That Night on Thistle Lane. Carla Neggers
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Valley and surrounding hills for generations. Despite Dylan’s newly discovered roots in the region, he was still an outsider.
“Maggie loves herbs and goat’s milk,” Olivia said with a laugh. “I don’t know that much about goats, but the milk is perfect for the artisan soaps Maggie and I are making.”
Noah tried to keep any reaction to himself as it sank in that he was talking goats and soap at a two-hundred-year-old house on a dead-end road, surrounded by meadows, shade trees, green grass and a lot of flowers and herbs. It was a first.
The goats, he’d learned, belonged to Maggie’s widowed mother and were a source of both tension and enjoyment within the O’Dunn family.
Obviously in a happy mood, Olivia sat between him and Dylan. “I’ll give you some samples of our goat’s milk soap. We’re still tinkering before we test-market it here. Maggie’s on top of all the regulations.”
“Complicated?”
“Not too bad unless we make actual medicinal claims.”
“Which you won’t?”
She shook her head. Noah saw that his interest surprised her, but she was the love of his best friend’s life and he wanted to know about her and what she enjoyed. With Carriage Hill getting off the ground and the betrayal of her friend over stealing a client behind her, Olivia’s natural optimism had clearly returned.
Falling in love didn’t hurt, either.
Noah thought of his princess. He could feel the curve of her hip, see the warmth in her eyes, the soft swell of her creamy breasts. Why had he left her? Why hadn’t he let the mystery man come to him?
Because he hadn’t wanted his life in San Diego—who he really was—to intrude on the moment. The fantasy they both were enjoying.
Either that, or he hadn’t known what the hell he was thinking.
He wasn’t thinking she’d disappear, that was for sure.
“Noah?” Dylan asked with a frown.
He sighed. “Mind drifting. Thinking about hiking in the mountains, then playing a swashbuckler at a ball—I’ve got mental whiplash.”
“Not a chance,” his friend said without hesitation. “You never have mental whiplash, whatever that is.”
“It’s a big change to go from waking up in a sleeping bag on a mountain to dancing at a charity ball that night.”
Dylan was still obviously unconvinced. “You knew the deal. There were no surprises.” He shifted, then smiled. “Except for your princess. I guess she could have you whiplashed in a number of ways.”
“Funny, Dylan,” Noah said.
He grinned. “I thought so.”
As they finished their simple lunch, Noah noticed a woman come out of a small shed at the far end of the yard. She had a cobalt-blue scarf tied around her head and long, dark strawberry curls trailing down her back. She started up a bark-mulch path, and Noah saw she wore a deep red top that accentuated her breasts and shorts that shaped slim hips. Her sport sandals, though, looked as if they’d gone up and down Mt. Washington a time or two.
When she reached the terrace, she stayed on the path and motioned toward a raised flower bed as she addressed Olivia. “The slugs got to the miniature dahlias, Liv. They’re so gross. I put out slug bait and trimmed back the worst of the damage.” She shuddered, then smiled brightly. “I was admiring the gardens and couldn’t resist going on slug patrol when I saw the carnage.”
“Yuck,” Olivia said. “I hate slugs. Only thing worse are ticks.”
Noah glanced at Dylan. Slugs? Ticks? What had happened to bucolic small-town New England?
Dylan seemed to read his mind, with obvious amusement. “Ticks suck blood and can be hard to see,” he explained, not that an explanation was necessary or desired.
“Oh, sorry,” Olivia said. “Noah, this is my friend Phoebe O’Dunn. Maggie’s sister. Phoebe, this is—”
“Noah. Noah Kendrick.” He got to his feet and put out a hand. “A pleasure, Phoebe.”
She wiped a palm on her hip and smiled as she shook his hand, her skin warm, soft, her fingers long and slender. “I wore garden gloves when I took on the slugs, but you never know. It’s nice to meet you, Noah. I hope you’re enjoying Knights Bridge.”
“Hard not to on such a beautiful day, despite images of slugs and ticks.”
“Sorry about that,” she said, the twinkle in her eyes belying her words. “Are you here for long?”
“That’s not the plan.”
Noah saw that her eyes were a similar turquoise to her sister’s but shook off any comparison with his princess from last night. The false eyelashes, the heavy makeup—how would he be able to tell for sure? He doubted he’d recognize her voice. He wasn’t good at that sort of thing.
Now if he could touch her hips...
He shook off that thought, too. Whatever Olivia knew about his dance partner and wasn’t saying, it didn’t involve this attractive slug-hunter in scarf and muddy clothes.
Definitely not the same turquoise eyes.
With one smooth movement, Phoebe pulled off her scarf and gave her curls a shake once they were free. She seemed natural, unselfconscious. In her element, he thought.
“Well, if you do decide to stay on,” she said, “we’ll make sure you’re not bored.”
Noah felt his eyebrows go up and heard Dylan give a little cough behind him.
“Phoebe’s the town librarian,” Olivia added quickly.
“She can keep me in reading material, then.” Noah smiled at Knights Bridge’s redheaded librarian. “Nothing like a good book.”
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