Trish flashed him a flirty grin. “Can I get an exclusive?”
He blinked at her. “A what?”
“An exclusive. You know, be the first to know the scoop. That is, if there’s anything to tell…”
Noah shifted his weight against the unpleasant emotions tumbling through him—namely, disappointment. It pressed hard against his shoulders, despite the small, inner voice attempting to console with reason. It was better for Elisa to dismiss last night, wasn’t it? Less complicated.
Less painful for them both when he inevitablyleft a mess behind, as he was destined to do, according to Sheriff Rubart.
He cleared his throat. “Listen—I’m not a story.” And it sounded like if Elisa had her way, there wouldn’t be one between them at all. “I’d appreciate it if you could try to toss some water on those rumors and not gasoline, okay?”
Trish pressed her lips together. “Fair enough.” Then she paused. “To be clear—does that mean there’s nothing to the rumors, or that you don’t want the truth spreading?”
Oh, brother. He didn’t have time for this.
Apparently the look on his face told Trish what she needed to know, because she quickly took the coffee pot to a nearby table, leaving him with a dozen questions he didn’t think either of them could answer.
But there was one person who could.
He pushed his way through the swinging doors into the kitchen. “Looks like word got out before the morning paper did.”
Elisa turned from the open oven, wearing a cloth mitt on each hand. “Noah.” Surprise lit her face as she deposited a cookie tray onto a waiting cooling rack. Then she nudged the oven door up with one foot. “What are you doing here?”
He was no expert in body language, but she seemed stressed. Over his sudden appearance? Regardless, it didn’t look like there’d be any launching today. “We need to talk—because apparently everyone else is.”
“What do you mean?” She finished shutting the oven door with her hip, then reached to stir something in a steel pot.
“The diner is buzzing with gossip. Everyone is staring. Trish asked me for an exclusive story like a rogue journalist. And—” He cut himself off as the scene before him registered. “You’re cooking.”
Elisa let out a strangled laugh, using the back of her oven mitt to swipe a tendril of hair from her face. “If you want to call it that.”
The kitchen doors opened and a young waiter rushed inside. His eyes were frenzied. “Table four?”
“Warmer.” Elisa pointed to the dishes waiting under a row of lights. “Can you take this one to twelve?” She handed off another plate, and the anxious kid left as quickly as he’d appeared.
Noah crossed his arms. “What’s going on?”
“Lucius is gone.” Elisa kept stirring the contents of the pot, even as she craned her neck to check the time on the wall clock.
“What do you mean?”
“He’s…missing. Didn’t show up to cook today.” She waved one mitt in the air.
Noah frowned. “But he was so invested in the Blossom after the fire. That doesn’t make sense.”
“It makes a lot more sense when you consider there’s also a substantial amount of petty cash and an expensive collection of cookware missing.”
Oh, man.Noah closed his eyes and let out a slow breath. “So, you’re cooking.”
“I’m cooking.” She swallowed, her voice tight. “We’re shorthanded on waitstaff again today, and I can’t help because I’m back here. And Delia is out because the kitchen isn’t wheelchair accessible, and if she knew aboutanyof this, she’d roll in here anyway and hurt herself worse.” Elisa’s voice cracked and she cleared her throat, then squared her shoulders. “But I’m fine. It’ll be fine.”
Noah fought the urge to wrap her in his arms, elephant and all. But he didn’t know whatshewanted, and after Trish’s update, he definitely didn’t want to assume it was physical comfort from him.
But he did know what she needed.
He headed for the industrial sink and started washing his hands. “Where are the extra aprons?”
Elisa sniffed as she stared at him. “The what?”
