Chapter 16 An Unlikely Pairing
We are forty minutes into the walk before Noah realizes when the desk attendant said the place wasn’t far, she didn’t mean city block not far. He pulls up the location on his phone and frowns.
“It’s another mile.”
Though my dress is comfortable, the sandals I paired it with are not made for walking. But, knowing it’s at least that far back to the club, I keep moving.
“This better be some damn good pizza, Graves.”
It isn’t until we are walking along the highway that we really start to regret our choices. My stomach is growling and my feet have blisters forming when the neon sign sporting what looks like Mario in a chef’s hat throwing a pizza crust, finally appears.
Vinny’s Pizza is a hole in the wall at best, and a standing health code violation at worst. The dingy linoleum floors and fluorescent light bulbs flickering as we enter set my expectations low. Noah looks absolutely horrified and I can’t help but snort a laugh.
“How’s your ‘only the best’ rule treating you now?”
He makes a face and we step across the sticky floor. A lanky teenager in a black t-shirt sits at the register, hunched over their phone. They do not look up when we approach.
I crane my neck to peer at the faded menu as Noah peruses the waxy by-the-slice offerings in the glass case. Finally, the youth looks up and is surprised to see us, but they soon drop back into a bored composure.
“Welcome to Vinny’s.”
I stifle a laugh as Noah opens his mouth, and then closes it again as if he’s entirely unsure how to proceed.
“Are you still cooking pizza, or are we limited to by the slice? Someone recommended your custom pies, and we’ve come a long way.”
I bite the inside of my cheek to keep my laughter in check. The teen’s face remains flat.
“I mean I could bake one, but I’d have to wait for my cousin to get back from his delivery. He’s the only one authorized to operate the oven.”
“Do you know when he’ll be back?”
They shrug. “Probably a half hour or so.”
It is clear they do not want to make us a pizza so I chime in to try and salvage the experience. “I’ll take a slice of the pepperoni, and he’ll take….”
Noah scrunches his nose and looks at his choices again, as if he’s hoping they’ll transform into something else entirely. “I’ll take pepperoni too, I guess.”
The teen shrugs and grabs two paper plates. After placing a slice on each, they close the case and stack the plates on the counter. Noah reaches for his wallet, and I put my hand on his.
“I’ve got this.” I hand the mellow natured teen a twenty and swipe the plates off the counter. “Keep the change.”
“It’s only four dollars,” they say, and I wink.
When we break into the cool night air, the two of us melt into hysterics.
“What just happened?” Noah asks, clearly appalled at the entire experience.
“That is what you get when you cheat on Dominos.”
He laughs harder, and I eye the top slice of pizza. My stomach rolls with hunger but the waxy cheese and solidified grease are less than appetizing.
“You’re not going to eat that are you?”
I shrug. “I’ve definitely had worse and survived.”
“Need I remind you of the food poisoning you had the night we met?”
I glare at him for bringing up what we’ve both agreed to never talk about before scouring the roadside for anything else. A convenience store flashes an open sign across the highway. Dumping the plates in a rogue trash can, I offer my hand.
“Fine. Come on.”
He takes it, closing his fingers around mine and I tug him towards the highway, doing my best to ignore the butterflies exploding in my stomach.
“We can’t cross here!”
“Don’t tell me you’ve never jay-walked,” I tease, practically yelling over the sound of cars flying past. Noah squeezes my hand and tugs me back a step, his concern setting my nerves on fire. Again.
“I’ve jay-walked, but this is a highway.”
“Yeah, and the only edible food for miles is on the other side of it.”
“We can call Lance to come get us.”
“And do what? The club is definitely closed now and I don’t know about you, but if that’s the best pizza in town, I’m worried about the other offerings.”
Noah chews on his lower lip—an action I’ve thought about doing myself.
“Fine,” he relents.
I keep my eyes trained on a break in traffic and hope no one merges into it. Flashing a smile at Noah, who stands looking terrified, I nudge his arm with my elbow.
“You ready?”
He shrugs and squeezes my hand tighter. My stomach rolls with giddy nerves and as the dark sedan passes, we take off across the four lane highway.
We run at full speed, our feet pattering against the pavement.
Heat from the asphalt radiates up from the thin bottom of my sandals and I squeal as we finally break into the parking lot.
Dropping Noah’s hand, I bend over, trying to catch my breath.
“See,” I say, panting and motioning to the gas station.
“I can’t imagine this is any better than the pizza place.”
I frown. “You stay out here and call Lance to come get us. I’ll take care of the food.”
Ten minutes later, I’m pushing back out into the night air with an arm full of chips, candy, and other various convenience store delicacies. Lance pulls up and Noah opens the back door for me.
“Would you like a ho-ho, Lance?”
His eyes crinkle in the rearview mirror. “That’s quite alright, Ms. Wilde.”
“Suit yourself,” I say, falling back against the leather seats. Noah slides in next to me and shakes his head at the ridiculous amount of junk food filling the space between us.
I rip open a bag of snack mix and have to stop myself from pouring it directly in my mouth. “Oh-muh-god,” I say through a mouthful of crunchy, salt crusted crackers. Noah picks up a bag of Doritos and opens them.
