'I mean, Patricia…' He blinked and gave his head another sharp shake. 'I was just…'
He floundered some more as my temper boiled over. 'Noah Lodge, you colossal asshole-'
The words froze in my mouth. He'd put a jacket on sometime last night after I'd locked the door on him. It was the same one he'd been wearing yesterday afternoon. As he picked himself up from the ground, the pockets spilled. Loose change, a slip of paper and a little black box came tumbling out.
Noah's gaze followed mine. Seeing the box, he scooped it up and shoved it deep into his pocket like he was burying a mistake. 'I just wanted to make sure you were okay. You are — and you clearly don't want me here — so I'll leave.'
Still talking, he started to turn away.
'What was that?'
'What?' His hand flexed inside his pocket, telling me he knew exactly what I was inquiring after.
Instead of walking away when I didn't answer him, he bent down and gathered the rest of the spilled contents from the ground, the yellow slip of paper disappearing into the same pocket as the box.
I told myself the box wasn't what I thought it was — it couldn't be. Lots of things come in little black boxes. It could be anything, could be for anyone. I knew that, but I couldn't keep my mouth shut. 'You know what I'm talking about.'
His hand twisted inside the pocket but didn't emerge. 'Nothing you care to see, baby girl.'
His tone and the stress of the last two days hit me all at once. My knees buckled, my body folding faster than the kid had last night. As fast as I fell, Noah still managed to rip the screen door open and catch me before I hit the floor.
'You're shaking, baby.'
No fucking joke. I pushed at him, tried to extract myself from his strong arms even though I had been dying all night just to have him hold me again.
'Stop fighting, Pattycake. You promised no more pulling away.'
I batted at his chest. 'I didn't pull away!'
That wasn't true. I had pulled away — but not first. Not first, not until after he'd run out and ignored my text and made it clear to Darling that he was just looking after his best friend's little sister. I swung at him again, the attempt futile as he cinched me against him, erasing the space between us, and stood up.
'You're the one who ran out,' I reminded him. 'First light and you were out the door.'
'I know, baby. I was scared shitless.' Cradling me against his chest, Noah shoved the door shut with his foot. He carried me to the couch. Still holding me, he sat down.
'You want to know what's in the box, Patricia Harper, pull it out and see for yourself.' He was staring hard at me, his gaze as unreadable as his voice was strained.
I reached my fingers into the pocket but he stopped me. He fished the slip of paper out, folding it until just the name of a store and the date stamp were visible.
Shit, he'd driven to Tiffany's in Atlanta. Whatever was inside the box, he had purchased it Saturday at a little after one pm.
I drew a hard breath in. 'Why'd you run out yesterday morning — you wouldn't even look me in the eye.'
Half-question, half-accusation, the words erupted in a stuttering mess.
'Baby girl, you think I'm a player — an absolute dog.'
I shot him a look, letting him know I wasn't the only woman in a hundred mile radius holding that opinion.
'Not with you, baby. Never with you.' A smile crept along his face, faltering as his mouth began to tremble. 'I couldn't look at you because I was afraid I'd find you pulling away. I needed something to show you I was serious before you had the chance to shut me out again. That's why I didn't answer your text, either.'
I buried my face against his shoulder, my hand inching toward the pocket. He wrapped his fingers around mine. 'Not yet, Pattycake.'
Twisting to his side, Noah dumped me on my butt. Pushing the coffee table away from the couch, he got down on one knee. He reached into his pocket, his hand pausing. He stared at my clothing, seeming to notice for the first time that morning just how little I had on. The lacy camisole was held together in the front with silk ties threaded beneath my breasts to lift them. Lace tap pants covered my bottom — barely.
He sucked his bottom lip in, his eyes slowly closing.
When he opened them again, his hot gaze pinned me to the couch. 'You're letting me take that off,' he warned before his hand emerged with the box.
The box popped open with an upward swipe of his thumb, revealing a princess-cut diamond surrounded on all four sides with a row of smaller round brilliants, another row encased in the platinum band.
'Yes!'
Half smiling, he licked at his top lip before his tongue slowly curled back inside. 'Baby, slow down. I didn't ask anything yet.'
I nodded, a blush heating my cheeks. More than embarrassment, I was flushed from that little display of tongue and the knowledge of how very skilled it was.
'You remember that time when you were ten and I beat the crap out of Joey Stahls?'
I nodded again. Joey had made the very dumb mistake of pushing me down at the bus stop and telling me my freckles were dried lice.
'Well, when my daddy was done tanning my butt, he asked me why I did it.' He stopped, his cheeks burning a bright pink beneath his summer tan. 'I told him-'
His voice broke and he had to start over. 'I told him it was because Joey had hurt you and made you cry and I had to kick Joey's ass because I was going to marry you when I grew up.'
My breathing shallowed to nothing. He'd been twelve. 'You grew out of it, you had-'
'I didn't.' His gaze dipped in confession. 'I know I dated other women — had to stand by and watch you date other men. It was…'
'What Mike wanted,' I finished, reaching out to stroke my hand along his cheek. I laughed softly, wondering how we were going to explain things to my big brother. 'Maybe he's grown out of it by now.'
Smiling, Noah pressed his face against my palm. 'It doesn't matter if he has. Nobody is getting between us ever again.'
'Good.' The word left me in a breathless whisper.
My hand trembled. He took it in his, plucking the engagement ring from the box and poising it against the end of my finger. He looked up at me, his gaze hot and earnest. 'Patricia Louise Harper, will you marry me?'
I stared at him, still stunned that he was on bended knee in the house I'd grown up in — that we'd both grown up in — asking me to be his wife.
'Baby, now is when you're supposed to say yes.'
I nodded, my head bobbing profusely.
His eyes cracked at the edges, a big smile breaking across his face. 'Yes, baby?'
'Yes,' I agreed, tears spilling from my eyes. 'I'll marry you, Noah Eugene Lodge.' My head bobbed some more. 'I will.'
He slid the ring on my finger. His gaze slowly lifted from my hand, lingering along the lace edges of my camisole before he looked me in the eyes again and softly asked, 'Now, baby girl, how do you want to celebrate?'
I answered just as softly, my own broad smile shaping the words. 'In the bedroom.'
'Baby, I already know what I want for my wedding present.' Noah sat me down at the edge of the bed, his fingers tracing the contours of my shoulders as he spoke.
Hearing those words, I felt like pinching myself. I half expected to wake up any second and discover it was still Friday and none of the weekend had transpired.
One hand toying with the camisole's front tie, he cupped the base of my head, forcing me to look up at him. 'Don't you want to know what it is?'
I gave a slow blink and the tiniest nod, too mesmerized by his touch to fully respond.
He blinked back, a grin fighting its way onto his face as he bit at his bottom lip. 'That blue sketchbook in your studio.'
