She was giving Noah time, Angelica reminded herself after the third time she’d seen him exiting the coffee shop as she entered. They’d exchanged quick smiles, warm hellos, the sort of thing casual friends did. Friends who didn’t have emotional conversations that felt like ripping off a decades-old Band-Aid. Friends who hadn’t given each other the most incredible orgasms of their lives in varied exotic locations. Friends who just… said hi when they passed each other.

And she hated it.

She wanted Noah back. For all her brave words after he’d run roughshod over her about not being able to trust him, she was veering dangerously close to begging him to come back to her, no matter what.

And that was a major red flag for her. Noah wasn’t the only one with some things to work out. If he was going to get his shit together, she owed him the courtesy of doing the same by figuring out just what she wanted before she threw herself at him. If he wanted a relationship when he was done taking time, she needed to be sure she still wanted one, too. Sex wasn’t everything, no matter how much she missed it.

She took a break from filming for a few days; they were at a standstill waiting for backordered tile for the kitchen anyway, so she left Roger and the crew to film shots of River Hill and the Harvest Festival preparations and flew home to see her parents for the weekend.

Her mother greeted her with open arms and a paint-covered smock; her father promptly confiscated her laptop to install a new software system on it. She felt family enveloping her in its warm, slightly stifling embrace, and resolved to forget about Noah for at least forty-eight hours.

It didn’t work, of course.

Her mother had spoken to Jai recently, and now she wanted to hear all about the gala. And there was no fooling Elaine Travis when it came to leaving important details out. There was a Noah-shaped hole in Angelica’s careful narrative, and her mother sniffed right through the descriptions of dresses and food to find it.

“And was anyone else there? Someone special?” Her mother handed her a cracker loaded with a slice of sharp cheddar cheese imported from upstate New York. “Try this one. The farm they make it on is the cutest thing you’ve ever seen.”

“Farms aren’t cute, Mom. They smell like cows.”

“Cute cows. Eat your cheese and tell your mother the truth.”

Angelica sighed. “You remember my neighbor, Noah?” She’d kept her parents apprised of the situation, especially the part where he was growing vines on her property, but she’d left out the sex. Her mother had probably figured it out, though.

“The wine guy, right?”

Angelica nodded and reached out for another slice of cheese. It really was good, though she wouldn’t vouch for the cuteness of the cows it had come from. “Turns out he’s a big deal.”

“Everyone in California is a big deal,” her mother said with a smile. “Even you.”

“A different kind of big deal,” Angelica explained with a smile in return for her mother’s loyalty. Her parents had hosted screenings of every single one of her movies. “It turns out his father is some kind of wine baron.”

“Like a Rockefeller, but with grapes?” Her mother pursed her lips in thought. “Intriguing.”

“Yes, and he’s … got some issues.”

“The father or the son?”

“The son because of the father, I think.” Angelica snagged a grape from the tray on the counter. “He’s really touchy about people trying to take advantage of him based on his family name.”

Elaine Travis looked at her daughter sternly. “Did you?”

“No. At least, not on purpose.”

“Well, that sounds like two different answers.” Her mother touched Angelica’s nose with one extended finger. “What’s the truth?”

“The producers found out about him, probably just by Googling, I would imagine.” She was positive Leah hadn’t said anything. Jai might have, but really, the RenoTV people were all in on showcasing River Hill’s charm, so presumably they’d done their research. Anybody could use a search engine, and Noah wasn’t really hiding his last name. “And they jumped all over him to try to lend his name to the show.”

“What did you say?”

Angelica felt a familiar sourness in the pit of her stomach. “Not enough, I think.”

“What happened?”

“We had a fight. He doesn’t trust me.”

“Is that the end of it?”

“Well, no.” She could feel herself heating with a blush, for some reason. “He knows he’s got some stuff to work on, so he’s talking to somebody about it.”

“And what are you doing?”

“Eating cheese with my mother.”

Her mother frowned. “What do you want, Angelica? Should I be the supportive mother and say he did you wrong, and that he’s no good? Or is this a situation where you need to figure out how you can be a part of this relationship without giving up your right to be a trustworthy person?” She leaned forward. “Because I know you can be trusted. But I think you need to trust yourself to make the right decisions.”

“I was ready to say yes to it all,” Angelica confessed. “Commitment, dating, real relationship stuff. And then he blew up at me and I freaked out.”

“But he’s working on it, yes?”

“Yeah.”

“So, is he worth it?”

Angelica blew out a breath. “God, yes.”

“Then stand up for yourself and get the relationship you want and need,” her mother said firmly. “No more running away.”

