Page 10

NINE

Olivia

Noah’s place is small but immaculate. I can’t help looking around, mentally cataloging every detail as fast as I can.

A small sofa, no TV. A big kitchen for the size of the apartment.

Neat and clean and wiped down. Utensils and pans hang from hooks beneath the cabinets and on the ceiling.

Herbs in little pots are fixed to the wall.

A gas range and a large, fancy looking oven.

Yeah. A chef’s place, even if he is a bachelor.

There’s a corridor I assume leads to the bedroom and bathroom.

A glass sliding door looks out over a balcony, and I can just make out an ocean view.

The sounds of the waves rolling in the distance is a hum in the background.

I’m a little embarrassed at being in his home after everything that’s happened. I’m still blushing from my stupid meltdown in the supermarket for heaven’s sake.

“You want something to drink?” Noah shuts the door behind him and toes off his shoes, striding to the kitchen and taking a bottle of red wine from the pantry and setting out two glasses before I’ve even replied.

“You look like you need a drink.” He pours a little into one glass and pushes it toward me, and I accept it gratefully.

“Let me just get changed out of this.” He gestures at his ruined jeans, and I blush all over again.

“I’m so sorry.”

He sighs. “Hazard of being a kraken,” he says ruefully. “I should have known better.”

Striding up the corridor, he disappears for a moment, and I hear wardrobe doors open and the swoosh of clothing being dropped and pulled on over long legs.

I try not to think about how bad I must look in my most unpresentable outfit, only suitable for long plane trips and airports. With my hair in a mess piled on top of my head and no makeup on.

I guess Noah’s not looking at me like that anyway, so no need to worry.

It doesn’t stop me wishing I was looking slightly more glamorous. Like Rechelle Oaks looking effortless in leisure wear.

A moment later he reappears, and my mouth goes dry at the sight of him in gray sweatpants with a white tank top over them, relaxed and sculpted and absolutely stunning without even trying.

I can’t seem to stop myself tucking the loose strands of hair behind my ears and shifting on the stool at the kitchen counter every time his gaze fixes on me.

He pours himself a drink and takes a large mouthful before setting down his glass and opening the fridge. “You like pasta?”

“Hmm?” Not me getting distracted by the way the muscles in his back move under his shirt. He really is very attractive.

He chuckles and shakes his head. “Cheer up, sad sack. I’ll have to put you to work to snap you out of it.”

“Oh I’m happy to help. What can I do?”

Noah fetches a wooden chopping board, a knife, and a handful of basil. “Chop this. Not too fine.”

While I go to work on the herbs, he takes a second board and deftly slices some onion and a chorizo sausage in the time it takes me to chop the basil.

I watch while he halves some cherry tomatoes and takes down a wide flat frying pan and sets it on the stove. He puts a pot of water on to boil and seasons it before turning back to me. “Wanna talk about it?”

I shrug. Not really, but I don’t want to not talk either. I unlock my phone and turn the screen toward him without reading any more of the awful messages. Now that I’m not staring like a deer in the headlights at the magazine cover, all the nasty messages have come back to the forefront of my mind.

He takes the phone from me and reads silently. As I watch, his expression blackens and he lets out a mumbled curse. “Fuck that. People are all assholes. Why don’t you delete the app?”

He hands the phone back, and I put it into my pocket. “I can’t. That’s my job.”

He braces his hands on the bench, thinking. “Clear your inbox, block the fuckers.”

I nod. “I need to. I just can’t deal with it right now.”

He holds out his hand again, gesturing for me to give him the phone. I do, and he bends his head over the screen, thumbs working and frown deepening.

When the water boils, he looks around for a moment, jerking his head toward the pantry. “Pasta’s in there. Add about half a bag.” Then he goes back to the phone. “Turn the other burner on.”

By the time I’ve added the pasta to the water and figured out how his range works, he hands me back the phone. “That’s most of it for now. I’ll take another look later if you like.”

“Thank you.” God this guy seems destined to be my hero every time I’m having a dark moment. He certainly seems to have a knack for being exactly what I need, exactly when I need it.

