Until Then

10. Noah

TEN

Noah

Well, I’m in a beautiful hell and Hayley Foster is the center of it. Does she even realize the way she looks in that little black dress of hers?

Who does she think she is walking in here looking like a perfect daydream? There are rules about outshining the bride when it comes to weddings, and Hayley’s breaking all of them.

I maneuver around the groomsmen, all trying to keep out of the heat, and try to listen a little closer to whatever Hayley says to the other women. Sounds like Lottie loves her, hasn’t seen her for a bit, but it’s odd to realize how close Hayley was to Briar.

I thought Briar and I were good friends, and in all the years I’ve known her, she never said Hayley’s name.

Unless she did. Briar calls her Haze; maybe I just didn’t realize.

A fitting nickname. She is a haze, a total fog that overtakes my head and makes me feel like I can’t find my bearings. Our little truce was meant to be the end of it. A way to endure reviving a past I’d fought hard to bury beneath indifferent dating and losing myself in future projects.

Stupid of me.

The woman is tattooed on my brain.

Truce? What truce? I’m reeling at the very sight of her, and there’s no chance I’m getting through this wedding without getting too close to Hayley Foster. This day will end with new hurt or another taste of those lips.

Time will tell which one.

All at once, those eyes lift and catch my gaze.

I’m reeling.

Look away. I’m giving off creeper vibes, and I know it. Still, I can’t seem to break the spell.

Hayley blinks. Licks her lips. Her shoulders slump a bit and I don’t miss the way her finger coils around the skirt of her tight black dress as though it’s not giving up her every curve.

“Noah.” One of Tyrell’s brothers claps my shoulder. “They’re calling us for pictures.”

I button the center of my jacket and nod. One corner of my mouth curls. If tonight is going to end the way I want, I plan to start earning that mouth. Now.

While the other groomsmen make their way around the bridesmaids, I cut through the center. A few of the ladies say a quick hello. Being family of a couple like Briar and Tyrell, most couldn’t care less how famous anyone is.

I slow my steps when I pass my wildfire, tilt my head slight enough to graze her ear with my lips, and whisper, “You play dirty.”

I don’t mind the little breath she sucks in, but it’s quickly replaced with a narrowed look. “Meaning?”

I hum, using one knuckle to lift the pearl necklace around her throat, and lean my mouth to her other ear. “This dress is a hazard to our agreement. How am I supposed to keep the bounds of our truce when I remember what these curves feel like in my hands?”

Her lips part and her tongue dances behind her teeth like she might want to snap back some kind of retort, but can’t summon the words.

Perfect.

One shot, Noah. Zero, Hayley.

I stretch my arms and adjust one set of cufflinks, flashing her my best devious smile before striding off with all the swagger I can muster.

If she knew the tension knotted in my gut, she’d crumble to her knees laughing. The ability to play a part, the study of schooling my features, serves me well.

The notion of wanting Hayley isn’t an act, but to let out the truly awkward, boisterous, sometimes moody, sides of me are not the answer to stealing another shot with the woman. Never mind that she went home with that guy once, clearly it wasn’t enough to keep her.

I can be the smooth man who has no issues letting the woman he wants know his intention.

And if I’m to take anything from the look of stun on her face, I’d say it’s working.

Only once I turn away from her and join the other groomsmen next to Tyrell, do I blow out a long, nervous breath.

I smile. Pose. Smile some more.

We move aside so Briar can stand with the bridesmaids. I don’t miss the glare, sharp and jagged, Hayley shoots my way when she’s positioned for the photo.

I cross my arms and wink.

Okay, new potential outcome—she’s either going to propose to me by midnight or murder me.

It’ll be fun to guess which one. Honestly, the way we collide again and again, I think her desire could shift between the two every thirty seconds.

Soon, the photographer combines the entire wedding party. I could kiss the man when he insists each numbered pair stands by their assigned partner—all about the aesthetic of walking down the aisle photos, I’m told.

I don’t care what the reason is, it’s placing me next to Hayley.

The faux-confident grin is back in place when I press my chest against her back. “You look uncomfortable, Wildfire.”

“You. Stop it.” She lifts a finger over her shoulder, scolding me like I’m a kindergartner, but never looks at me.

“Stop what?”

“Wildfire. All the sexy whispering.”

“You think I’m sexy?”

“I . . . I didn’t say that.”

“Not a denial.”

Hayley groans and I promptly decide she can’t make sounds like that again, not unless my hands are on her and her mouth is locked with mine.

“What happened to a truce?”

“You broke it first when you wore that dress.”

“Oh, so now a woman is being blamed for the actions of a man based on what she wears?” She snorts. “Typical.”

