Chapter 5

Three days later, Noah forced himself away from the garage as he watched Sabella roll herself

beneath another vehicle. One of the vehicles he'd completed. She was going over his work as

though he hadn't spent the better part of thirty-five years working on vehicles.

Top to bottom, she was spending the day going over every move he made.

He grimaced as he shoved a wrench in his back pocket, threw another look at her over his

shoulder, and pushed into the office.

And stopped.

"Excuse me." He turned to walk right back out.

"Ah, Noah Blake." Grandpop Malone rose up from where he had been sitting next to the desk

he'd had Rory blocked in at. "Don't leave so soon, son. I hear we have something in common."

Noah grimaced, gritted his teeth, then turned back and let the door reclose behind him and faced

the man who had been the base of his entire life.

Grandpop. He was wrinkled, stooped, his dark face was still imposing, his eyes were still that

bright sapphire blue that Noah had opted to have changed.

"We have something in common?" he asked, glancing at Rory's shuttered expression.

"Irish, son." Grandpop's smile had Noah pausing. The old bastard knew, and Noah knew it.

"We're both Irish."

He couldn't deny it. He was fully prepared to lie to the old man. Knew he'd eventually meet up

with him. But now that the moment had arrived, he couldn't do it.

"A bit," Noah answered carefully.

Grandpop had sat back down and now he shifted in his chair. His long body was weaker than last

time Noah had seen him, checked on him. His hair was completely gray now, there was barely a

hint of the black it had once been.

"Rory, I'll be heading out for a while," Noah tried.

"Running away?" Grandpop lost his smile. "Irishmen don't run away."

Noah's brow lifted. "Should I be running away?"

Grandpop stared back at him. That knowing, certain look as Noah looked at Rory once again.

He'd kill the little shit if he'd spilled his guts.

Rory gave his head a subtle shake, but he grimaced. As he'd been warning Noah, hiding things

from Grandpop wasn't easy.

"I wanted to meet you." Grandpop rose to his feet and Rory followed him. "Wanted to see this

new man that had my little girl in there so upset. No one's upset my girl since her husband left."

"I hear he died," Noah pointed out.

Grandpop nodded slowly. "Yeah, that's what they tell us," he said. "I argued that death with my

son. He was a SEAL, you know. For a lot of years." Grandpop shook his head. "I didn't believe

him." He stared back at Noah now. "I eventually changed my mind though."

Noah, Nathan. Husband. Grandson. Brother. He felt all those parts of himself reaching out to the

old man that knew the truth without being told. He'd disappointed the old man.

"My grandson was a hero, you know that?" Grandpop stated as he headed to the door.

"That's what Rory tells me," he finally said quietly.

His grandpop, treasured, revered, stopped again and stared back at him for long, tense moments.

"The boy always did what he had to do. What was right. What was responsible." He blinked back

tears and Noah felt grief swamp him. "He died," Grandpop said. "Before I could tell him I

understood why he let go."

He stepped from the office then. Noah heard the message, the careful phrasing, the message

behind the words as Rory rushed to the door and followed behind the old man.

Fuck! He didn't need this.

"Grandpop left? What did you do to him?" Sabella rushed in behind him, threw him a glare then

followed Rory and Grandpop to the parking lot.

Hell, he didn't need this.

"Grandpop," Sabella called out as the old man pulled himself behind the wheel of his pickup

truck and watched as she approached. "Is everything okay?"

He bestowed one of his smiles on her. Fondness. Affection. She could feel it wrapping around

her as she moved behind the door and gave him a quick hug. "You didn't wait to say hi to me."

Grandpop always said hello to her before he left.

"Just stopping by to meet your new man." Grandpop smiled back at her. "Us Irish have to stick

together, you know."

"He's not my new man," she muttered. "He's Rory's." She glared at her brother-in-law, because

Rory refused to fire him.

Three days she had fought him. Argued with him. and now he was talking about hiring another

mechanic. Some big blond biker that she knew had to be associated with the arrogant bastard

trying to take over her garage.

