Getting Lucky (The Portland Pioneers Book 2) (11 page)

It was hard to explain, and even harder to explain to someone like Cal. Once he’d experienced the feeling of coming home, he wasn’t willing to wait even twenty four hours to make sure that he’d done everything in his power to acquire it permanently.

Still, Noah was pretty sure that this guy didn’t like him, but it still remained to be seen what Cal Keller would do with these personal feelings when it came to his business. He’d done a little preliminary research late last night when he’d finally made it back to his hotel room, quickly googling construction companies in Sand Point. Like he’d expected, Cal’s company was the only one of note. It seemed to have a solid reputation, going back a few generations, and even though Cal wasn’t the kind of guy Noah wanted to entrust his new little slice of heaven to, he was going to have to hire someone to fix its many issues.

Noah might be good with tinkering, but he wasn’t a general contractor.

“I suppose you’re right,” Cal said. “But I’ll be honest. You shouldn’t have bought this house.”

“Is there something seriously wrong with it?” If there was, Noah figured he’d just tear the whole thing down. He wasn’t overly attached to the house itself; he’d barely glanced at it, in fact.

“Oh, the house is a disaster,” Cal repeated, “but that’s not the real problem. I’m just not sure you belong here in Sand Point.”

Cal wouldn’t have known, but Noah was nothing like his best friend, Jack, except in one important way: he hated to be told what to do or how to think. “I hardly think you’re entitled to make that decision,” Noah said slowly. “You don’t even know me.”

“I know your type,” Cal practically growled, and Noah wished Maggie was here to see this; his last face-off with Cal had left her flustered and amused and more than a little adorably annoyed.

“What’s this really about?” Noah asked. “Is it about Tabitha?”

“Of course this isn’t about Tabitha,” Cal backtracked so fast he practically wore holes in the ass of his jeans. “It’s about Maggie. She’s not prepared to deal with the likes of you. And now you’ve bought this house, and you think she’ll fall all over you. But she won’t.”

Noah felt his neck practically snap from the whiplash. Cal was warning him off
Maggie
?

He’d barely thought about Maggie; okay, that was kind of a lie. But he’d kept it PG-13 rated at least, and he’d never have made a move on her, especially if he wasn’t going to be staying around in Sand Point. Of course, now that he was staying, Noah wasn’t sure what that meant. Or what he was going to do about it. All he knew was that it was absolutely none of Cal’s business.

“There’s nothing between Maggie and me,” Noah said slowly, wondering deep down if maybe Maggie felt the same way he’d been trying to ignore. Cal wouldn’t have made this whole thing up out of thin air.

“Right,” Cal said, sounding not at all convinced, and frankly that really pissed Noah off. It wasn’t his god damn fault he was so hot that women just threw themselves at his feet. He’d never asked to be blessed with attractiveness. In fact, he didn’t even see it as a blessing, more a curse really.

“Listen, I don’t like your tone and I like your insinuation even less. Maggie and I are friendly because that’s what she is. Friendly. She’s not going to lose her mind over me. She’s smarter than that. To imply she would is doing her a serious disservice.”

Cal kind of gaped at him, as if he didn’t know that Noah knew what all those words even meant. Yet again, an assumption based on his handsome exterior and career of choice—he must be an idiot with an underdeveloped brain. Noah inwardly shook his head in total disgust.

“Besides,” Noah continued, his temper rising, “even if we
were
involved, it’d be no business of yours. And since I’m only interested in general contractors who care about
business
, I won’t be asking you to bid on this project.”

Cal continued to gape and Noah felt a growing swell of satisfaction. “So get the fuck off my property,” he finished.

Maggie couldn’t say why she was so sure that she’d find Noah at his new house, but when she’d first heard he’d bought it, she’d pictured the view off the majestic cliffs and she could see him there. So when she saw his Jeep parked in the driveway, like it had always belonged there, she couldn’t help but smile.

