Like most personable, perky people, Yasmin enjoyed the company of others, but when she was at her lowest, she liked to be alone.
Alone with her shame, her sweat, and her irresistible-to-roosters and other bastards, curvier than average, nearly-thirty-five-years-old-and-not-getting-any-more-fertile body.
CHAPTERTWO
Noah
Noah O’Sullivan stoodnext to his cousin, Bruce, surveying a field of ready-to-be-harvested, frost-and-bug-resistant asparagus, thinking that it wasn’t quite fair that everything his genius cousin touched came up roses.
Or at least, green and healthy and ready to be used to feed people and rebuild nations.
Noah’s touch wasn’t quite so magical. Sure, he was as successful as his cousin in his chosen field—anti-espionage and alternative-education computer software—but his personal life…
Well, it could be better.
A lot better.
Like not dating Miss Wrong for the umpteenth time better. He’d tried everything from dating websites to singles’ groups, to bar hops, to a professional matchmaking service that guaranteed your money back if they failed to hook you up with a long-term relationship. Noah’s money had been returned two months ago, when he’d caught Kyra, the yoga teacher he’d met through the service, banging his secretary in the company bathroom. The female secretary, but in themen’sbathroom.
It was almost like they’d wanted him to catch them…
He sighed, trying to think of something complimentary to say about the asparagus. He had always enjoyed his visits to Lonesome Point. The fact that he was here to talk a woman out of having his baby and arrange for the transfer of his other sperm samples before the idiots at the clinic could sell off the rest of his baby batter in storage to the highest bidder didn’t mean he couldn’t have a good time. Or at least, be pleasant company.
“It’s very green.” Noah nodded seriously at the field. “And…firm. It looks nice and firm.”
Bruce chuckled. “Are you sure you want to buy a farm someday? Your enthusiasm for agriculture seems a little lacking, cuz.”
“My enthusiasm for everything is a little lacking right now.”
“I think you should be flattered,” Bruce said, that amused grin that had been tugging at his lips most of the day creeping across his face. “I mean, a woman is so desperate for your superior jizz that she’s willing to pay two thousand dollars for one shot at becoming your baby mama.”
“She wouldn’t be my baby mama.” Scowling, Noah tugged his ball cap lower on his forehead. In San Francisco, he spent most of his time indoors and his skin wasn’t ready for the intensity of June-in-Texas sun. “She would be a stranger having a child with half of my genetic material. A fatherless child since she isn’t married or involved and apparently has no plans to be.”
Bruce grunted. “That is a little odd. Especially for Lonesome Point. People around here tend to be more traditional.”
“Exactly, which means the baby would be the odd kid out,” Noah said, knowing from experience that being odd kid out was no fun. He’d ditched his inch-thick glasses and nerd status years ago, but the memories of growing up on the outside looking in lingered. “Not to mention the fact that I do intend to move here someday and start a family of my own. I’m sure my future wife wouldn’t be too pleased to learn that our kids will have an older half-brother or half-sister running around town, even if he or she was conceived via sperm sample.”
“It would be scandalous,” Bruce said, dark eyes flashing. “You’d be small town famous. Great way to get your name out there and start meeting people while you’re new in town.”
Noah glared at him from the shade of his ball cap. “I don’t want to be small town famous. And I don’t want a child I’ll never know. I’m telling the woman no.”
Bruce nodded thoughtfully as he turned away from the field, pinning Noah with a hard look. “Then why are you meeting with her? If your mind is made up?”
“I’m already in town to arrange the transfer of the other samples, and she seems so upset by the whole thing.” Noah shrugged. “I don’t know. It just seemed like the decent thing to do. To meet her and try to let her down easy.”
Bruce clapped him on the shoulder. “You’re a good man. Are you sure Adrienne and I can’t convince you to move sooner rather than later? I know Lonesome Point is small, but the ratio of beautiful, intelligent women per capita is high, and I could hook you up with all the best gossipy matchmakers in town.”
Noah laughed. “Thanks, but no thanks. I’m having enough trouble in a metropolitan area with an endless dating pool. I think I’d better stay where I am until I find the future Mrs. O’Sullivan.”
“I understand, but—” Bruce was interrupted by a bleet from his jeans pocket. He tugged his cell phone free and frowned at the screen. “Damn. Looks like Peanut’s fever has spiked again.”
Peanut—AKA Carver, Bruce’s nearly three-year-old son, named after one of Bruce’s agricultural scientist heroes—had been feeling sickly since the morning Noah arrived in town. It seemed to be just a bug going around the local preschool, but Bruce and his wife, Adrienne, were keeping a close eye on their brown-eyed boy. They were devoted parents and Peanut was flat-out adorable, even when glassy-eyed and fighting a fever while ruling the DVD player with a sticky little fist. In the past two days, Noah had watched more Sesame Street than he’d realized existed and could now sing every word to “Pre-School Musical,” Carver’s favorite song, right along with the rest of the O’Sullivan household.
Seeing them all together had made Noah even more keenly aware that he was thirty-two and not getting any younger. He’d always assumed he would, at least, be married by now, but there was no potential Mrs. O’Sullivan on the horizon, let alone the start of that big family he’d always wanted.
Growing up an only child did that to a person, he supposed. Especially a person who had lost his father when he was fourteen years old and had felt the knowledge of how quickly life could pass you by hanging over his head ever since.
Bruce tapped out a message, murmuring in a concerned voice, “Adrienne wants me to run into town for more Children’s Tylenol and the ginger ale Peanut likes. Apparently, the brand I got yesterday tastes like soap in yucky bathwater. His words.”