“Hi!” the perky girl says, and it’s in the bouncy platinum curls that I recognize her from the diner. She was the one who helped herself to Noah’s seat.
My eyelids rapidly flutter in response to the peppy tone, and I offer her an all too alto “Hi” of my own.
“Oh! I know you!”
I highly doubt that.
“You’re one of the waitresses at the diner—the girl Noah saved. Hey, Noah!” she yells to someone behind me, and my eyes widen before I spin, almost dumping my chili onto my shirt.
There Noah stands, Max heeled at his side. He’s not dressed in his uniform. He’s wearing dark blue jeans and an olive-green sweater. His hair is still buzzed close to his head, and I wonder if he ever lets it grow out. Would it be thin and soft, or is it more coarse and thick?
His expression is comical in surprise as he raises a hand to wave and dips his chin toward the chili booth. Max, on the other hand—damn dog—runs up to me, ignoring the multiple commands from Noah in what I’ve determined is, in fact, German. He sits at my feet, pleading eyes staring at me.
“I’m so sorry …” Noah comes running up, and he kneels to hook Max’s collar with a leash.
I swallow when he stands. Is he taller than I remember?
He slides his sweater sleeves up both arms exposing his forearms, muscular and corded with veins tracing intricate patterns beneath his taut skin. In several fluid motions, he shifts the leash from one hand to the other, the play of tendons flexing and making me question my current sanity.
“No worries, Ranger. Hey, want to call off your dog?”
Max tilts his head at me, looking all innocent.
“Ranger? Well, isn’t that sweet?” The girl pipes in from behind where Noah stands in front of me, and he moves his hands into his pockets.
“Lily, this is Morgan. Morgan, Lily.” Noah introduces us, but with the way she’s studying me I’m not sure it was a smart idea.
She allows her gaze to drip down my grungy outfit, and suddenly the chill of the air seeps into my bones, and I shiver.
When the silence stretches into uncomfortable territory, Noah interjects. “So, this Pete’s famous recipe?”
Morgan blinks, then plasters a wide grin across her perfect porcelain face. “Uh-huh, and I remember it’s your favorite. Your mom’s, too.” She lowers her gaze, her long lashes grazing her cheeks.
His mom. That woman made my day when she sat in the booth across from Noah, and lung cancer … well, that’s just shit luck, especially from someone who hasn’t smoked a day in her life.
Noah … what must he be going through? Watching his mother slowly fade away, a woman with so much spitfire waste down to nothing.
Even Mitch mentioned he hadn’t seen her out in over four months. That it was a rarity for herorNoah to eat out, let alone come into the diner. Whatever that means.
They both stare at each other for several seconds and I take that as my cue to move on. I scarf the meager bite of chili, annoyed it does taste wonderful and allow my tongue to tsk against the roof of my mouth before I say, “Well, this was fun. Great chili, but I’ve got twenty more to try, so …”
I scribble a check mark in the Pete’s Market box and scurry around Noah, bumping his shoulder, and like the solid rock form he is, I stumble to the side. His hand reaches out to stabilize me.
“Thanks,” I say, avoiding eye contact. Then I push past him, hungry and practically choking on the thickness in my throat.
In a matter of thirty minutes, I’ve consumed more chili in a day than I have in my entire life. They really need a PEZ-like dispenser of Tums around here—I’m hurting.
I’ve spotted Noah combing through the crowd like he’s looking for someone several times, but to avoid another bowlful of awkwardness I duck out of sight before he can catch me watching.
The number of people sampling chili has grown as dinner approaches and most of the tables are populated by young families and couples. I’ve swapped from chili to a sampling of desserts: mini cheesecake, macaroons, and a brownie bite.
I sure as hell am not leaving here hungry. This was the best idea I’ve had all week.
With my napkin piled high with sugar, I spin in a circle, looking for a spot to get off my feet, but there aren’t too many options.
Max sits on the sidewalk, his leash tied to a bench. He’s got a bowl of water next to him, and I quickly glance around for Noah, though, I don’t see him. Max spots me and stands up, wagging his tail and licking his snout.
I roll my eyes.
