Chapter 7 Definitely Not A Date
It’s after seven by the time we finish our draft of the apology.
I know this because I’ve been checking my phone every thirteen minutes, knowing the later it gets the more questions I’ll face from Kara when I do finally get out of here.
She’ll have made it home from Nan’s card game, most likely with a foil wrapped plate of Nan’s famous brownies.
My stomach gurgles at the thought of an extra thick slice of chocolate and betrays me by being loud enough to pull Noah’s attention.
He rolls his arm to check his watch and frowns.
“I am so sorry, Charlotte. Not only have I kept you far past what even I anticipated, but I’ve neglected to feed you.”
“I’m not a schnauzer.”
Noah’s face is pure panic, his mouth dropping open as I watch the wheels spinning over and over as he scrambles for a response to my joke.
“I didn’t mean—”
“I’m kidding,” I interject.
“Oh,” he breathes, clearly still trying to wrap his head around my tease. “Right. Still, I did offer.”
“It’s fine, really. On Fridays my roommate tends to order an obscene amount of take out and she’ll have plenty left for me.”
His frown deepens. “You’re not eating cold take out. Not when I promised you dinner.”
I hate the part of myself who likes this concern from him, and lean forward to push my laptop closed. “You don’t know this about me, but I happen to like cold take-out, so it’s more of a treat, I promise.”
He stops me with his warm hand on mine, our eyes locking. “I am a man of my word, and I owe you a meal. Please?”
The unexpected gravel in his voice rattles down my spine, melting every ounce of independence I possess. Slipping my hand out from under his, I roll my eyes playfully.
“I suppose if it would make you feel better, I can accept a free meal.”
His face breaks into a smile and he stands, pulling his jacket from the back of his chair.
“Excellent. I know this Thai place not far from here. It’s the best I’ve found.”
With all my things gathered and tucked in my backpack, I meet him by the elevator. He scrolls on his phone while I stare at our blurred reflection in the metallic doors.
Standing this close, me in my cheap floral dress and cardigan and him in a tailored jacket and slacks, is a stark illustration of the differences between us.
Noah is the kind of man who has his shit together—probably down to an organized sock drawer.
Meanwhile, I sniffed no less than three sweaters this morning before settling on this one and really do look forward to cold take out.
I’d bet good money Noah is the kind of person who pours over dating apps and schedules his dates with more thought than most people put into buying a car, while I’m scooping up whoever will make time for me in the spur of the moment.
He smells of clean lines and healthy boundaries, and I find myself swerving all over the road after tempting things too far, on a regular basis.
Noah’s voice makes me jump as I mentally swat away my analytical breakdown of what might turn out to be his incredibly disorganized home life. There’s no need. None of this matters outside of office hours.
“I should have asked, do you like Thai?”
“I do.”
The elevator door dings open and I step into the small space, grinding my teeth against the flutter my body betrays me with as he holds it open. It’s the polite thing to do. Our hands collide in an awkward attempt at hitting the button for the ground floor, and the flutter turns to fireworks.
“Sorry,” we both murmur at the same time.
I punch the button and keep my eyes trained on the digital numbers as the doors close again and we descend. Cursing myself, I do what I can to rein in the sneaky bitch that is my arousal around this man. I don’t do giddy and I’m certainly not won over by an accidental brush of hands.
Despite my best efforts, however, I can’t help but notice the way the silent ride is punctuated with the way he smells—juniper and something spicy, like black pepper.
Dear god, what is wrong with me? I can’t go around noticing the way people smell.
Even if it is delicious; a little rustic but clean.
Letting myself peek at him, I pretend to check my bag for something.
He’s attractive, sure, but I’ve been with—around— pretty people before.
This isn’t new and acting like a swoony school girl will only lead to trouble.
He’s my boss for god’s sake. I just need to get laid.
By someone who is not Noah. Someone who needs the same kind of quick and dirty release I clearly need.
I take a deep breath as we exit the elevator, grateful for the dilution in tension the fresh air provides.
“Are you alright walking? I could call a car around and—”
The thought of being in an even smaller space with this beautiful man, when I’m already wishing I could take a bite of him, answers before he can finish the question. “Walking is great.”
“Perfect. It’s not far. I made a point to walk the surrounding blocks and make note of the restaurants. This one also happens to be in the Best of Portland article I studied before my move, which I am happy to report was notably accurate. I’ve not yet been disappointed with any of its suggestions.”
His rambling pulls a smile I have a hard time fighting back as we push out into the deepening twilight.
It’s endearing really, the idea of him researching and pouring over maps and best-of lists.
This tiny detail nips at the annoying tangle of attraction still buzzing in my belly and brings a new edge to the antsy feeling dancing under my skin.
I find myself pulling at every ounce of logic I possess to keep myself in check.
He is your boss. This is a business dinner. Stop filing away personal details or thinking about how good he would look naked.
The air whispers of rain and the sky holds dark clouds. Noah looks up nervously, but follows my lead onto the damp pavement. Rain is a given in this city, and waiting for it to turn would keep us all indoors all the time.
“Do you always research things so thoroughly?” I ask, hoping to distract my brain from the way it feels to walk next to him like this, comfortable and dare I say date-like. Shit, how long has it been since I’ve been on an honest to god date? Not that this is that.
“I do. As I mentioned in our riveting pizza debate, I take great pride in finding and consuming only the best.”