Okay. I clasp my hands behind my back. “Touché.”

I take an obvious step backward, throwing off the close proximity the photographer set up. Not a thing escapes the man, and he quickly insists I return to position. I baby step closer.

When the photographer bemoans once more, Hayley finally turns around. “What are you doing?”

“Honoring the truce. I’m not supposed to get close enough to breathe on you, right?”

She rolls her eyes. “You’re a toddler.” With one hand she yanks on my wrist. Bad idea. When she pulls me forward, my entire body seems to mold around her.

I clamp my jaw shut all to hold in a moan—I really, really don’t want to be a creep—and clench my fists around her hips.

I’m not disappointed when Hayley’s shoulders rise a little rougher, her breaths get a little deeper.

One heartbeat, and I lean forward. “Sorry, but I need to whisper again. For this series of pictures, it looks like he might want my hands on you. The photographer, I mean. He’s a bully, so I’d rather not draw his attention.”

“Oh, my gosh. Fine. We can be adults. Make it look like a prom picture, nothing else.”

“I can do that.” My palm slides around her waist, resting on her hip bone.

Don’t be an idiot. I fight back the compulsion to dig my fingers into her skin, and keep it tasteful. Keep it Senior Prom.

Hayley closes her eyes, and the next breath that slides between her teeth trembles. I spare a few smiles for a few pictures. Dozens of lens clicks later, Hayley’s back reclines a little firmer against my chest.

I blink, looking forward. Slowly, my thumb rubs little circles along the curve of her waist. She shifts side to side on her heels. A pretty flush reddens the skin around her neckline.

More clicks.

More adjustments.

Hayley’s head is almost resting on my shoulder, the slope of her neck bared. What I’d give to kiss her there.

What is wrong with me?

I still my thumb and straighten. There is something about this woman that makes me lose all senses. Like every thud of my heart pushes her deeper into my blood. I’ve desired women, but never to this point where I’m more like a hormonal teenager whenever she steps into my sights.

Time. Patience.

I can try for another chance with Hayley Foster, but I don’t need to have my hands all over her in the middle of Briar’s wedding photos.

When I move, Hayley seems to come back to her own senses and smooths her dress.

She takes a miniscule step forward, putting a decent gap between her shoulder blades and my chest.

“Lost myself a little. Sorry about that, Wildfire.”

Hayley sniffs. She doesn’t look at me. “Yeah, well . . . no one’s perfect.”

I chuckle and slip back into poses. The woman won’t even admit she fell into whatever this is between us as much as me. One day she’s going to need to say it—she might not want to want me back, but I think she does.

There isn’t a drop of acting in my applause. For months I’ve heard Tyrell talk about the wedding while on set. For months, I’ve gotten texts from Briar asking for advice on her groom’s gift. For months, I thought this would be simply another wedding.

But now, watching them lift their entwined hands after being declared husband and wife, I feel like I’m about to split with happiness for them both.

Two awesome people just decided to build an awesome life together.

In the audience, Carter is sitting next to my other face. Rees mocks me by pretending to cry. I resist the urge to flip him off. That tyrant of a photographer is going wild again and would probably find a way to strangle me with his camera strap.

One by one, the wedding party zippers into our exit line. When it’s time for me to offer an arm for Hayley, I catch sight of the tears in her eyes. She lifts her gaze and for a moment it’s as though we both feel the same thing—pure happiness.

She’s grinning, wide and bright, like she might burst into tears of joy or fits of laughter.

Almost like we’re feeling the same thing.

I hold out my arm and she doesn’t even hesitate or offer a look of warning to keep my words to myself.

I’ll take it as a win.

We follow the procession into the hall, all to be shoved aside by our resident dictator so he can capture the happy couple’s second kiss as husband and wife.

Hayley hugs her middle. “It was perfect.”

I smile down at her, hearing the small catch in her voice. “It was.”

“You ever want to get married, Pretty Boy?”

To hear the nickname finally escape her lips brings a bit too much satisfaction. I feel like a supplicant, kneeling at her feet, simply waiting for her to hand out the slightest endearments.

Pathetic.

And I can’t find much motivation to care.

“I wouldn’t mind it,” I say after a long pause. “With the right person, obviously.”

“Someone with the ability to handle your oversized ego.”

“It’s number one on my list of requirements. What about you?”

Hayley lets out a sigh, it’s heavy and whimsical all at once. Like she’s trying to daydream, but reality is causing a roadblock. “I don’t know. My last attempt didn’t go so well.”

“Because he’s a douche, Wildfire.” My tone is too hard for a truce. It gives up too much, all jagged and feral.

I’d do it all over again if it earned the smile splitting her lips right now.

