It Started with a Crack by Piper James

Chapter Thirteen

Dakota

Ibarely slept a wink last night, and today, I was paying for it. Even the four cups of coffee I’d slurped down this morning weren’t helping. I’d lain in bed all night, tossing and turning as I replayed the scene with Noah in my mind over and over again.

I’d gone out there with the intention of easing the tension between us. To act normal and hang out with him. To try to get along with him, if only superficially, to make us both more comfortable while we were stuck here together.

But that whole plan had backfired when he slid across the couch and leaned into me. My stomach had jumped up into my throat, sure he was about to do something ridiculous…like kiss me. And my fucking traitorous body was primed and ready for it, moisture gathering in my lady bits as anticipation zipped through me.

When he’d gone for the chip bowl, I’d forced myself to play along, pretending to not want to share. But then his arm had brushed over my breasts, and my fucking nipples had hardened into tight little nubs instantly. He’d practically leapt away from me after that, and fuck, if that wasn’t a blow to my ego.

But then I reminded myself that I didn’t want him. He was charming, sure, and I was sure we could be friends, but that was it.

After that whole disaster of a night at the bar when I’d overheard him propositioning those women, Belle had regaled me with stories Ryder had told her about Noah and his wild life in Los Angeles. He was a hellion and a man-whore, and I had no desire to be sucked in, worshipped, and then ripped to shreds when he lost interest.

Hell, I’d seen how quickly it could happen, firsthand. I’d been out of his sight for five minutes before he’d moved on to greener pastures. No. Fucking. Thank you.

But I really did have fun with him last night. He was funny and engaging, his running commentary on the movie making me crack up. We laughed, we teased each other, and when the movie was over, there was no awkward silence or discomfort. I simply said goodnight and went to bed…where I didn’t sleep at all.

I was so confused by the emotions roiling through me, and it took me hours to figure out what the strongest one was—disappointment. That he didn’t try to kiss me. That I didn’t try to kiss him, or run my hands over the muscles I could see bulging through his white t-shirt.

Then I spent hours berating myself, reminding myself of all the reasons I didn’t want him. And sure, logically those reasons had merit. But my fucking body didn’t give a shit. When we shook on our deal to be friends, I wanted his hand to slide all over me, not just across my palm. When he laughed, the deep husky sound made my vag pulse with need. And when he turned those dark brown eyes on me, I wanted to climb into his lap and rub my body all over him.

“Fuck,” I murmured, rubbing my temples to ease the ache that had formed there.

I was at the office, and I needed to focus on finding houses to sell, not Noah’s obvious sex appeal. Because that appeal wasn’t in question. It never had been. His intentions were what worried me.

Of course, holding his past against him—even that more recent past that included burning me—went directly against our pact to start fresh with a clean slate. But despite the agreement I made with him, I couldn’t forget that. It was a matter of self-preservation.

Because as much as I tried to deny any and all attraction to Noah Perry to anyone who would listen, I couldn’t really deny it to myself. Not after last night.

My phone chimed, and I unlocked the screen to see a message from Belle.

Belle: How’s it going at the ranch with Noah? Is he being nice to you?

Me: It was rough going for a couple of days, but we’ve come to an arrangement.

Belle: What kind of arrangement? Please tell me it’s not some kind of kinky sex thing.

Belle: Wait. Is it a sex thing? Are you using the back-scratcher or the spatula?

I laughed, feeling the tightness ease in my chest for the first time since I woke up this morning.

Me: Shut up. It is not a sex thing, slut-puppy. We actually agreed to start over. As friends.

Belle: And…that’s a good thing?

Me: What do you mean? Of course, it is.

Belle: If you say so.

Me: I do say so.

Belle: Okay.

Me: Okay.

Belle: Subject dropped.

Me: It doesn’t feel like you’re dropping it, Belle.

Belle: Listen. Hear me out.

Me: Oh, God.

Belle: I was talking to Ryder, and he mentioned how much Noah has changed since they moved here.

Me: Changed how?

My heart sped up, and I pressed a palm against my chest to try to contain it. I wanted to tell Belle to stop. That the changes in Noah—or the lack thereof—meant nothing to me. We were barely friends. But fuck if I didn’t want to know what she was talking about. So I stared at the screen of my phone with bated breath, waiting for her to explain.

Belle: Old Noah was wild and reckless. A womanizer. But he’s different now. Being here has calmed Noah. He still talks a big game, but his actions don’t match his words. And as far as Ryder knows, he hasn’t been with anyone since they got here…last summer.

I read her words for a second time, trying to make sense of them. Of course, Ryder was only speculating. There was no way he could know if Noah had been sleeping his way through East Texas or not—he’d married and moved in with Belle over seven months ago. But on the other hand, who would know Noah better than his brother?

Me: Ryder’s not totally correct. I told you what I heard at the bar.

Belle: I’m still not convinced you didn’t mishear him.

Me: Belle! I heard him say threesome. To two gorgeous women. What was there to mishear?

Belle: I don’t know, Dakota. All I’m saying is, if you are going to agree to start over with a clean slate, you should include that night, too. You might be pleasantly surprised.

Or completely decimated.

But I didn’t say that to her. I knew she was only trying to help. She was happy, and she wanted all her friends to be happy, too.

And apparently, that meant hooking us all up with Perry men. What was next? Getting Ember and Ethan together? I chuckled at the thought. Those two were polar opposites, and I wasn’t sure if they’d even spoken more than a few words to each other.

My phone started to ring, and I didn’t recognize the number. Clearing my throat, I answered by stating my name and the words “Red River Realty.” My heart began to thump in my chest as the person on the other end of the line began to speak. I answered all his questions and made an appointment for tomorrow morning.

After the call ended, I pulled up Noah’s number and shot off a text.

Me: We have to clean the house tonight and stage it. Someone is coming by to view it tomorrow afternoon.