And he was standing firm, refusing to back down. Of course, in the last three days there had been

more business, but only, she suspected, because everyone was curious about the new mechanic.

Grandpop just smiled back at her in that patient, wise way of his then patted her shoulder with his

gnarled hand. "Irish boys will keep your blood hot at night," he told her with a rascally wink.

"I've had my wild Irish boy," she told him softly. "No other can replace him, Grandpop."

Nathan had been her soul, and in too many ways, he was still so much a part of her heart that she

compared every other man against him. Unfortunately, there were times she forgot to do that

when Noah was around.

"Follow your heart. Not your head, child," Grandpop told her gently. He'd always told her that.

"And come see me soon. I miss you."

She moved back as he closed the door and seconds later watched as he drove away.

"Rory, what are you up to?" She turned to her brother-in-law as Grandpop pulled into traffic.

Rory's expression was too innocent, and reminded her too much of when Nathan had hidden

things from her. Same expression, the same set of his broad body.

"You're too suspicious, Belle," he sighed.

"You're not hiring that Viking," she told him.

Rory's jaw clenched and his blue eyes fired. "Should I leave, Belle?" he asked.

That hint of anger in his voice had her eyes narrowing.

"No, you shouldn't leave." She frowned back. "You should discuss Wrings with me."

"Like you've discussed with me?" He rolled his eyes. "Three years, Belle. You walked in and

took over three years after Nathan died, and I let you, because I didn't know what the hell I was

doing. But I know more now. It's time I pulled my weight. And the mechanics we have now

aren't efficient."

She couldn't argue that, but she hated him pointing it out.

"I don't like Noah Blake. Fire him and hire the Viking. Then we'll discuss the others."

"Come on, Belle." Frustration filled his voice now. "You don't like him because he knows what

he's doing and because he doesn't mind telling you that. No one's done that since Nathan and you

can't handle it," he accused her.

Sabella flinched. She could feel the ache she kept hidden, buried beneath the reality of Nathan's

death, snap hot and sharp inside her chest.

"Nathan didn't arbitrarily argue with me," she bit out.

"No he didn't," he said roughly. "Because you never let him know who you were or how much

that damned garage meant to you. Well, someone knows now. Give him hell instead of me."

With that, he stomped off, his hands buried in the pockets of his work pants, as Noah stepped

outside the garage bay doors.

Those dark, dark blue eyes were locked on her. Lean, hungry, powerful. His body drew her gaze

whenever he was around whether she liked it or not. And dammit, she didn't like it. She didn't

want another dangerous man. But she also didn't want a man who agreed with her, and she didn't

want a man who was safe. For the first time in the three years since she had taken her wedding

band off she admitted in her head what her heart already knew. Safe wasn't going to do it.

Duncan didn't do it for her. Unfortunately, though, Noah Blake did do it for her. "It" being that

sexual curiosity, that pounding heart, that surge of excitement. Something she had never felt with

another man— only her husband. And that fact had the power to make the hurt, the anger, and

the animosity toward this one man run deeper.

Right now, she hated Noah Blake clear to the bottom of her soul. Because he was forcing

something no one else had ever been able to do. He was forcing her to feel things she had only

ever felt for her husband.

And to Sabella, that betrayal to Nathan's memory was worse than any other she could have

committed.

She couldn't forget that. As the day went on, she dealt with vehicle computers that didn't want to

cooperate, and the mechanic from hell that didn't seem to be able to do anything but draw her

eye.

At one point she lifted her head from the interior of the pickup she was working on to watch,

fascinated, as he glared into the guts of another vehicle, slowly twirling a wrench between his

fingers.

There was an oddly familiar frown on his face. A way he had of glaring at the engine as he

flipped that tool, finger to finger, and considered whatever it was he was considering.

It was sexy. Impossibly sexy. Dressed in dark gray work pants and a matching short-sleeved

shirt, he conveyed an image of raw, powerful male that she couldn't help but notice.

