Home to Whiskey Creek (Whiskey Creek #4)(54)
Author: Brenda Novak

“I’m disappointed he hasn’t apprehended the culprit. I expected more.”

“He’ll get him eventually,” she murmured, and turned on a TV show Gran liked before leaving the house. She was just getting into her truck when she realized there was a note under her windshield wipers.

She glanced around but saw no one, except the people driving on the street that passed Gran’s and went on to wind through town.

After throwing her purse inside and putting the key in the ignition, she climbed back out to retrieve the note.

It was half a sheet of copy paper and contained three typed words with no signature. I’m watching you.

18

Noah punched the end button and dropped his cell phone on the couch beside him. That was the third time he’d tried talking to his mother about the strange comment she’d made last weekend. He wanted to know what she meant by saying someone had tried to “torment” their family. That couldn’t be interpreted as the throwaway statement she’d been trying to suggest it was ever since. But she wouldn’t go near the subject again. Whenever he pressed her, even if he knew his father was gone, she’d say it was nothing.

“It sure seemed like something when you didn’t want Dad to hear,” he grumbled to his empty living room, and slid down so he could rest his head on the back of the couch.

It had been one hell of a week. Normally he sailed through autumn. Unlike the energy and effort required when he was racing, in the off-season he had nothing particularly demanding to cope with. Sure, he’d been feeling a little empty and dissatisfied recently, as various friends married and moved on with their lives. But, other than Cody’s death, he’d faced no monumental problems in all of his thirty-three years. Until last Saturday, when everything had gone haywire.

Leaning over, he retrieved his phone and checked the call log. Nothing from Addy or Baxter. Again.

Shit! He understood why Baxter hadn’t been in touch. He wasn’t quite sure what to do about that, or if he could do anything. Maybe Baxter would be better off on his own. But he missed his best friend. And it didn’t make the situation any easier that Addy hadn’t tried to reach him, either. It’d been five days since they’d slept together and he hadn’t heard a single word from her. Not “I had a nice time.” Not “Are you still coming to dinner on Saturday?” Not even “I just want to be friends.”

Silence. That was all. As if he didn’t matter enough for her to give him a second thought.

He should’ve gotten her number—if she’d been willing to give it to him. But he’d had no reason to think that would be any more successful. They’d been so compatible, enjoyed themselves so much. He’d thought the great sex, if nothing else, would bring her back. He was certainly dying to see her….

Trading his phone for the football lying on the carpet near his feet, he passed it from hand to hand. He’d heard she was working at Just Like Mom’s. He’d been tempted to go in there, see what her reaction might be. Maybe it would remind her that he’d asked to see her again, or at least elicit an excuse as to why she hadn’t responded to his dinner invitation.

But he hadn’t wanted to make her feel cornered, hadn’t wanted to push too hard.

“Damn,” he breathed. How could she kiss him as hungrily as she had, as if she’d been craving the taste of him her whole life, and then…walk away without a backward glance?

The contradiction made no sense, but the irony of his thoughts didn’t escape him. He was getting his just deserts. He’d put many women through what he was going through now—not because he’d wanted to but because he hadn’t felt strongly enough to develop a deeper relationship. Acknowledging the disappointment he’d caused didn’t make his own disappointment any easier, though.

He tossed the football higher in the air. What was his night with Addy really about? Had she come home with him for old times’ sake? To prove to herself that she wasn’t missing out on anything, after all? To see if she could finally get his attention and leave him wanting more?

If so, she was definitely having her revenge. He was obsessed with her, and he couldn’t even confide in Baxter, like he would’ve if life had been normal. He hadn’t spoken to Bax for as long as he hadn’t spoken to Addy. But Noah had noticed a for-sale sign in his yard. The sight of it had made him sick, still made him sad.

He wanted that sign to come down and for everything to go back to the way it used to be. But if Baxter couldn’t get the kind of love he needed here in Whiskey Creek—and that was impossible if it included romantic love with him—he should be free to find happiness elsewhere.

Squinting, Noah tried to read the clock on the opposite wall, but it’d gotten dark since he’d come home and he hadn’t bothered to turn on a light. He checked the time on his phone instead.

It was only nine. What was he going to do with the rest of his evening? Sitting home alone sucked. Every other night this week he’d stayed late at the shop, fixing bikes his tech could have fixed during the day. He wasn’t interested in going out with Riley or Ted to meet girls. He was too intrigued by the one he’d found. He didn’t want to see his other friends, anyway. They’d just want to discuss what was going on with Baxter. Since Baxter had put his house up for sale, Noah had received numerous calls from almost everyone—Ted, Eve, Cheyenne, Riley, even Gail from Simon’s film location in Canada. They all asked why Baxter was moving, but Noah couldn’t tell them any other reason than the one Baxter had given himself—that he was doing it to be closer to work. After insisting that something else must be going on, they hung up more frustrated and curious than when they’d called. Before long, they’d call back and try again by asking how he felt about Baxter’s leaving and how he was going to handle it.

He evaded those questions, too, because he didn’t know the answers. He’d never been without Bax for any extended period.

Hoping to distract himself from his recent misery, he grabbed the remote and turned on Sports Center. But his interest waned after an hour or so. How many times could a guy watch a clip of a bad call in a football game and hear the analysts discuss it?

Finally, too restless and bored to hold out any longer, he went in search of Addy.

* * *

Noah was glad when he found Addy’s 4-Runner parked at the restaurant. It would be far more comfortable to go in and get a meal, he decided—it didn’t matter that he’d had a burger earlier—than to knock on Addy’s grandmother’s door at ten-fifteen.