It Started with a Crack by Piper James

Chapter Fourteen

Noah

Asnake in the bathroom.

Rats in the attic.

A blood-stained knife on the kitchen counter.

Scenario after scenario flashed through my mind as I cleaned my bathroom, a dozen different scenes I could stage to scare off the potential buyers when they came to view the house. I shook my head as I flushed the toilet and straightened the pristine white towels hanging on the rack.

I was being ridiculous. People coming to see the ranch was a good thing. I wanted it to sell. That had been the point of all the hard work my brothers and I had put into the place. So why was I panicking?

I tried to tell myself it was because I had no place to go. I wasn’t prepared to move out yet. I rolled my eyes after examining the bathroom one last time and flipping off the light.

I wouldn’t be homeless—I had three brothers who would gladly let me crash at their places—and it wouldn’t take much to pack my shit and get out of here.

No. There was only one reason the thought of someone buying this place had sent me into panic-mode. And that reason was currently in the living room, plumping the pillows and checking for dust.

I felt like I’d finally made a little headway with Dakota. While we might not exactly be friends—yet—she didn’t seem to hate me anymore, which was a step in the right direction. And I knew if we sold this place and moved out now, all that progress would go to waste.

I needed more time.

But at the same time, I knew Dakota needed this sale. The commission she stood to earn would help get her back on her feet, and I couldn’t sabotage her like that.

So, after making sure my room was clean and staged, I changed out of my sweats into some jeans and a long-sleeved shirt, pulled on my work boots, and headed out into the living room.

Dakota looked skittish as hell, so I approached slowly with my palms up in the air.

“Hey. You okay?” I asked.

“Yeah,” she said, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. “I’m just nervous about the showing.”

“The place looks amazing,” I said. “And you’re going to do great. You’re a pro, and you’ll have them eating out of your hand within minutes.”

“Thanks, Noah,” she said, some of the tension visibly draining out of her.

“You got this,” I said, shooting her a wink. “I’ll be down at The Watering Hole if you need me. Text me when they’re gone so I know it’s safe to come home.”

“Okay,” she said, her cheeks turning a pretty shade of pink.

I wasn’t sure why she was blushing, but I liked it. A lot. And I decided my new goal in life was to make that color bloom in Dakota’s cheeks.

* * *

The bar wasn’t completelydead, but it wasn’t packed like it was on the weekends, either. A few tables were occupied, but the stools lined up along the bar were empty. Sliding onto one, I ordered a draft beer from the bartender and pulled a nearby bowl of pretzels closer. Popping one into my mouth, I crunched it between my teeth as I thought about Dakota.

She was one hell of a woman, as stubborn as she was beautiful. She was strong, too, taking the shitty hand life had dealt her lately and making the most of it. Knowing when to stop being stubborn and accept the help she desperately needed.

I knew Ryder sold her the idea of moving into the ranch by claiming it needed a caretaker. I also knew Dakota well enough by this point to know she didn’t buy that shit for a minute. But she accepted the offer, nonetheless, because despite her resolve to take care of herself, she was smart enough to know when to swallow some of that pride.

And when she finally gave up actively hating me, I saw a different side of her. She was quick-witted and funny, kind, and not afraid to just be herself. God, she was fun.

When was the last time I’d had a good time with a woman that didn’t revolve around sex?

I couldn’t remember. And that was just…sad. Despite my fervent hope that my relationship with Dakota will eventually get there—I was still a man, and she was sexy as fuck—I knew that even if it didn’t, I’d still want to spend time with her. I just wanted to be near her. To see her smile and hear her laughter.

“Well, hello there, handsome. Is this seat taken?”

I twisted to the side to find a beautiful blonde sliding onto the stool next to me without waiting for an answer. She gave me a feline smile, her eyes sparkling with appreciation as they roamed down my chest to my lap.

“I’m Barbie. What’s your name?”

I bit my tongue, fighting the urge to laugh at that introduction.

She had perfect pixie features, big blue eyes and long, wavy blond hair. Her noticeably fake boobs defied gravity in the hot pink tube dress she was wearing—without a bra, if her visible nipples were any indication. She had a tiny waist, softly curving hips, and long legs that ended in a pair of matching, sky-high heels.

Barbie, indeed.

She looked exactly like the iconic doll, plastic and all. And while she was exactly my type back in L.A., save for the blonde hair, I couldn’t even muster the tiniest bit of interest. My humor faded as I stared at her expectant expression. She was obviously waiting for me to hit on her, a reaction she no doubt got from every man she encountered.

“I’m not interested,” I said, turning on my stool to face the bar again.

I took a sip of my beer as a huffing sound blew through her lips. Then she purred. Fucking purred before rubbing her palm up my thigh.

“Oh, come on, baby. Buy me a drink. I promise I’ll make it worth your while.”

My fingers wrapped around her wrist, pulling her hand away from my person before releasing her. “I told you I wasn’t interested. Please leave me alone.”

She slid off the stool with another huff, saying, “Your loss, asshole. You probably have a pencil dick, anyway.”