"Hey, Noah," Rory called, interrupting her musings. Noah turned and frowned back at Rory in

the office. "I need you in here."

"In a minute," Noah called before turning back to the engine.

"Now!" Rory's voice held a snap.

Noah's expression became still, dangerous, but he shoved the wrench in his back pocket and

walked to the office. Prowled to the office maybe. There was something dangerously predatory

and pissed off about him now.

The door closed quietly behind him as Rory lowered the shades to the windows that looked out to

the garage. Sabella's eyes narrowed. She dragged the oily rag from her back pocket and wiped

her hands before moving to the office. Gripping the doorknob, she tried to turn it, only to find it

locked.

Locked out of her own office? My, how interesting. She could feel her face flushing with anger

as she jerked the keys out of her pocket. She was set to unlock it as the door jerked open.

"Guy talk." Rory's grin was stiff, his blue eyes brighter, though more with concern than anger.

"Guy talk, your ass!" She smiled tightly as she stepped into the office to see Noah standing by

her desk, his arms crossed over his chest as he stared at Rory with a flat, hard gaze. "What did he

do?"

"Sabella, can you please let me handle this one little thing?" he said impatiently. "Really. I

promise. I can manage some stuff on my own."

Rory sounded a shade put out. Okay, so she was a little territorial with the garage, maybe too

much so. But over the years she had let it become her husband and her baby and everything in

between. Rory knew that. So why was he becoming so angry now?

"I was just curious." She shoved her hands into her pockets and gave Noah what she hoped was a

sweet smile. "Just tell me what he did and I'll leave. Are you going to fire him? Can I watch?"

"Fine." Rory didn't look happy, that was odd enough. He looked angry at her, and he was never

angry with her. And his smile. It was tight. All teeth. When had he turned into a full-grown man

on her? He wasn't a kid brother any longer. "He was staring at your ass! Now you deal with it."

He turned and slammed out of the office, leaving her to stare at him in shock before she turned to

meet Noah's amused gaze.

"He was lying to me," she said.

He grinned. Noah was absolutely entranced. Once again, he had to ask, though, what had

happened to the Sabella he had known six years before. The one who never chipped a nail, and

would have never, under any circumstances, butted into a male/male confrontation.

"You have a fine ass," he stated, and knew she wasn't buying it.

Her eyes narrowed. "And you're not going to tell me what he was chewing your ass over?"

Noah had to chuckle. "It was more in the way of a warning."

He was treading a fine line. Nathan wasn't as dead as Noah might wish; he still had habits that

had once been ingrained. One of those habits? Twirling that damned wrench as he tried to figure

out a particular problem beneath the hood of a vehicle.

She sniffed at his response. "Piss him off too far and I'll convince him to finally fire you."

He had to grin at that one as he sauntered to the door. Before passing her, he stopped, lowered his

head, and whispered, "And I caught you looking at my ass too. Maybe I should tell Rory on you."

She caught his arm as he moved to open the door, staring up at him soberly. "You're messing up

my life," she told him quietly. "And I don't like it."

Noah sobered. He could see an edge of pain, of knowledge, in her eyes. For the past three days

they had been circling each other like combatants, edging forward and back, trying to make the

other force the confrontation they both knew was coming.

"How am I messing up your life, Sabella?" Once, long ago, he would have known. He would

have known the woman standing before him and could have sworn he could anticipate her every

thought and move. He was learning, though, and hated it, but he was learning there had been so

little that he had known about her.

Nathan's wife would have never barged into the office. Hell, she would have never been working

on a car or staring him down now. The woman that had belonged to Nathan had hidden from

him, just as Nathan had hidden from her.

But this woman was going to belong to Noah.

"You think you can take over, don't you?" she asked him softly. "Walk right in here, and

everything you want is going to fall into place."

He narrowed his eyes on her. He'd had that thought, maybe. She was disabusing him of that

notion quickly.

"I just needed a job." He forced a grin and watched as her gaze examined his face.

