Noah (Angel Institute #7)

Chapter 6

Six

NOAH

T he winter sun hangs low in the sky, casting long shadows across the snow-covered landscape as Paige and I make our way back along the trail. The air is sharp and clean, filling my lungs with each breath and making me feel more alive than I have in years. Despite the cold, I feel a warmth spreading through me that has nothing to do with physical exertion and everything to do with the beautiful woman walking in front of me.

“You know,” Paige says, her voice breaking through the quiet of the forest, “I’ve traveled all over the world, but there’s something special about these hills. It’s like they have their own kind of magic.”

I nod, taking in the way the late afternoon light catches on the icicles hanging from the bare branches, turning them into prisms that scatter tiny rainbows across the snow. I itch to draw one. I’ll have to before bed, or I won’t sleep. “When I was a kid, I used to come out here all the time with my sketchbook. I’d spend hours trying to capture the way the light played on the snow or how the bare trees looked against the sky.”

Paige turns to me, her blue eyes sparkling with interest. “Does anyone else in your family do art? Sculpt? Crochet? Paint chapel ceilings.” She bumps me with her hip and grins.

The question catches me off guard, stirring up memories I’ve long tried to bury.”Not really," I say, trying to keep my voice light.

“I can’t believe that.” She kicks a tree to dislodge a clump of snow from her snowshoe. “I would have thought your whole family was talented like you.”

“My parents always said art was a nice hobby, but not a real career. They wanted me to focus on practical things. I’m kind of the black sheep.”

She starts laughing. “You?”

My heart lifts. “Yes, me. Don’t I look like a rebel?” I glance down at my black coat and snow pants. I keep myself clean-shaven and my hair trimmed. When I don’t have on a coat, I usually wear a polo shirt or a casual button-up and jeans. I’m not at all the type to hop on a motorcycle and tear through town. I drive a pickup—which I’m darn proud of—but carousing isn’t in my vocabulary. I’m not even sure I could spell it correctly.

She shakes her head, and her hair bounces. It’s several shades of blonde and stunningly beautiful. I want to run my fingers through it and gently tug those curls straight, only to have them bounce back up and beg me to do it again.

She hooks her arm through mine. “Let’s just say that it’s a good thing I like the good guys.” She squeezes my arm and then lets me go.

“What about you?” I ask as I take a couple of quick steps to catch up to her. “Does all your family have YouTube channels?”

She laughs again. “Not hardly. I’m the weirdo in our bunch. They’re all homebodies who love to grill burgers in the summer and celebrate Christmas around the hearth.”

“Well, aren’t we a pair?” I wink at her.

She blushes and glances away. “I think you could run your business and sell your artwork if you wanted to. Some of the experience you have running the skate rental could transfer over. They’re not the same thing, but they’re both businesses.”

Her words stir something in me, a spark of creativity. “I know how to get a business license,” I blurt out what would be the first step.

Paige’s face lights up with a smile that could melt the snow around us. “Well, then, you’re already on your way. Is there anything I can do to help?”

The offer catches me off guard, leaving me speechless for a moment. The idea of letting someone in, of sharing this part of myself, is terrifying. But looking at Paige, seeing the sincerity in her eyes, I feel a weight lifting off my shoulders. I’ve never had someone offer to help me with one of my ideas. Even when I wanted to open the skate rental, my family told me not to count on their support, financial or otherwise. I think Dad thought I would default on the loan and ask him to bail me out. I’d rather eat moldy cheese.

“I... thank you,” I finally manage. “If something comes up, I’ll let you know.”

Paige beams at me, and for a moment, the winter chill seems to disappear entirely. “Great!” She looks around us. “Wanna race?”

I jolt at the change of subjects. “What?”

“To the big pine tree—Go!”

Before I can respond, she’s off, her laughter echoing through the forest. I shake my head, a grin spreading across my face, and take off after her. The sound of our snowshoes crunching through the fresh powder fills the air, punctuated by our breathless laughter.

As we near the pine tree, Paige glances back over her shoulder, her cheeks flushed with exertion and excitement. “Come on, slowpoke,” she calls out.

In that moment of distraction, her snowshoe catches on a hidden root. She stumbles, arms windmilling as she tries to regain her balance. Without thinking, I lunge forward to catch her, but my own footing is unstable. We collide in a tangle of limbs and snowshoes, tumbling into a snowbank.