Then she stomped away. I kept my eyes trained on the bar, gritting my teeth. I couldn’t believe I ever found that attractive. What the fuck was wrong with me?

“What’s up, asshole?”

My head jerked toward the sound of that sultry voice. I watched as Dakota slid onto the recently vacated stool, a wide smile curving her gorgeous mouth. She waved to the bartender, who called her by name and told her he’d have her drink in a jiffy.

“How did the viewing go?” I asked.

She held up a hand and crossed her fingers before thanking the bartender as he slid a bottle of beer toward her. She took a long swig, then peered at me.

“They seemed impressed, but I heard them talking about another property north of Saddleback they still wanted to go see. We’ll just have to wait and see if they submit an offer.”

“Sounds good,” I said, and the lie tasted foul on my tongue.

It didn’t sound good. I’d hoped they would hate the place, on sight. Dakota cleared her throat, pulling my gaze back to her.

“And don’t worry about Barbie Wellington. She’s been calling boys ‘pencil dick’ since middle school.”

One corner of my mouth lifted. “She didn’t hurt my feelings. I know what I’m packing in my pants.”

Even in the dim lights of the bar, I could see the pink blush staining her cheeks. She took another long sip of her beer, her eyes darting anywhere but at me. She was quiet for so long, I was on the verge of apologizing for going too far. As soon as my mouth opened, she cleared her throat and finally met my eyes.

“Barbie isn’t used to men turning her down. Why did you? I mean, I know we’re roommates and all, but you don’t have to change your habits on my account.”

The words spilled out of her in a rush, and my eyes widened in disbelief. Was she serious? While I stared at her silently, she waved down the bartender and ordered two shots of tequila. She poured them down her throat one after the other, then chased the liquor with the rest of her beer.

Her shoulders relaxed a little, and I tilted my head and arched a brow. “And what are my habits, exactly?”

She shrugged. “Picking up strange women. One night stands. You know.”

“No, I don’t,” I said, but I did know.

Her assessment described the old me perfectly.

“I’ve heard the stories, Noah.”

I swiveled on my stool to fully face her. I said her name and waited for her to meet my eyes before I spoke.

“I’m not like that anymore.”

“Sure,” she said, forcing out a fake laugh.

My heart flip-flopped in my chest. She wanted to believe me. She wanted me to be different than her initial assumption, and that gave me hope. If I could convince her I’d changed, then maybe…

“I haven’t slept with a woman since I came to Texas,” I said, my voice quiet and filled with sincerity.

Her nostrils flared and her mouth fell open. “Wh-what?”

She signaled the bartender for two more shots, and I waited until she’d downed them before speaking again.

“I’ve been doing a lot of soul searching lately, and I’ve realized I don’t want to be that man, anymore. I want to be better. And I want to find someone I like, who likes me for who I am. That’s why I blew Barbie off. Well, that, and the fact that I thought her plastic boobs might give me a black eye.”

A laugh burst out of her, and my entire body flushed hot. I wasn’t usually so open and wordy, but I was telling the truth—I did want to find someone I actually liked.

And I liked Dakota Jones. A lot.

She smiled at me as her laughter died, but that smile quickly fell as we continued to stare at each other. Her gaze dipped to my mouth, and I licked my suddenly dry lips. Her body shuddered as her eyes shot back up to mine.

I leaned forward—just the tiniest bit—and she swayed toward me. Her pink tongue darted out to wet her own lips, and I barely stifled the groan that threatened to burst out of me. My dick hardened as I leaned a couple of inches closer before pausing again.

Dakota didn’t flinch away, and her breath was coming in short, hurried pants as her hand reached forward to tangle in the material of my shirt. She tugged slightly, and that was all the permission I needed.

I closed the distance between us, pressing my lips to hers in a soft caress. I pulled back slightly, and she followed, kissing me the same way I’d done her. When she opened her mouth and ran her tongue over my bottom lip, I lost the careful control I’d always prided myself in having.

My hands found her hips, jerking her forward on her stool. Our tongues slid over each other as our mouths melded, and something that sounded like a growl vibrated in Dakota’s chest. Her fingers burrowed into my hair, gripping it in tight fists as she kissed me like she might die if it ended.

I felt her sway a little to the right, that slight movement like a bucket of freezing cold water raining over my head. I broke off the kiss, pressing my forehead against hers as we both caught our breath.

I had to stop this. Dakota had downed four shots of tequila and a beer in a matter of minutes, and that tiny, little loss of balance told me everything I needed to know. The alcohol had kicked in, and there was no way in hell I was letting this go any further unless I knew, for sure, she wanted it.

I released her hips and waved down the bartender to pay our tab. Dakota didn’t argue when I told her I was driving her home. She remained silent the whole way, barely whispering a goodnight before locking herself away in her bedroom.

I plopped down on the couch, reliving that kiss over and over in my head. I hoped I didn’t just take a big step backward as far as Dakota was concerned, but I didn’t regret it. I couldn’t.

Because that was the hottest kiss of my life. And I wanted more.