“I haven’t had Doritos in”—he pauses, examining one of the chips—“Years.”
“That is the saddest thing I’ve ever heard.”
He rolls his eyes, but it turns to a look of relish as he crunches down on the nacho cheese corn chip.
“Right?” I say, stuffing another handful of mix into my mouth.
The drive takes significantly less time than our walk, and when we arrive back at the cottage, I scoop the plethora of junk food options up into my arms before sliding towards the door. “Thanks again, Lance.”
Noah walks just behind me, making sure to swing the gate and cottage door open. Once inside, with the food deposited on the counter, I turn to scrounge up a drink.
“You know what goes really well with trans fats and sugar?”
“What’s that?” Noah asks, leaning on his elbows over the counter.
His casual posture, and the way he watches me move through the bright kitchen continues to prod at that part of me whispering about tempting fate. If this were any other person, I tell myself, anyone else and I’d let myself consider a fling.
“Really expensive wine.” I flick the wine fridge open and run my fingers over the options and pull a fat bottle of champagne from the shelf. “You don’t think the Barker’s will mind, do you?”
“I’ll buy them a case to replace it,” Noah says, taking it and unwrapping the black foil.
“Keep your money in your pants. Bragging isn’t cute.”
He pops the cork out and scrambles towards the sink as it bubbles over. I welcome the distraction, considering I just implied I think about what’s in his pants.
We move our feast to the couch, but by the time I’m curled up with a bag of sour patch kids in my lap, I’m not as hungry as I was when I bought them. So, I sip on the buttery bubbles in my glass and smile as it goes down smooth.
“Damn, this is good. The wealthy might not have taste in a lot, but they sure know how to buy good booze.”
Noah chuckles and reaches for a handful of mini peanut butter cups. “Why does it sound like you don’t like people with money?”
I match his laugh and take another sip. “Is it that obvious?”
“I mean, you did call me a psycho for buying you a dress today.”
“A dress that costs more than my rent,” I clarify.
“Maybe you need a better house.”
I shake my head and adjust to sitting on my feet.
“Seriously. You don’t think it’s a little asinine that Cheryl probably has an entire closet of dresses like that?
And then shoes, and handbags? It’s outrageous.
I can understand wanting to splurge occasionally, but the money could do so many other things. ”
Noah tosses a mini peanut butter cup up in the air and catches it in his mouth, cheesing a wide grin at his success. I roll my eyes and he settles deeper into the sofa before speaking again.
“Tom and Cheryl have done amazing things for this town, and without their business there would be a lack of jobs as well as little support for the schools. Did you know they built a community center and set aside grant money for an afterschool program?”
My stomach curls, realizing my bias towards the wealthy overlooked this. “I didn’t.”
“Flourish has similar programs in the pipeline, too. It was one of my conditions when I started with the company. In the next three years we’ll be funding a nutrition program for schools in Portland and offering a full ride scholarship for students looking to study business or nutrition.
I have money, yes. I always have. But I also see the importance of giving back to the communities we use.
I don’t mean for this to be an excuse for every wealthy person, and I know my affiliation with people like Brad doesn’t help my case. But some of us are out here trying.”
For the first time since meeting him, I don’t need to question the explanation or his motives.
Noah has continued to prove—through his care with this business trip and the relationship with Scented Acres, as well as his continued attention to my needs—he is genuinely considerate.
Any misstep has been followed by a sincere apology, and he’s continued to give me the benefit of the doubt despite my apparent disdain for people in his tax bracket.
“I’ve been kind of an ass about it, haven’t I?”
Noah shrugs and takes a sip of his wine. “I think we’ve both had our moments. But all of that to say, this is why I don’t mind paying for your dress. Or anything else you might need on this trip. It’s not pity, but gratitude.”
“You do owe me big time,” I tease.
We settle into a comfortable silence, both staring into the fake flames of the electric fireplace.
“I don’t know if it will count towards the apparent outstanding debt I owe you, but I’m going to see my mom tomorrow,” he says, setting his glass on the coffee table. “Would you like to come with me?”
I fight a smile, considering his offer. It’s a once in a lifetime opportunity—a chance to meet the Vivian Graves.
But it’s also an opportunity to test the limits of our agreement, and I’m not sure I’m ready for that.
After the spa and the way my brain is fighting against itself and the urge to test the waters of a quick fling, spending the day with Noah and seeing myself as a part of his world, in a role beyond a work colleague turned fake girlfriend, is tempting too much.
I’m too close to the line as it is, and part of me fears I wouldn’t recover from a trespass.
“I promised Cheryl I would help her with some arrangements for the festival opening. She was sort of losing her mind earlier when one of her people called out sick. I should actually get to bed if I’m going to be of any use to her tomorrow.”
I bite the inside of my cheek, hoping my lie sounds believable.
Noah straightens and swallows hard, his movements stiff and rigid. It’s harsh after the familiarity we’ve been sharing, but I don’t let myself dwell on it. Instead, I stand from the couch and cross the living room.
“Goodnight, Charlotte.”
I turn in the hallway and smile. “Goodnight, Noah.”