Page 21 of A Hard Habit to Break

Noah shifted, water sluicing around his body. “Watching from a distance?” he called out, his voice a deliberate provocation. “Been following your projects throughout California. I thought you were more of a front-row kind of girl now.”

“Shows how little you know about me.”

She had to know this wasn’t the end of the discussion. “Suit yourself, fan girl. That means I’m coming to you.”

Her breath caught—a perceptible hitch that told himhe’d scored a win. She popped out of the shadows then. “Don’t you dare.”

“Oh, I would,” he said, lengthening his strokes to reach the rocky shore. Time for the bonus round of eyeing her up close and personal, in private. She stormed down the incline. Her foot slipped once. Noah’s heart lurched in his chest. There were rocks, some obvious, others not so much. Was she insane?

“Be careful, Six. There are trip hazards over there that are hard to see at night.” The bank was steep and riddled with thick roots hidden by the grass.

“Don’t even try to tell me what to do.”

“Stay put,” he commanded, swimming faster.

“The day I need Noah Cal—” Moonlight caught the briefest flash of long legs before a wild tangle of limbs careened down the hill and then hit the water. A wall of water took flight. Ripples pushed against his body, and then she vanished as water swept over her head. “Rachel!” Noah bellowed.

In one breath, she was fussing. He loved hearing her talk; he would’ve kept pushing on her one nerve if it meant they’d stay like this for hours. Talking instead of a bunch of unanswered emails and snail mail letters. In the next breath, she went silent.

“MRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAOWWWWWWW!” ClamClam screamed, lifeguarding after luring her to the water. Nutty cat generated more blasted noise than the rig sirens down at the station.

Approaching the site where she’d gone under, he used both hands to fish beneath the water, spinning in circles. His fingers made contact with soft, cool skin, and closed around her arm. He plucked her up. She coughed, and he felt wetness pelt his chest. What he knew to be red curls lay matted to her forehead, obscuring her eyes.

She lifted her left hand to clear the crushed nest of curlshiding her face and froze. “Ouch,” she hissed, using her right hand to feel along her left forearm and wrist.

“Are you hurt?”

She stuttered as water dribbled from clumps of wet hair into her mouth. Her gaze locked on his chest, then scanned lower. Quick as a bull out of the chute, her head snapped back up. Their eyes met, kind of. There was still a mass of curls for her to contend with.

“Are you naked?” she asked, her voice high-pitched with accusation.

“By your tone, neither my man parts nor I are reassured of our safety.” Especially with her white T-shirt clinging to her wet flesh, and those boy shorts showing off toned, smooth legs that had him biting back a groan. She’d been a cute kid, a beautiful teenager with freckles he counted in his dreams. But this version of the farmer’s daughter called to his wild side.

“Are you?” she demanded.

He scooped her up into his arms as he glided back across the pool. “Does it matter?”

“Ah, yeah, it kinda does,” she shot back, head angled, eyes wide in shock. Disbelief.

“You know, Six, I’ve spent years wondering how it would be when I had you in my arms again,” Noah murmured. “About what you’d say. Where would it lead?”

“Stop talking, naked boy, and put me down. You have an injured leg.”

He’d forgotten about his battle wounds from earlier. “A corner street poet in training if I ever heard one. And it’ll take more than a cat named ClamClam to hobble me,” he chuckled, her back cradled against his forearms, her soft curves against his biceps. Boy, it felt amazing to hold her again. She kept talking, and Noah fought to keep his eyes from straying to her mouth.

“And you’re still a big jock who does as he pleases.”

“Guilty and unrepentant. Now answer my question. You hurt?”

“I’m fine. My wrist tingles a bit.”

He frowned, not liking one bit that she had gotten herself hurt because of him. “I have a first aid kit at my place.”

She stiffened. “You can’t take me there.”

“Too late,” he said, reaching the bank, the single bulb on his back deck lighting their path. “If I hadn’t challenged you, you would’ve stayed away from the shoreline. Least I can do is take care of you.” On steady legs, he strode toward warmth as the temperature dropped in the growing darkness. He wanted to make a good impression, but his lower half opted for bad behavior. He hoped Rachel wouldn’t notice his physical reaction to her nearness.

“Are you seriously carrying me into your house in the middle of the night, dripping wet and naked?”