When in Rome (When in Rome, #1)

by Sarah Adams

“Looks like your car broke down.” I can’t admit to that! I would basically be telling him that I’m a sitting duck. My phone’s out of service, too! Would you like for me to step out so you can abduct me or would it be more fun for you to break the window yourself? Choose your own adventure!

“I’m not going to murder you if that’s what you’re thinking.” I gasp and look out at the darkly silhouetted man. “Why would you say that? Now I really think you’re going to murder me.” “Thought so,” he says, sounding irritated.

Why do I feel an instant connection to him? There’s something inside me, tugging me closer to him, begging me to raise my hand to his chest and run my hand over his soft cotton tee.

I’m headed to bed. Feel free to lock your door, I know I will.” “Smart move. Wouldn’t want to let the Pillow Bandit strike,”

He’s a little grumpy, there’s an edge to him that says careful, I might bite, but then his eyes whisper but I’ll be gentle.

“Look, I’m not going to steal your pillows, okay?” He frowns and shakes his head. “Didn’t think you were.” I scoff lightly and roll my eyes. “Well, you sure seem like it from the way you’re walking around here like a caveman guarding all his precious rocks.” I stomp around and mime what I imagine a prehistoric male would look like when he’s pissy and possessive. It’s not a cute look on me. Noah’s brows go up. Arms cross. Surly Pose. “Is that supposed to be me?” “Obviously.” “Huh.” A pause. “I need better posture.”

“Is this your version of quiet as a mouse?” He holds his frown so well even though I can feel the amusement vibrating between us. “Is that the longest sentence you’ve ever strung together?” He tips one of his eyebrows. A hit. “She commandeers my guest room. Eats my food. Calls me a caveman. And insults my intelligence,” he says while shaking his head in a mock reprimand.

The door chimes as Amelia steps in, sunlight spilling all around her form like she’s a damn angel sent to earth to prove that heaven really exists.

“I’m fine.” I wipe my eyes with my forearm again, but it’s getting worse. Involuntary tears are starting to stream from my eyes. I’m not crying! Let the record show my eyes are doing this on their own!

And then, I don’t know who moves first, but our lips collide. My hand shoots up to cradle the back of her neck, and her arms wind around my waist, pulling my body flush with hers. Tender curves. Warm scent. Greedy hands.

Usually, I kiss like I have all day. A gentle build of sensuality that’s meant for savoring. Amelia unlocks something in me, though. Impatient. Needy. Her tongue glides over mine and she’s so damn sweet I feel like I’m burning alive.

My mom was all the family I needed. My best friend. And then my first single went number one in the charts and that’s when everything changed.

She is always trying to go behind my back to get what she wants, but Susan has always looped me in and I end up okaying whatever the request is. But see, I would love to give my mom anything and everything she wants—I just wish she still wanted me, too, and not just my money.

“Careful!” I yell at his closed door. “You almost left enough room for me to dart in under your feet that time!” He growls and I smile. Two points for Amelia. Zero for Grumpy Pie Shop Owner.

I’ve paid more money into that damn jar than my retirement fund. If Annie didn’t donate it all to charity at the end of the year, I’d have stopped indulging her a long time ago. But for whatever reason, us not cussing is important to her, and so…I guess it’s important to me, too. At least when she’s around.

I’m going to go get a shower really quick and try to wash off the smell of Hank’s. Can you dab my head with cool water, too, when I get out? Looks really nice.” “Shut up,” I say, pretending to try to kick her as she skirts out of the room chuckling. I like when Annie shows fire, though. I wish she’d do it more around other people.

“My mom used to be my best friend—but she only likes me for my money now. Susan only cares about my success. And the world only wants me for Rae Rose.” There’s a long pause as she sighs deeply. “I’m drowning and no one sees me.”

It’s not infatuation. Not even lust. It’s the worst of all the feelings…care. Care is reckless because it doesn’t come with the seat belt that selfishness offers. Care has so much to lose, and almost always ends in heartbreak.