He tosses the onion and tomato in the pan, flicking it casually so the food is browned evenly on all sides.

Then he adds the sausage. By now the savory smell is making my mouth water.

How is it possible for something with only three ingredients to smell better than some of the hatted restaurants I’ve eaten in?

But that’s the beauty of a truly good combination.

Sometimes simple, fresh, and perfectly seasoned trumps complex and over fussy.

“This is what I make when I can’t be bothered cooking for myself,” he tells me, tossing the food in the pan again.

I smile to myself. What I make when I can’t be bothered cooking is an Uber Eats order, but I guess that’s why I’ll never be a chef.

“If you want my advice for nothing, I’d tell you you’re better off.”

Huh? Oh, Justin. I drag my mind away from the delicious smells Noah is producing and try to focus. I nod. “I mean, I know that intellectually. Clearly things haven’t been good for a while. It just hurts, you know?”

“Yeah. I know.”

“You do?”

“Yeah. I wish I didn’t, but I do.”

When I don’t say anything more, he sighs and switches off the stove. He turns and leans against the counter. “I don’t usually bother explaining. Everyone around here already knows, and new people don’t need my sob story. Only I think you do, don’t you, Zeston?”

“Maybe. If you don’t mind.” I would never have dared to ask, but I’m so curious.

“I was engaged once. When I was younger.” He takes the knife and stabs it violently into the chopping board so it stands straight up. “Younger and stupid. It didn’t end well.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

He shrugs. “Why be sorry? It’s not your fault.

She didn’t know I was a kraken. This was back before monsters came out.

I should have told her. I guess a part of me always knew she wouldn’t stick around.

” He yanks the knife from the board and rinses it in the sink.

“When she first found out, she pretended everything was OK. We were still planning the wedding. I bought her dress and paid for everything. I didn’t find out until I was standing at that fucking altar waiting for her like an idiot.

She left me waiting there a whole hour before she called. ”

“Oh, Noah. That’s horrible.”

The smile on his face holds no mirth. “That’s not the best part. The best part is I found out later she and my best friend had been screwing for a month before that. Two months later, they were married.”

He turns and removes the pot from the heat, draining the steaming water before adding the cooked pasta to the pan with the sauce. “Fool me once, or so they say. I don’t plan on having that happen twice. So I steer clear now.”

“Of women?”

He plates up the food and garnishes with cheese and a sprinkle of herbs. “Of relationships. It’s not worth it. It never is.”

I’m quiet for a while. Mostly because I take a bite of pasta and basically die and go to heaven.

It’s savory and a little sweet burst of flavor from the tomato and the hint of garlic from the sausage is just everything.

I take about five more bites before I come up for air. I kinda wish I had my notebook!

Then I look around at Noah, who’s come to sit beside me at the counter and is digging into his own bowl.

“But don’t you ever just want to um… let off steam?

” I shift uncomfortably. I don’t want to make this weird after he’s been so nice to me, but I can’t help remembering the other night.

The way he kissed and touched me was not the way a man kisses and touches if he’s celibate.

He chuckles. “You mean if I want a fuck? I never said I didn’t do that. I just don’t do feelings.”

“Well that must be hard on the women of Kraken Cove. I bet they find it hard not to get feelings for you.” I flush and look down into my bowl.

I’ve revealed too much, but honestly, I can see him being really addictive.

He’s bitter on the front of the palate like tonic, but beneath that, I think there’s depth and sweetness and maybe even a little vulnerability.

“That’s why I prefer seeing people from out of town if I can,” Noah says, continuing our conversation. “It’s easier that way. Simpler. Comes with a built-in expiry date.”

Huh. I mull over that a while, swirling the wine in my glass. Eventually I bite my lip and blurt out the thing I wanted to say all along. “You mean like me?” I dart a glance at him under my lashes, hoping. He’s going to say no. I know he will, but oh I could go for some hot rebound sex right now.

“Oh no.” He shakes his head, confirming my fear. “That would be a very bad idea, Zeston.”

I knew he would say that. I knew it and I’m still disappointed.

