Page 10 of Glitches and Kisses (The Havenwood #2)

Eva n

It was the day after the engagement cookout, and the Havenwood River was alive, fast, unpredictable, rushing through the valley like it had somewhere to be. The mid-April sun shimmered off the water, currents weaving between rocks and patches of white foam. The air smelled of pine and damp earth.

It was a perfect day for an adventure.

I took a slow breath, stretching my arms overhead as I turned to look at Callie, Sam, and Liam, gathered on the dock, preparing for the adventure we were about to embark on.

Liam stood nearest to the water, the very picture of confidence.

Broad-shouldered and solidly built, the kind of guy who looked like he could wrestle a bear and win, which felt fitting given that Liam was a bear and proud of it.

Owner of the Stag and Lantern, Havenwood’s favorite neighborhood bar, Liam was the life of every party, sex-positive as hell, and perpetually glued to Rogue , the dating app where he claimed to have better luck finding hookups than reliable Wi-Fi.

He’d been one of the first friends I made when I moved to town, and at this point, I couldn’t imagine Havenwood without him.

His well-groomed beard lent him a distinguished, almost regal air, ruined only by the fact that he was currently flexing his arms and making a completely unnecessary show of adjusting his life vest.

Sam, ever the overachiever, was taking things way too seriously, stretching like he was preparing for a high-stakes Olympic event rather than a fun afternoon on the river.

His helmet was already strapped in place; his paddle gripped with a determination that suggested he was ready to either win or die trying.

And Callie?

Callie appeared to be 100% rethinking every decision that had led them here.

They fidgeted with the straps of their vest, casting a highly skeptical look at our overly enthusiastic river guide, a man who spoke so fast that I was convinced he was powered entirely by caffeine and misplaced confidence.

“Oh, fantastic,” Callie whined. “We’ve put our lives in the hands of a guy who talks like a game show host.”

I slung an arm around their shoulders, teasing. “Where’s your sense of adventure?”

And then there was Noah.

He stood near the edge of the dock, arms crossed, mouth pressed into a thin line, glaring at the water with the kind of quiet fury usually reserved for exes and traffic violations.

He was all edges and quiet, simmering focus.

The straps of his life vest were pulled too tight, the bright red fabric stiff against his torso like he was bracing for imminent disaster.

His helmet, slightly too big, sat just a fraction askew, ruining the otherwise perfectly put-together image he usually projected.

And despite the obvious annoyance radiating off of him, he looked good.

Unfairly good.

I should have looked away.

I didn’t.

Instead, I tracked the way he shifted his weight, the flex of his hand against his biceps, the small, unconscious movements that told me exactly how hard he was trying to keep himself under control.

His dark hair, normally meticulously styled, peeked out from beneath his helmet, a few strands falling forward just enough to make me want to push them back.

I can’t stop thinking about last night. The backyard buzzing with laughter, string lights swaying gently overhead, and Jules nearly dropping the ring in his excitement.

But it’s not just the celebration that won’t leave my thoughts.

It was Noah. The way his arm didn’t pull away when our elbows touched.

The subtle way his whole body stilled, like he was bracing for impact, then…

didn’t move. That moment had knocked something loose in me.

What started as simple curiosity, a crush, sure, bu t also a challenge, someone to make laugh, to get a rise out of, had quietly shifted.

Somewhere between the deflective sarcasm and the half-hearted smiles, I stopped seeing Noah as a puzzle to solve.

Now, I just want to be let in. Noah was guarded, sure.

Private, prickly, tightly wound in all the ways I usually avoid.

But there is something honest about him, something unfiltered beneath the sarcasm and standoffishness.

And even if I can’t explain it, I want more of it. More of him .

And then, as if he sensed I was watching, his eyes met mine.

I grinned, slow and willful.

“You ready, Patel?” I called, stepping toward him.

His jaw tensed. Eyes narrowed.

“No.”

That was it. Just no.

I laughed because of course that was his answer.

I should have known this was going to be a spectacular disaster the moment the river guide started demonstrating “proper paddle technique” like we were training for a military extraction.

Sam was already side-eyeing him like he was considering running. “This guy seems way too excited about the concept of us falling out of the boat,” he said.

