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Ellen scoffed. “Noah Arnold going for Cynthia?” She laughed in a condescending way Cynthia was all too familiar with. “Give me a break. She looks like a street walker. He wouldn’t be caught dead with her.”

  Cynthia held out her shirt for self-inspection. “Since when would a street walker wear clothes like this?” She narrowed her eyes at her sister, letting go of her shirt. “Just what goes on in Sausalito?”

  “I agree, though.” Tera gave Cynthia an assessing stare. “With both things. Noah is about the age to start looking, and Cynthia could never attract his eye looking like that.” Tera snapped her fingers. “Cynthia, tomorrow we’ll go shopping. I know the cutest little store downtown that would be perfect for you.”

  “We’ll have Thanksgiving dinner late, after his family’s dinner, and invite him over,” Cynthia’s mom said. “He’s a good boy. Polite. Raised well. He won’t be able to refuse.”

  “Tiffany’s.” Tera moved closer to inspect Cynthia’s neckline, ears, and wrists. “You’ll need some Tiffany’s. Nothing says high class and available like the right jewelry.”

  “Do rich wives just randomly make up ridiculous rules so unsuspecting single girls feel like lepers? I’ll bet they do.” Cynthia edged toward the door. She did not like where all this talk was going. As Aunt Bessie had wisely suggested, she might need to run, even if that meant leaving a fallen solider behind.

  Noah could fend for himself. He was super built. He could fight his way through, if need be.

  “You can’t dress up crazy,” Ellen said with a sneer. “He’ll see right through whatever you try to do to her. He wouldn’t go for her in a million years.”

  “Chanel sunglasses…”

  “It’s not sunny,” Cynthia told Tera. “So I don’t need high-dollar glasses.”

  “A Gucci scarf might work,” Tera continued, tapping her chin with her finger.

  “I don’t have any money, remember, guys?” Cynthia took another step.

  “I said take me with you!” Aunt Bessie grabbed the bag of Cheetos, moved it to her lap, and tried to hastily back away from the table.

  “Definitely a skirt, Mom. She has great legs,” Tera said, not at all distracted by Aunt Bessie knocking the chairs around.

  “What’s his favorite food, I wonder,” Tamie said, now tapping her chin like Tera was doing. “No, I know. His favorite dessert! Even if he won’t come for dinner, he’ll definitely come for his favorite dessert. Cynthia, dear, find out what his favorite dessert is.”

  “Would four-inch stilettos be too much for Thanksgiving dinner?” Tera asked.

  “Oh.” The deep male voice made all the women’s heads snap toward the entrance to the kitchen.

  Noah stood at the threshold, his face slightly pale and eyes tight.

  For the second time that day, a wicked grin spread across Cynthia’s face.

  Five

  “Hey, Cynthia. Everyone. Hello, Tera, how are you?” Noah attempted a smile. “Cynthia, are you ready? My mother would like to say hi.”

  Her elated smile dripped off her face, and for some reason, that was the best sight he’d seen all day. After forcing Art on him, thereby exposing him to the most racist and sexist jokes he’d ever heard, Cynthia deserved a little reciprocity.

  “Oh no, I can—” Cynthia started.

  “Can I go?” Bessie asked with a hopeful expression.

  “Yes, Cynthia, that’s a great idea,” Tamie said quickly. “Why don’t you run over to the Arnold house. Say hi for me.”

  “Looking like that?” Tera put her hand to her chest. “No. Cynthia, go change.”

  “What’s the point?” Ellen muttered. No question about it—she was pissed.

  He took a step back as Tamie said to Cynthia, “Yes, go change. There’s a good girl. Off you go—Bessie, stop hanging on to her. Honestly, do you want to go back to that wretched nursing home?”

  “Yes,” Bessie said.

  Tamie huffed as she bustled over to Cynthia and began pushing her toward the kitchen entrance.

  “Save yourself,” Cynthia called over her shoulder as she was swept out of the room. Tamie didn’t return, no doubt assuming (correctly, he imagined) that Cynthia wouldn’t do as instructed unless she had constant supervision.

  “Have a seat, Noah,” Tera said, shepherding him toward the table. “Cynthia will be just a second.”