“For curiosity’s sake, what happens if you were to eat somewhere that isn’t the best?” My dramatic air quotes elicit a throaty chuckle from him. “Will you simply combust?”
“No. But what would be the point?”
“Experience.”
He shrugs. “In my experience, it’s not worth it.”
“I think you’re missing out on some gems, Graves. Trusting an algorithm, or a random writer at some Portland periodical takes all the fun out of exploring the world.”
“I do my own research too, you know.”
“Right, right.” I laugh. “You walk the city scoping things out. I see you.”
“Fine,” he says, his tone sobering, but only a little. “If you eat tonight, and it isn’t the best Thai food you’ve had in this city, then next time you get to pick the restaurant, and I will happily eat at whatever mediocre chain you choose.”
Next time? I make a show of considering his proposal while I chew over the idea there could be a next time. Logic runs through my limbs as I extend my hand. Of course, he means the next business dinner. Knowing this project, there are sure to be more.
“Deal.” He takes my hand and a warm shock rolls up my arm, my fingers closing tighter around his palm to avoid yanking them back. “But don’t you dare complain when we end up with Dominos at our next staff luncheon.”
He slips from my grasp as he holds his hands up in surrender. “No complaints, I promise.”
The restaurant Noah picked appears out of nowhere, and if he didn’t stop short on the sidewalk, it would have slipped by without my notice.
Sandwiched between a craft boutique and an insurance agency, the bright red awning of Time for Thai extends a cozy invitation.
There are more people than seats, which means we have a bit of a wait for one of the coveted tables.
Noah puts us on the list and we find a spot under the overhang.
The threat of rain turns to light sprinkles, and drives a few other waiting patrons under as well, pushing us closer together.
We’re tucked in against the brick exterior near the narrow alley; the smell of rich, spicy food weaves amidst the clatter of a clamoring kitchen, the combination smoothing the evening into a moody scene.
“I hope the wait isn’t too long for you,” Noah says. “I’d hate for the call of your roommate’s leftovers to be too strong for you to resist.”
I loll my head towards him with a chuckle. Even in the damp he’s handsome. His back is pressed against the brick, his hands tucked into his jacket in an effortlessly relaxed pose.
“I’m here now, I might as well hold out. At this point, even with the wait, this food is closer.”
He gives me half a laugh before his brow is pulled down in a quizzical frown.
“Your roommate.”
It’s not a question, but I answer.
“Kara.”
“Right, Kara,” he says. “Is she the one you were with that night?”
My stomach drops remembering our first meeting. “The night we swore to forget and never mention again? Yes.” I hope my nervous laugh keeps him from delving further, but he’s persistent—another detail my brain decides to fixate on and tuck away.
“She seems like the best kind of person to have in your corner.”
“She’d had a lot to drink,” I say. “But yes. She’s always up for knocking the pricks down a few pegs.”
It takes a few moments for what I said to sink in before I’m pushing up from the wall and turning to face him with a horrified look.
“Oh my god, no. That’s not what I meant. I mean, it is, but not about you. I mean I guess technically, she was yelling at you, but what I meant wasn’t—”
Noah’s head falls back as he laughs. “I suppose I walked into that, as we did agree to never speak of it. And I was sort of a prick. It was my first night out in far too long and unfortunately it was with some guys from back home who were in town for a bachelor’s weekend.
Having to wait for the bathroom in that dump was sort of the last straw and you caught the brunt of it. ”
“Excuse me, Blue Heron is one of my favorite spots, and I don’t appreciate you calling her a dump.”
Noah raises an eyebrow. “Apparently it’s not just your terrible taste in pizza we have to work on.”
I scoff and put my hands on my hips, ready to lecture him about how he sounds like a prick with opinions like that, but he reaches out and yanks my arm, pulling me square against him.
I land with a grunt against his body, his juniper musk overwhelming my senses and extinguishing any bit of the lecture I was ready to unleash.
Moving my hands to push off his noticeably firm chest, I gasp as a trio of bicycles goes rushing by, their tires flicking mud and cold puddle water up the back of my stocking-clad legs.
Noah, who still has his hands cupped around my elbows, looks down, his damp, and now wavy, hair hanging over his forehead.
“I’m determined to up your standards, Miss Wilde,” he says, his eyes tracing my face. Everything blurs, my only focus on the way his iron wash gaze is still set on me. Without thinking, I inhale sharply, running my tongue along the inside of my bottom lip.
“I’m sorry,” he murmurs. The apology hits me like another splash of puddle water, yanking me out of the moment.
“What?”
Noah clears his throat and I step back, putting distance between our bodies. The cool evening air whips in and around every place he’d been touching, the sudden shift in temperature eliciting a shiver.
“For the way I treated you that night,” he clarifies.
“My annoyances should not have become your problem. But they did. I felt badly about it, and even worse when I saw you the next morning at Flourish, but I figured it would be better for both of us and our working relationship if we ignored it. But you deserve better than that. You deserve an apology, so here it is. I’m sorry I was such a prick. ”
His words are sincere, and I appreciate the sentiment. He’s all professionalism. This is good, I reason. This is what I need—boundaries. Still, the phantom of his hands on my body as he pulled me out of danger’s path leaves me with the distinct craving for his hands everywhere else.
“You’re forgiven. As you said, neither of us were on our best behavior and no one was more at fault than the other. I did call you an asshat after all.”
Noah fights a smile. “I think I blocked out that particular detail.”