“I see you.”

“Bullshit. I’ve known that boy since he was a baby. I can read him like a book, and I’d bet my entire living he’s grumpy because he wants you around too much.”

“Something you need to know about me,” he begins in a softer tone than I’ve heard him use yet. “I’m not talkative.” I give a mock gasp of surprise, which makes him grin. “And I don’t like talking about personal stuff when I’m not prepared for it. Sometimes I need a minute to process when I’m caught off guard. But if I’m actually mad, I’ll tell you. I don’t believe in the silent treatment when it comes to stuff like that.”

It’s the perfect distraction until…holy shit, I shouldn’t have come home from work at all. I’m going to have to move out and let Amelia have this house, because the sight of her turning the corner in my blue pajama bottoms but with only her black camisole covering her top half is too much. The bottoms swallow her whole so she has them rolled down at the waist a few times and that camisole doesn’t quite meet the top of the pants. There’s this enticing little band of skin showing all the way around her body. This woman looks like a fantasy come to life. Plucked straight out of my best dreams and placed right in my living room. The audacity of her.

I find myself wanting to trace a line around her smiling lips so I can always remember the shape of them. I want to wind her long thick hair around my hand and wrist. I want to brush my fingers across her accentuated collarbones.

A surge of protectiveness rams through my body and suddenly I want to hunt down anyone who has ever turned her down for a game of Scrabble and force them to play all night with her. And you’re going to smile and like it! What kind of asshole wouldn’t want to be friends with her? She’s sweet. Funny. Easygoing. Gorgeous. It’s unfathomable that she’s single.

I’m pudding in her hands. Spineless, melted, wobbly, pointless pudding.

“It was a long time ago. No need to be sorry for anything.” Where’s my metal trash can? I’ll happily climb inside and pull down the lid right now, because I like being Oscar the Grouch. That trash can is comfy, and I’ve really made it homey in there. Keeps strangers out, and even better, keeps beautiful singers who will only treat my heart like an all-you-can-eat buffet at a distance.

He smiles. SMILES. It’s blinding. My heart stops and then starts again, galloping right out of my chest. Good Gouda, that man has gorgeous teeth. And crinkles beside his eyes. When he smiles like that, he looks so approachable and comfy that I want to drape myself over him and just squeeze him in a giant hug. He’s huggable. The Grumpy Pie Shop owner is absolutely huggable.

Noah is smiling, and flirting, and rumpled, and wow. I like drunk Noah a lot. Actually, I like every version of Noah and that’s a real problem.

What I really want to do is open that deodorant stick and sniff it until I pass out, but I don’t because I’m forcing myself to act like a civilized woman. Polite, polite, polite. …One sniff of cologne won’t hurt anyone, though. I do it, and I’m immediately addicted. I spray a tiny—nearly microscopic—spritz onto my PJs. Reckless, reckless, reckless.

“You’re so pretty,” he says, without a slur but words heavy with sleep. “And you sing like an angel, too.”

“And you’re sweet. Like powdered sugar.” His eyes drop to my mouth and I feel my stomach lurch into my throat. “So damn sweet.” I smile and Noah hooks his finger under my chin and gently tugs me toward him. “Can I kiss you? Just one more time?”

“And then…when you came back from the bathroom, and before you doctored up my hand, I remember privately thinking how much you smelled exactly like my cologne.”

“Everyone thinks you’re pretty. You know this.” She doesn’t let me off the hook. “But do you?” My eyes drop for a fraction of a second to her mouth, and I remember all too well how much I wanted that kiss last night, and still feel the desire today. “I always mean what I say.”

“But just so you know, I think you’re pretty, too.” She shuts the door, and I don’t want to, but I smile again.