She parked her car, and grabbed the package she’d brought with her. It was kind of embarrassing, but she hesitated for a moment, fluffing her hair in the rearview mirror before making a disgusted face at her primping.

Carrying the pie plate, she picked her way through the overgrown front yard, and through the semi-destroyed gate. Emerging on the other side, she found Noah sitting on the concrete slab that doubled for a patio, looking out towards the water. He didn’t turn and didn’t acknowledge her, but Maggie knew she’d made enough noise to probably wake the dead.

“Hey,” she said softly, suddenly crippling insecure about this visit. She’d debated it all afternoon, playing devil’s advocate with herself. Most of the time, the devil in her mind had Cal’s face and mannerisms, but she was too annoyed with him today, especially after overhearing the hot gossip during the lunch service: that Cal and Noah had met to discuss remodeling his new house, but Noah had ended up ordering Cal off his new property.

Maggie hadn’t bothered to call up Cal and verify this. Gossip, while usually spreading like wildfire through the small town, was also typically pretty accurate. The more sensational the story was, she more apt she was to believe it. And this one was pretty crazy. Plus, if it happened to be true, Cal would be in a nightmare of a mood, and she didn’t feel like dealing with him again today.

So instead of Cal on her right shoulder, she’d perched Tabitha, who had only smirked at her and said completely unnecessary encouragements like, “he’s hot and available and
here
.”

Next time, she wouldn’t be substituting her incorrigible older sister for her oldest friend.

Noah turned and the smile on his face when he saw her made Maggie’s heart beat just a little faster. She supposed it was inevitable that she’d fall under his spell, like every other woman in town, but for some reason it felt different for her. After all, she saw under the crap he ladled on thick for his devoted horde.

“Maggie,” he said, getting to his feet and dusting off his jeans. “This is a surprise.”

“A good one, I hope,” she said, hating the way her voice wavered just a hair. If she was visiting anyone else, it wouldn’t feel weird, but for some reason, she was horribly apprehensive about his reaction. Maybe Ella had read him wrong after all.

To cover her sudden nerves, she shoved forward what she’d brought. “I made orange marmalade rolls this morning, and thought you might like a pan as a house warming gift.”

He took a few steps forward, the setting sun shining off his dark hair and playing hide and seek with the gorgeous planes of his face. Grinning, he took the plate from her and peeked inside the foil wrapping, his smile deepening as the scent of orange and cinnamon saturated the air between them.

“Trying to fatten me up, I see,” he said.

“You could afford to have one or maybe . . .two,” she said.

“The extra miles I’ll put in tomorrow on my jog will still be worth it,” he said so fervently that Maggie was suddenly very glad she’d come.

He gestured to where he’d been sitting. “I’d offer you a chair, but I’m afraid all I’ve got is hard concrete.”

Maggie smiled and sat, wrapping her arms around her knees as she took in his incredible view. “You know,” she said, “when I was in high school, I used to sneak up here all the time.”

“I have a hard time believing you did that,” Noah teased, joining her on the crumbling patio. “You were a good girl. I can sense them a mile off.”

“Anyone would be good in comparison to Tabitha,” Maggie said wryly, then caught herself.

“No, it’s okay. I know the worst of her. Trust me.”

Maggie glanced over at him. It was very unlike Tabitha’s men to actually see beneath the mask she wore. Noah was maybe the very first.

“I did my share of activities of a questionable nature,” she confessed. “I had an older boyfriend in high school and we’d come here to be alone sometimes.”

His grin could have lit up the darkening sky. “You don’t say,” he drawled. “You shock me, Miss Maggie.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m hardly a saint just because I like baking cookies.”

He peeked under the foil cover again. “Trust me, I’m definitely thankful for the baking part.”

“You know, I have a fork or two in my purse.”

“You carry silverware in your purse?” He gave her an incredulous look, then threw back his head and laughed long and hard, and Maggie couldn’t deny she was practically mesmerized by the exposed skin of his neck. She wanted to nuzzle up to him and see if he smelled as good as he looked. Nibble a little bit on the glorious line of his jaw.

