Page 27 of Before We Fell

“Miss Frazier.”

“I know it’s odd for me to be here. But I thought I’d come over and help you with something.”

I gestured toward the pile in my arms and a thousand needles bit into my skull as my neck heated. Good Lord. I must have looked a fool.

“Please tell me you don’t think I have some kink involving dolls.”

“Kink?” I looked down at the three American Girl dolls in my arms and my bags filled with brushes and combs with hair-ties wrapped around them. “Ew. No.” I lifted my head and met his gaze. “I came to teach you how to braid hair.” And good Lord, the man unsettled me.

He was smirking at me, eyes widened in surprise, or humor, but kink? Really? With dolls?

I would never know how men think.

“Braiding hair?” His tone was disbelieving.

This really was stupid. The entire idea, yet I was sure it’d help. It’d at least help Riley come to school looking put together instead of wanting me to take care of it. I had begun to notice on the days her hair looked better, she talked more. I didn’t understand the connection, but it was worth pursuing.

“Yes.” I took two steps forward, practically forcing Noah out of the way and me into his house, but he stepped back, gripping the door as he did and gave me room to enter.

“Well, then, by all means.”

I moved past him and into the dining area straight ahead. The entire kitchen was demolished and cleaned up, floors sanded. The thin layer of dust from the previous weekend was gone and the ceilings that had been stripped of the popcorn finish now had a bright, fresh coat of white paint on them.

“Wow, you’ve done a lot with the place.”

His presence came at me from behind, close enough I knew if I turned around I’d have to tip my head back to look up to him. He was too close. His mere presence unsettled me and I fought a delightful shiver. It was unnatural, and yet my breath caught as his footsteps brought him even closer.

An arm appeared at my side and he plucked the brown-haired doll out of my arms. “I prefer brunettes,” he said, and that shiver appeared, sliding right to my feet and made me curl my toes against my flip-flops. His breath skirted over my cheek as he pulled back and stepped away.

Turning, I saw him move to the kitchen, doll tucked to his side like a football. I cleared my head. “I know this sounds crazy, but Riley asks me to do her hair almost every day. And I guess I thought, if you could do it, she’d come to you. Sometimes while I do her hair, she talks more. I just thought…”

Noah pursed his lips, making that crevice between the points of his upper lip more pronounced, better. He set the doll on the kitchen table and turned to the fridge. “I see.” I lost sight of him as he opened the door and bent down. “I wasn’t expecting company, but I have tea and water if you want something to drink. Beer and scotch too, if you’d prefer.”

“Tea would be great, thank you.” I didn’t drink much other than the occasional glass of wine at night to unwind or a couple beers max when I was out with Tinley. Plus I was way too afraid to drink too much. I’d seen the effects of addiction in my family and it was enough to scare me away from any alcohol at all until I was twenty-one.

He closed the fridge, holding a beer and a jug of what looked like homemade tea in his hands and brought it to the table. He didn’t speak as he went to a bookshelf and grabbed a glass. It must have been his makeshift kitchen area during the remodel because the small shelf held plates and bowls, four glasses, and a mason jar filled with silverware.

“Are you doing all of this work yourself?” He hadn’t spoken, and there was something about the way he let me into his house, manners dictating he offer me something to drink, but didn’t seem all that pleased by my presence. And clearly, conversation wasn’t his forte. Strange for a man who argued for a living.

At least he hadn’t kicked me out yet.

“Most of it.” He poured the tea into my glass, not looking at me as he re-capped the bottle and moved to the fridge. “My dad helps with some and I have contractors to install what I don’t want to screw up.”

“How long until it’s all done?”

He closed the fridge and turned, hands pressed to his hips as he surveyed the room. His brows wrinkled like he had to actually think about it, but I wasn’t fooled. I had no doubt Noah had everything scheduled down to the exact hour. He seemed like that kind of precise man.

“I’ll paint this week. Cabinets and counters are coming next week. Flooring the week after. The addition will take longer to finish after.”

It was impressive. And a man with brains, his looks, and the talent to work with his hands would have made my list of top three qualities I wanted in a man. If I was looking.

Which I wasn’t. At least not with my neighbor.

“Hmm.”

“What?”

“Nothing,” I said, grabbing my glass of iced tea with one hand and the bag holding the rest in my other. Like I was saying any ofthatto him. I made my way to his large sectional couch, the only piece of furniture in the living area where I could sit and settled in the corner, taking out the dolls and hairbrushes along with bottles of de-tangler and water I’d grabbed from my own linen closet.

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