Page 65 of The Pumpkin Spice Romance
“Nice boots!” Noah complimented Scarlett without giving her time to respond to his original greeting.
Her shoulders sagged with a mournful moan.
“I stole them,” she said woefully. “From Maree. I found them in the closet, tried them on, and couldn’t take them off. They’re justsoooocomfortable.”
She made it sound as though she’d committed five sinsandkicked a dog.
Noah half-suppressed a chuckle, trying not to garner too much joy from her tangible misery.
“I’m sure you’re safe from Chief Crockett —for now, at least. Maree won’t be home for a few more days.”
“You know the chief of police? Personally?” Her voice hit a higher octave with each question.
“Relax,” Noah cajoled, handing her one of the disposable cups of coffee so he could turn her around and nudge her into the apartment. He closed the door, shielding Scarlett from the chilly morning air. “I was teasing. If Maree wanted or needed those boots, they’d be at her and Rhys’s house, not here. I’m sure she’ll be happy to know you put them to good use.”
Scarlett eyed him, clearly unconvinced, but she followed him to the breakfast nook and settled into the chair he pulled out for her.
“Trust me,” he urged, to which she responded with a mean-faced growl.
Muffling a giggle, Noah shook his head. Even her attempt at grumpy anger charmed him.
“What’s in the bag?” Scarlett asked, adorably willing to set aside her strife.
“Donut heaven.”
“Where’d you get it?”
“Donut Heaven.”
She sneered.
“I’m serious,” he swore, raising both hands in surrender. “These are the world’sverybest donuts. . .literally heaven on earth. And I bought them at a shop called Donut Heaven. Try one and tell me I’m wrong.”
He opened the bag and pulled out a pile of napkins. Noah then divided them into five stacks on the table.
Methodically, he placed a chocolate-iced éclair on one napkin. He placed a cinnamon twist on another napkin. An apple fritter went on the third napkin. He stacked a pair of cake donuts — one blueberry and one devil’s food — on the fourth napkin. Then he dumped the bag upside down to pile a mound of plain glazed donut holes on the final napkin.
“Pick your poison,” Noah challenged.
“Should a heavenly donut be poisonous?” Scarlett countered.
“I promise. . . Like a potent poison or a really addictive drug, you’ll be hooked after the first bite.”
Scarlett surveyed Noah, her eyes skimming down his body as he’d looked her up and down at the door. In his haste to get out the door that morning, Noah had grabbed aged, brown leather work boots and well-worn Wrangler work jeans with an old hunter-green, pearl snap denim shirt with the sleeves rolled up — to protect his arms from limbs and scratches whileworking. Out of habit, he’d picked up his favorite snap-back cap. . .his lucky one, with an embroidered bass on the front panel, the one he always took when he went fishing at Daisy Lake. He’d dressed to spend a dayworkingin the fields and woods at Twin Oaks — not to impress.
Noah got the sense that it didn’t matter when her slow-moving gaze reached his eyes. In hers, he saw a look of pleasant approval. Noah grinned. He could work with that.
It would be his favorite job for the day: helping Scarlett understand he wasn’t going anywhere, and neither should she.
The thought brought with it more than a cheerful smile; it evoked a sensation of completion, like the last piece of a puzzle snapping into place. It just felt right.
“You don’t look like someone who knows much abouta potent poisonora really addictive drug,” Scarlett said, breaking the spell locking their eyes with one another’s.
“Well, looks can be deceiving.”
She cocked a softly arched eyebrow at him.
“Pray tell. . . WhatdoI look like?” he asked, changing tactics.
