Man of My Dreams(62)

In a matter of hours I’ve changed my mind about all of this at least ten different times. Should I just ignore everything I’m feeling for Noah? Is it stupid to be rushing from one guy to the next? Should I be alone for a while and see where that takes me? The parade of questions is never ending.

But when Noah called and asked me out, I couldn’t say no. I need to know if our connection was due solely to reunion   nostalgia or if sparks will fly every time we are together. As much as I’m dying for fireworks, my warring mind won’t object to a dull flop of a date.

A warm rush of shame washes over me as I kiss the girls goodnight and wish them sweet dreams. Neither they nor their babysitter, have any idea that their mother is out playing the field in hopes of finding herself. I hope they never have to endure something this perplexing. I hope I never have to explain it to them either.

All my fears and worries vanish when I hear the sound of Noah’s truck outside the house. Images of him in that truck...sex on wheels is all I can think of. I scurry to the door, telling the babysitter to call me if there’s a problem, and rush outside like a teenager without a care in the world.

His door swings open. He hops out, walks around and opens the passenger side for me again. I wonder if the neighbors are watching. Judging me for taking a ride with this strange man, who isn’t Declan, twice in one week.

Screw ‘em. It’s none of their business.

“Hello, beautiful.” Noah takes my hand, kissing it softly.

“Hi,” I answer shyly.

“We good to go?” He asks, checking me out.

“Yup,” I say without hesitation. If he asks too many questions I might change my mind.

Noah hasn’t told me where he’s taking me, adding to the spontaneity of it all. Our drive to the undisclosed destination is filled with small talk about his job. I’m happy to be focusing on him. Talking about my last four days would be uncomfortable. They were filled with making all sorts of weird arrangements I never thought I’d be faced with—alternate living arrangements for Declan, custody arrangements for the kids. So not first date material.

After a few minutes inside my head, I decide to focus on what’s in front of me. “So, where are you taking me?”

“Not one for surprises, huh?” He smiles, the sparkle in his eye reminding me why I’m here again.

“Just curious is all.” And I don’t want to end up at a restaurant that will remind me of Declan or a place where our mutual friends will see me and make assumptions based on things they don’t know.

“You’re nervous.”

What an understatement. “You have no idea.”

“Just relax, Mia. I won’t bite.” He chuckles.

Maybe I want him to bite and that’s the part that scares me most.

We pull up to a large wrought iron gate and Noah rolls down his window to punch in some numbers on a keypad. Now I’m really curious. We travel down a winding cobblestone road, accentuated with some of the most beautiful landscaping I’ve ever seen. It’s only March and spring hasn’t even begun, but I can imagine what this place looks like once everything is in bloom. Hydrangea, daffodils, tulips and cherry blossoms—the color palate would make Van Gogh’s Garden in Bloom look bland in comparison.

When Noah comes to a stop, we are in front of an enormous tudor-style home. It reminds me of something out of a storybook, too elaborate and grand to be a cottage, but too modest and quaint to be a castle. The stone and brickwork on the outside of the home is exquisite and unique. I ogle again over the landscape designs; so many different shades of green in an otherwise cold, barren backdrop.

My eyes pop open wide, at the sight of a gorgeous Japanese garden towards the back of the property. A red wooden foot bridge extends over a lotus pond that I imagine is filled with colorful Koi fish. Beyond that is a waterfall and rock garden surrounding a large stone lantern centerpiece. It’s breathtaking, stunning. What an escape.

“What is this place?” I say, mesmerized by the calming, majestic beauty of it all.

“Home.” He smiles proudly, extending his arm Vanna White style.

“You live here?” I gawk.

He nods his head.

“Wow, Noah. It’s amazing. Did you do all of this yourself?”

“Yup. I don’t like to brag, but this is my handiwork. I mean, I didn’t actually do it all alone, but I designed it all. The house was built in the 1920s, but we redid all the outer stone work and, of course, did a full gut and remodel inside. The property always had potential, but aside from the contracting I really enjoy landscaping design. The two go hand in hand and it’s always been a true passion of mine.”