  As soon as he sat down, Bessie wheeled closer. “What are you in for?” she asked.

  This place was a madhouse.

  “Can I get you something to drink?” Tera asked.

  “No, I’m fine,” Noah replied.

  “Where are you living now?” Ellen asked Noah, her voice hard.

  “Sacramento.” He glanced at the clock. His mom would be wondering where he was.

  “What is it you do there?” Tera asked.

  “At the moment, I’m a fitness model,” he replied, trying not to squirm in his seat.

  “A fitness model?” Tera asked, a crease forming between her brows.

  Ellen rolled her eyes and gave him a placating smile. Apparently that didn’t meet her standards. If only she knew what else he did…

  Cynthia’s voice drifted into the kitchen. “Mother, it’s fine. He’s trying to lure me outside to kill me, not to talk to his mother. You need to read between the lies.” He barely stopped a laugh.

  “Cynthia, honey, try not to be so odd,” they heard Tamie say.

  “She’s always had a…great sense of humor,” Tera said, but it sounded like an apology.

  Cynthia strolled into the kitchen in a pinstriped skirt that showed off the curve of her hips and the definition of her calves. Heels. A blouse hugged her perky breasts and draped over her flat stomach before tucking into her skirt. A jacket matched the outfit, and a scarf hung around her neck. She looked at once sleek and beautiful, intimidating and powerful. His cock hardened again.

  “My mother apparently thinks I’m going to work,” Cynthia said in a flat, humorless voice.

  Soft brown hair flowed around her beautiful face, slightly flushed from the hurried outfit change. She didn’t have makeup on, but she didn’t need it. Her piercing blue eyes glowed with intelligence, and her plump lips had a natural pink hue.

  All the Bell sisters were lovely, but Cynthia’s fire set her apart.

  How had he never noticed that before?

  “Okay, you kids have a great time!” Tamie ushered Cynthia toward Noah. “Don’t keep her out too late now, Noah.”

  “Won’t you be sorry when I turn up in a ditch tomorrow,” Cynthia muttered.

  “Such a kidder.” Tamie motioned for Noah to stand, which he did without a moment’s hesitation. “She’s just tired; don’t mind her. Her personality levels out the longer you’re in her company.”

  “Clearly I didn’t get the marketing genes from you, Ma,” Cynthia said as she moved toward the nearest exit.

  “Come back for me,” Bessie hollered as they stepped through the back door.

  “You sent her out looking like that?” Noah heard as Cynthia reached out to close the door.

  “She didn’t have anything else. You need to take her shop—”

  The voices were muffled as Cynthia clicked the door shut. The two of them paused for a moment, neither of them saying a word.

  “So,” Noah finally said, cracking a smile. “Your family is nuts, huh?”

  Cynthia deflated with a soft laugh. “Batshit crazy, yeah. It wasn’t always this bad, but in the last few years, everyone’s gone a little lopsided. Or maybe I’m just now noticing it.”

  “I never hung around your house much—”

  “When my parents were awake,” she corrected.

  He felt his face heat as she started forward. “Right…”

  She threw him a smile over her shoulder. “I’m joking. My mom and sisters were always at a certain level, I was always the weird third sister that hung out with nerds, and my dad was always working or golfing. That, or with his nose in a paper or report. But I’ve been back for a couple we
eks now, and…I don’t know. It’s different somehow. It’s like my mother has multiplied, my dad has multiplied, and I fit in even less than before. And then there’s the whole Aunt Bessie situation, which is starting to worry me. As of today.”

  He laughed as they made it to the side gate. She flipped the latch and opened it. Acting on impulse, he stepped forward to hold it open for her. She bumped into his side, and pleasant shivers ran though his body. Warmth pooled low.

  She looked up at him. Their eyes met. The world around them spun, dizzying him, before dropping away. All he could focus on was the deep blue of her eyes. The tantalizing smell of her. The heat touching his side.

  “So you’re a real gentleman, huh?” she asked in a steady voice. The voice of someone who did not seem to feel the intensity of their touch. The heat of their contact. “Or is this a ruse?”

