3)

I never knew a drive could be this torturous.

As luck would have it, Noah's vehicle of choice happens to be a white work truck with a single cab. The three of us slid into the black seat and I immediate regret caving to his insistence that Chase ride on the end of the passenger side. He is right about Chase needing to buckle in; however, I can only focus on the fact the cab is compact, forcing me to sit very close to him.

Every movement he makes, from strapping on his own seat belt to shift the truck into drive, causes his arm to bump against mine. The sleeves of his shirt are rolled up off of his forearms, so I feel the fine hair there brush my skin. It helps little, that he smells overwhelming masculine; a subtle earthy scent that tickles my senses, setting them on full alert.

The pit of my stomach twists itself into a ball of nervous knots and my breath grows shallow. Good God, is this normal, to feel such a strong attraction to someone you just met?

"Why didn't you drive yourself up here?" Noah asks as he pulls away from the Bed and Breakfast.

I hear his question but I can't seem to draw enough breath into my lungs to formulate a response.

"Mom doesn't drive", Chase responds when I do not. "She doesn't know how".

"Chase", I finally choke out, embarrassed that he just told a complete stranger something so personal.

"You don't know how to drive?" Noah questions.

 "Not everyone does", I say defensively.

Noah is quiet. Chase is quiet...I am quiet. We ride in silence for a good while.

"You can't take taxi's up here and back every day", Noah announces. "I will drive you".

My mouth falls open. "You...you....I...I can't ask that of you", I sputter.

"You're not; I'm offering", Noah replies. "We are both going to be travelling this way for the next several months, if I am guessing correctly. It just makes sense".

He has a point, I know. But, I worry if I can mentally survive been this close to him for extended periods of time. 

I have never felt so out of touch with myself, yet completely aware of my being as I do right now, in his presence. The feeling is foreign, scary. I need to get a grip on myself.

Two weeks ago, I buried my husband. I should be mourning Charles, not imagining the feel of another man's hands on my body.

A chill, laced with guilt, washes over me, snapping my back to reality. I may not have loved Charles but he deserved better than to be replaced so quickly.

I stiffen, the intensity causes my spine to go rigidly straight. "That's kind of you but I'll manage", I respond tightly.

Silence fills the space once again and we remain that way for the most part, until he realized he did not know where I lived. He asked and I spouted off the address.

He nodded.

I gathered he knew how to get there, since he did not ask me any other details. Before long, we pull into my driveway. Chase hops out immediately. I go to slide out behind him but Noah takes hold of my arm. That charge of electricity I felt before, surges through his fingers into me. He must feel it too because his expression changes to something I am unable to read clearly.

"I wasn't trying to offend you earlier", he said, letting go of me.

Again, I am struck dumb, my voice disappearing somewhere inside me.

I watch Noah pull a card from his shirt pocket and scribble on the back. He passes the card to me. "My offer stands; take it or leave it. Your choice", he says as I exit the truck.

After he drives off, I look down at the card; it is his business card, which I already had thanks to Mason; however, he had written his personal cell phone number on the back.

I sigh, placing it in my pants pocket.

Chase and I spend the rest of the day unpacking the remainder of our belongings and organizing everything. The day quickly turns into night and with it our bellies warn us of their need for food.

After dinner, Chase and I watch some of his favorite television shows together, curled up on the bed in his room. It doesn't take long for me to realize what he really wanted was for me stay until he fell asleep. When his eyes grew heavy lidded and drifted closed, I kissed his forehead and slipped quietly from his room, leaving the television on to provide both some light and a since of comfort.

I make my way down the hall to my own bedroom. Soon as I step inside, I become all too aware of how large and empty it feels. Not eager to crawl into bed, I decide to have a long bubble filled soak in the whirlpool tub.

I sink down into the bubbles and turn on the jets. The combination lulls me into a state of relaxation. I lean back to let my head and neck rest on the built-in headrest. My eyes turn upward and for the first time, I notice the skylight above the tub. Through it, I can see the night sky; the dark blue peppered with bright shining stars.

