Page 19 of Before We Fell

And yet he hadn’t used my first name. Probably didn’t remember it. I set that aside and nodded.

“All I’m asking is that you wait until at least eight. I don’t think it’s unreasonable, especially when I’m awake at five-thirty during the week.”

“Done.” He moved his attention to the floor, ripped open a small band-aid and pressed it to the cut at my shin. “She doesn’t sleep well at night. Nightmares. It doesn’t matter what I do during the day, but she’ll sleep through it.”

He gave me whiplash from the change in conversation. And for the second time, he’d gone soft when he wasn’t looking at me. Perhaps that was the key with him. Distract him with a task to get him to talk. I used that strategy with boys in the classroom all the time. Sometimes they softened and felt more free with their emotions when they didn’t have to maintain eye contact.

I didn’t apologize. I’d already been scolded for trying and I had nothing to say.

He ripped open another alcohol wipe and handed it to me. “You have blood on your cheek.”

“Oh.” It had stung earlier, but I’d forgotten about it. I pressed it to my cheek, wincing at the sharp bite of the alcohol.

My goal had been accomplished. I assumed his ‘done’ meant I wouldn’t be awoken by irritating bangs and buzz saws anymore. I should have maintained the silence while he finished taking care of me, but my curiosity was piqued.

“This house is really messy.”

He glanced at me out of the corner of his eye as he laid the last band-aid. “Fixing it to flip it. Maybe. I don’t know, I guess.”

“I would have thought you would have moved into the neighborhood by the golf course.”

“Why? Because I’m rich?” His shoulders tightened, bunched at the top and the movement was noticeable even through the thin fabric of his shirt.

Well, yeah. It wasn’t like I had his financial portfolio tucked away in a desk drawer, but it was obvious from the things I’d known about Noah that he definitely had money. More than enough to buy something nicer than this smaller-sized ranch house. “I just mean—”

“I know what you meant. And I thought about it.” He closed the first-aid box and locked the lid. Gathering the small pile of trash he’d made on the floor, he continued, focused so intently on his task like he was physically trying not to look at me. It bothered me more than it should have. “I wanted a simpler life for Riley. One she was used to. Her life was changed enough.”

This man. He could actually be sweet when he didn’t have to look you in the eye. Or maybe it was me. But when it came to Riley? My heart was fluttering all over again. He might have been Mr. Jerkface to me, but whenever he mentioned Riley, he changed. More normal human than angry autobot. It was impossible not to likethatNoah.

Seven

Noah

Stop fucking talking,jackass. Just shut up.

I blamed my lack of sleep and her wide, seeking brown eyes on my verbal vomit. Her soft skin and the way her body reacted to my touch didn’t help matters. It’d been too damn long since I’d been with a woman. That had to be what was causing my mental brain farts as I spilled my guts to Riley’s teacher.

She didn’t need to know me to teach my niece, and I’d been hit on enough by women with the need tofixus since I returned to Carlton that I was now wary of most local women.

I shoved to my feet with a handful of trash in my hand. I tossed it into the closest garbage can. This house was a wreck. I’d never fully renovated my own house before, but I was handy enough with tools and a measuring tape to get the job done. The problem was that I didn’t originally have a plan with it, so everything except the bedrooms and bathrooms were currently torn to shreds. Livable, but dusty and dirty and a haphazard disaster. Not a place where Riley could settle and feel at home.

Just one more way you’re failing, dickhead.

“I should go,” Lauren said. And yes, while I called her Miss Frazier, I knew her damn name. I just didn’t like the way it sounded when I tried to form it on my lips. Sweet and alluring, much like the angry little woman way too damn young for me who stomped into my yard today, hands on her hips, looking for a fight.

I saw her too before I gave her attention. A part of me was curious how and why she just appeared in my back yard. The other part of me was fighting against getting hard at the sight of her. Denim cut-offs that barely covered her ass and a tank top that displayed her perfect tits.

Apparently, I didn’t mind being a dick to an attractive woman with smoke pluming from her ears.

A door creaked and soft footsteps padded down the hallway, headed straight toward us. Before I could shove Lauren out of my house so I didn’t have to explain myself to an above average intelligent eight-year-old, Riley appeared at the mouth of the hallway.

She held her hairbrush in her hand and she was tugging at the ends of her long, messy hair, worse that morning from the middle of the night bath.

Lauren’s mouth formed a beautiful O shape. Plump lips opened and parted. A few ideas of what I could do with them popped in my head.

Knock it off, asshole.

“Hey,” she said, her voice so soft and surprised. “Good morning, Riley.”

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