Page 62 of A Hard Habit to Break

He grabbed her ankle, and she yelped. To his delight, she didn’t protest when he pulled her over his spread thighs to straddle his lap. “I’d rather be bad. What’s my punishment?”

“Your middle name should be Temptation.”

The way her eyes lowered to his mouth, he had to fight not to take her back to bed. She leaned forward, the sketch pad between them falling to the floor. Unable to take his eyes off her, Noah’s breathing quickened when she parted her lips, angled her head, and nipped his chin with her teeth. Before he could demand more, she licked at the sting with her tongue.

“Six,” he groaned, “what are you doing?”

In response she rocked her hips against his lengthening erection. “Mixing your work with my pleasure.”

As the expected response, a defined tent peaked in his boxers. “Tell me more.”

“I will,” she whispered, “when you place your hands here.” Taking his left hand, she placed it on her hip. Then slowly she lifted the hem of her shirt, exposing pert strawberry buds. Beneath his fingertips her skin was warm and pliable. So soft. “Go on,” she teased. “You pick where to start with the other.”

His voice, when he spoke, came as a hoarse rasp. “Now what?”

“The original plans call for a brand new everything.” She began a rhythmic circling of her hips.

“I remember,” Noah ground out, his eyes fixed on the vixen driving him crazy with her game.

“If we consider salvaging what we can of both brick structures, the school and the old mill, they both can be mixed-use spaces.”

Noah toyed with her nipple, teasing it until Rachel’s undulations increased, and his hips bucked to meet hers. “Mixed. Yep, got it,” he groaned.

“If we spread the grant money across government, fire, EMS, healthcare, and housing, that’s more revenue for Service, more job opportunities. Agreed?”

“Oh yeah. I get it.”

“You do?”

“Definitely. Help more people. Agreed. And the fire department will be taken care of?”

“Yes,” Rachel panted, gripping his shoulder and riding him faster. “A win-win.”

Noah stood pressing Rachel’s back against the wall. “Definitely. Let’s celebrate.”

CHAPTER TWENTY

RACHEL’SMONDAY MORNINGsurprises continued. Apparently, Noah had arranged for a working party to help them ready the farm for the ceremony, build the arch, and collect clothes and toiletries for the families affected by the fire. This, plus the fact that he supported her redevelopment ideas over Pete’s plan. Noah Calvary had awesome-coded DNA, and he wanted to be hers. Cue the heart emojis. Then her boss called.

Rachel shared the news of the fire with Gillian, and that the committee chair, aka Noah, had agreed that the next set of schematics should incorporate affordable housing. Gillian had disconnected the video chat with a visible sliver of perfectly capped white teeth, which passed for a smile. After Gillian’s call, in which Rachel assured her mentor that covering freckles wasn’t corporate espionage, and the firm volun-told her to take on this project, the woman refocused on the redevelopmentplans. Instead of going home, Rachel had padded back to the cabin, showered, paired Noah’s sweatpants with his T-shirt, and gotten to work in her sketch book with the old textile mill reimagined.

The drive home from Noah’s was quick, but the yard was crawling with volunteers. She brushed a frizzy red ringlet from her face, squinting against the bright summer sunlight. The lemon scent of blooming elderberry and freshly turned soil filled the air around her father’s rambling farmhouse. Working and planting, a farm was ever in motion.

In Service, everyone worked to nurture the land. Some raised honeybees, cows, chickens, and goats, but no one’s land outshone the natural beauty of the Johnson farm, with its white picket fencing and field irrigation layout. Rachel’s arch design would ensure that her father’s love for these mountains and skill in maintaining their farm was reflected in the finished product. It was a living, breathing, artistic ecosystem that preserved the soil and sustained its inhabitants.

ClamClam, having hitched a ride from the cabin, jetted out in the direction of the barn.

“MRAAAAAAAAAAAAOWWWWWW!”

Rachel gave her colorful kitty a two-fingered salute as she took off on a new adventure, probably involving scaring the bejeezus out of senior citizens for sport. “Okay, enjoy the open fields while you can, girl.”

It felt good to have the house full and the farm abuzz with people. Rachel surveyed the open yard they had chosen for the wedding ceremony. Everyone had shown up to contribute to the happy couple’s success. Rachel shared in the palpable joy. “Give me a minute to grab a change of clothes and my gloves.”

Noah circled the truck, giving her a quick kiss. “I’ll get started.”

She raised a brow, studying his features. She was amazed at how effortlessly Noah had transitioned from him and her tothem. While she, like ClamClam, still ran in mental circles, trying to figure out how they could work. “Why the rush?”

“The sooner we start, the sooner we can resume where we left off?”