But he had no intention of mocking her. Now that he was closer, he could see the fear that roared beneath the humor and sass. He knew that kind of fear. It was the kind that had wrapped its thick fingers around his throat when he’d been told he had testicular cancer, the same cancer that had killed his father. He’d beaten that monster three years ago, but the fear lingered.
That’s why he’d made arrangements to have his sperm banked as soon as he’d recovered from treatment. Anxiety that the cancer would come back and take what it hadn’t the first time—his ability to father a child—had haunted him. Banking ten samples that could provide several insemination attempts each had helped smother those worries. And selecting a facility with both California and Texas locations, close to family, was another level of precaution, though in hindsight, it was likely more his looking ahead for when (and where) he saw himself setting down roots.
But Yasmin’s fear was clearly still burning bright. It was a cold wind howling outside her door, and he couldn’t blame her for not wanting to let anyone in.
No, he didn’t blame her, he blamed whatever son of a bitch had hurt her, scared her, made this beautiful, young, vibrant woman believe that she had no choice but to lock the doors to her heart and hang out “condemned pending demolition” signs. The man who made it clear that Yasmin was still running away from him as fast as she could, even though she was standing close enough to touch.
Noah didn’t consider himself a violent man—he’d only been in a handful of fights and most of those when he was in school and had become the self-appointed defender of fellow nerds not gifted with his muscle mass—but right now he wanted to smash a fist into the face of the man who’d done this to Yasmin. He wanted to beat the unholy shit out of the man, until he was lying bruised, broken, and harmless at her feet, proving she had nothing to be afraid of anymore.
But beating her ex to a bloody pulp wouldn’t fix the things that were broken. His best chance at getting through to Yasmin was to honor her boundaries and hope that maybe, for the right man, those boundaries might be redrawn.
He nodded seriously. “I’ll take it. And when I move to Lonesome Point, I would be honored to be your friend.”
She blinked, seeming surprised by his answer. “But you don’t even know me.”
“Just call it a hunch,” he said, grinning as he tossed her words back to her. “Meet me by the gazebo at six tomorrow? And we can decide where to go from there?”
“All right,” she said softly. “But we’d better meet outside the thrift shop, instead. The main part of the square will be crazy tomorrow night. It’s when they announce the King and Queen of the festival.”
Noah glanced down the hill, shaking his head when he saw the rooster still stalking the patchy grass near the shop’s rear parking lot. “Will it be safe? I’m assuming someone will have contained the poultry threat by then?”
She waved an easy hand through the air. “My mom will have Sampson back in his pen before the hour is through. He plays it tough, but he’s a mama’s boy.”
“I bet,” Noah said, nodding seriously. “The other guy that went for my balls in a fight was a mama’s boy, too. They always fight dirty.”
She laughed, her cheeks pinking, transforming her pretty face into something breathtaking. Noah literally had to take a beat to remember how to exhale. By the time he did, her laughter had been swept away on the summer breeze, and she was backing away from him once again.
“Do you need me to walk you down?” he asked. “Watch your back? I know I wasn’t much help the first time, but I can, at least, throw my body between you and danger.”
“No, thanks. That’s a noble offer, but I’ll be fine. I’ll head around the other side of City Hall and stay out of the line of fire.”
“All right, then. See you tomorrow,” he said, lifting a hand.
“Tomorrow.” She paused, one ankle circling thoughtfully in the air before she added, “And thanks for the dinner invite. I’ve got a ton of crazy to get through tomorrow. It will be nice to have something to look forward to.”
“My tomorrow’s pretty crazy, too,” Noah said with a sigh, not looking forward to his breakfast date with the woman who would not be having his baby, no matter how passionately she pled her case. And he was sure she would be passionate. He didn’t know RunYazzRun’s name—only her e-mail handle—but he could already tell she was a handful. “We can exchange horror stories over beer tomorrow night.”
Her lips quirked. “Or compare battle scars.”
“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,” he said, unable to keep from flirting…just a little.
Thankfully his efforts were rewarded with another knockout smile. “Watch out, O’Sullivan. I’m starting to think you’ve got a naughty side beneath all that country boy charm.”
He shrugged. “I’m actually a city boy. Born and raised in San Francisco and still live in the Bay Area.”
“Interesting. I would never have guessed. You seem right at home as a knight in faded blue jeans.”
“Thank you,” he said, strangely touched. “Just wish I could have done more.”
“You’ve been great,” she said, eyes narrowing. “But don’t think I missed that.”
“Missed what?”
“That I didn’t get an answer about your naughty side.” She nodded thoughtfully as she began to back away again. “Guess I’ll have to figure it out for myself tomorrow night.”
Before he could respond, she turned and jogged away down the hill, her white dress bouncing around her thighs. Noah watched her go, wishing it was already six o’clock tomorrow and all the hard stuff was behind him. He was looking forward to Yasmin North learning more about his naughty side very, very much.
CHAPTER FIVE
Yasmin
The next morning dawned gray and humid.
It was clear from the moment Yasmin woke to gaze out her bedroom window that the sun would eventually win the battle over the clouds, but until then, the sky was ugly and the air almost too thick to breathe. The day matched her mood precisely as she swung into Dixie’s Diner at half past nine, a full thirty minutes before her meeting with the sperm donor. She intended to be fully caffeinated and ready to do battle before TheArkIsAMyth walked through that door.
The ark is a myth…
What kind of man had an e-mail handle like that? Was he an archeology enthusiast researching artifacts from the Indiana Jones movies? Part of a group determined to disprove the Old Testament? Or just your garden variety cranky atheist?
She didn’t know, but she had a bad feeling about this meeting. The man had been nice enough during their e-mail exchanges—probably more understanding than the average Joe whose sperm had been accidentally sold—but she couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d already made up his mind to say no, and this meeting was just a formality.
“All the more reason to be coffee-ed up and ready for action,” she murmured to herself over the rim of her second mug of Dixie’s synapse-enhancing brew.
By the time she’d finished her third, she was firing on all cylinders, only seconds away from laying eyes on the man who would provide the other half of her baby making equation, and ready to plead her case. Unfortunately, she also had to pee. Bad. Like, really bad.