Noah laughed to himself as Cynthia ran from the aisle. He couldn’t believe it. She looked exactly like he remembered her, but with more curves and female sensuality. Same beautiful face, same crazy dress code, and same wild spirit. She resembled her sisters, one of whom he’d somewhat dated off and on—Ellen—but was nothing like them. Growing up, he’d thought she was a little weird. Now…

He shook his head with a smile as a store employee hustled in to clean up the milk.

After grabbing the items his brother had requested, he made his way to the front. Cynthia was there in the express lane, counting her items.

“Dang it.” She glanced up at the checker in desperation. “Each individual potato doesn’t count, right?”

The checker stared at her with a blank face. He probably wasn’t used to being accosted by a wild thing.

She’d get along perfectly with Janie, Noah thought.

“The sack of potatoes is counted as one,” Noah said as he filed in behind her. “Though it probably would’ve been cheaper to buy the actual sack of potatoes, and not that many loose ones.”

She jerked as though slapped and looked at him with rounded eyes. After a strange moment of blank staring, she looked back at her items.

“I have to peel them,” she muttered as she tapped the carton of milk for no reason. “The ones in the bag are small and annoying to peel. My mom is paying for grocery runs, so she can handle it.”

He laughed as he put his items behind hers on the conveyer belt.

She pointed at the bottles of baby food in his grouping. “Do you have kids?”

“No. Nieces.”

“Ah. How old?”

“Three and one. They’re here for Thanksgiving. It’s a full house.”

She snickered as though he’d said something ridiculous.

“What?” he asked.

She watched the clerk scan her items. “Nothing. It’s just…your house is the same as my parents’ house, right? Same size?” He nodded slowly, not sure where she was going with this. “And you have just one sibling, who has a wife and two kids?”

It dawned on him. His mom had said all three Bell sisters were back for Thanksgiving, though he’d only been half paying attention. “Do both of your sisters have kids, then?”

She shuffled toward the card reader. “Yes. Five kids, one super mom, and one mom who only pretends she enjoys staying at home. That is speculation, you understand. It could be that she’s perfectly happy—Tera does have a way of making other people seem miserable in comparison.”

“Tera is the super mom?”

Cynthia rolled her eyes as she fed the credit card into the reader.

“Do you want to buy bags?” the teller asked her.

“No. I’m good. Just put it…in here.” She dropped her purse on the counter. To Noah she said, “Is she ever. She’s ridiculous. The woman plans every detail of her kids’ lives. I don’t know how she does it. She’d be an excellent survivalist, I suspect.”

She tucked her card away, waited for the groceries to be crowded in, and slung a frumpy-looking sack over her shoulder. “Anyway, good seeing you. Aren’t you a lawyer now?”

A wave of discomfort washed over him. “No.” His voice had come out too flat and hard.

She hesitated, her brow crinkling. “No? Must have gotten that wrong. Isn’t your brother a doctor?”

“He and his wife are both doctors, yes. She’s a pediatrician, and he’s a surgeon.”

“Jesus,” she murmured.

“I would say you shouldn’t use the Lord’s name in vain, but…” He pointed at her shirt.

She glanced down, and her face flushed a beautiful shade of crimson. “It was a gift.” Her confused look came back. She stepped aside as his things were being scanned, but didn’t leave. “Didn’t one of you test into the top five percent on the bar exam? I swear I heard that.”

It was his turn to blush. “Yeah. That was me. But I didn’t end up going into law.” It wasn’t totally a lie. After one case, he’d backed out like his face was on fire.

She shifted, popping out a hip. “Why not?”

He shrugged. He didn’t like talking about it. “I just didn’t.”

Her piercing blue eyes delved into him. He worried she’d ask more, because he wasn’t sure he could keep from blabbing. Something about that intelligent, prying gaze made him want to open up to her. She nodded once, about faced, and marched away. “See ya around,” she said over her shoulder.

“That chick is hot,” the twenty-year-old checker said under his breath, watching her go.

“She’d eat you alive,” Noah replied, pushing his card into the machine as he watched the sassy sway of her hips. She stuck out from the crowd, and then some, but she clearly didn’t care. Cynthia Bell was all grown up.

He put his card away and took his purchases before heading to the door. She’d said she was between jobs. That usually meant someone had been fired, which, given what he remembered of her, he could understand. Ellen had always said that Cynthia was a troublemaker. From fighting with boys—never girls—to telling the teachers they needed to up the speed of their classes. Her parents had issued a million apologies on her behalf. He seemed to recall that she’d skipped a grade. Or was that someone else?

Trying to remember, he made his way to his Range Rover as a beat-up old Honda pulled out of the spot next to his. He clicked his key fob to unlock his door as the Honda started forward.

Cynthia leaned over the passenger seat to throw him a condescending scowl before speeding off, almost hitting a woman in yoga pants as she went.

He stopped beside his door and stared after her. What was that about?

Crazy. The woman was clearly crazy. And while that might’ve been a turn-off back in the day, now it was… Well, it was normal. He hung around crazy all the time. He barely knew what normal was anymore, thanks to his buddies’ girlfriends, Madison, Janie, and the newest addition, Kaylee.

After he left the store, he couldn’t get the Cynthia-induced smile off his face, but his heart started to sink the closer he got to his parents’ house. His dad was back from a business trip. Noah had half hoped his old man would get snowed in—a long shot, since it was only November. It would’ve alleviated a lot of stress in the house. At least for Noah.

He parked next to the curb, glancing four houses down at Cynthia getting out of her beat-up Honda. Her head turned his way, but she didn’t raise her hand in farewell. Instead, she just swung her head back around. Her ponytail whipped around, followed by her shoulders. A bag of diapers broke free from the groceries in her arms and went skittering across the street in time to meet a car rolling by. The tire caught the bag.