“Not even for cute cheese?” Angelica held up the last slice.

“Love trumps cheese, Angelica.”

* * *

She’d had plenty of time to think on the flight back to California, but she hadn’t had time at all to prepare for the sight that greeted her when she exited the airport terminal to hail a cab, her well-traveled carry-on rolling behind her. The wheels of the suitcase bumped into her heels as she stopped dead to gape at Noah leaning casually against his truck with Molly’s leash wrapped around his wrist. His hand rested gently against the dog’s head as she sat obediently on the curb next to him.

“What are you doing here?” Angelica blurted before the thought finished making its way through her brain.

His smile was almost shy. “Well, I heard you were coming in today, and Molly thought you might need a ride.”

Angelica looked down at Molly’s smiling doggy face and wagging tail and couldn’t help but smile in return. “I could use one.”

“Hop in.” He opened the door for her, and clicked his tongue at Molly, who leapt cheerfully into her customary place in back.

“Thanks.”

Angelica buckled herself in and waited until Noah pulled into less complicated traffic than the arrivals line to ask, “So, how are things going?” She couldn’t bring herself to ask, “Are you better yet?” or, “How’s your trust stuff coming?” Or even, “My place or yours?”

“Slowly,” he said without taking his eyes off the road. “I never realized I was so complicated.”

“Yes, you seem so simple, what with your flannel shirts hung next to the expensive suits and all,” she said dryly.

“Hey, at least they’re organized.”

She laughed. “Maybe you’ll even expand your wardrobe after all this.”

“I’m going to a counselor, not the fashion police.”

“Baby steps.”

“How was your trip?” He flipped on his blinker and merged smoothly across two lanes, hitting the exit for the state route that would take them through the valley and into River Hill.

“It was really good. My parents are great.” She smiled. “In small doses, anyway.”

“Your mom is an artist, right?”

She nodded. “She had me pick out the paintings I want to hang in the inn while I was there.”

“What does your dad do?”

“He’s an accountant.” Suddenly she felt awkward. They were discussing her parents, but it was who his parents were that had landed them in this strange space where they were friends but not lovers … but not just friends either. Maybe avoiding talking about family was best.

“Did I miss anything in River Hill?” she asked, switching topics.

“Sean won a drinking contest.”

“Is that … good?” She frowned. She’d met Sean’s mother and she didn’t think the nice lady who’d come to her house as part of the town council’s proposal would be thrilled about her son’s excessive drinking.

“Not really. He’s got some stuff of his own going on.” Noah’s tone turned thoughtful. “Maybe I’ll bring him my counselor’s card.”

“If he’s ready for it.” Angelica sighed. “Different people cope in different ways.”

“Well, drinking himself into the next day isn’t really coping.”

“True.”

“What else …” Noah mused, moving on from the topic of his friend’s fragile emotional state. “Max is considering taking the tacos off the menu for the season.”

“No!” Angelica gasped. “He can’t!”

“So you’ll sign my petition, then?”

“Damn right I will. Good lord, I was only gone for the weekend and he goes and does something like that?”

“Guess you’ll have to stick around.” Noah turned his head away from the road to grin at her briefly, and she smiled back until the moment turned thick and strange.

Angelica swallowed around a golf-ball sized lump in her throat. This was hard. Was he ready?

Come to think of it, was she ready?

Talking with her parents had clarified a few things, but there was still a part of Angelica that wondered if Noah could really find his way past whatever had made him continuously blow up at her. His comment about things going slowly made it seem like that time hadn’t yet come, and she resigned herself to small talk for the rest of the ride.

Noah left her at her doorstep with a wave and a wag of the tail from Molly, and she carried her bag inside, promptly tripping over boxes of tile somebody had left just inside the door. “Dammit!”

“Angelica?” It was Leah’s voice, coming from upstairs.

“I'm here.”

“Hey.” Leah’s voice sounded strange, Angelica realized. It was oddly thick, as though she’d been… crying? What the hell? Leah never cried.

Angelica hauled ass upstairs and slammed her way into the first of the guest rooms. “What’s wrong?”

Leah was huddled in the middle of a new bed that had been delivered the week before, surrounded by packages of new linens Angelica hadn’t yet unfolded and set out. Her friend’s knees were drawn up to her chest and her wrists were crossed in front of her ankles, her forehead cradled in the space between her denim-clad kneecaps. Something must really be wrong if Leah was wearing jeans. Angelica hadn’t realized her friend owned any.

“Leah.” She crossed to the bed and sat down next to the tiny ball of woman Leah had contorted herself into. “What’s going on?”

