My Grumpy Old Bear - Jayda Marx Page 0,36

buy you that hotdog.”

Chapter Eight

Brooks

“And there’s nothing I can say to convince you to come with me?” Noah asked as he stood in my doorway.

It was probably the tenth time he’d asked tonight, but my answer was the same. He was trying to talk me into accompanying him to his friend Jess’ birthday party, but I didn’t feel comfortable going with him. Not that I didn’t want to be with him, but it was going to be a house party full of drunken twenty-somethings. A cranky forty-five year old man whose bedtime was in an hour and a half would just bring down the mood.

“Nah, I don’t think Jess would be too happy with this old fart crashing her party.”

Noah’s expression darkened. “First of all, you’re not old. We’ve been over this a million times. Secondly, you’d be my guest! Of course you’re welcome. Unless you’re getting tired of me and need a break or something. We have been spending a lot of time together, and-”

“Don’t even think that,” I insisted, interrupting him by cupping his cheeks. I’d seen him everyday since we started dating, but it still wasn’t enough. In addition to our weekend butterfly and river adventures, I’d visited him each day at the cafe for lunch, taken him out to dinner twice, and went to The Rhinestone Cowboy to watch him perform. Where, by the way, he brought the fucking house down. Men were clamoring all over themselves to try to get to him. They clapped and hollered and the owner already booked Noah every Wednesday for the next month.

This evening he came over to hang out after work and we’d gotten pizza and watched TV together. It was low key and perfect (as was everything with him), and I was ready to settle down for the evening. It was about twenty years too late for me to be spending the night drinking and dancing with a bunch of rowdy, barely legal adults. I wasn’t exactly keen on Noah going alone, but I never wanted to hold him back from anything he wanted to do.

“You’re sure?” he asked, his eyebrows folded in with uncertainty.

“Trust me, Sunshine, I will never get enough of you.” I kissed his lips and his face relaxed into an easy smile. “You go and have a good time. I’m just gonna catch another show and then probably go on to bed. But I need you to promise me something.”

“Anything,” he answered readily.

“Be safe tonight. Don’t drive drunk. Even if you think you’re okay to drive, don’t do it. I know you said you’re planning on crashing at Jess’ house, but if plans change, call me. I’ll come get you.” I couldn’t bear the thought of something happening to him.

“I promise,” he replied seriously. “The plan is to knock out on her couch, but if for some reason that changes, I’ll call. I won’t get behind the wheel.”

“Thank you.” I kissed him once more. “Text me when you’re there safe, okay?” Maybe I was being a little overbearing, but I couldn’t help but worry about him. Noah’s smile told me he didn’t mind.

“I will. Goodnight, honeybear.”

“Goodnight.” I watched him walk down the concrete path to the driveway and climb into his hatchback. After a wave and a blown kiss, he was gone.

*****

It was two in the morning and I couldn’t sleep. I lay awake staring at the clock wondering what Noah was doing. I trusted him whole-heartedly, but I couldn’t help but worry about him. He’d texted me increasingly hard to understand messages as he got more intoxicated until about an hour ago. I wondered if he was passed out. I should have gone with him. Sure, I probably would have ruined all those kids’ times, but I can’t sleep anyway from worrying about him. I should have gone to keep an eye on him. A hundred different worries shot through my mind. Is he sick? What if he throws up and chokes? God, what if he forgot to call me and got into his car? What if I lose him? I can’t live without him.

My thoughts were interrupted by a pounding knock coming from my front door in the living room. Oh god, it’s the cops. Something terrible happened. I jumped out of bed, cussed at the pain that shot down my back, and hurried to the door. I threw it open and was stunned by the sight of a very drunk Noah wrapped in some guy’s arms.

“What the fuck is going on?”