If she said no to this, too, then she’d ruin her daughter’s day, and her daughter didn’t deserve to have her day ruined just because her mother had been feeling lonely and sexually frustrated and had exorcised those feelings on Noah.
Noah was watching her, his face inscrutable.
“It’s up to you,” he said steadily. “If you’d rather not, that’s fine.”
Was he saying he’d rather she didn’t come? Or did he genuinely not care either way? Did he think about those wild, mindless moments in the barn or had he tried to forget it? Maybe, for him, that kiss had been the most terrifying thing about Halloween.
She bit back a hysterical laugh. Maybe that was why he hadn’t come around for a while. She’d scared him. She’d been so damn desperate, she’d scared a man.
On the other hand, Noah had never struck her as a man who was easily scared.
It was impossible to decode his true thoughts from his body language.
But whatever he was thinking, she needed to reassure him that nothing had changed. He was her neighbor and, before that wild moment of madness, a good friend. She didn’t want to lose that.
After Brent’s accident she’d been grateful for Noah’s constant and steady presence. He’d visited frequently, reminding her that she wasn’t alone, that she had friends and neighbors who cared and were looking out for her. Long after other people had given up asking her how she was, he’d still paid attention. Often he brought gifts from his mother’s kitchen.
She made too much casserole, so maybe you’d help us out and eat it.
My mother has tried this new pie recipe, and she’d love your opinion.
She’d started to look forward to his visits. Unlike others, he didn’t tiptoe around her. He seemed to understand that she might laugh one minute and sob the next.
Since Halloween she’d missed seeing him. Was that wrong? She had no idea what was right or wrong. Life had upended the natural order of things, and she felt as if she no longer knew the rules, or even if there were rules. She didn’t care what other people thought; that wasn’t her problem. Her problem was that she didn’t even know what she thought.
But at least spending time with him would be a way of reassuring him she didn’t intend to grab him at every possible moment, and that he didn’t need to be nervous. Also, an afternoon on the farm would make her daughter ecstatically happy, and if there was ever an opportunity to make her daughter ecstatically happy, then she was going to take it.
“That would be great. Thank you. I did mean to email you about trees, but it’s been busy. We’ve had a lot going on.”
His gaze held hers. “I understand.”
If that was true, it was really embarrassing.
She was annoyed to find her cheeks turning pink. “We’ll come after lunch. I’ll ask Chloe to cover reception and she can call me if there are any problems.”
“My mother is hoping you’ll join us for dinner. She hasn’t seen you since Halloween.”
Halloween. That one word was all it took for the memories to come pouring back.
She remembered the sharp bite of the cold air, the darkness of the barn, the shadows cloaking the intimacy of the moment. They’d been talking about Christmas trees, or maybe it was the pumpkin harvest, she couldn’t even remember, but she remembered the moment she’d dug her fingers into the front of his shirt and tugged him toward her. She’d tugged him so hard he’d had to put out a hand to steady both of them, and for a single breathless moment she’d thought what am I doing? and then she’d kissed him. In fact, she hadn’t as much kissed him as consumed him. She’d been ravenous, burning up in the heat of the moment. It embarrassed her to remember it, although to be fair, he’d been right there with her, his mouth urgent against hers, his hands holding her hard against him as they’d pressed closer. The whole thing was a dizzying blur of erotic pleasure and guilt. Guilt because she wasn’t sure she was ready emotionally to kiss another man; pleasure because—well, that part was obvious. Noah Peterson clearly had skills she’d known nothing about until that moment.
But now she knew.
Her gaze slid cautiously to his and for a moment they looked at each other, connected by the memory of that stolen intimacy.
This was the moment to say something funny and dismissive that would signal to him that everything was fine and that he didn’t need to worry about being alone with her on a dark night.
But her mind blanked.
Noah looked at her for a moment longer and then shifted his attention to Delphi. “Can you watch the kitten for me, honey? Your mother and I need to have a talk about a few things.”
Hattie felt a flash of horror. He wanted to talk about it? That was the last thing she wanted.
Keeping a protective hand on the basket, Delphi looked up at him. “I know. Christmas trees. You have to talk about Christmas trees. Because you’re the Christmas tree man.”
“That’s right.” The smile crinkled his eyes and tilted the corners of his mouth. “I’m the Christmas tree man.” Giving the child’s shoulder a quick squeeze, he walked toward Hattie.
She stared at him stupidly. “You want to talk about Christmas trees?”
“Your order. It would be helpful to know what you need before you come over this afternoon.”
“Oh.” She forced herself to relax. “Yes. I scribbled it down somewhere. It’s on my desk.” She grabbed her notebook, ripped out the relevant page and thrust it toward him. “Here—”
“Thanks.” He glanced at it and tucked it into his pocket.
“It’s mostly the same as last year, except that this year I’d like to put a tree in the library.”
“Sounds good. Size?”
Size? Over six foot, she thought, because she’d had to lift herself onto her toes to kiss him.
She was so flustered by the direction of her own thoughts that her brain had stopped working. “I don’t know.”
“Show me the space and I’ll find something suitable.” He walked through the door toward the reception area and Hattie checked Delphi.
“Don’t move. You’re in charge. You’re basically running the whole show.”
“I won’t move.” Delphi crossed her legs and sat firm, taking her new responsibilities seriously.
She followed Noah through to reception. For once everything was quiet, so she crossed the hallway to the room that she and Brent had turned into a library. “That child is five going on twenty-five. I swear I’m going to wake up one morning and discover she’s already off to college.”
“She’s growing up fast.”
“She is. A little too fast. I can’t keep up.” Thank goodness for Delphi, who was always a safe topic of conversation.
Hattie pushed open the door and instantly felt some of the stress leave her. Books did that to her, and this room was full of books. The shelves were walnut and reached up to the ceiling. A fire flickered in the hearth. Two deep, comfortable sofas faced each other across a low table, which was stacked with more books. What wouldn’t she give to curl up on one of those sofas and read for the rest of the day?