Circle on Home (Lost in a Boom Town Book 5) (30 page)

Miranda hadn't been to service since she'd been back from New York, but very little had changed. They had a new preacher, of course, but the church looked exactly the same, decorated exactly as it had been every year since she was a girl, even the ornaments in exactly the same positions on the trees. Did the church ladies have photographs they copied from year to year, or did they just remember? Lord knew, Miranda would be able to replicate it from years of staring at it during the long service.

She had half-hoped to see Noah and his family, but of course, they didn't attend. They used to come, back in high school, but she imagined too much had changed there.
 

She'd seen the McKennas, the Tscheulins, the Dawsons, the Salazars, greeted them before breaking free from her mother, who wanted her to come back for a Christmas movie and cookies–her mother had made a lot more varieties than Miranda's sugar cookies–but Miranda had begged off, and come home.
 

Riley had closed for the long weekend and gone home to Louisiana for the holiday. Jolie was working, so Miranda had the house to herself. She curled up in front of the Christmas tree, with one gift beneath it. She should call Noah and wish him a merry Christmas, see how his holiday was going, but for right
 
now, she just wanted to enjoy the peace and quiet.

She woke from her doze on the couch when her phone buzzed. She fumbled for it, accidentally tapping the screen to answer it before the name on the screen registered.

"Damian. Merry Christmas." She wouldn't have been more shocked if Noah walked in to tell her he always had a dream of being a stand-up comedian.
 

"Merry Christmas." His voice was low, mellifluous. "Did you have a nice time with your family?"

"I did. Did you?" With the family that hadn’t liked her, she wanted to add.

"We just got back from brunch, and we were talking about you, and I wanted to check and see how you were doing."

"You were talking about me?" She could only imagine what his mother and sister had said.
 

"I was telling them that you're starting your own practice down there and they were saying how brave you were to start over, and I was thinking they're right."

She bit down on the comment that he'd called her a coward for running back home. She didn't say that his family was likely delighted she was out of his life, and didn't care if she was brave or not.
 

"I am not brave," she said, even though, damn it, yes, she was. She'd left her home, traveled the world, moved to New York City when she knew no one there. And when she'd had enough, she knew herself well enough to know it was time to come home. And yes, starting her own business was brave. And scary. And she was doing it in one week. She didn't know why she didn't just admit all that to him. Why was she self-deprecating?

"I was thinking maybe you'd need a hand getting up and running, and I thought I'd come down to help you, a late Christmas present."

Okay, maybe she could be more shocked. "No, Damian, thank you, though. There's not that much to get done."

"Nonsense. There's plenty to do to set up a new practice. You have to learn bookkeeping, for one, and how to make appointments. You have to advertise, or you won't get new clients. There's so much for you to do, but you don't know how to do any of it."

"I have a friend whose mother is a bookkeeper, and I've gotten help from a few other small business owners who have helped me set up some software on my computer. As far as advertising, the back of the church bulletin and word-of-mouth is all I need right now." She kept talking because she didn't know what to make of his offer, and was almost afraid for him to elaborate.

"There's more to it than that."

"Not much, not in a small town. Don't worry about me, Damian. I've got everything covered."

"I miss you, Miranda. I'd like to see you again. I know you said you're not coming back up here, so I have to come down there if I want to see you."

"Damian," she said on a sigh.

"I know you said we're over, but I think it needs to be a decision we both make, don't you?"

No, she didn't. If one person didn't want to be in a relationship anymore, it wasn't right to be forced to stay by their own guilt, or the other person.
 

"Damian, I'm seeing someone."

A beat of silence on the other end of the phone. She squeezed her eyes shut, picturing the incredulity on his face.
 

“You’re…what?” he demanded. “So soon?"

She winced, because it had been fast, not a month between leaving Damian's bed and finding Noah's.
 

"Did you know this person before? Is that who you've been seeing when you go home? Is that why you went home so often? Not to see your family but to see this guy?” The questions came rapid-fire, his tone sharper with each word.
 

His tone reminded her of so much she had hated about their relationship, how small he’d made her feel.

So why did she feel compelled to answer? "It's Noah, the boy I dated in high school." Even saying that felt weird because he didn't seem like a boy anymore, and she almost couldn’t remember when he had been a boy.
 

"So someone you've been seeing?"

"I hadn’t seen him in years. We just...reconnected."

She could feel his anger over the phone. Could feel it. Or was it her own guilty conscience, because she had gone back to New York after her last visit with thoughts of Noah and what might have been.
 

"I didn't do it to hurt you, Damian." She could add that being with Noah felt right, but she knew Damian would take that the wrong way, would make it an accusation against her, make it sexual when she didn't mean it that way.

"Well, merry fucking Christmas to me," he muttered, and disconnected.

Her heart was still pounding from the confrontation when the doorbell rang. She tucked the phone away, not even looking at the screen after ending the call, and padded, barefoot, toward the door. She looked out the peephole and saw Noah, and was swamped by the sensation of joy. She swung open the door, not caring that her church clothes were rumpled from her nap on the couch, and threw herself into his arms. He hesitated only a second before wrapping his arms around her and holding her close.