“It’s not that unusual,” she said with a hint of heat, trying to focus back on the conversation and less on his myriad charms.

“Maggie,” he said, turning to her, and suddenly she was aware of just how close he was next to her, the heat of his leg radiating through her jeans and into her skin. “You’re helping me redefine ‘normal.’”

Blushing with the compliment, Maggie saw his eyes lock onto her face, then drift down to her lips, and she knew what he was thinking. She was thinking the exact same thing. She was also thinking she must have temporarily lost her mind, but then wasn’t a girl allowed to lose her mind over a guy like him at least once?

But he didn’t lean in and brush his lips over hers. Instead, he shifted away a precious inch or two, and turned back to the ocean view. Maggie tried to pull her expectations back but her fingers were still slightly trembling as she opened her purse and searched for the forks she knew she kept there.

Pulling out two, she gave him a wry grin. “Feel like sharing?” she asked.

“With you? Always.” He pulled off the foil with a jagged flourish and shifted yet another half a foot away, in order to set the pan between them. Maggie couldn’t help the pulse of confusion, but then remembered what he must be thinking.

Of course, he was here for Tabitha. He wasn’t here for the younger King sister. He was tired and lonely and lost. It would be easy to get confused and forget himself for a minute. Maggie plastered an easy smile on her face and resolved to never think about gently biting the flawless curve of his cheekbone or discovering if the tantalizing glimpses and hints of a muscled abdomen were real or just her imagination running wild.

She handed him one of the forks and their fingers brushed as he took it, and she was reminded of the heat that had blossomed inside her when she’d accidentally touched him the morning he’d fixed the fan. Before she could shut down the inconvenient thought, Maggie wondered what it would feel like to touch him on purpose, whenever she wanted.
Wherever
she wanted.

Noah didn’t seem shaken though, so Maggie chalked it up to her own clearly overactive hormones and dug into one of the syrupy soft rolls. As her fork cut through the sweet dough, orange glaze oozed out, speckled with cinnamon and nutmeg. Truthfully, Maggie would have traded hers for a box of chocolate truffles, but beggars couldn’t be choosers.

Besides, she’d spent six months inventing, then tweaking this recipe. She knew exactly how amazing the rolls were.

The dark caramel of the brown sugar hit her tongue first, wrapped in the deep yeasty flavor of the dough. Maggie only used Valencia oranges, their flesh sweet but still plenty tart, and the citrus balanced out the sickly sweet of the glaze.
Still perfect
, she thought with satisfaction as the myriad flavors played over her palate, then she made the fatal mistake of glancing over at Noah.

His eyes were closed with what looked to be sheer delight and the sinful pleasure on his face instantly brought to mind what he’d look like with his mouth on her instead of full of her food.

Maggie was instantly transfixed by the possibilities, hating and loving the slide slow of increasingly naughty images that slid through her uncooperative brain.

Noah, naked from the waist up, with orange glaze smeared messily across his muscled, taut abdomen. Her tongue, searching for every last speck of sticky sweet glaze, the heat of his skin magnifying the intoxicating combination of flavors.

Noah, gently pushing a forkful of marmalade bun between her lips as his other hand dipped under her skirt and made her bones melt with the combination of pleasure and taste.

“Maggie, are you okay?”

Maggie came back to earth to see Noah looking at her with concern, his forehead creased, and hoped against hope that it hadn’t been horribly obvious what she’d been visualizing. “You left me there for a minute.”

“Oh,” she said, praying her cheeks didn’t flame with embarrassment at the lie, “I was just working on a new recipe in my head. Sorry.”

“What’s the new recipe? Not that you really need another, not after this one,” he gestured to the pan between them. “I think I’ve died and gone to heaven.”

“A new wrap for lunch,” Maggie said weakly. She was a terrible liar, but hopefully Noah hadn’t figured that out yet.