance to leave…I don’t know if I’d be able to go. No matter how awful it is right now, this is my home. This is where I grew up and where my dad is. I don’t exactly have any other family to run to, so for now, this is all I got.

I add the cash dad had left for me this morning to my fund before tossing it back into the box and cramming it down under the broken floorboard. I’m more than happy to eat toasted sandwiches and frozen meals for the next few days if it means getting myself ahead.

Hearing the garage door open and close, I scram out of my room and head back to the kitchen to find Noah leaning over the stove, looking down at the noodles. “Not bad,” he grunts to himself before walking over to the sink and washing his hands.

I make my way across the kitchen and grab the spoon before plunging it into the noodles and giving it all my attention as Noah opens the pantry cupboard. I tune him out as I focus on what I’m doing and before I know it, a well-defined arm shoots across my vision and dumps a shitload of chili powder into my noodles.

I screech as I scramble for his arm and shove it hard into his chest. “What the hell are you doing?” I demand, gawking at my noodles, hoping there’s some kind of way I can save them.

“What do you mean?” he laughs. “Everything is better with chili.”

“You ruined my lunch.”

Noah raises a smug eyebrow at me as he props his hip against the kitchen counter and crosses his arm over his wide chest. “Have you ever tried it before?”

“No,” I scoff, turning back to the destroyed noodles as looking at his impressive body and the sharp lines of his devastatingly handsome face is too much for me to handle, especially as the wicked sparkle in his eye is doing something to me which I haven’t felt since… since him. “Why the hell would I? Chili doesn’t belong in noodles.”

“That’s what I thought,” he says under his breath before an amused chuckle comes out. “Instead of scowling at the pot, why don’t you move the hell over and let the professional work? I’ll show you what noodles are really supposed to taste like.”

I can’t help it. I have to look back at him, only this time, it’s with a lethal glare. “I swear,” I tell him, holding my hand up and hovering my pointer finger just millimeters above my thumb. “You are this close to getting this pot tipped over your head.”

The smugness returns. “I dare you.”

I narrow my eyes on the bastard. “You don’t think I will?” I question.

“Pour scalding water all over me? No, I don’t think you would,” he says, completely calling me out.

I scoff and turn back to the noodles, stirring them with a little too much force. “You’re lucky I have decent morals,” I mutter.

Noah laughs as he steps into me and places his hand over mine on the spoon, sending a hot jolt of electricity shooting up my arm and forcing me to smother a gasp. “Move the hell over, Spitfire,” he says, taking the spoon out of my hand and bumping me over with his hip.

I step aside and then take another just to be safe; as watching a shirtless, tattooed Noah working the stove with a cocky smirk is nearly enough to make me explode.

I should probably check the washing. Maybe getting a shirt on this boy will help.

I fist my hand down at my side before shaking it out as the electricity still pulses strongly through my body. What is that and why does it feel so good? Nobody has ever made my skin burn from their touch. Why the hell is Noah Cage any different?