I cannot help but smile in delight of my discovery. There was nothing I enjoyed more than a night time sky full of stars. When I was a child, I would spend hours sitting by my window looking up at them and wondering if there was someone on the other side looking back at me.

After my mom had passed, I began to wonder if she was that person. Of course, time and maturity put an end to such thoughts. Now, as I am looking upward I find my thoughts on Noah.

I wish I could say they were on Charles but it was pointless to lie to myself. Noah was under my skin in a bad way and I had no idea what to do about it. I could not avoid him, he was contracted to work on the Bed and Breakfast. I could fire him but then I'd have to go through the paces of finding a replacement. And, besides, it would be unfair to him. He did nothing to insight or encourage my attraction.

I sigh. I am a grown damn woman. I should be able to conduct myself like an educated businesswoman regardless of the circumstances; I have to. Our future, mine and Chase's, were dependent on me making the Bed and Breakfast a success. Nothing was more important, especially not my hormones, which seemed to raging like a teenager. I have to swallow them down and suppress them.

Noah McCormick wasn't and couldn't be anything other than a means to help me get my business up and running.

*****

Two days later.....

Planning and preparations for the renovations of the Bed and Breakfast have risen my stress level to the point of making my head explode. I have been so worried over every single detail from color pallets to choices of wood grain that I worked myself in a headache.

Noah, whom I have only spoken to via cell phone for the past two days, has been nothing but patient and supportive in my indecision..... two qualities I'd never had guest he possessed or that I would require. He has even offered a few ideas I have taken into consideration.

Today, he phoned me bright and early with an invitation to meet him in Portland. I had been prepared to turn him down, the coward in me afraid of how I would react to once again being in his presence. The invitation extended to Chase as well, but I found no comfort in having him there; however, I resolved to accept the invitation.

Logically, I knew I cannot effectively conduct business with him via phone for the next few months. So, I suck it up, give myself another pep talk about being an intelligent, rational woman and ready myself to go meet him.

Once I am dressed, I take a step back to examine my appearance. My mouth fall slightly open at the image reflected back at me. The jeans I chose, hug the contours of my body, accenting the roundness of my hips and ass. The top is no better, showing of full breasts and my narrow waist. I even, unconsciously, applied a little make-up. The shade of lipstick a is mocha brown, like my skin. With the gloss coat applied, it gives my lips a hint of additional fullness. The liner I applied around my cat-shaped eyes is just a thin line of charcoal black but nonetheless, the deep brown of my irises stands out against it.

My hair is loose and the thick black strands fall to my shoulders. The style accentuates my high cheeks bones.

I look.....sexy. OMG!

Had I meant to?

I can't go meet Noah dressed like this.

Panicked, I begin rummaging through my clothing in search of something more appropriate, like a pair of "mom" jeans and an oversized shirt. And, the make-up was getting scrubbed off for sure.

Ten minutes later, I slide into the back seat of the taxi with Chase. I am mortified, as I am still wearing my first outfit, make-up still in place.

"Damn taxi driver!" I think to myself, glaring at the back of his head. Why did he have to show up right on time? Thwarting my chance to get out of this ridiculous get up.

Well, I don't exactly look ridiculous, I concede. I look like I said before...sexy. I just don't want to look like this.

What will Noah think when he sees me? I find myself wondering after I rattle off the address he texted me and the driver takes off. Maybe, I don't look sexy. Maybe he won't think so either.

I frown, chewing the inside of my lip.

Beside me, Chase is looking out the window, taking in the scenery.

The grass and trees give way to tall buildings and concrete sidewalks. People are out and about. Portland is a busy town, still not as busy as New York but it definitely had the air of "major city" about it.

We continue to drive, the coastline coming into view. The city grows quieter and the sound of the ocean can be heard through the open window of the taxi. The tall buildings fade and smaller, quainter buildings take their place. The waterfront, is just a stone's throw from where we pull to a stop. From our position, I can see boats docked in the water. I also, see Noah.

His back is to us but I know it is him. Like me, he is dressed in jeans. Today, there is no flannel shirt covering him. The plain white T-shirt he is wearing reveals just how defined his muscles are; even his back has definition.

My heart begins to race.

