Chapter 4 #2
Just as she’s about to reply, our server appears with two beer flights and a bowl of homemade potato chips. Once he sets them down, he asks, “Do you know what you’d like to order? Or do you need some more time?”
I inwardly wince as Noelle pulls her hand away from mine.
Shit.
I’m not used to taking things slowly.
I want to touch her, but I don’t want to scare her away.
She glances at the menu on the table, then says, “The bacon and cheese with the stout reduction sounds good. What do you think, Webb?”
“If that’s what you’d like, let’s get it.” Turning my attention to our server, I add, “Could we get one bacon and cheese, and one hot honey with pepperoni?”
He nods. “Sure thing. I’ll put the order right in.”
Once he’s gone, Noelle inspects her flight of sample-sized glasses.
She picks the stout first, then takes a sip.
I follow suit, trying my sample of stout along with her.
It tastes like coffee and chocolate with a hint of molasses, and as I swirl the liquid in my mouth, I mentally score it from one to ten.
By the time I decide—it’s a solid seven, maybe even an eight—I realize Noelle is watching me with an amused expression. “Do I want to ask what you’re doing?”
“I like to rate them,” I explain. “Not to keep track or anything. It’s not like I have a spreadsheet at home of all the beers I’ve tried. I just like to make a mental note of it.”
She nods. “That makes sense. So what did you give it?”
“Seven.” I finish off the small glass. “Maybe a seven and a half.”
Noelle takes another taste of hers, then screws up her face like she’s deep in thought.
Once she swallows, she announces, “Seven. I like the coffee flavor, but the chocolate isn’t quite strong enough to counter it.
And I’d like to see a little more depth.
Maybe some extra spices, like nutmeg or cinnamon. ”
I’m so pleased that she’s playing along, I say without thinking, “That’s it, you’re my beer tasting partner from now on.”
Her cheeks turn slightly pink. “Oh? What about your friends? Don’t they go beer tasting with you?”
“They do. Sometimes.” Suddenly fearing I’ve given Noelle the impression I’m a drunk who spends all his time drinking beer, I add quickly, “I don’t do this often. Go to breweries, I mean. Maybe once or twice a month, if that.”
“You must be busy with work,” she replies. “I looked up your website.” The pink in her cheeks deepens. “Not because I thought you were a creeper. I was just interested. It looks like you guys do a lot. Private security, consults, training…”
I select my next beer, this time a raspberry sour, before saying, “It keeps us busy. We’re a pretty small company, staffing-wise. The original team, that’s the one in New York, has seven people. The one in Texas has six. And mine has just five.”
Noelle scans her lineup of beers before selecting the IPA. “But you enjoy it?”
“I do. It gives me back a lot of the things I loved about serving. Being part of a team, staying active, helping people…”
“I guess that explains your daring rescue the other day,” she says. “Rushing in like a hero to save the day.”
“It wasn’t like that. I wasn’t thinking about being a hero—”
“I know.” This time, Noelle’s the one to touch my hand. “I didn’t mean it like that. And I’m so thankful you did.”
But I don’t want her to be thankful. I don’t want Noelle to think she owes me anything.
Feeling slightly uncomfortable at her gratitude, I quickly change the subject. “So, you know about my job. What did you do before you moved to Williston?”
Noelle’s hand goes stiff.
Her gaze dips.
She gnaws on her lip before replying quietly, “I was a stage manager for a theater company in Portland.”
I get the same slithery feeling I had the other day when I saw Noelle go white as she looked at her phone. Like something bad is going on. Maybe even something dangerous.
But I don’t know her well enough to press her on it. So instead, I just say, “That sounds really interesting.”
Noelle lifts her gaze from the table to look at me. “It was. I’ve been working in theater since I was in high school, but always backstage. I never wanted to be an actor, with everyone staring at me. I wanted to be the person behind the scenes helping to make the magic happen.”
“So what did you do? As a stage manager?”
“Lots of things. Creating rehearsal schedules, making up prompt books, coordinating with the costume designer and prop master…” She trails off. A shadow flits across her gaze. “Anyway. There are lots of moving parts, and it can get hectic at times. But I loved it.”
I want to know why, if she loved it so much, she’s working in a diner in Williston instead of a theater in a major city. But I don’t feel right asking. Not yet.
“So did you go to college for that?” I ask. “Or is it more like an apprenticeship?”
“I got my degree in drama from Washington State. Then I worked for a little theater in Tacoma as the assistant stage manager. I did that for a year. After that, I spent the next four years as stage manager for a traveling theater company. Then I got the job in Portland, and I was there for five years.”
After a quick mental calculation, I say, “So you’re thirty-two?”
She nods. “Yeah. I just turned thirty-two in April.” A beat passes before she adds, “You said you’re thirty-nine, right?”
“Yup. I’ll be forty in November. Which seems crazy. I feel like I was just eighteen, getting ready to leave for Basic. And now…” I shrug. “Time’s a funny thing, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, it is.” She opens her mouth to say something else, but cuts herself off as our server approaches.
Fortunately, he doesn’t linger long, just drops off our steaming pizzas and tells us to enjoy. Then Noelle and I are alone again, which I much prefer.
As she takes in the two large pizzas, her eyes go wide. “Um. Maybe we should have stuck with one pizza, instead. This is a ton of food.”
I take a slice of the hot honey pizza and deposit it on my plate. The tang of pepperoni and sweet aroma of honey hit me, making my mouth water. “I don’t know about you, but I’m starving. And besides, we have to fortify ourselves for the hike.”
Noelle takes a significantly smaller slice of the bacon and cheese. “Assuming I don’t eat so much you need to roll me down the trail.”
A beat later, she blushes. “Forget I said that.”
“Why?”
“That I’m going to be so stuffed full of pizza I can’t even walk?” She lets out a wry laugh. “I’m not sure that’s something you’re supposed to say on a date.”
“Oh, and what should you say? Are you supposed to pretend you’re not eating because you exist on air and good vibes?”
Noelle stares at me for a long second before bursting out laughing. “Did a woman tell you that?”
Chuckling, I reply, “Actually, yes. When I asked her why she wasn’t eating anything, she said the fresh air and positive vibes were enough to fill her up.”
“Webb. Are you serious?”
“I am.”
“Should I say that, then? That the crisp mountain air is better than pizza?”
“Definitely not. I want you to eat when you’re hungry. As much as you want. And if you’re too full, or tired, or outdoors-ed to finish the hike, I’ll carry you the rest of the way.”
Her lips twitch. “Even if I gain ten pounds from all the pizza?”
“Even then.” Worry niggles at me again. “I meant what I said, Noelle. About the hike. We don’t have to go. We can find someplace to park and look at the view from there. I don’t want you going just because you’re afraid of disappointing me.”
“I know. And I told you, I want to go. Truly. I want to see the waterfall with you. Work off some of the pizza I’m about to gorge myself on.” She hesitates. “And I just… this is the most fun I’ve had in a while. I’m not ready for it to end.”
This time, when I touch her hand, her fingers lace between mine. “Good. Because I’m not ready for it to end, either.”