“That’s too bad.” Disappointment flickered over his features. The doorbell rang again, and he took the candy bowl with a soft smile. “I’ve got this one.”
Watching Noah hand out candy to another group of kids turned my insides to mush. Call it biology, or the result of hundreds of thousands of years of evolution, but being good with kids was…well, hot.
“Want me out of your hair?” he asked after he closed the door. There was no expectation in the question, which only made it that much more enticing. He was an audacious flirt, but never pushed for more, even after I’d almost kissed him in the office.
You should have kissed him in the office, you masochist. Look at him.
“Not at all.” That was the problem. It didn’t matter how much time I spent with Noah, I always wanted more. “Why don’t you stick around?”
“Happy to.” His voice lowered.
I nodded and yanked my gaze from his before he saw too much.
…
It was half past eight before the last trick-or-treaters had come and gone.
“There won’t be any more,” I said as the grandfather clock chimed.
“You can see the future?” Noah asked with a faint smile.
“I wish.” I scoffed. If I could have seen the future, I would have known what the hell I was doing. As it was, I had no clue.
I wanted him. That was easy enough to justify. But this… Whatever this was, it was far beyond physical want. I liked him, enjoyed being around him, talking to him, figuring out what made him laugh. In that way, this was already so much more dangerous than chemistry. I’d already trusted him with my life and Gran’s story. I was frighteningly close to trusting him as a friend…maybe a lover. “It’s a town rule,” I explained, taking off my witch hat. “Trick or treating ends at eight thirty.”
“You actually have a rule about trick-or-treating?” His eyebrows rose.
“We do.” I nodded. “It’s right up there with awning covers, but we have it. Welcome to small-town life.”
“Fascinating,” he mused as his phone rang. He took it from his pocket and glanced at the screen. “Shit,” he muttered. “It’s my agent.”
“You’re welcome to take it in the office if you want,” I offered.
His brow knit. “Are you sure? I don’t want to tie you down if you have hot Halloween plans.”
“Maybe I like being tied down,” I said as evenly as I could manage.
He arched a single brow, and his eyes darkened.
“Go take your call.” I stifled a grin. Guess he wasn’t the only audacious flirt around here.
“Trouble. Georgia Stanton, you are pure trouble.” He blew out a deep breath, then swiped to answer his call as he walked into Gran’s office, which I really needed to stop thinking of as hers. “Hey, Lou. What’s so important that you’re calling me from Hawaii?”
He didn’t shut the door, but I walked away to give him privacy. A stab of anxiety hit me square in the chest, knowing he was probably discussing his future. “Don’t be ridiculous,” I muttered to myself.
This wasn’t Noah’s only upcoming project, of course. He’d been putting out two books a year for the last eight years. Eventually, he would finish this one. Eventually, he would start the next. Eventually, he would leave.
Every day he worked brought us closer to his inevitable departure. Two months ago, I would’ve relished in that knowledge, counted down the days until Noah was out of my life. Now the thought sent a jolt of panic straight through me.
I didn’t want him to go.
I ditched the hat and stepped out the front door, welcoming the blast of icy air, then blew out the candles inside the two jack-o’-lanterns the English club from the high school had given me. They’d carved them for Gran the last decade. A quick check of the snow-covered driveway told me we didn’t have any trick-or-treating stragglers, so I came back inside and closed the door.
“Ellsworth offered what? Just to see it?” I heard Noah’s raised voice through the office door. “The manuscript isn’t even done yet.”
I froze, my heart lodging in my throat, and though I desperately wanted to move, wanted to shut my ears against what was coming, I couldn’t seem to make myself go. I’d already told Damian there was no chance of him getting his grubby little hands on the manuscript, and it would be a cold day in hell before he got anywhere near the performance rights. Helen had no doubt relayed that same message again tonight.
I should’ve known he’d go to Noah next.
Don’t do it. The plea stayed firmly behind my teeth. If Noah was going to betray me, it was better to know now.
“Did he?” Noah’s tone sounded almost jovial. “No, you did the right thing. Thank you.”
Did the right thing? What did that mean? Sure, Noah liked me, but if I had learned one thing about this industry, it was that money trumped personal affection every time. And there was an ungodly amount of money to be made here.
Noah laughed unabashedly. My pulse leaped.
“Then I guess it’s a good thing I’ve never wanted his name connected to any of my books. And I’m glad we’re on the same page, Lou. I don’t give a shit what he said—she doesn’t want him to have it. Not even to read.”
I held my breath. Maybe…
“Because I was there when she told him to fuck off. Not that she used those exact words, but that was the gist, and I don’t blame her.”
A slow smile spread across my face. He chose me.
The concept was so wild that it took a moment to sink in. He. Chose. Me. As if the knowledge unlocked my feet, I was suddenly moving toward the office, pushing the door fully open, and standing before Noah.
He sat perched at the edge of the desk, one palm braced on the surface, the other holding his phone to his ear as he looked me in the eye. “He has first right of refusal?”
“I’m not selling the rights. It doesn’t matter,” I said, electricity humming under my skin like a living, breathing current. His words had done what weeks of flirting and sexual tension hadn’t—broken down my last defense. I was done fighting this.
“Did you hear her, Lou?” Noah smiled at whatever his agent said. “Yeah, I’ll tell her. Enjoy the rest of your vacation.” He hung up and set the phone down on the desk. “She gave him first right of refusal on future deals?” His eyebrows rose in disbelief.
“At the time, she gave me first right of refusal. I started the production company with Damian, remember? What did your agent say?” Less than six feet separated us. Any closer, and there wouldn’t be any more talking.