  His face heated again as he ripped his eyes away from hers. He took a step away, straightening his arm so he could still hold the door open. There was nothing more embarrassing than imagining a connection that didn’t exist.

  “I try to be a gentleman, yes. Always have. Go.” He nodded to get her moving.

  “Well, oh ho. Looky here. Mr. One-Eighty. Okay, okay, you don’t have to be pushy.” She hopped forward in jest, clearly a pantomime of hurrying. Her stiletto heel got stuck in the gravel, though, and she tripped before staggering to the right. Her other ankle bent, not holding her weight, and her body swayed alarmingly in the opposite direction.

  He rushed forward to grab her, seeing what was happening, but he didn’t make it in time. Her foot popped out of her left shoe, still embedded in the gravel, as she struggled to catch her balance. Her other foot didn’t find traction soon enough to keep her upright, and she fell forward.

  Luckily, they were on the edge of the lawn. Unluckily, the lawn was surrounded by a strip of decorative, rocky concrete.

  She scraped her face and chest against the grass. Her thighs slid against the cement. Then her knees. An oomph escaped her lips.

  “Oh my God, are you okay?” He bent to grab her, trying to hoist her up.

  She had already started scrambling for leverage, so when he got a hold of her arm, he wasn’t expecting her to flip onto her back, throwing his weight off center. She jolted back at his touch, but a strange shiver had already gone through his body at the contact. This woman would just not hold still!

  “What are you—” His foot hit the strip of concrete and he plummeted next to her, completely off balance. His shoulder hit the grass before skidding to a stop. The concrete punched his thigh, giving him a charley horse.

  Breathing heavily, he did what seemed was constantly necessary in her presence—took a moment to pause. This woman was like a tornado in a town with no storm cellars. Janie had nothing on her.

  Six

  “My bad,” she said in a singsong voice.

  His beautiful brown eyes found hers, confusion evident in them.

  “Moriarty from Sherlock,” she said. His expression didn’t light up with recognition. “The BBC version,” she added. Still nothing. “Dude, why have you not watched that?”

  He groaned and closed his eyes, resting his cheek against the grass. Laughter bubbled up inside her even though her knees stung like the bejesus and her breasts throbbed. She should’ve put on the push-up bra with a bunch of padding, like her mom had suggested. That would’ve absorbed the impact a little better.

  “You okay?” she asked.

  “Yeah.” His eyes snapped open again, hitting her with the full force of that entrancing gaze. Her stomach flipped over before dropping out, making her feel weightless. She didn’t like it.

  Noah was not a man to be trusted. He had been practicing those types of looks, with that startlingly handsome face, since before he could drive. Everyone knew that.

  Cynthia didn’t know what he thought he was doing—all the opening of doors, leaning in, and steady gazes—but she wasn’t just another fool to be suckered. No way. The last thing she would tolerate was Ellen saying I told you so. That would absolutely ruin her year, and with the year she was having, that was saying something.

  She rolled over onto the strip of concrete. “Who puts concrete around grass where kids play? Whose great idea was that?” She adjusted and sat up, looking down at herself and surveying the damage.

  Her skirt was scuffed, white in two places where she’d hit the hardest. Ruined, basically. Skin had peeled away from her knees, and a line of blood was running down her leg from one of the scrapes.

  That hurt.

  Green from the grass had stained the fabric over her breasts, ruining the shirt.

  “Great idea, Mom, as always.” She sighed.

  “Cynthia, are you okay?” Noah leaned over her knees, gently touching her shin with warm fingers. Goosebumps spread across her skin, betraying her reaction to him. So much for pretending he didn’t affect her. “That looks like it hurts.”

  “It does, yes. Actually, it more stings than hurts.” Cynthia eyed the high heel that had fallen off during her graceful tumble. She figured she might as well just come clean so as to feel a little less stupid. “My mom was trying to dress me up and present me to you like a Thanksgiving turkey, or a bride in an arranged marriage or something. Which reminds me, what is your least favorite dessert?” She held up her hand to inspect it, and Noah sucked in another breath. Apparently, she’d collected another cut on her balletic way to the ground. “Don’t worry, that one doesn’t hurt as much.”

