Page 61 of A Hard Habit to Break

Laughing at their antics, she added five emoji gold stars and pressed Send.

While she waited for his witty comeback, another message popped in.

Gillian:Expect an invite to a

video call. Need updates on

your redevelopment plan.

Of course.Because the real world hadn’t stopped spinning just because she’d tumbled back into Noah’s arms. She couldn’t hit Pause on everything just because she was wrapped up in nostalgia and the one man who had ever made her believe in always.

She slid from the bed with slow, practiced care. Pulled her tank back over her head and eased her shorts up her legs. She took one last look at the man who’d once promised her a cabin by the water and had actually built it. Noah, who said the words like a vow. Noah, who made love to her like he had all the time in the world to memorize the shape of her sighs. Noah, who slept bare-chested, mouth slightly open, probably dreaming about fire drills, or the future, or her. The thought made her chest ache.

He looked happy. Content. He looked so peaceful, tangled in the sheets, a smile still ghosting across his lips. Like a man who believed in second chances. She released a long-suffering sigh. This pull. This town. This man.

She didn’t want to crush Noah’s hope. She loved him for always seeing the roses through the glasses. She didn’t trust it. Not yet. Not enough.

Rachel scribbled a note on the back of one of her sketches—just her name and the truth she couldn’t say aloud:Need to work. I’m not running. I promise. Come find me.

Then she slipped out the door into the night, barefoot, clutching her boots and her doubt, heading for the plungepool, to their spot. To the place where she could see the cabin light glowing faintly behind her, like a flicker of hope she wasn’t ready to snuff out. Her present and her future, both visible, but separate.

She’d just sat down to sketch out her idea for the old mill, when her smartphone alerted her to an incoming video call. The phone didn’t just buzz, it blared. Loud and insistent, cutting through the predawn quiet like a fire alarm. Rachel’s heart lurched as she saw the name, Gillian Begatta. At 5:47 a.m. Eastern time, which meant it was 2:47 a.m. in San Diego, and Gillian was already in work mode.

Rachel’s eyes darted to the cabin where Noah slept, then down at herself. She looked like a rumpled water nymph in Noah’s open-collar shirt, braless, and her hair… looked like she’d been thoroughly loved all night long, which she had. Answering the call meant Gillian would see her in this state. Not answering meant career suicide. She swiped to accept, angling the phone to show only her face and shoulders.

“You’re awake. Good girl.” Gillian’s sharp voice seemed to disrupt the sounds of nature, and Rachel winced at the abrasive quality she’d overlooked mere days ago. “Took you long enough to answer. What are you—wait.” Gillian’s perfectly manicured eyebrows shot up, her gaze sharpening through the screen. “You have freckles… everywhere.”

Why did people feel they had the right to comment on her body? For all the Black women who spent generations silenced by systems designed to break their spirit, Rachel felt their bondage. Her quiet accommodation, that voice that whispered tempered responses and repressed objection, stopped now. “Yes, Gillian, I do. Nothing special. It’s me without makeup. This is my Black and beautiful.” Point made. No need for dramatics or playhouse theater. To quote her father, she said what she said. “So, how can I help you?”

“Okay, then.” She reared back, and Rachel readied herself for blowback. “Love the bold and beautiful energy. How did I not know you had fire to match that red hair? You’re going to need more of that in the boardroom, Rachel. I’m excited to uncover what other skills you’re hiding from us.”

Gillian Begatta had saidboardroom,need, andRachelin the same sentence.Wow.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

NOAH FOUNDRACHELon his deck overlooking the plunge pool. She had her head down, with curls arranged in a mathematical equation Einstein would need a tutor to untangle. A sketch pad teetered on bent knees as her pencil moved across the page. One of his work shirts hung askew off her shoulder, the hem dropped to mid-thigh, but with her knees raised he caught a glimpse of a pale cheek—not the one on her face, either. Intelligent, beautiful, and generous. He was a lucky man.

Rachel looked up then. “Great, you’re awake. We have work to do.”

He scooped her up in his arms. “Not good. You barely slept.”

“Hey, put me down.”

“No can do. You’ve been gone for hours.” His fault for letting her sex him into hibernation sleep. Noah was officially a fan of hot yoga. His woman had stamina and wasn’t afraid to use it.

“Look, my boss called and we have to make progress on the redevelopment plan.”

Noah lowered her to the couch. “Pete’s plan is done. Just add your touches.”

“Wrong answer. I’m not cosigning any part of that plan. Now, you said you wanted to work together. That means you add your input, and I add mine.”

“Gotcha. You. Me. Plan together,” he said, kissing her nose. The scent of morning dew and vanilla clung to her skin. “The fire department needs a training facility. It’s in the old plan.” He placed a kiss on her forehead. “We need a new engine. That’s in there.” He trailed kisses over her cheek. “A new city hall. Already in there, too.”

“Noah Calvary.” She shoved at his chest with one finger. “I’m serious. Pay attention.”

He stole another kiss. This time from her lips. “What do I win if I do?”

Rachel gave him a saucy wink. “That’s the teacher’s prerogative. If you’re a good boy.”