Chase hops out, running over to greet him. I watch their exchange, as I pay the taxi driver and climb out slowly, walking toward them.

There is a ruggedly boyish charm to his face as he listens intently to Chase's barge of questions about boats. For a man, who seemingly has grit and gruffness about him, he is showing a surprising amount of patience with Chase. Not only that, he appears to have actual interest in offering answers to Chase's questions.

Noah lifts his head. When our eyes meet my heart leaps into my throat. That same rush of attraction crashes into me.

"Good morning Cassandra", he says in that deep masculine voice of his.

"Good morning", I reply, doing my best not to look away.

I clear my throat. "Cassie", I correct. I never liked being called by my formal name. Charles refused to call me anything but Cassandra in public and in the privacy of our home, stating that Cassie was not a fitting name because it lacked maturity and sophistication. "Call me Cassie".

"Cassie", he repeats as he begins walking and Chase and I fall into step beside him.

"Where are you taking us?" I ask, a little more at ease now that we are moving.

"For a walk", was all he said.

A walk?

There were a million things I needed to do to complete the planning of the renovations for the Bed and Breakfast.  I do not have time to go for a stroll along the Portland Waterfront.

"Trust me", Noah says.

We walk in silence, the three of us. But, that did not last long. Chase, being the curious boy he is, began asking more questions. And, Noah willingly answered them. I let the two of them chat away uninterrupted, while I just look about.

Somewhere during our journey, we veer away from the waterfront, down a small street lined with single story businesses. Noah comes to a halt outside the window of a tiny Mom-N-Pop furniture crafting store at the end of the street we are on. The exterior is drab and unassuming, which makes me raise an eyebrow. However, before I can comment, Noah ushers Chase and I inside.

Beautiful hand-crafted pieces are scattered about. The space is tight but the pieces are positioned in a way that makes it easy to navigate through while getting a good look at each and every one. I am in awe of the level of craftmanship before me. I spot the most beautiful two-seater swing in the far corner of the shop and I fill with delight.

I stare at the swing, feeling an emotional connection to it. And, I know I will not leave here without making it mine. I can already envision myself sitting out back of my home, swinging away while I watch the sunset on the pond.

I wanted the experience of witnessing, nature in such a fine moment. I slip into an almost dream-like state, thinking about it. Then, it hit me...the knowledge that I wanted to insight the same connection in those who'd come to stay at the B&B. This what I've been searching for; my vision.

Overjoyed, I unconsciously reach out for something to hold on to and find Noah's hand. Again, there is the spark; the one that steals my breath away. We stand there, neither knowing how to react.

"Noah McCormick".

The greeting distracts my attention. I release Noah's hand and turn to see the thin gray-haired woman who appeared from out of nowhere.

"Good to see you, Mae", he responds to the older woman as she gives him an affectionate hug. The look on Noah's face is pleasant, yet I get the sense that he feels a bit awkward.

"It's been a long time, Noah. Too long".

"I brought you a customer", he says, instead of offering a reply to her comment.

Mae smiles at me, causing the creases underneath her amber colored eyes to deepen. Her smile is the kind of smile that is infectious and the corners of my mouth turn upward automatically.

"Well", Mae says. "She's very pretty. You always did have an eye for the pretty ones".

"Meme", I hear Noah say. I know enough about endearments to know the term means grandmother.

"Cassie is a client", he goes on to explain.  "She purchased the Cutter's old lodge up in Albany. I'm renovating it for her".

"The Cutter's place", she repeats.

"Yes", I chime in, clearing my throat.

Mae nods. "I see".

"Cassie is looking to refurnish, so I thought I'd bring her to the best little furniture store I know".

Mae chuckles. "Aren't you sweet".

Noah shrugs, "Just truthful".

I hear them but my attention has gone back to the swing.

Mae touches my arm. "That swing is one of the first pieces my husband made; it's old but built to last. I had it moved here to the shop some years ago, after he passed and I didn't need a big ole house to live in by myself", she says.

I read between the lines and understand that the swing is not for sale. I am disappointed.

"Mom, check this out". Chase running over, holding a flute carved out of rich dark wood.