  “We need to get you cleaned up,” he said. “My brother and sister-in-law are doctors, remember? Let’s go.”

  “No, it’s fine. Honestly, they’re tiny cuts. I’ve had worse falls than this on a great many occasions.”

  “This one was my fault. Let me make it right.” He stood, then bent to help her up.

  “How was this your fault?” She avoided his hands, pointing instead at her shoe.

  He retrieved it before sliding it onto her foot. “I interrupted your flow by holding the door open, then didn’t catch you.”

  “Wow. You’re really grasping at straws.”

  “I’m trying to be gallant, give me a break.” He flashed her a mouth-watering smile. Man, when the guy laid on the charm, he laid it on good and thick.

  “Okay, it was your fault,” she said, relenting. “But apology not accepted. Look at what you’ve done! I’m a disgrace. Actually, I take that back.” She made a so-so gesture with her hand. “This means my nosy family won’t want to buy me any short skirts. So yeah, thanks for shoving me to the ground, man. Good looking out.”

  “I don’t know about taking credit for shoving you…”

  “Shoving me, then body-slamming me, yeah. Good call. I’ll tell everyone how my knight in shining armor saved me. They’ll all understand. Sometimes abuse is the only way to get things done, am I right?”

  “No… I’m…”

  “I’m right. Okay. I think I’ll just head back inside now. It was fun, really.” She twisted to the left and braced her good hand on the strip of cement. She struggled to push herself up, sucking in her breath when her scraped knee came in contact with a blade of grass. “Getting up is always the worst part.”

  “Here.”

  Before she knew what he was doing, he had his hands hooked under her armpits.

  “No, no—” She gritted her teeth, because her pits were where she sweated the most. “Well, when you’re right, you’re right. We should make this situation even more embarrassing.”

  He laughed as he deadlifted her to her feet, not seeming to strain in the least, then stood much too close as she regained her balance. An electric buzz from his proximity hummed along her skin and infiltrated her blood, settling deep into her core.

  The man was too alluring for his own good. It wasn’t fair on the poor lady-folk who were forced to be in his presence.

  “Cool, thanks,” she said, exhaling.

  “Saying ‘cool’ isn’t cool.”

  “Right.” Her knees throbbed a
nd her hand stung. Worse, she knew she’d have to clean the wounds. Cleaning wounds was the worst part of being naturally klutzy. Well, aside from the embarrassment.

  “C’mon, let’s get you to my parents’ house.”

  “No, thanks.” She patted his beefy shoulder without thinking, making her flinch from the pain of her cut. A dot of red now marred his crisp white shirt. “That’s one reason I don’t wear white. And why people shouldn’t wear white in my presence.”

  “You are…something else.”

  “That’s a very nice way of putting it. See ya— Eiiiiiiii!”

  She’d never squealed like that before, but maybe that was because she’d never been effortlessly swept up into a man’s arms before. Her ribs pushed against Noah’s hard chest, bumpy with muscles. Her palm left another dot of blood on his shirt as she clutched his wide shoulder.

  His deep voice rumbled out of his chest. “C’mon. I owe you an awkward conversation with a parent figure.”

  “This is kidnapping,” she said, out of breath. “A man carrying a woman away is probably the oldest form of kidnapping. It dates back to the caveman days, actually.”

  “I’m old school, what can I say?” He started across the grass.

  The street was mostly bare, thankfully, when they made it to the sidewalk. Without breaking stride or a sweat, Noah carried her off toward his car.

  “The ice cream is probably going to be melted,” he said softly.

  She frowned, because yes, it probably would be. “Sorry. That’s my fault.”

  “Yes, it is. If you hadn’t herded me via pinching into the presence of your uncle, none of this would’ve happened.”

  “Wow. Whatever happened to the knight in shining armor?”

  “The memory of the last joke your uncle told me made me temporarily forget my role.”

  She blew out a breath, trying to contain a smile. She really should feel the slightest bit guilty, but she was too jubilant for that. He was so much fun, and he managed to take her in stride. At least, more so than anyone else she’d ever met. That was saying something.

  “I’ll have to go to the store tomorrow anyway, so I can pick up some more for you,” she said.