It Started with a Crack by Piper James

Chapter Twelve

Noah

Well, that went better than I expected. I’d headed straight for the furniture store in Oakley after leaving Jim’s Auto Repair on Sunday and bought new furniture and the flat screen. I paid for the expedited delivery, and the store manager assured me everything would be here within two days.

After the couch argument, I wised up and picked up one of those prefab shed kits at the huge home improvement store in Saddleback—there wasn’t one available anywhere closer. I spent all morning building that thing, knowing the new tables I bought would be arriving and there was no way I could have them haul the old ones away like I did the couch.

I hoped that if I safely stored her things, Dakota wouldn’t lose her shit over me buying the new stuff. I knew it was the principal, not the furniture, itself, that was causing the problem. Shit, I propped a foot up on that old coffee table yesterday and heard a crack as a piece of particle board splintered. It was fucking dangerous.

Besides, I liked nice things. I may not have been interested in living the fast-paced, high roller lifestyle anymore, but that didn’t mean I wanted to be surrounded by uncomfortable furnishings that were falling apart. Hell, I was planning on buying all new stuff anyway, since the house I was renting had come fully furnished. It wasn’t a big deal, and I was glad Dakota seemed to be coming around to my way of thinking.

I heard her bedroom door open and held my breath, waiting for her to appear. I pretended to be watching the television as she breezed by, but as soon as she headed toward the kitchen, my eyes were locked on her gorgeous ass.

My breath hitched in my throat at the sight of it in those skin-tight leggings. She wore a cropped hoodie, leaving a bare strip of skin between its hem and the waist of her pants. Her long, dark hair was tied up in a messy bun on top of her head, and when she turned back toward me, I could see her face was scrubbed clean of the make-up she’d worn to work.

She looked amazing.

She came into the living room with a bowl of tortilla chips and a container of guacamole and plopped down on the opposite end of the couch from me. Pulling her legs up, she crisscrossed them in front of her, cradling the bowl of chips between her thighs. Setting the guac on the side table, she grabbed a chip and dipped it into the container, scooping up a dollop and popping it into her mouth.

She ignored me as I blatantly watched her, my mouth salivating…and not for the chips and dip. Seeing her like this, all loose and relaxed, like hanging out and watching T.V. with me was the most natural thing in the world—it made my heart do a little flip-flop in my chest.

But she was too far away.

Making a split-second decision, I lifted myself up and scooted over until I was sitting right next to her. Her head whipped toward me, her eyes wide with panic and something else. Something that looked a lot like excitement, but it disappeared under a mask of annoyance before I could be sure.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“I want some of that,” I said, pointing toward her lap.

Her breath hitched just before she licked her lips, and it took everything inside me to keep my neutral, innocent expression and not smirk. It was obvious her mind had taken a nosedive straight into the gutter, but I knew I needed to perform a delicate dance if I was going to make any progress with her.

I paused at the thought. Progress? Toward what, exactly? Congenial roommates? Friends? Or more? Fuck. Of course, I wanted more. But until this moment, seeing how my nearness affected her, I didn’t think there was a snowball’s chance in hell of “more” happening. It seemed Miss Jones wasn’t as immune to me as she pretended to be.

I reached for the bowl of chips, and she came to her senses, snatching it out of reach.

“Get your own,” she snapped.

“Oh, come on. You can spare one chip. Didn’t you learn about sharing in kindergarten?”

“Nope. I was absent that day,” she said, one corner of her mouth twitching as she plucked a chip from the bowl and dipped it into the guac.

She moaned dramatically as she ate it, like it was the best-tasting thing she’d ever put in her mouth. Chuckling, I reached for the bowl again, but she jerked it even further away. Not one to back away from a challenge, I leaned into her, stretching my arm across her to reach the bowl.

My arm accidentally brushed her chest, and she gasped. At the same time, her scent filled my nose. She smelled the same as she did that night at The Watering Hole—like a day at the beach, the brine of the ocean and coconut oil. We both froze for a moment, our gazes colliding before I snatched my arm back.

