He just laughed and took the plane down, and as her stomach dived, she allowed herself a moment of weakness and let that rough, masculine sound wrap around her.
A few minutes later, Kit stepped out of the plane and, stretching her legs, took deep drafts of the air. Grass and trees, birdsong and the gentle rustle of leaves in the wind, there was nothing of civilization within sight but the plane Noah had just landed. “Do you plan to build here?”
“I have a small cabin a little bit farther in. Other than that, I think I’ll leave it.” A shrug. “Don’t need anything bigger.” He hesitated before saying, “I was planning for us to picnic nearby, but do you want to go see the cabin?”
Kit knew she should say no, put a stop to the increasing emotional intimacy between them. But this was the first, the only time Noah had invited her to a place that could be thought of as his home. “Yes,” she said. “I’d like to see it.”
His smile, it wrecked her.
“Let me grab the food.”
Taking the smaller bag since he had a picnic blanket as well, she walked toward the trees with him, spied an overgrown path. “You haven’t been here for a while?”
“Not since before the tour—but the cabin should be fine. Unless the squirrels decided to stage an attack. Probably banged the door down with hammers shaped from acorns.”
She couldn’t not smile. “You should write children’s books.” The visuals he occasionally came up with were brilliant.
He erupted into gales of laughter, the warmth in his eyes contagious. “Can you imagine a parent buying a kid’s book penned by Noah St. John?” Not waiting for her answer, he pointed with his chin. “There it is.”
Wrenching her attention from him, she saw a log cabin beside a stream kissed by sunshine. “Noah,” she breathed. “It’s perfect.” The clearing in which the cabin stood was all lush green grass and wildflowers, like an image from a fairy tale.
“The cabin’s not very well put together,” he told her. “I did it and it won’t fall down on us, but it wouldn’t pass any inspections.” Smile fading, eyes shadowed, he looked at the small building. “I guess I just wanted a secret, private place where no one expects anything from me.”
“Thank you for sharing it with me.” It was hard to keep her voice steady when he’d just told her this wasn’t his home.
It was a piece of his heart.
Chapter 9
“Let’s sit outside,” she said through the renewed ache in her chest. “It’s so pretty by the stream.” It would also be easier than being shut up in a cabin with a Noah who was acting more and more like the man for whom she’d fallen so hard she was still bruised from it.
Putting down the food, he snapped out the tartan-patterned blanket—dark blue with lines picked out in red and white. Pretty, and one she’d seen before. He’d pulled it from the trunk of his car one day, spread it out in her garden, and lazed in the sun while she finished weeding.
The garden hadn’t been finished then. It was Noah who’d helped her hoe the beds. That day, however, he’d been a complete sloth because he hadn’t slept the previous night. He’d told her it had just been a bad night, and Kit had believed him. It was only later that she’d realized Noah didn’t sleep much at all.
He’d slept in her garden, however, under the shade of the cherry blossom tree that had been one of the first things she’d planted. Giving in to need, she’d watched him. His lashes had been dark against the gold of his skin, his cheekbones defined and his jawline shadowed. There was no question that Noah was incredibly good-looking, but Kit was surrounded by good-looking people on a daily basis, had been since childhood.
It was what lay beneath Noah’s looks that had compelled her: the drive, the passion, the talent, and, she’d believed, the capacity to care. She hadn’t been wrong about the latter. Noah could care, and care deeply, but—
“Kit.”