“You work in a kitchen. How have you not eaten?”
“There wasn’t time,” I tell him defensively. “I’ve been slammed all day.”
Oh, who am I trying to fool? I’ve been slammed for weeks. It’s been this way so long I don’t remember a time when it wasn’t.
“You have to take better care of yourself.” His tone implies this isn’t a suggestion but an order.
I bite back a response about what he should be doing and instead force a smile. He keeps on staring at me, and I stare right back. But his dark eyes intensify, and he wins the staring contest. I drop my gaze down to my plate.
"Don't placate me with a fake smile," he says.
"I'm not sure anything placates you," I huff under my breath as I push back from my chair to get up.
“Molly.” Noah is quicker than I expect, and before I can stop him, his hand wraps around my wrist. “Please eat.”
I force myself to lift my eyes to meet his, and Noah’s expression is hard to read. He’s not giving anything away, except his eyes are pleading. His thumb starts to stroke the inside of my wrist, and the action is gentle. It’s nothing close to what I thought I would get from this man.
“Okay,” I agree. I want to storm out, but the steak is freaking tasty, and I'm finishing it. I’m going to consider this his apology dinner. I know I’m coming up with reasons to stay because I don’t want to leave, but I don’t care.
Sitting back down slowly, Noah holds on to me for another second before he finally lets go. When he picks up his fork and digs in, a silence still lingers in the air.
Normally I wouldn’t be able to stand it, but once again, I don’t force conversation. This time, I want to see what he’s going to do about it.
Chapter Six
NOAH
Molly doesn’t talk as she continues to eat, and although I’m used to the silence, something tells me it’s making her uncomfortable. Maybe it’s because she’s used to being around people in her busy bakery, but I’m mostly alone in my work.
There are times I travel to cities for site visits, but everything can usually be an email instead of an in-person meeting. When people insist on in-person meetings for everything instead of letting people work remotely, I assume it’s because they are inadequate at their own job and think people can’t do theirs without supervision. The jobs with managers that force people to be present in an office unnecessarily are the jobs I immediately turn down. That’s a micromanager waiting to piss me off.
“Is your steak cooked okay?” I ask, and Molly nods. I’d be perfectly happy to sit here and let her quietly eat, but the way she keeps looking at me expectantly tells me a silent dinner is a bad idea. “What’s your favorite color?”
“What?” She looks confused as she holds her fork in front of her mouth, mid-bite.
“I don’t know,” I mumble. “I’m not good at small talk, and I thought it was a neutral question. My next one is what’s your favorite dinosaur, if you want to go ahead and think about your answer. I know it can be a tricky one.”
She blinks at me once, twice, three times before bursting out with laughter. She laughs so hard she has to put her fork down and use her napkin to wipe away a tear in her eye. My scowl deepens, and that seems even funnier to her.
“You were the one that wanted to talk,” I say defensively.
“Did I?” She shrugs a shoulder as she picks up her fork again. “My favorite color is gold.”
“Gold?” I cock my head to the side trying to picture it. “That’s an unusual choice.”
“I don’t know, it’s just always so pretty at Christmas time. And it goes with Christmas colors. Red, green, pink?—”
“Pink isn’t a Christmas color.” I don’t mean to cut her off, but she looks at me like I’ve got antlers.
“Yes, it is.”
“I’ll give you gold, but pink?” I shake my head. “No way.”
“You’re wrong,” she says a little more aggressively this time.
Somewhere in the back of my mind, I notice that when she gets worked up, she has this habit of scrunching her nose. It’s so fucking cute, and maybe that’s why I keep trying to poke at her.
“Prove it,” I say, raising an eyebrow in challenge.