For a moment, we just lie there, the shock of the fall leaving us both breathless. Then Paige starts to giggle, the sound bubbling up from her chest and spilling out into the cold air. It’s infectious, and soon I’m laughing too, harder than I have in years. Being with her is freeing. I feel free. Free to be myself. Free to fall down. Free to mess up without being ridiculed.

It’s amazing.

She’s amazing.

As our laughter subsides, I become acutely aware of how close we are. Paige is half on top of me, her face just inches from mine. Her hair has come loose from her hat, golden strands framing her face. Her eyes, this close, are even more striking—a blue so deep I feel like I could drown in them.

For a heartbeat, the world stands perfectly still, as if it’s waiting to see what we’re going to do about this situation. I can feel the warmth of her breath on my cheek and see the tiny flecks of gold in her irises. My heart is pounding so loudly that I think they can hear it back in town.

The moment is broken by a clump of snow falling from a nearby branch, landing with a soft plop on the back of Paige’s head. Paige blinks and then shrieks with the cold as the snow slides down the neck of her coat. She scrambles to her feet, doing a silly dance to get the snow out. “I’m so sorry,” she says, brushing snow from her clothes. “Are you okay?”

I sit up, wincing as a sharp pain shoots through my ankle. “I think so,” I say, trying to keep the pain out of my voice. I try to lift my foot, but the snowshoe is wedged in, and all I do is cause a jolt of pain to run up my leg. “Just twisted my ankle a bit, I think.” I grit my teeth. It’s not that bad. Really. I’ve had a broken bone before, and this pain is not the same. It feels ligamentory . Is that a word? Maybe I made it up.

Paige’s face immediately fills with concern. “Oh no, let me take a look.” She kneels beside me, gently extracting the snowshoe from its place.

“Can you stand?” she asks.

I nod, gritting my teeth as I push myself to my feet. Paige is right there, slipping an arm around my waist to support me. The gesture is practical, but the closeness makes my heart rate pick up again. She’s the perfect height for kissing.

I smirk as a cartoon drawing of me jumps into my head. I’m in the Three Bears’ house looking at different-sized Paige’s and saying, “This one’s too short. This one’s too tall. But this one is juuuuust right.” Thank goodness she can’t see what I’m thinking. The pain must be messing with me.

Or, and here’s a radical thought: I’ve always had a sense of humor that’s slightly self-deprecating, but I’ve never been able to use it. I kind of want to explore that part of myself and see if there’s anything of value there.

I am itching to get a notebook into my hands. To feel the paper slide against my palm, slightly textured.

“Lean on me,” she instructs, her voice filled with a mix of concern and determination. “We’ll take it slow.”

I put one arm around her and rest my hand on her shoulder. This is much better than a piece of textured paper. I might be willing to give up all my pencils for the chance to actually hold Paige close and kiss her.

She steps, my weight shifts, and a sharp pain followed by a dull ache takes me out of my head—which was happily in the clouds—and right back to earth.

As we make our way back toward the trailhead, I’m acutely aware of the warmth of her body, the scent of her shampoo, and the way she adjusts her pace to match mine without complaint.

“I’m sorry about this,” I say as we navigate a particularly tricky part of the trail. “Not exactly how I planned for this day to go.”

Paige glances at me, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. “You’re not trying to get out of a rematch, are you? I’m the one who tripped you. I deserve a chance at redemption.”

Her easy humor lightens the mood, and I chuckle despite the throbbing in my ankle. “Deal,” I say. “Though next time, I won’t take it so easy on you.”

She pokes my side. “You’d better not. I like a challenge.”

By the time we reach the trailhead, my ankle is aching in earnest, and I’m leaning heavily on Paige. She helps me to her SUV, a sleek vehicle that looks more at home on city streets than these rural roads. I send a text to Sam asking him if he and Alexis will pick up my truck and bring it home. He responds with a thumbs up and no questions—which is great. I’m not sure I’m ready to tell him about Paige, especially after the way he looked at me at the Tree Lighting. He knows I was looking at her that night.

“Home, James,” she says with a grin as she starts the engine. The interior of the car is all gray leather and high-tech gadgets.

It beeps and then says. “Planning route to home.”

“You named your car, James?” I ask as she pulls up the navigation screen and changes the directions to my house. I’m not surprised she knows where I live; it is a small town.

