Chapter 45
Noah’s schedule is packed with events at the hotel, a small, ticket-only event at the brewery, and a slew of interviews with TV networks and news networks.
I find myself grinning behind the counter just thinking about the care he takes when he gets ready in the morning to carve in the goatee that he’s grown, to match the look on the back of his cover.
“You’re grinning again,” Lily says as she carries a stack of books to the front from the back room.
“The energy in this town is incredible right now,” I say.
“Yeah, and you wake up with a man in your bed every morning,” she smirks.
“Bonus for sure.” My grin widens.
“And how did dinner go?” She sets the stack of books on the counter.
“It was delightful. I’m quite sure that if I’d ever met his wife, I’d have adored her.”
Lily touches my arm. “You’re two different people to him, you know that, right?”
“I think meeting her family makes me understand that more. I mean, I’m not a replacement.”
“I’m glad you understand that. That man is head over heels infatuated with you.”
The very thought makes my skin warm.
My phone buzzes in my pocket and I pull it out to see a text from Noah.
I’ve had so many tiny bottles of water during these interviews that I’m sure I’m going to float away, he texts.
“You’re grinning again,” Lily says as she heads toward the back of the store for more books, and I laugh to myself.
You always have refuge here or at my house. I’ll never tell anyone where you are, I reply.
I’ll let you know.
Those dots appear and I wait for the rest of his conversation.
I’m free from one until two. Can I see you?
I lift my head and look around the store. Lily is here. Julia is here. I have seen Katie pop in and out. I’m sure for one hour they could hold down the fort.
I’ll meet you at your hotel room , I add.
He sends a thumbs up emoji followed by a smiley face with hearts for eyes.
One hour. I can give him one hour.
I’m standing at Noah’s door when he steps off of the elevator.
“God, that is the best sight I’ve seen all day,” he says as he moves toward me, wrapping his arms around me, and burying his face in my neck.
He doesn’t move from me to open his door. Instead, he just holds himself against me.
I wrap my arms around him and just let him take his moment.
“I ordered up some food. It should be in there waiting for us,” he says, his breath still on my neck.
After another beat, he pulls his key card from his pocket, opens the door, and we step inside.
There is a room service tray on the coffee table filled with small bites, and when Noah looks it over, he smiles.
“I just need to clean up. I’ll be right back,” he says as he walks to the bathroom and closes the door.
He seems off, and I don’t know what that’s about.
I pick up one of the glasses of ice water, pull the cover off the top, and sip.
Walking toward the window, I look out over the town.
My eyes wander down the main street, and to my store.
I think about Noah telling me he can see my car when I’m there and the thought that he watches for me warms me throughout.
When the door to the bathroom opens, I look up to see him turn off the light. He’s obviously splashed his face with water, and he has on a T-shirt, where he’d had on a button-up when we’d walked in the room.
“Sorry to keep you waiting. I just needed to refresh,” he says with a weary grin.
“Is everything okay?”
He walks to me, takes my glass from my hand and sips.
“There are a thousand people here. Each room I go into is packed with people. The few that make their way to me have a lot to say. I’ve shaken a lot of hands and hugged housewives that I’m not so sure aren’t using my books as guides to offing their husbands. ”
That comment has me snorting out a laugh, and for the first time since Noah walked off the elevator, he smiles wide.
“I just had to wash them all off before I eat,” he says.
“Please tell me you’re having fun.”
He sets the glass down on the coffee table and pulls me to him. “I’m having a good time. But for someone who doesn’t surround themselves with people, a thousand at a time is a bit much.”
Wrapping my arms around him, I study his tired eyes. “I still find it funny that you think you thrive in the city.”
“Oh, but I do. You don’t have a bagel shop here,” he deadpans and I pucker my lips to hold in my smile.
“You’re right. We just can’t keep up with the times here.”
“But there is nothing quite like Agnes’ brownies in the city.”
“I doubt that.”
“She adds a pinch of love,” he teases and I press my forehead to his trying to hold back the chuckle that wants to escape.
“I bet she’d send you home with the recipe,” I say, though I don’t want to even think about him going home.
“It would never be the same as having a brownie in the romance section.”
My heart aches at the memory, not because it was a bad one, but the first one—the first one for us.
Noah lifts his fingers to my hair and brushes back a strand. “Sylvia’s signing is tonight?”
I groan. “Her Q&A starts at four and her signing at five.”
His throat works and he gnaws on his bottom lip. “I’ll bet you could use some help working the counter, restocking, stuff like that.”
My lips curl up into a smile and I tuck my fingers up into his hair. “I have a really good staff,” I say. “Don’t you dare come to help us.”
“I mean it. I’m happy to help.”
“And I know you would. But I also know that would throw Sylvia right over the edge.”
Noah puckers his lips. “It would, wouldn’t it?”
“So maybe not being there will keep things a little more low key?”
“I couldn’t have said it better myself.”
“And I’m sure you have writing to do.”
He growls. “Now you sound like my agent.”
“Someone has to keep you under control.”
Noah nips my lips with a kiss. “But seriously, if you need help, I can send help. I know for a fact that Abby’s family would be thrilled to help you.”
I consider that for a moment. “Do you think so?”
“I know so.”
“Will you text Grace and ask?”
He shakes his head. “You can text her. I’ll send you her number.”
I think that puts a lot of faith in me when he offers that. “We should eat some lunch before you need to be back in the spotlight.”
Noah pulls me in closer to him, resting his forehead to mine again. “Sleep here tonight.”
How could I possibly refuse?