"Chase, you can't just pick up whatever you want without asking", I scold.

"Sorry", he mumbles. "Can I have it?" he ask right after.

"Sure", I reply. He really likes it and there is no sense in us both being disappointed.

I purchase Chase the flute and promise Mae I will return to look at some pieces for the Bed & Breakfast, we head out.

Relenting to Noah's insistence, I accept his offer to drive us home.

No sooner than we get home, I begin working on ideas for the B&B. The ideas come in a continuous unstoppable flow. Not even, Chase's incessant blowing into his new flute can disrupt my thoughts. I work tirelessly and before I realize it, night has fallen.

Oh no, I realize, I had been so wrapped up in working that lunchtime completely slipped by me.

I drag myself away from my work and make my way upstairs to Chase's room. He is sitting "Indian" style on the floor, playing his new flute, quite badly. I cannot help but smile. "Hey kiddo", I say softly. "You hungry?"

He stops playing. "I ordered us a pizza; 30-minutes or less."

I slide down onto the floor beside him. I kiss the top of his head. "That was very thoughtful of you".

"You were busy".

"I'm sorry sweetie, about forgetting lunch".

He shrugs, "It's okay".

Is wasn't okay, not to me. I need to do better, now that Chase and I are on our own. I cannot help but to chew on this over our shared pizza and while I lie in bed willing myself to sleep.

*****

The next morning, I awake to the sound of Chase's flute. I push my bang out of my face as I sit up, sighing. At first, I thought the sound was coming from down the hall, now I realize it is coming through my open window.

I scramble out of bed and into my robe, racing down the stairs, ready to scold him for leaving the house without permission, even if it is only out back. I fling open the French doors to the sitting room and come to a screeching halt when I see Noah.

He is showing Chase where to place his fingers on the flute.

"Mom!" Chase calls out. "Listen to this".

I wonder what Noah is doing here but then Chase starts to play a cheerful little tune on his flute. I am surprised by the significant difference from his playing last night. "Wow, Chase that's amazing". I offer him an encouraging smile. "Now, go inside, it's chilly out".

Chase pokes out his lip.

"Listen to your momma, Chase", Noah says. He winks at Chase, who hops up and bounces happily inside.

"What are you doing here?" I ask when we are alone.

"I called your phone this morning but you didn't answer, so I came by. I couldn't very well drive around with this thing in my truck all day".

I frown, confused then he points. I step outside, ignoring the coldness of the wood against my bare feet. There on my back porch is the swing from Mae's shop. My mouth falls open. "I-I...S-she didn't want to sell it".

"Do you not want it? I can take it back", he says.

"No!", I exclaim rushing forward, taking hold of his arm.

"Here, sit. See if you like this spot", he orders.

He leads me to the swing and I sit. I begin to rock, looking out where the sun touches the tops of the trees. The spot is just right.

"What do you think?" Noah askes.

"It's perfect", I say. I pat the empty space beside me. "Come see for yourself".

He sits, pushing the seat with his long legs, increasing the motion of the swing. We sit together quietly, relaxing against the swing of the seat and the view.

"Noah, I don't know what you did or said to get Mae to part with this swing, but thank you".

He shrugs. "It didn't take much convincing".

I ponder the answer for a moment. "How much do I owe her?"

Noah shakes his head. "It's taken care of".

He paid for my swing.

"Noah". I search his face. Maybe I am reading more into the gesture; maybe there is more to the gesture. Whatever the case I find myself moving toward him.

"Cassandra", he says in a low, warning voice.

"Don't call me Cassandra", I say breathlessly then my lips touch his. The contact ignites a hunger I've never felt before. My entire body is vibrating. And, he hasn't even kissed me back. I want him to, more than I wanted the swing we are perched on.

He takes my face in his large hands, gently easing me away. His eyes are a darker green, a sign that he is not unaffected by my kiss. He releases me, rising. "I should go", he says.

I nod in agreement, remaining where I sit, because I am 99.9% sure if I move, I'll do something stupid.

"Talk to you soon, Cassie", he says as he disappears around the side of the house.

"Talk to you soon, Noah", I say to myself.