“Had the man so bewitched after her summer in town cleaning up her deceased uncle’s house and selling it that when it was time for her to leave, Noah up and moved to New York with her! It was a real Hallmark movie. But then when he had to come back for his grandma she didn’t come with him and—”

He doesn’t like to discuss it with anyone. That woman broke his heart and he’s not been the same since.”

We make eye contact and he doesn’t smile at first, but the longer he looks at me, his lips start to rise in the corners like he just can’t help himself. And all at once, I think maybe my chances aren’t hopeless after all.

I’ve seen you drive my truck. Snails were passing you—flipping you the bird and everything. It was embarrassing.” Amelia laughs and shakes her head, turning her eyes back to the window. And I realize in this moment, I’d do just about anything to make her laugh. What’s happening to me?

We are one right now and my heart can’t take it. The feel of him. The smell of him. The warmth of him. Oof, it’s all so good. And then he has to go and make it worse by reaching behind him and taking my hips in his hands, adjusting me an inch to the left so that I’m more squarely lined up with him. “Hold still,” he says as if I would want to go anywhere but here right now. Good luck ever peeling me off you, buddy. I live here now.

“Dammit,” he whispers and then looks at me one more time. “You look very pretty.” I feel a smile in my soul before it reaches my lips. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.” “It is for me.”

And then when her arm brushed mine while dropping our empty bowls into the sink, I almost rolled my eyes at how my body reacted. Like an electric shock took hold of me. An arm brush should never do that sort of thing to me.

I’m distracted by my own addiction to Amelia. Every time I hear her bare feet padding down the hallway, I twitch. I cannot let myself touch that doorknob. You can last one freaking night without seeing her, Noah. You survived every night without her before you met her.

Noah’s chest and he’s…he’s wearing the exact same pj set as the one I’m wearing, but in the color gray. My smile blooms wide and wicked as I pop up to my feet with renewed vigor. He gives me a warning look after noticing the sparkle in my eyes. I point anyway. “You have more of these pj sets! And you wear them!” He wets his lips and rolls his eyes, snapping shut the book he was reading—oh my gosh Noah is a reader—and sets it aside. “Okay, get it all out of your system.” “These weren’t just a gag gift. You own them because you love them. Noah, the Classic Man, is even more classic than I ever knew. Look at you wearing collars on your pj’s. Oh my gosh, you have them all the way buttoned up!” And still looks fine as ever in them. It’s unfair.

“My dad was a big reader. A lot of these books were actually his.” Pies, flowers, and books. Little by little I’m able to string together these parts of Noah. It’s sort of terrifying that he’s turning out to be more wonderful than I expected.

“You can hang out if you want. Pick out a book.”

“That’s okay. Thank you, but I’ll let you have your night to yourself back here.” I turn to flee, but Noah’s voice stops me. “Amelia, stay. Please.” I slowly slide my gaze to him, and I know my face is contorted into a wobbly expression. “Are you sure? I won’t be a quiet companion. I’m incapable of it.” Best to get this truth out in the open now. He grins. “I know.” I start backing toward the chair. “And I don’t sit still very well. I’ll probably be noisy over here. I bounce my foot when I sit too long.” “That’s okay.”

Just beyond Noah, there’s a picture on his dresser of a boy, three girls, and a mom and dad. My heart squeezes and twists and before I know it, I’m wiping a rogue tear from my cheek. He’s so good—this man. I can’t imagine how I’ll be able to walk away. How did you do it, Audrey?

He takes another step. Closer, closer, closer. This is why we’ve avoided each other. This keeps happening when we’re in the same vicinity, and I think we’re both incapable of stopping it. Our bodies are on a wavelength our minds are not privy to.

“Noah?” “Hmm?” “What are you doing?” I ask quietly. Like someone else might overhear our secret. “Hell if I know. I think I was going to hug you.” I bite my lips against a smile. “Was?” “Well, now I’m here and I don’t feel like it’s a good idea anymore.”

“Might still do it anyway,” he says, either hesitation or nerves touching his voice. Honesty bleeds between us. “I want you to.”