Page 86 of A Hard Habit to Break

She not only liked it, but she also savored every plump, tender morsel. If happiness had a flavor, this would be it. She couldn’t wait to talk with Noah about her fears and hopes, with her heart in hand. And maybe, just maybe, get some actual answers instead of more charming deflections.

She didn’t want to be right.

Please, she prayed,let Noah be the man she thought he had become, not the boy she remembered.

But as they drove toward the ruins, the doubt continued to gnaw at her, persistent as a hammer strike, and twice as uncomfortable.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

“ISTILL DON’Tget why you’re giving her another chance, man,” Pete grumbled, breaking the tense silence that had settled between them. “Rachel broke your heart when she left town after high school, Noah. Who’s to say she won’t do it again?”

His friend’s premium package truck bounced along the dusty country road, kicking up clouds of dirt in its wake. Pete gripped the steering wheel, his knuckles white as he navigated the familiar path to the Johnson family farm. With the scowl etched across Pete’s face, Noah regretted accepting the ride.

He’d lost count of how many times Pete had attempted this conversation since Rachel’s return to Service. Noah sighed, his patience worn thin.

“People change, Pete. We were just kids. Besides, maybe she was right not to marry me at eighteen. We were selfish kids. Back then, we were bent on making our way—me, herein Service—her, out in the world. She built a life for herself. I’m proud of her.”

“You still want to be here. Tag team, forever.” Pete chuckled, thumping his fist against his chest. “As far as Rachel making her own way in the world, more like she couldn’t wait to ditch this town and leave you in the dust. She’s educated, with her own money, so what does she need you for?”

“Shut up,” Noah snapped, his temper flaring. “I got money. Why shouldn’t she have her own? Rachel’s smart, confident, and capable. Not your kind of woman.”

“You got that right. No chick is going to outearn me. I wear the pants in my relationship.”

“What relationship?” Noah shot back, unbelieving of this ass-backward conversation on manhood. “You can’t keep a woman.”

“Because they’re too independent. Jobs and money make them worse.”

Pete could be one-sided in his thinking. Rachel didn’t need Noah’s paycheck or his house. She could bankroll her own life. Which meant shewantedhim, rather than needed him, and that suited Noah just fine. Rachel wanted a partner. Noah would meet her needs, as little or as much as she wanted of him. He’d defended Rachel countless times over the past decades, but lately, Pete’s criticism had become relentless. He didn’t want to lose Pete or Rachel. But with Pete’s behavior, he felt as if his friend was pushing him to choose.

“Right… a woman not wanting you is her fault. Whatever, Pete,” Noah huffed. “But I’m warning you, back off of Rachel. She’s giving me another shot. I’m taking it.”

Pete fell silent, but Noah could feel the tension radiating off him. The next bend in the county road tugged them forward, closer to where he wanted to be, with Rachel. As they rounded a hairpin turn, the Johnson family farm came into view. The sight of the freshly painted red barn and the sprawling whitefarmhouse brought a smile to Noah’s face, dialing back unpleasantness in exchange for memories of sum mers spent stealing kisses behind the hay bales.

There stood Rachel, one hand holding the porch railing, her wild red hair gleaming in the afternoon sun. She watched as the truck pulled up, a frown marring her face. When she saw him in the passenger seat, she smiled bright enough to rival the clear blue sky above. Noah’s heart skipped a beat, just like it had when they were teenagers.

As they climbed out of the truck, ClamClam darted across the yard. The feline took one look at Pete and let out a glass-cracking “MRRRRAAAAAAAAAAOOOOWWWWWWWW!” followed by a menacing hiss before scurrying away.

“Well, that’s a warm welcome,” Pete muttered.

Rachel laughed, the sound like music to Noah’s ears. “Don’t take it personally. She’s not a fan of sugar cookies, either.”

Before Pete could respond, Ricky, the rooster, strutted around the corner of the house. His beady eyes locked onto Pete, and without warning, he charged.

“Paaa caww.”

Pete released a startled yelp as the bird pecked at his legs, driving him backward.

“No, Ricky, no!” Rachel called out, but it was too late. The rooster lunged upward, his beak connecting with Pete’s shin.

“Ow! Your angry bird deserves a cleaver for this.” Pete stumbled back, rubbing his shin as Rachel rushed forward to shoo the rooster away.

Noah couldn’t help but chuckle at the scene, earning him a glare from his best friend. “Sorry, man. Ricky’s protective of Rachel, too.”

Rachel turned to Pete, her eyes wide with concern. “I’m so sorry. Are you okay? Let me grab an ice pack from the house.”

As Rachel hurried inside, Noah noticed how Pete followedher with his eyes, his gaze hardening. There was something in his friend’s expression that he couldn’t quite place—a mixture of anger and objection that triggered unease in Noah.

“Don’t give her grief about a scratch. Understand?” Noah asked, keeping his voice low.