“Yep,” Paige says as we pull onto the main road, “Why don’t we stop by the baker first? You shouldn’t have to worry about cooking tonight.”

“You don’t have to do that,” I protest weakly. The idea of hobbling around my kitchen, even to heat up soup, exhausts me.

Paige just shakes her head, her eyes on the road. “I want to. Besides, I’m starving.”

“You could stay for dinner,” I offer. It’s not much of an invitation. “I mean, I’d like it if you’d stay for dinner. You don’t have to—if you have somewhere to be, I understand.”

“I want to. Thanks.”

I’m floored by her ability to take my awkward moment and be genuinely cool about it.

As we drive through town, Paige points out changes since she was last here, asking questions about new businesses and the townhouses on the edge of town.

At the baker, Paige insists on going in alone while I rest my ankle. She returns laden with bags that fill the car with mouthwatering aromas—freshly baked bread, savory soups, and something sweet that makes my stomach growl in anticipation. She hands me a drink. “Take some pain meds.” She opens the console and pulls out a bottle of over-the-counter stuff, mumbling, “I can’t believe I didn’t think of this before.”

“You?” I laugh as I throw the pills back and take a swallow of water to chase it down. “I’m the one whose ankle hurts. I should have been begging you for pills. You distracted me.”

She laughs. “That was my first plan—distract you from the pain.”

I touch her hand that’s resting on the consol. “It worked.”

Our eyes meet, and the world does that slowdown thing. A car honks behind us, and we jump. I’m embarrassed, but try not to act like it. I clear my throat, and Paige puts the car in gear.

The drive to my house is short. Paige helps me inside, her arm around my waist again, supporting me as if she’s done it a hundred times before.

We enter my small cottage, and I’m suddenly acutely aware of every imperfection. The books piled on the side table, the faded curtains, the fact that I haven’t run the dishwasher in two days. I live alone—I don’t have that many dishes, but I wish I’d started it this morning.

Paige doesn’t seem to notice or care. She bustles about, helping me to the couch, elevating my ankle on a pillow, and unpacking the food with an efficiency that’s almost dizzying.

“Make yourself at home,” I say, feeling a bit useless as I watch her move from my living room to the kitchen and back like she belongs here.

Paige flashes me a smile over her shoulder as she grabs plates from a cupboard. “Don’t mind if I do,” she says cheerfully. “Now, where do you keep your glasses? I picked up some of that cider—you mentioned that you liked it earlier. Thought it might help warm us up.”

Oh my gosh. I know I said something about liking cider, but I can’t remember when or in what context—and yet she remembered. This woman is amazing.

As she turns to search for the glasses, her eyes land on a framed sketch hanging on the wall. It’s a pencil drawing of the town square during the Christmas tree lighting ceremony, capturing the twinkling lights and the expressions of the people. I finished it last night and put it in the frame. I always put my latest work in there. It’s just a funny thing I do.

“Noah,” she breathes, moving closer to examine the artwork. “Was this… this year’s? It is!” She points to where she’s standing in the picture. “That’s me.”

I feel a flush creeping up my neck. “Uh, yeah.”

Now that she’s seen one, she searches for another. Her eyes are wide as she takes in the various artworks displayed on the walls. Most of the images are of Benton Falls and local places of interest—the old covered bridge in autumn, the pond on a misty morning, the hills blanketed in wildflowers during spring.

“These are beautiful,” Paige says, her voice filled with genuine awe. She stops in front of a watercolor of Main Street during a summer festival. “I can almost hear the music and smell the funnel cakes.”

I shift uncomfortably on the couch, unsure how to respond to her praise. It’s been so long since anyone has seen my artwork, let alone commented on it. “They’re just little sketches and paintings I’ve done over the years,” I mumble.

Paige turns to me, her eyes shining. “Noah, these are more than ‘just little sketches.’ They’re incredible. Your work makes me feel warm inside. It’s like you’ve captured not just the look of the town but its heart.”

“Thanks,” I say softly. “I guess I’ve always tried to show how I see the town, you know? The beauty in the everyday moments.”

“And you’ve succeeded,” Paige says emphatically. She gestures around the room. “You should share these with the world, Noah. People would love to see Benton Falls through your eyes.”

“I promise I’ll think about it.” I will, too. The idea has been percolating in the back of my mind since she mentioned it.

