“I would cry all the way there and back for extra cheesy, chain-store pie.”
He releases an aggravated sigh and I break into an infectious fit of laughter. That was too easy.
“You weren’t serious.”
“Serious that I would pick fuckin’ Dominos over a free flight to have dinner in Italy? Come on, Graves, I’m stubborn, not stupid.”
As our laughter dies out, the realization that this is in fact myboss,and not just a hot guy worth a few flirty moments hits me and I sit back, clearing my throat.
“Now that I think about it, maybe we’re rushing the gift. If Tom is the way you’ve described, he’ll appreciate a poignant letter over gifts. Flash shouldn’t speak in place of sincerity.”
“I like your thinking.”
It’s after seven by the time we finish our draft of the apology. I know this because I’ve been checking my phone every thirteen minutes, knowing the later it gets the more questions I’ll face from Kara when I do finally get out of here. She’ll have made it home from Nan’s card game, most likely with a foil wrapped plate of Nan’s famous brownies. My stomach gurgles at the thought of an extra thick slice of chocolate and betrays me by being loud enough to pull Noah’s attention. He rolls his arm to check his watch and frowns.
“I am so sorry, Charlotte. Not only have I kept you far past what even I anticipated, but I’ve neglected to feed you.”
“I’m not a schnauzer.”
Noah’s face is pure panic, his mouth dropping open as I watch the wheels spinning over and over as he scrambles for a response to my joke.
“I didn’t mean?—”
“I’m kidding,” I interject.
“Oh,” he breathes, clearly still trying to wrap his head around my tease. “Right. Still, I did offer.”
“It’s fine, really. On Fridays my roommate tends to order an obscene amount of take out and she’ll have plenty left for me.”
His frown deepens. “You’re not eating cold take out. Not when I promised you dinner.”
I hate the part of myself who likes this concern from him, and lean forward to push my laptop closed. “You don’t know this about me, but I happen to like cold take-out, so it’s more of a treat, I promise.”
He stops me with his warm hand on mine, our eyes locking. “I am a man of my word, and I owe you a meal. Please?”
The unexpected gravel in his voice rattles down my spine, melting every ounce of independence I possess. Slipping my hand out from under his, I roll my eyes playfully.
“I suppose if it would make you feel better, I can accept a free meal.”
His face breaks into a smile and he stands, pulling his jacket from the back of his chair.
“Excellent. I know this Thai place not far from here. It’s the best I’ve found.”
With all my things gathered and tucked in my backpack, I meet him by the elevator. He scrolls on his phone while I stare at our blurred reflection in the metallic doors.
Standing this close, me in my cheap floral dress and cardigan and him in a tailored jacket and slacks, is a stark illustration of the differences between us. Noah is the kind of man who has his shit together—probably down to an organized sock drawer.Meanwhile, I sniffed no less than three sweaters this morning before settling on this one and really do look forward to cold take out. I’d bet good money Noah is the kind of person who pours over dating apps and schedules his dates with more thought than most people put into buying a car, while I’m scooping up whoever will make time for me in the spur of the moment. He smells of clean lines and healthy boundaries, and I find myself swerving all over the road after tempting things too far, on a regular basis.
Noah’s voice makes me jump as I mentally swat away my analytical breakdown of what might turn out to be his incredibly disorganized home life. There’s no need. None of this matters outside of office hours.
“I should have asked, do you like Thai?”
“I do.”
The elevator door dings open and I step into the small space, grinding my teeth against the flutter my body betrays me with as he holds it open.It’s the polite thing to do.Our hands collide in an awkward attempt at hitting the button for the ground floor, and the flutter turns to fireworks.
“Sorry,” we both murmur at the same time.
I punch the button and keep my eyes trained on the digital numbers as the doors close again and we descend. Cursing myself, I do what I can to rein in the sneaky bitch that is my arousal around this man. I don’t do giddy and I’m certainly not won over by an accidental brush of hands.