Sliding back to my side of the couch, I picked up the remote and pulled up the guide. Scrolling through the options, I kept my eyes firmly on the television as I willed my dick to settle down. I needed to get myself under control. I refused to destroy the olive branch Dakota extended by coming in here to hang out with me. And letting her see my raging hard on would definitely do some damage.

“What do you want to watch?” I asked, my gaze still locked firmly on the T.V. screen.

“Oh, that one,” she said as I landed on an action movie, moving the bowl of chips and the container of guacamole to the couch seat between us.

“Thanks,” I said, setting down the remote and reaching for a chip.

“You’re welcome,” she said quietly.

“So, you like action movies?” I asked once I’d chewed and swallowed the food in my mouth.

“Yeah,” she said, pointing at the T.V. with the chip in her fingers. “This one’s one of my favorites.”

“Me, too,” I said. “Liam Neeson is awesome.”

“He really is,” she agreed.

“What other kinds of movies do you like?” I asked, feeling my muscles slowly relax as I leaned back against the couch cushions.

“Most kinds, really,” she said, copying my posture and hugging a throw pillow to her chest. “Action, comedy, horror, suspense, drama…pretty much everything.”

“Rom-coms?” I asked, looking over at her.

“Of course,” she said lifting her nose slightly. “Who doesn’t like a good rom-com?”

“Phew! I thought I was going to have to kick you to the curb there for a minute.”

Her gorgeous lips curved upward, her eyes glittering with humor as she turned her upper body in my direction. She stared at me for a moment, and I shrugged nonchalantly.

“Noah Perry likes watching romantic movies?” she asked, a heavy dose of sarcastic disbelief coloring her tone.

“So?”

Her head tilted slightly. “I just assumed you were a big, tough, manly man who’d never in a million years admit to anyone he had a romantic bone in his body.”

“Yeah, well, you know what happens when you assume things,” I muttered.

“What’s that?”

“You make an ass out of u and me.”

She laughed. “Are you calling me an ass?”

“Never,” I said, shuddering dramatically.

Her smile fell, her eyes settling on the snacks between us. I suddenly felt like horseshit. Like I’d inadvertently ruined the easy comfort that had been growing between us. Fuck.

“Hey,” I said softly. “I was only kidding.”

She was shaking her head before I got the words out. When she looked back at me a sad smile curved her lips.

“I know,” she said, “but I have been an ass since the moment you snuck through the front door.”

“Snuck? I have a key,” I protested.

She laughed at my joke, and my chest warmed at the sound of it.

“Trying to apologize, here.”

“Nope,” I said, shaking my head. “No need.”

“Noah.”

“Dakota,” I replied, parroting her dry tone. “I get it, okay? I’m a lot to handle, especially when you weren’t expecting me to barge in here and disrupt your life.”

“That’s no excuse,” she said, and I straightened, angling my body toward her.

“Let’s make a deal,” I said.

“What kind of deal?” she asked.

“Let’s start over. Clean slate. Like we never met. You never cracked me over the head with a back-scratcher, and I never threw away your terrible couch.”

She laughed and shook her head, then held a hand toward me. “Deal.”

I slid my palm against hers and didn’t miss the slight shiver that coursed through her. Tightening my grip, I pumped her hand up and down. I held it for a few beats, memorizing its softness and texture before releasing it.

Then we settled back into our seats and watched the rest of the movie. It was comfortable and relaxing. We bantered back and forth, we laughed, and we ate all the chips and dip.

And when we said goodnight, I felt better than I had in weeks. Dakota didn’t hate me anymore, and it felt like we’d taken long strides to becoming friends.

And despite my almost-overwhelming attraction to her, I was okay with that. For now, anyway. I knew we had to start somewhere, and I could be patient.

I had a feeling Dakota Jones would be worth the wait.