Page 115 of Best Friends for Never

I can’t believe I told him I love him.

More than that, I can’t believe it’s true.

I thought I was over him. Thought I had moved on.

I was wrong.

I was wrong, and the thought terrifies me as much as it thrills me.

All it took was him being back in town, and I’m head over heels for him. I haven’t felt this way since ... well, since I was eighteen, only this time, sneaking around and hanging out with him is far more fun and naughtier.

I can’t pinpoint exactly when it happened. Maybe it was when he stepped in to rescue me from Figgins and promised to stay and help with the theater, even though I knew he had much more important things to do. Or maybe when he took me out to the Falls and gave me the best orgasm of my life. Or how he looked after Axel’s daughters andme during that disastrous dinner. Or that he takes care of me when I have too many whiskey sours.

Or maybe ... maybe I just never stopped loving him at all.

I’m in love with Noel Carter, and I have no idea what to do about it, especially since he’s leaving again and I can’t go with him. I have far too much to do here, like finish the theater and run my business with Axel. I’ve worked hard on both, and I don’t want to give any of that up.

Besides, I don’t even know if I wouldwantto go. I doubt I could handle the high-profile life he leads. That’s his world, not mine. I have no idea where I’d fit in there.

But I guess that’s not something I even need to worry about for a few more weeks.

I hear him grabbing plates from the cabinet, and I know it’s my cue to finally crawl out of bed. That’s good because I’m not sure I can handle thoughts of him leaving with this hangover.

I use the restroom, brush my teeth quickly, and pad out to the main quarters.

Noel is at the stove, flipping a pancake off the skillet and onto a plate. He’s barefoot, wearing the same jeans and simple gray T-shirt he had on last night. His back muscles are jumping with every move he makes. Whatever workout routine they have him on in LA is clearly paying off.

When he finishes the pancakes, he turns off the burner and heads to the fridge, pulling out a carton of orange juice and two cups from the cabinet. He’s moving around my kitchen like he’s in his element, and all I can think is,He fits here.

He might have reservations about this town—and I get it, I do—but I think he belongs here more than he realizes he does, and that’s the worst part of it all.

I could ask him to stay and prove to him that this place is his home as much as it is mine, but that wouldn’t be fair. Just like I have my business to run here, he has his own career that’s much better suited for LA than some tiny town in Washington.

My eyes drift to Pumpkin, who sits on the back of the couch, one of my Frosty the Snowman figures between his paws as he nips at it. He looks at me and meows, a sign he wants his breakfast.

Noel hears him and looks over, his face lighting with a smile when he sees me. “You’re up.”

“I’m up,” I say, walking farther into the kitchen and straight to Pumpkin’s bowl.

I stop when I see it’s full.

He fed my cat.

My cat, the very same one who left scratch marks on his cheek just a couple of weeks ago. It’s ... well, it’s sweet.

“You fed him.”

“Huh?” Noel asks, turning to me.

I point to the bowl. “You fed Pumpkin.”

“Oh yeah. He was meowing his little head off. I hope that’s okay.”

“That’s ... It’s ...” I race toward him, wrapping my arms around his middle, pressing my face against his chest. “It’s more than okay. I can’t believe you fed my cat.”

He laughs. “I’m trying to feed you, too, but I kind of need to move to be able to do that. Sit. Breakfast is just about ready. You feeling okay enough to eat?”

My stomach rumbles as I pull away. “I’mstarving.”

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