Pop.

Diapers squished out, propelled by the trapped air. The back tire finished the job, probably dirtying all the white diapers.

Noah couldn’t hear what Cynthia said as he climbed from his ride, but judging by the sharp tone, and the volume, it wasn’t a child-friendly string of terms.

He headed her way, leaving his groceries in the car. “Do you need help?” he asked as he neared.

She bent over the squashed package, probably looking for survivors. “What are the freaking odds, do you know what I mean?”

“Yes. The timing on that was incredible.” Laughter shook his body.

She glanced up in annoyance while tucking diapers back into the exploded bag.

“Sorry,” he said, holding up his hands. He cleared his throat, now trying to hide a smile. “Sorry.”

“Think they’ll notice?” She pulled the plastic around the gaping, grime-covered hole in the side.

He hesitated, thinking back all those years to the woman who had occasionally been his friend with benefits—someone he’d passed the time with whenever they were both single and horny. Based on what he remembered of Ellen, she would not only see every speck of dirt, she’d also throw a conniption about it.

“Yeah.” Cynthia nodded, clearly having read his thoughts. She shrugged. “They were probably the wrong size anyway. Looks like I’ll be sent to the store again tomorrow.”

“How old is the baby?” Noah picked up the bags of groceries she’d set on the driver’s seat.

“I should know that. I’m the worst aunt. One, I think. A little over one.”

“These’ll probably fit. Maybe you’ll get away with it.”

She huffed out a laugh as they made their way to the front door. Almost there, she looked off to the side, staring at a small Ford parked in the driveway. Her brow furrowed. “Whose car is that, I wonder?”

“Looks like a rental.”

“Yes, it does,” she murmured. “Who did she invite from out of state?”

“Are all your sisters living in town?”

She glanced back at him as she opened the door. “One is in San Francisco and the other is in Sausalito.” A booming laugh echoed from the interior, making her flinch. She listened for a moment as a loud voice drowned out all the other chatter coming from inside the house.

Then she pulled the door shut again.

“Who is it?” Noah asked.

“Uncle Art. Crap. I’m not in the mood for Uncle Art. I’m still getting used to Aunt Bessie. Ugh! Why is my family so weird?”

“Who’s Uncle Art?” Noah asked, racking his brain.

“He’s my dad’s older brother. He’s some bigwig for a global company and he travels all the time. I rarely see him, thank God. The guy constantly wears blazers.”

“That’s his big fault? He wears blazers?”

Cynthia turned to him with that piercing stare. Something about that stare, her proximity, and her smell—fresh cotton and spicy female—flipped his stomach and tightened his balls. He leaned in just a little, warming himself by her fire. Drawn to her wildness.

One of her eyebrows arched slowly. Adrenaline dumped into his body, activating his fight-or-flight reflex. Suddenly he wasn’t sure if he was turned on by her intensity, or intimidated by it.

“Come in.” She took the handle, turned, and pushed the door wide, not breaking eye contact. “Come on in. Let’s meet Art the Fart, shall we?”

“I don’t—”

“Come on. What are you, chicken?”

“Does he carry a gun? Why would I be afraid of an older guy?”

“Yeah. Great question. Why indeed.” She grabbed his arm and attempted to yank him forward. “Good God, what are you, solid muscle?”

“Yes.”

“Fine.” She reached for the underside of his arm and pinched the sensitive skin.

“Ow!” He jerked away, still unsure if he was aroused or terrified. He took a step away from her reaching hand. “No pinching.” A memory floated to the surface. He leveled a finger at her face. She slapped it away before he could say anything. He put it in her face again. “Pinching wasn’t cool back in the day, and it is equally uncool now.”

“Saying the word cool is no longer cool. And yet…”

“I’m going, I’m going, stop hurting me.” He laughed and stepped aside to leave the doorway clear. When she didn’t move, he gestured her toward the door. She reached for him with those blasted fingers again, trying to herd him, making him shake with chuckles. “Ladies first, you nitwit.”

“Nice way to be a gentleman, calling a lady a nitwit.” She turned up her nose and sauntered into the house. He caught that sassy sway of her hips.

Desire won over intimidation. His cock hardened, and he was extremely thankful he’d worn briefs and didn’t have to worry about his pants tenting.

The smell of a fruity air freshener wiped away her tantalizing scent as he followed her across the threshold and into the entryway. The layout of the house was very similar to his parents’. He paused to close the door before catching up with her as she reached the doorway to the den, a place set up for socializing, similar to the one in his parents’ house. Soft jazz drifted through the air rather than the droning of a TV, but it was drowned out by a booming male voice.

As they stepped through the sliding double doors, Noah saw Mr. Blazer himself, seated at the end of the couch, his fingers wrapped around a sweating tumbler filled with brown liquid and his stomach straining the buttons of his jacket. Beside him sat Mrs. Bell—Tamie—with a painted-on smile and tight eyes. A wheelchair was parked in the corner, and the elderly female occupant had a blank expression on her face.

A little body ran into the back of his leg, entering the room behind Noah.

Noah stayed still and looked down, not wanting to move, lest he trample the child underfoot.

A chubby little face looked up at him as the baby used his leg as a stabilizer. He started moving around the blockade, one wobbly step at a time. The baby’s big brown eyes blinked twice, and then he was off, tottering toward the woman in the wheelchair.

“Baby Ray, come back here. You need a diaper—” A woman stopped short in her stride as she entered the room. Her eyes glued to Noah, and he recognized another blast from his past.

“Ellen, nice to see you,” he said with a smile.

A blush rose to her cheeks, and anger sparkled in her eyes.

Uh oh. He’d seen that look before.

He racked his brain, trying to remember if he’d ever pissed her off.

Absolutely nothing came to mind.

He was flying blind!