"You just need something to control," she told him as she eased away from him and moved to her

desk. "You need someone to control. Your world has to be under your thumb, following your

rules."

He turned and watched her closely as she leaned against the desk.

Her hair was pulled up in a ponytail, her face streaked with oil. There was a smudge on her neck

and her jeans were stained with it. And she was the damnedest sight he had ever seen. All

woman, confident, almost imposing, and the snap of lust that shot past his control nearly sent a

shudder tearing through his body.

"I won't deny wanting you." he told her.

Her eyes widened. "I didn't ask if you wanted me."

"I'm tired of tiptoeing around the subject," he growled. "We're playing a game here and it's

starting to irritate me, Sabella."

A mocking smile crossed her lips. "I don't need you, Noah. If you didn't notice several days ago,

I have one relationship to keep me busy. I don't need another."

"You don't sleep with him." He moved to her then.

Anger lit the depths of her gray eyes then. "And you know this how?"

"Because your nipples are hard right now," he bit out, glancing down at the hard little points

pressing against her bra. "Because you're doing everything you can to piss me off and get close to

me at the same time. Because you feel the heat between us just as much as I do."

Sabella inhaled sharply. She wished she hadn't, because beneath the scent of oil was the scent of

the man. Sweat dampened, lustful, determined. It was there in his eyes, in the tension that filled

his body, whipped around her, reminded her how damned long it had been since she had been

with a man. Since Nathan had touched her, she reminded herself desperately.

"This conversation is over." She pushed herself from the desk and moved for the door, only to

find his larger body suddenly in her path.

"Ignoring it doesn't make it go away," he said softly, catching her shoulders, holding her still in

front of him as her head snapped back to stare up at him.

"I don't have to ignore what isn't going to happen and what doesn't exist," she retorted

desperately.

"It's going to happen."

She stood still. She should be fighting him, running, screaming, or something. Anything but

standing here, feeling her knees weaken, as his head lowered, his gaze holding hers, his lips

coming closer.

"Don't," she whispered when his lips were but a breath away from hers. "Don't turn this into a

war."

"It's already a war," he warned her, his voice grating, so rough. Unnaturally so, she realized as

she let herself see the scars beneath the rasp of beard. "Give me your kiss, Sabella. You want to.

You know we both need to."

He spoke against her lips, and they parted helplessly. Her hands gripped his wrists, something

inside her clenched in longing, in desperation.

"Enough." She jerked away, but he pulled her forward.

Before Sabella could react, before she could escape, pleasure swamped her.

His lips were on hers. They covered hers. Slanted over them, parted them, and she was lost. The

kiss rocked her in places she didn't know she could be rocked. It was dark, forceful, dominant.

Within seconds he had her against the door, lifting her against him and pushing his tongue inside

her mouth as Sabella heard her own, half-frightened, half-shocked cry of pleasure.

"That's what you want," he accused as his head jerked back, lust flaming in his eyes and burning

in her veins. "You want it, Sabella. Just as hot and just as wild as I do. Be careful, sweetheart,

very damned careful, or you just might get it before you're ready for it."

Sabella felt pinned before him in shock. Pleasure was coursing through her; the dark, dominant

power of that kiss had awakened something she knew she didn't want to face. Something she

wasn't ready for.

She pulled back slowly. "Tell Rory I'll see him at closing."

"Running?" he growled as she turned and headed for the entrance to the door that led outside.

Sabella turned back, her gaze flickering over him, seeing the bulge in those pants, the hunger in

his eyes.

"Stay away from me, Noah," she told him bleakly. "I don't need you. I don't want you. All I want

is for you to be gone."

Lies. All lies and she knew it as she pushed through the door and almost ran the distance between

the garage and the house on the hill. The house she had shared with the only man capable of

doing what Noah had just done. The only man who had ever awakened a desire she couldn't

control, one she couldn't combat. If she didn't get away from him, and get away from him now,

then Sabella knew, she was looking at nothing but more pain, more loss. Noah wasn't the staying

kind. He wasn't the loving kind. He wasn't her husband.