As she resumes her search for glasses, I look at my artwork. I’m reminded of the joy I felt creating these pieces, the satisfaction of capturing a moment in time. I’d love to capture this one with her. Paige has this way about her, this confidence that seems to smooth over any awkwardness. And she talks so much, so openly, that I find myself relaxing, trusting that she’d tell me if something bothered her.

“You know,” Paige says as she settles onto the couch beside me, handing me a steaming bowl of soup and a roll, “this is a really charming place you’ve got here. It’s so cozy.”

I glance around. “Thanks,” I say, taking a sip of the soup. “It’s not much, but it’s home.”

Paige nods, her eyes roaming over the room. “That’s the dream, isn’t it? Having a place to call your own. I love traveling, don’t get me wrong, but sometimes I miss having roots.”

Her words surprise me. “Really? I would have thought you’d hate being tied down to one place.”

Paige’s face takes on a touch of wistfulness. “You’d think so, wouldn’t you? But the truth is, I’ve been thinking about settling down a bit. Maybe not giving up traveling entirely, but having a home base that’s actually mine, you know? Right now, I’m still using my parents’ place when I’m in town, but it’s getting a bit crowded with my sister and brother-in-law living there while they build their house.”

I nod, understanding dawning. “You want a place to be you.”

“Exactly,” Paige says, her eyes lighting up. “Don’t get me wrong, I love my family. I’ve been looking around, but nowhere seems quite right.”

“Well,” I say, surprised by my own eagerness to help, “There’s a nice little house over on Maple Street that just went up for sale, or if you prefer something more modern, there are those new apartments by the river.”

Paige listens as I list off potential options, but I can see a slight frown forming between her brows. “They all sound nice,” she says when I finish, “but I don’t know. None of them feel quite... right.”

I nod. “Sometimes you just know when a place is meant for you,” I say. “It clicks like pieces of a puzzle falling into place. That’s how it was when I decided to do the skate rental. I wanted something that let me be outside, keep my own hours, and be in town. It just worked.”

Paige’s face lights up. “Yes, exactly. That’s what I’m waiting for.”

As she speaks, I study her face, noticing the way her eyes crinkle at the corners when she smiles, the animated way she uses her hands when she talks. It strikes me suddenly how easy this all is—sitting here, talking, sharing a meal. It’s been so long since I’ve let anyone into my space like this, but with Paige, it feels as natural as breathing.

“You know what?” Paige says suddenly, interrupting my thoughts. “I like talking to you. You listen to me.”

The simple honesty of her statement catches me off guard. “I like talking to you too,” I admit, the words coming easier than I expected.

Paige grins at me, a smile so bright it seems to light up the whole room. At that moment, I think I understand why Sam looks ten feet tall when Alexis is nearby. There’s something about being the focus of that kind of genuine warmth and interest that makes you feel... special.

“Oh,” Paige exclaims suddenly, as if remembering something. “I almost forgot. The Christmas Parade is coming up soon. We should totally volunteer together.”

Aaaand, she’s off on another topic. I need to master hairpin turns in the conversation to keep up with her. “The parade? I don’t know ...”

Paige isn’t deterred by my hesitation. She grabs my good leg, giving it a playful shake. “Come on, it’ll be fun. Please? I promise I’ll do all the talking if you want. You can just stand there and look pretty.”

I can’t help but laugh at the image she paints. I’m nothing special in the looks department; I’m more of a Clark Kent than a Superman, if you get my drift. I do know I want more of her, though. “I’m not sure about the ‘looking pretty’ part, but... okay. Why not?”

Paige’s face lights up like I’ve just given her the best Christmas present ever. “Really? Oh, this is going to be so much fun. We can help decorate the floats or maybe hand out candy to the kids. Oh. Maybe we could even be in the parade.”

The parade has always been something I’ve watched from the sidelines, if at all. The idea of being part of it is way out of my comfort zone. But looking at Paige, seeing the joy in her eyes, I can’t regret agreeing.

“Alright, alright,” I say, holding up my hands in mock surrender. “But let’s start small, okay? Maybe we can help with decorations or something behind the scenes.” I don’t do a lot of sculpting or types of art other than drawing and painting occasionally. This would be a good chance to try another medium—even if it’s balloons and festooning.

Paige nods, but there’s a mischievous glint in her eye that tells me this conversation is far from over. “Deal. For now.”

I’m okay with that deal. Because I really like being with her. This girl could be dangerous for me. I think I’d follow her anywhere.