Claire knew apartment life wasn't for Noah. A place he couldn't make his own would stifle him and his creativity. And she was looking forward to seeing his woodworking projects come to life.
"Milk, please. Is your mom still upset you're moving away?" Delilah had been beside herself at the thought of her oldest son living an ocean away until Noah pointed out that they'd rarely been on the same continent for the last year and a half and their relationship hadn't suffered for it.
"She's better. Especially once I told her I'd probably see her more going forward than I have this past year, since I'll be visiting the plants regularly. And I suggested she and Pops could visit us here in Houston on occasion." He laughed. "It's like it never occurred to the woman that she, too, could travel. Funny, since they did it all the time when my dad was in the military."
Claire warmed at his unconscious wording, lumping them together as a unit. "Maybe she got her fill of it and once she stuck, she stayed put."
They sat at the bar to eat.
"This is delicious," Noah said, spooning another bite into his mouth.
"Brinnie said there's a slow cooker recipe as well. We could put it on in the morning and it would be ready when we got home from work." She took a drink of her milk, then paused when she caught Noah's look. "What?"
"The idea of coming home to you every night makes me feel—" He stopped and blinked.
She turned on her stool to face him. "Makes you feel what?" The thought of spending the rest of their lives together made her all warm and mushy inside, but she wanted to hear Noah's take.
"I don't have the words to describe it. I'm afraid any attempt will ruin my tough-guy reputation." He flashed a self-deprecating grin before his face went serious and he spread his hand on his chest. "But I feel it right here. And it's… good."
"Soft and gooey?" she offered.
Noah's smile lit up his face. "Yes, Claire, just like those little pies you make when you're stressed out. I get soft and gooey inside when I think of you." He pulled her closer and kissed her gently. Against her lips, he murmured, "Do not tell my brothers I used the word soft or gooey. Tristan would razz me unmercifully."
She tugged at his shirt, dinner forgotten. "So, you're saying you don't want to be soft? You want to be hard? Let's go see what we can do about that."
"Hell, yes," he said, before swinging her up in his arms and heading for the bedroom.
Epilogue
Six months later…
"And check this out. This guide actually swivels so I can adjust the cut on the fly without having to reset the piece."
Claire grinned at Noah's enthusiasm for his latest purchase, a giant saw of some sort tucked nicely into the corner of his new garage workshop.
He'd found the house surprisingly quickly once he announced he was looking. It seemed everybody at Caprock knew somebody in real estate or had a friend who was selling. Randall was the one who suggested checking out the area southwest of downtown.
The neighborhood was established and swanky but Houston's no zoning laws allowed people flexibility with what they built. Decades ago, a wealthy family had purchased three adjacent properties, torn down two of the original houses and replaced them with one giant house consuming both lots, then refurbished the third house as a rental property. With their parents aging, the adult children put the third house up for sale and Noah's realtor had the inside track, allowing him to snatch up the property at a steal.
The craftsman-style house sat on a quiet street laced with spacious yards populated by giant oak trees. The paved driveway was long enough to accommodate multiple cars and ended with a detached garage set far enough back that you didn't see it until you were in front of the house. Noah loved the sage-green exterior and the bricked sidewalk leading to the heavy oak front door. The older home had two bedrooms and, surprisingly, two bathrooms.
He'd brought his favorite furniture pieces over from England and sold the rest. They'd spent the summer attending craft fairs and finding other artisans who were as passionate as Noah and his brother. And while the current kitchen was more than adequate, he'd already shared his plans for renovations.
Claire watched him take pictures of the saw to send to Tristan. Noah's brother was booked to visit in October. He'd wanted to come sooner, but they'd convinced him to wait until Houston's oppressive summer heat had faded a bit.
"You need a window unit in here," Claire said, lifting her hair off the back of her neck.
"Sorry, what?" Noah peered over his shoulder at her.
"An air conditioning unit that you install into the window. It's way too hot to work out here in the summer."
Noah frowned at the side window that the garage boasted. "Most garages I saw while house shopping didn't have windows, unless they were on the garage door. This window is one thing I love about this space." He looked back at Claire.
"Oh. Then maybe a portable A/C unit? Something that keeps you from melting when you work." Claire pulled her sticky shirt away from her skin to get some air flowing. August was too dang hot to be outdoors.
"Mm, I see your point." Noah closed up the saw's parts and steered her to the side door. "Let's go inside. I made lemonade earlier. It should be nice and cool by now."
A gravel path led from the detached garage to the house's backdoor, all safely ensconced behind an eight-foot privacy fence. Cold air blasted from the house when he pulled the kitchen door open and held it for Claire to enter.