"Merry Christmas," he said into her hair, and if she'd thought Damian's voice had been warm, Noah's voice damn near melted her bones.
 

She drew him into the house and closed the door behind him, then tugged him toward the stairs, vaguely aware he held a box wrapped in Christmas paper with a pretty red and gold bow on the top. She didn't stop, but backed up the stairs, holding onto his arms.

"Miranda."

"I've missed you," she said, hushing him, and pulled him into her bedroom.
 

She made short work of undressing until she stood before him in a lace bra and panties–not her best, because she hadn’t known if she'd see him today–but she knew she looked good, just by the way he looked at her, his eyes darkening with hunger. She stretched out on the bed and bent her knee invitingly. She wanted to undress him, but watching him undress himself was just as good. And then he was over her, his skin hot, his body hard–all over–as he cupped her face in his hands and kissed her.

He was inside her before she could catch her breath, and they pulled at each other, moving together as if they needed to be closer, and closer, and closer.

He flopped onto his back when they were done, and stared at the ceiling a moment, eyes closed as if savoring the pleasure, then turned to her, his chest still rising and falling rapidly.
 

"I came to bring you your present, but maybe that will do," he teased.
 

She curled into him, bringing her knees up between them so that he jerked his hips back just to be on the safe side. "You didn't have to buy me a present."

"Does that mean you didn't buy me one?"

She liked this playful side of Noah, was happy to see it when she was afraid it had been too deeply hidden after his mother's death, was happy to think maybe she was the part of the reason it had resurfaced.
 

"I did indeed buy you one. It's under the tree downstairs."

"Maybe that's where we should do this." He started to get up, but she pulled him back beside her and kissed him, long and deep.
 

"Glad I didn't bring Selena with me, even though she wanted to come."

"Really glad you didn't," she murmured.

"What brought this on?" he asked.

She didn't want to tell him about Damian, not right now when her entire body still pulsed in pleasure. She'd tell him later. "I was just really happy to see you. Really happy that I made the right decision to come home."

His brow furrowed as he looked down at her. "Were you having doubts?"

"No, but I...I was wondering if I made my decision too much with my heart and not with my head."

"And taking me up to bed cleared all that up?"

"I definitely was not thinking with either my heart or my head at that point," she said with a smile. "Want to open presents?"

He pulled on his jeans but didn't button them, pulled on his shirt but left it open, and frankly, that was enough of a Christmas present for her. He retrieved the gift from the nightstand where he'd set it down when he'd undressed. It was small, and her interest was piqued.
 

"At least that's not a cookbook," she quipped as she slipped into her robe and tied it snugly about her waist.

"Yeah, because I want that to happen again." He pointed to the bed, then looked back at her, his nostrils flaring. "Are you wearing anything under that?"

“I am not."

"Yeah, ah, we might not make it down the stairs."

"I was just naked," she reminded him.
 

"Yeah, but I need a couple of minutes of recovery time."

"That's long enough to open presents," she said, and opened her bedroom door.

He followed her down the stairs, barefoot, and sat on the couch, legs parted, shirt falling open, looking absolutely delicious as she retrieved his gift from under the tree. As she handed it to him, her stomach fluttered a bit. She hoped she'd chosen well. He handed her the small but heavy package and she sat beside him.

"One at a time, or together?" she asked.

"Together."

She was glad he said that, because she couldn’t wait, and was afraid to see disappointment on his face if he didn't like hers.

He started chuckling as he opened the box. "I think we both had the same idea. I was worried you might not remember...."

"Might not remember how much I wanted this bracelet? Where did you find it?" She lifted the turquoise and silver band out of the box and slipped it over her wrist.
 

"Is that the right one? I thought I remembered what it looked like, but when I started shopping, well, I couldn’t be sure."

"If it isn't, it's at close as I've ever seen." She turned her attention from the bracelet to the embroidered western shirt he pulled out of the box. "I know that's not something you'd wear every day, but I thought maybe when we go dancing or something. I remembered you liking that one that Trace had when we were in high school. That was the prettiest one I could find that I didn't think you'd think was too gaudy."

"It's perfect." He leaned over and kissed her. "I guess we should go dancing soon, then?"

Chapter Seventeen

The smoke tickled Noah’s nose and he lifted a hand from around Miranda’s waist to rub at his face. He turned his head a bit to scratch without disturbing her, and the smoke was heavier. What the hell?

He nudged Miranda awake. “Get dressed.”

“What? What’s going on?” Her voice was slurred.
 

He’d learned over the past week of staying the night that she was slow to wake up, but now he needed her to snap to. “Miranda. Now. Something’s burning.”

“What?” she asked again, and sat up, holding the sheet to her breasts.
 

He was out of bed, pulling on his jeans, trying to find his shoes in the dark. He reached for the bedside lamp, but it didn't flicker. The power was out.