We eat the rest of our meal in silence. It’s so delicious I finish in record time and am tempted to lick the bowl to get the last of the oily sauce.

Noah takes the bowls and puts them in the sink. I can’t stop thinking about what he said about people from out of town. OK, I can’t stop thinking how hot rebound sex with Noah Wilson would be.

Finally, I move to the sofa and tuck my feet up under me while he cleans the last of the things in the kitchen.

I’m going to miss my chance in a moment.

He’ll change the subject or tell me it’s time for me to go home.

I gather my courage. “Why? Why is it a bad idea? Like you said, I’m not from here.

When it ends, I’ll fly back to the other side of the world and that’s it.

No awkwardness. No loose ends. Plus, I’m on the rebound.

I’m not exactly in a position to start anything serious.

I don’t even know if I’ll ever have another serious relationship. ”

He snorts, still bending over the sink.

“What?”

“Don’t kid yourself, Zeston. You’ll absolutely have another serious relationship. You won’t be able to help yourself.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Yeah I do. Just look at you. You’re the wife type. The type who wants to settle down.”

I glance down at my beige twin set and slides.

At the hair tie around my wrist and the tangled locks of my long hair falling across my breasts.

I guess he’s right. I’m not exactly the seductive siren type.

The sexiest pair of panties I own are white with tiny strawberries on them. I’m more flannel than Chanel.

I swallow down a tight feeling in my throat and keep my smile on my face. “What if this is my lightbulb moment, huh? What if this is when I learn how to fuck around and not get feelings?”

Noah chuckles again and I can’t help noticing how his light hazel eyes sparkle and the corners crinkle when he does. “I’d like to, Zeston. Believe me. But I don’t think I can trust you not to get too involved.”

It’s reckless. I’ll probably regret it. I can tell by the way I want this too much already. And he’s right about me. I’m still hoping for something lasting. Something real. But I also want to be with him again—badly. So I tug my lower lip between my teeth and smile up at him. “What if I promise?”

His gaze drops to my lips, and for a moment I think he’s going to kiss me right then. A spark of awareness sizzles through me and I press my legs tighter together to savor it. “Oh, you are dangerous.”

“Me?” I bat my lashes innocently, loving the feeling of tempting this gorgeous guy.

Noah curses and runs a hand through his hair. “Fuck it. You know what? Fine. I’ve never pretended to be a saint. You wanna do this, we do this, but there are rules.” He waves a finger in my face. “Rules we don’t break.”

“Of course. Like what?”

“No staying over.”

“OK.” That’s fine. I can handle crawling back into my bed at six in the morning after he’s rocked my world all night.

He narrows his eyes. “And no pet names or cutesy talk.”

I laugh. “Easy. Anything else?”

“No kissing.”

My mouth falls open. No kissing? The thing I’ve been dreaming of ever since that night.

“Don’t look at me like that, Zeston. Kissing you was a bad mistake last time. Look where it got us. Far too carried away, that’s where,” he says.

That seems like a mighty sacrifice, but since my choice is between that and nothing, I guess my hands are tied. “OK.”

He watches me for a moment more, arms folded across his chest as if waiting for me to break. I hold his gaze.

He coughs. “Good. Then we know where we stand. What this is and what it’s not.”

I nod. “Exactly. And if I get hurt, that’s on me,” I say nonchalantly. I can’t see it going that far. I’m not planning on being in Australia long enough to really get involved and I’m still recovering from Justin. Besides, there’s no way

“Huh. Maybe I can teach you how to fuck and not have feelings. I’m somewhat of an expert now after all.”

Then we’re smiling at each other and the tension in the air is palpable. We’re doing this. We’re really doing this. He said yes, despite the way I look. Despite the fact I’m a mess and he’s picked up the pieces twice in the last two days. Despite his obvious reservations.

I don’t know what comes over me. Maybe it’s the hormones rushing through my body. The sizzling anticipation of being so close to him, of having his undivided attention fixed on me. Maybe it’s the two glasses of wine.

Whatever it is, I set aside the glass of water on the coffee table and say brazenly, “So are you going to fuck me yet, Wilson? Or are you going to make me wait all night?”