Hayley tucks a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “Strange, but I actually agree with you.” She pops one shoulder, watching Tyrell cup Briar’s cheeks like he can’t get enough of his wife’s face. “Maybe I’m an idiot since I haven’t had success and haven’t seen much success, honestly, but I still believe in the romance of it. You know, the idea of finding your person, a partner who knows all your sides. Good or bad.”

Would I ever show her the bad?

Better question—would she accept it?

I start to respond but hands gripping my shoulders cut me off. Carter shakes me, practically shoving between me and Hayley like a clueless bull. “Did you see number three?”

“What?” I shake him off.

Carter drags his fingers through his hair. It’s grown longer since filming. He won’t need to match mine until the season begins. His grows much darker when he’s off the dyes.

“Number three.” Carter strains his neck, peering toward a small group of the bridesmaids. “She looked at me up there.”

“Mia?” Hayley interjects. “She’s feisty.”

“Single?” Carter folds his arms over his chest, one hand rubbing his jaw.

“I think so.”

“Good enough for me.”

“I wish you luck,” Hayley said. “She wasn’t happy that Noah was switched to my partner.”

“She likes Noah’s face?” Carter claps his hands. “Good thing I’m his double. I’m basically him.”

“I think that’s Rees,” I say.

In truth, Carter doesn’t look that much like me, but our stature is in sync. We have a rapport and rehearse well together. Carter is a genius with mimicking how I walk, shift my shoulders, even how I use my hands.

Beards, cloaks, and impeccable stylists make the rest fall into place.

“And Rees is happily living the domestic life.” He shakes my shoulder once more, loosens his black tie, and makes his way toward the women. “Wish me luck. Don’t wait up.”

Hayley snickers. “You have to admire his tenacity.”

“He’s like a golden retriever, always chasing something. But he’s a good guy. Low on common sense, but maybe that’s why he’s so good at stunts. The man is fearless.”

Guests keep filtering from the room to move toward the cocktail party and reception. Rees and Vienna manage to shove through without too many people stopping my brother to ask about tour dates.

He always says people talk to him to get to me, but he’s wrong. I’m eighty-three percent sure it’s the other way around. He just likes to grumble about being the twin in the shadows. As if his introverted self doesn’t love it.

“We’re going to run and pick up Jude,” Rees says. He glances at Hayley. “Can I leave you in charge of Noah? Make sure he’s watered, fed, and takes bathroom?—”

My moron of a twin dodges my fist. He used to be much slower. All the dead shoulders and dead legs I gave him growing up made him too agile.

Hayley covers her mouth with her hand. “He’s difficult, but I think I can handle it.”

I take it all back. Rees might be brilliant. He’s opening the doors for banter. All at once I’m back with a blueberry scone, laughing over nothing, and creating inside jokes with a stranger.

“By the way,” Vienna says, waving one hand in front of Hayley. “You look stunning. I had no idea what to wear for an Old Hollywood wedding, but this . . . this, I love.”

Hayley’s freckles darken with her blush. “Thank you. I think you nailed it though.”

True. Vienna has her hair twisted similarly to Hayley, a black velvet choker around her neck, and a sleek, sleeveless black dress that hugs her tightly all the way down.

“We better go.” Rees glances at his phone. “I don’t know how we’re going to get that kid in a suit.”

“Tell him Uncle Noah will take him surfing.”

Rees grunts. “Uh, no.”

“Fine, you big baby. Sandcastles.”

“Better.” My brother takes his wife’s hand, and waves, still holding his phone in the other. “See you soon.”

Silence falls between me and Hayley after they’re gone. She’s fiddling with her skirt again. We cast a skittish glance at each other, then . . .

“I better go help Briar with the wardrobe change.”

“Do you want a drink?”

We blurt out our thoughts at the same time. After a nervous chuckle, I clear my throat. “Oh, right. I guess bridesmaids do that thing. Tyrell wouldn’t take it well if I tried to take off his cummerbund.”

“Honestly, I was only a bridesmaid for a cousin’s wedding before. So, I’m not one hundred percent sure what I’m doing, but I did get a text about something to do with wardrobe changes.”

I shove my hands in my pockets and step back. “Looks like they’re taking Briar away and Tyrell’s close to tears.”

Hayley follows my gaze to the wedding planner guiding the bride and a few of her bridesmaids out the door.

She bites her bottom lip. “Well, I’ll be forced at your side for the reception soon enough.”

“Good, I plan to make it extra unbearable.”

She shakes her head, laughing. “As long as you don’t break my toes or something in our forced dance, Pretty Boy, we’ll be fine.”

I dip my chin watching her go, a soft, “Until then, Wildfire,” following her.