Leah sniffed. “Roger asked me to marry him.”

Well, that wasn’t what she’d expected to hear. Angelica opened her mouth, then closed it again, then very carefully asked, “Is that good or bad?”

“Both.” Leah’s voice was muffled, since her face was pressed against her knees.

“Hey.” Angelica reached over and pried her friend’s head up. “Talk to me.”

Leah’s eyes were puffy, but her makeup was still perfect—waterproofing was a miraculous invention. She rubbed her nose with the back of her hand and sighed. “I thought it was just for fun. We were sleeping together, having some good times.”

“So, you don’t want to marry him?”

“I don’t know.” Leah sighed. “It’s gotten … intense lately. I’m not used to being the first thing somebody thinks about when they wake up.”

“Is he the first thing you think about when you wake up?”

“I mean, like, eighty percent of the time, yeah. Sometimes I wake up thinking about breakfast, you know?”

“Do you love him?”

“I’ve loved him for years, Angelica. That doesn’t mean I should marry him.”

“What do you mean?”

Leah flopped backwards on the bed, her head resting on a plastic-wrapped pillow. “Love that doesn’t go anywhere is a pretty safe kind of love,” she answered thoughtfully.

“Like unrequited love?”

“As long as we weren’t together, I could say he was the one that got away and go about my merry little way.”

“And now that you’re together again?”

“Well, he doesn’t want to get away. And I don’t think I do either.”

“But?”

“Marriage is a big fucking deal, Angelica.” Leah bolted upright. “Look at you. You were a mess when Noah asked you just to date him.”

Angelica held up her hands. “Don’t make this about me! I have my own issues. We’re talking about yours right now.” She ignored the little flash of wistful imagination that sent a mental picture of herself in a gauzy white gown, standing with Noah under the blooming wisteria in the backyard of her inn under a warm California sunset.

“Do you think you’re ready to get married?” Angelica asked, pushing that fanciful notion deep down into the black pits of her soul where it wouldn’t bother her again.

“I have no idea.”

“Do you want to find out?” she pressed.

Leah was silent for a long time, but then said, “Maybe.”

“What are you going to say to Roger?”

“I don’t know.”

Angelica leaned forward to hug her friend. “Well, if you say yes, I want to be a bridesmaid. And if you say no, I’ll take you out drinking and buy a fancy dress anyway. How’s that?”

Leah hugged her back, resting her forehead on Angelica’s shoulder. “Bases covered. You’re a good friend.”

“So are you,” Angelica said. “The best.”

* * *

When Noah called to ask Angelica to dinner a week later, she could tell by his tone he’d come to some kind of decision. They’d run into each other a few more times during the week, but the vaguely friendly exchanges they’d been having before he’d picked her up at the airport had transformed into something warmer and more anticipatory, though they hadn’t really said more than a few words. And by god, she missed touching him.

They’d settled on an early dinner at Frankie’s—where else?—and she dressed with care, aware of every caress of the silk blouse over her skin as she slid it on. She paired it with tight, dark-washed jeans—not the boot-cut ones she wore on a daily basis, most of which were now firmly cemented with various house products. No, these jeans were the ones she saved for occasions when she wanted her curves to do the talking. If Noah had come to the right decision, he’d be rewarded. If he hadn’t, well, he’d know what he was missing out on, that was for sure.

She slid into the booth opposite him and smiled as he handed her a glass already filled with wine. “Yours?”

“Special bottling, just for Frankie’s,” he said with a matching smile. He’d chosen a booth along the side wall this time, not the window table and not the quiet, private corner booth. She tried not to overthink what that might mean.

“Thanks,” she said, taking a sip. The wine rolled down her throat, crisp and clean.

“You look great,” he said.

“Thanks,” she said again, then pursed her lips as she realized she was mindlessly repeating the same word over and over. “What are you having?”

“Carnitas, I think.” He nodded thoughtfully. “You?”

“That sounds good, actually. If I can’t have the tacos. When’s that petition going through?”

“I need like three more signatures before there are so many that the White House is legally obligated to address it.”

“Nice.” She laughed.

They managed to place their orders, drink more wine, and get through dinner with small talk before Angelica got up the nerve to bring up what they were here for.

She set her fork down after one last bite of tender pork, the clink of it hitting the plate seeming to echo through the entire room. “So, what did you really want to talk about?”

There was a pause as he sipped his wine again. Then he said it. The word she’d been waiting for.

“Us.”

She sat back in her seat, exhaling. “All right. Let’s talk about us.”