I reached for my wallet, but Noah waved me off.
“My treat.” He handed over the cash. “Consider it payment for your osprey rescue services.”
We found a spot at the edge of the square, sitting on a low stone wall beneath an aspen tree. Golden leaves fluttered in the breeze. I took a tentative bite of the sausage, flavor exploding across my tongue.
“This is amazing,” I admitted, taking another, bigger bite. A glob of maple aioli oozed onto my shirt. “Whoops.”
“Here.” Before I could even move, Noah reached over with a napkin, dabbing at the stain. Our eyes met, and he pulled back quickly, clearing his throat.
The silence stretched from uncomfortable to awkward.
I could tell Noah had something to say, but he wasn’t sure if he should say it. I had to remind myself to breathe.
“It really is good,” I said again, just to fill the void.
“You doubted me?” Noah’s eyes crinkled at the corners.
“Lately, I’ve been reviewing trendy fusion restaurants where they serve tiny portions on oversized plates and charge eighty dollars for the privilege.”
“Yeah, I bet,” said Noah. “You’ve come a long way from reviewing those tiny hole-in-the-wall taquerías.”
“Wait. What? How do you know about that? I haven’t posted one of those videos in years.”
Noah looked like I’d just caught him with his hand in the mountain trail mix jar. He spent a long time staring down at his half-eaten sausage. “So,” he began.
“So?”
He wadded up the napkin, avoiding my gaze. “I have a confession to make.”
“A confession?” My brain pin-balled through the possibilities. Noah actually hated flannel. Noah was actually allergic to mountains. Noah secretly liked to dress up in a Bigfootcostume and ravish scantily clad, big-bosomed mountain women.
“I looked you up before meeting you at the airport.”
“You did?”
“Well, since your flight was late, I had a lot of time to kill. Brie let me borrow her phone, and I scrolled through some of your posts.”
I was still holding my sausage up in front of my face, eyes wide, frozen mid-bite.
“Actually, a lot of your posts. Maybe … most of them.”
Slowly, I lowered my sausage. “Wow.” It was the best I could manage.
“I mean, I had a lot of time to kill. And I wanted to see what I was up against.”
“Up against? Noah, I didn’t come here to …”
He held up his hand, stopping me. “I know, I know. I mean, I know that now. But at the time …”
“No wonder you left me at the airport.”
Noah chewed his bottom lip, tilting his head slightly so he could look over at me without quite meeting my eyes. “Yeah. So I have a confession about that too.”
“Another confession?” I braced myself for the big Bigfoot reveal.
“I didn’t actually leave you at the airport.” Noah took another bite, redirecting all his focus to chewing.
“Um ... I’m pretty sure you did leave me at the airport. Remember? I was there. You drove off into the sunset.”
