Free Nickeled-And-Dimed to Death by Denise Swanson Page A

there hadn’t been any sign of Birdie Sinclair, Boone St. Onge, or Poppy Kincaid. And Noah knew Dev had no other family or close friends in town. At a loss for what else could have happened, he had tried to phone her, but, as usual, the call went to her voice mail.
    At the sound of her recorded message, a weight had settled on his chest. Was she avoiding him again? Maybe as soon as she’d gotten the basket order from Oakley, she had called someone to pick her up. Had she really just been using him?
    With a sinking feeling, Noah had decided that was it. She’d gotten the business contact she wanted and disappeared. He couldn’t blame her. It wasn’t as if she’d pretended she was going out with him for any other reason. Still, it hurt.
    The dance had been nearly over when he’d learned she’d left, and Noah had been able to leave soon afterward. Zizi and Winnie had given him sympathetic looks as he said his good-byes, but no one else seemed to notice that he’d been dumped. No one, that is, except the redhead who’d begged for a lift home. She’d claimed that her date was drunk and she was afraid to get in a car with him.
    There was no way to turn down her request without being a jerk. Too bad the woman had thrown a fit when Noah dropped her off and refused to go inside with her. Her cursing would have made a rapper blush.
    It had been tough enough listening to the woman’s mindless chatter on the ten-minute trip from the country club to her house without dealing with her comments about his manhood—or lack thereof. Especially when all he could think about was Dev.
    It had been even tougher ignoring the voice inside his head that insisted he drive to Dev’s house, pound on the door until she opened it, and demand to know why she’d taken off without an explanation. He wanted to tell her how much he still cared for her. How much he’d missed her the past thirteen years. And how much he wanted them to try again.
    Intellectually, he knew it was better to cool off before he spoke to Dev, so he could maintain his image as the imperturbable physician. But in his heart, he was tempted to do something so out of character that she’d have to take notice. In the end, he’d chickened out. Years of acting like the responsible and unemotional town doctor had been too much to overcome.
    Even as Noah had made the decision not to confront Dev, he’d berated himself for being such a wuss. If he didn’t show her that he’d changed, he would never get her back. Since he’d broken up with her in high school, relationships had never worked for him.
    One reason for their failure was his detachment. In the past, he hadn’t cared when the women he dated called him cold and distant. But he knew that the only way to win Dev’s heart was to show the emotion he tended to keep hidden. The big question was, could he do it?
    On the drive home, Noah had nearly managed to convince himself that he had done the right thing in waiting to contact Dev until the next day. That is, until he’d noticed her scarf stuck between the passenger seat and the console. As he’d picked it up, he’d caught a whiff of her perfume. It was the same one she’d used in high school, Chanel’s Cristalle. Its crisp yet sweet scent brought his desire for her rushing back.
    When Noah had slammed through his front door a few minutes later, Lucky had been waiting for him in the foyer. But Noah’s body language must have scared the little dog, because instead of his usual barking and tail-wagging greeting, the Chihuahua had cocked his head, then almost sighed and silently led Noah into the bedroom.
    Now, while Noah finished up his last set of lifts and headed to the kitchen for breakfast, Lucky followed him. The dog had already had his morning constitutional, but sat patiently waiting for Noah to dish out his canned food and fill his water bowl.
    Once Noah had fed Lucky, started the coffeemaker, and turned on the radio, he grabbed the box of Cocoa Puffs from