A high-pitched voice with just a trace of masculinity burst through the speaker. "Did that fucking pervert escape or something?"
I looked at the phone's display again to see if the caller's information had miraculously populated. Still just a number I didn't recognize.
"Who is this?" Rude as the jackass calling me was, I managed to keep my tone polite. The area code was the same as mine, so it could be a neighbor.
"Don Donovan — now answer my question. Did that fuck get loose or something?"
Two thoughts struck me at the same time. The first was more a feeling of dread at the prospect of the kid making his way to my house to finish whatever he had planned to start last night. The second thing was that Donovan's parents must not have liked him very much to name him Don.
Suppressing a giggle and a thin thread of fear with it, I answered Donovan as he started to repeat his question. "Dude, I don't know — and why do you ask?"
"Because Officer Lodge is on guard outside your door."
I heard a woman's voice speaking in a soft, unsure whisper. "I think he's sleeping, dear. It's probably not what you think — he isn't even in uniform."
More whispers followed as she urged him to hang up and he argued with her. I didn't wait to find out which Donovan would win that fight. I snapped the phone shut and marched into the front room, not even bothering to grab my robe before I threw the door open.
"You stupid, obstinate-"
Noah woke with a start, the deck chair he'd pinched from my back patio falling over with him in it. He shook his head, rubbed at his eyes. "Don't be angry, baby-"
"Baby!" He was obviously too tired to remember he'd dumped me yesterday morning.
"I mean, Patricia…" He blinked and gave his head another sharp shake. "I was just…"
He floundered some more as my temper boiled over. "Noah Lodge, you colossal asshole-"
The words froze in my mouth. He'd put a jacket on sometime last night after I'd locked the door on him. It was the same one he'd been wearing yesterday afternoon. As he picked himself up from the ground, the pockets spilled. Loose change, a slip of paper and a little black box came tumbling out.
Noah's gaze followed mine. Seeing the box, he scooped it up and shoved it deep into his pocket like he was burying a mistake. "I just wanted to make sure you were okay. You are — and you clearly don't want me here — so I'll leave."
Still talking, he started to turn away.
"What was that?"
"What?" His hand flexed inside his pocket, telling me he knew exactly what I was inquiring after.
Instead of walking away when I didn't answer him, he bent down and gathered the rest of the spilled contents from the ground, the yellow slip of paper disappearing into the same pocket as the box.
I told myself the box wasn't what I thought it was — it couldn't be. Lots of things come in little black boxes. It could be anything, could be for anyone. I knew that, but I couldn't keep my mouth shut. "You know what I'm talking about."
His hand twisted inside the pocket but didn't emerge. "Nothing you care to see, baby girl."
His tone and the stress of the last two days hit me all at once. My knees buckled, my body folding faster than the kid had last night. As fast as I fell, Noah still managed to rip the screen door open and catch me before I hit the floor.
"You're shaking, baby."
No fucking joke. I pushed at him, tried to extract myself from his strong arms even though I had been dying all night just to have him hold me again.
"Stop fighting, Pattycake. You promised no more pulling away."
I batted at his chest. "I didn't pull away!"
That wasn't true. I had pulled away — but not first. Not first, not until after he'd run out and ignored my text and made it clear to Darling that he was just looking after his best friend's little sister. I swung at him again, the attempt futile as he cinched me against him, erasing the space between us, and stood up.
"You're the one who ran out," I reminded him. "First light and you were out the door."
"I know, baby. I was scared shitless." Cradling me against his chest, Noah shoved the door shut with his foot. He carried me to the couch. Still holding me, he sat down.
"You want to know what's in the box, Patricia Harper, pull it out and see for yourself." He was staring hard at me, his gaze as unreadable as his voice was strained.
I reached my fingers into the pocket but he stopped me. He fished the slip of paper out, folding it until just the name of a store and the date stamp were visible.
Shit, he'd driven to Tiffany's in Atlanta. Whatever was inside the box, he had purchased it Saturday at a little after one pm.
I drew a hard breath in. "Why'd you run out yesterday morning — you wouldn't even look me in the eye."
Half-question, half-accusation, the words erupted in a stuttering mess.
"Baby girl, you think I'm a player — an absolute dog."
I shot him a look, letting him know I wasn't the only woman in a hundred mile radius holding that opinion.
"Not with you, baby. Never with you." A smile crept along his face, faltering as his mouth began to tremble. "I couldn't look at you because I was afraid I'd find you pulling away. I needed something to show you I was serious before you had the chance to shut me out again. That's why I didn't answer your text, either."
I buried my face against his shoulder, my hand inching toward the pocket. He wrapped his fingers around mine. "Not yet, Pattycake."
Twisting to his side, Noah dumped me on my butt. Pushing the coffee table away from the couch, he got down on one knee. He reached into his pocket, his hand pausing. He stared at my clothing, seeming to notice for the first time that morning just how little I had on. The lacy camisole was held together in the front with silk ties threaded beneath my breasts to lift them. Lace tap pants covered my bottom — barely.
He sucked his bottom lip in, his eyes slowly closing.
When he opened them again, his hot gaze pinned me to the couch. "You're letting me take that off," he warned before his hand emerged with the box.
The box popped open with an upward swipe of his thumb, revealing a princess-cut diamond surrounded on all four sides with a row of smaller round brilliants, another row encased in the platinum band.
"Yes!"
Half smiling, he licked at his top lip before his tongue slowly curled back inside. "Baby, slow down. I didn't ask anything yet."
I nodded, a blush heating my cheeks. More than embarrassment, I was flushed from that little display of tongue and the knowledge of how very skilled it was.
"You remember that time when you were ten and I beat the crap out of Joey Stahls?"
I nodded again. Joey had made the very dumb mistake of pushing me down at the bus stop and telling me my freckles were dried lice.
"Well, when my daddy was done tanning my butt, he asked me why I did it." He stopped, his cheeks burning a bright pink beneath his summer tan. "I told him-"