Callie let out a long, dramatic sigh. “If I die, someone better make my eulogy entertaining.”

Noah adjusted his vest with slow, resigned movements before he quipped, “I’ll make sure they tell everyone you died a coward.”

Callie snorted. “Bold of you, considering you look two seconds away from sprinting back to the car.”

I laughed, watching Noah’s ears tinge as he huffed, shifting his weight. Before he could fire back, I closed the distance, dropping a hand onto his shoulder with just a bit of pressure.

“Well, too late now,” I said, all bright cheerfulness and zero remorse.

For one, beautiful second, I watched Noah experience existential dread in real-time.

The guide was booming with energy and forced enthusiasm, cracking jokes none of us asked for as he helped each of us into the raft like we were about to board a thrill ride instead of risking a swim in mountain runoff.

Noah moved with cautious precision, testing each step like the raft might betray him at any moment.

Callie let out a dramatic groan as their foot sank into the soft, shifting floor, “Ugh, it’s squishy and moving, I hate this already.

” Sam climbed in and immediately lost his balance, catching himself with a flail and a curse as he stumbled to his seat.

Liam followed, all big, burly presence and booming laughter, making the whole raft dip alarmingly as he plopped in.

I slipped in last. I held back a smug grin when the guide gave me a cheesy thumbs-up like I’d passed some unspoken rafting test.

For the first five minutes after we pushed off, the river was calm. The raft drifted lazily, the water slapped against the sides in a rhythm that was soothing.

I watched as Noah’s shoulders relaxed.

Just slightly.

And that? That was my cue.

I turned to the guide, a spark of mischief in my tone. “So when does the fun start?”

The guide, clearly thrilled by this question, pointed toward the river bend.

“Right about… now!”

The raft lurched violently.

A wall of freezing water slammed into us.

Noah’s whole body tensed, like a man realizing too late he’d stepped onto thin ice.

Me? I was having the time of my life.

Callie, gripped their paddle: “Oh, HELL no.”

Sam, braced for impact: “Paddle, Noah! YOU HAVE TO PADDLE.”

Noah clutched his paddle like a man at war: “I AM PADDLING.”

I laughed so hard I could barely breathe. “Are you? Because it looks more like panicked flailing.”

Noah’s head snapped toward me, ready to kill, but before he could get the words out, the raft pitched forward forcefully.

And just like that, everything changed.

Noah’s foot slipped. His balance wavered. And suddenly, he was tilting dangerously forward.

Instinct took over. I lunged, grabbing the front of his life vest. “I got you,” I yelled as I yanked him back. Right into me.

For one heartbeat, everything was still.

Noah’s breath caught. His hand shot out and curled into my forearm, clutching too tight, too desperate.

And I saw something other than irritation in his eyes.

Something uncertain.

Something unspoken.

Something hot .

My touch lingered.

For a moment, just a fraction of a second, I wanted to keep him there. Just like this. Close. Warm. Real.

And then, because life is cruel, another wave slammed into the raft, breaking the spell. As I helped Noah back to his seat, Liam almost fell out of the raft, but Sam somehow managed to pull the hulk of a man back and right on top of him.

The energy in the raft was different now.

Maybe it was the rush of cold water shocking us all into the moment, or maybe it was just the absurdity of how soaked we already were, but laughter started to bubble up, real, unguarded laughter.

Even from Noah. Especially from Noah. I caught him gripping the side of the raft, hair plastered to his forehead, cheeks flushed with adrenaline as he let out a bark of laughter.

It was pure and unfiltered, and it hit me harder than any wave.

He was enjoying himself. No sarcasm, no side-eye, just Noah, in the moment.

And damn if that didn’t make my chest tighten in the best way.

Callie, in true Callie fashion, started throwing shade at the river like it had personally wronged them, dramatically gasping every time we hit a bump and yelling, “She did not just come for me like that!” Sam puffed up with some kind of bravado, swearing he had the best paddle technique even as he splashed more water than he moved.

And Liam, God help us, started mimicking the guide with fake authority and an overblown sense of confidence he absolutely hadn’t earned, shouting out paddling commands like he was leading us into battle.

My group. My friends. Somehow, this ridiculous, soaking mess felt exactly right.