He spent the other half of the day trying not to be turned on by the thought of getting Yasmin in the family way in a more…traditional manner. Of her clever mouth moving beneath his and her hands on his skin and her strong, curvy legs wrapped around his waist while he showed her how much more fun it was to try to conceive with the real thing instead of a turkey baster.
It was probably sick and definitely twisted, but his cock didn’t care. It was up for the challenge of getting Yasmin knocked up. So up for it that he was forced to have a moment with himself in the shower before he drove down the hill to the BBQ hut. He stroked himself to completion hoping it would help him regain his focus, but when he left the house an hour later, he was as confused—and turned on by the thought of seeing Yasmin—as he’d been all day.
So while he was waiting for his order at the BBQ place, he called his mother, figuring there was no better way to kill a hard-on than a lecture from Paula O’Sullivan about the dangers of making impulsive decisions.
His mother answered on the first ring and as usual quickly cut right to the heart of the matter. “So you asked this girl out after knowing her for only a few minutes. She must be a knockout.”
Noah lifted his eyes skyward. “She is, Mom. But that’s not the reason I asked her out. There was just this…connection. At least for me. It was wild; I felt like I had to run after her before she got away. I’ve never felt anything like that before.”
Paula murmured thoughtfully. “Well, you know the story your dad used to tell about how we met. I thought we were friends for years before we decided to date, but he swore he knew the minute he laid eyes on me that I was the girl he was going to marry. He used to say it just hit him. Like a pie to the face.”
“Sweet and messy,” Noah said, finishing the story with a sad smile.
He missed his dad every day, but he hadn’t longed for his father’s advice this much since the days when he was fighting his battle with cancer and wondering how Hank had managed to stay so centered during his own fight. Hank had handled every stage of his illness with strength and grace—even saying goodbye. His father had been a warm, loving, compassionate, love and faith-driven man. He had also been a mathematician who trafficked in logic and formulas.
If he had believed in love at first sight, who was to say it didn’t exist?
No sooner had the thought drifted through his head than his mother brought him back down to earth. “But if he’d told me that the first day of chemistry class junior year I would have thought he was out of his damned mind. No matter what kind of connection you feel with this girl, you need to make your decision from a logical place, not a mystical one.”
“I know,” he said. “I just didn’t think it would be this hard to say no.”
“Hang in there, honey. You’re your father’s son. Strong and stubborn, but one of the kindest people I know. Trust yourself and you’ll find a way to let her down easy.”
“Thanks, Mom,” Noah said, hoping she was right. The last thing he wanted to do was cause Yasmin any more pain. She’d clearly had enough of that in her life already.
Rolling the thought around in his mind, he told his mother goodbye and went to fetch his order from the pick-up window.
There was something there, something that kept his thoughts racing until the moment he stepped out of his borrowed truck to see Yasmin standing in front of the clothing store and his mind went completely blank.
She was wearing a long, slinky green dress, gold bracelets around her upper arm, and feather earrings that fluttered in the evening breeze. The setting sun caught her hair, bringing out highlights he hadn’t noticed before and warming her pale skin. Her makeup accentuated the natural angle of her eyes, making her look vaguely cat-like and sexy as hell. And then her gaze shifted, meeting his across the road, and his breath whooshed from his lungs.
Gone was the anxious woman from this morning. In her place was a vixen who knew exactly what kind of effect she had on a man, this man in particular. She ran a hand through her hair and smiled, the kind of smile that said she was ready for anything and hoping anything would be a little bit naughty.
Noah lifted a hand her way before turning to grab the picnic basket and blanket Bruce had loaned him from the bed of the truck, wondering who was the real Yasmin—the scared woman who had locked away her heart or this firecracker waiting for him with a come-and-get-me look in her eyes.
Ready or not, he figured he was about to find out.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Yasmin
Yasmin watched Noah cross the street and shivered in anticipation.
She’d spent the first few hours after their botched meeting this morning pacing the farmhouse and fretting. But by the time she’d headed back to town to help her mother with the petting zoo, anxiety had turned to frustration with the shitty nature of her luck. As the day wore away, frustration turned to anger, anger to rage, and rage to a burning case of Fuck-it-All-itis.
If her plans were going down in flames, this girl was going to enjoy the ride.
“Hey,” Noah said, eyes narrowing on her face as he stepped onto the curb beside her. “You look amazing.”
“It’s the makeup,” she said, smiling without worrying if it was too flirty or not. “I wasn’t wearing any before.”
God, it felt so good just to be herself. To let go and stop worrying and second guessing her instincts and trying so hard to be something that she wasn’t. At least for the night.
“No, it’s not the makeup.” Noah shook his head. “It’s just…you.” His gaze skimmed up and down her again. “And that dress. I’m not sure I’m worthy to be your date, Miss North. I should have kept my other clothes on.”
“Not at all.” She stepped closer, tilting her head back to hold his gaze. “You should always wear jeans. Always.”
“Oh yeah?” He lifted a brow, his lips curving into a sexy smile. “And why’s that?”
“How’s your ass?” she asked by way of response. “All recovered?”
“All better.” He bit his bottom lip, sending a flash of heat through her as she imagined doing the same. By the time the night was through, she fully intended to know what that full, sexy lip felt like trapped between her teeth. “You ready to get our picnic on?”
“Past ready. I’m starved.”
“Good, because I brought half a pig and a quart of every side on the menu.” He held up the picnic basket and nodded toward Jasper Hill. “Let’s head this way. Bruce let me in on his favorite picnic spot. It sounds pretty sweet. As long as you don’t mind a little walk.”
“I love a walk. Especially this time of day.” Yasmin fell in beside him, lifting the long hem of her dress as they crossed the street and started through the freshly mown grass on the other side. “Sunset is the best.”
“It is,” he agreed. “It’s a forgiving time of day. Every pretty thing is just a little prettier at sunset.”
She smiled, pleasantly surprised. “It is. Are you a poet as well as a computer programmer and social worker, Mr. O’Sullivan?”
He chuckled. “No, I just love this town. This part of the country. Guess it brings out my cheesy side.”