Despite my best efforts, however, I can’t help but notice the way the silent ride is punctuated with the way he smells—juniper and something spicy, like black pepper.Dear god, what is wrong with me?I can’t go around noticing the way people smell.Even if it is delicious; a little rustic but clean. Letting myself peek at him, I pretend to check my bag for something.
He’s attractive, sure, but I’ve been with—around—pretty people before. This isn’t new and acting like a swoony school girl will only lead to trouble. He’s my boss for god’s sake. I just need to get laid. By someone who is not Noah. Someone who needs the same kind of quick and dirty release I clearly need.
I take a deep breath as we exit the elevator, grateful for the dilution in tension the fresh air provides.
“Are you alright walking? I could call a car around and?—”
The thought of being in an even smaller space with this beautiful man, when I’m already wishing I could take a bite of him, answers before he can finish the question. “Walking is great.”
“Perfect. It’s not far. I made a point to walk the surrounding blocks and make note of the restaurants. This one also happens to be in theBest of Portlandarticle I studied before my move, which I am happy to report was notably accurate. I’ve not yet been disappointed with any of its suggestions.”
His rambling pulls a smile I have a hard time fighting back as we push out into the deepening twilight. It’s endearing really, the idea of him researching and pouring over maps and best-of lists. This tiny detail nips at the annoying tangle of attraction still buzzing in my belly and brings a new edge to the antsy feeling dancing under my skin. I find myself pulling at every ounce of logic I possess to keep myself in check.
He is your boss. This is a business dinner. Stop filing away personal details or thinking about how good he would look naked.
The air whispers of rain and the sky holds dark clouds. Noah looks up nervously, but follows my lead onto the damp pavement. Rain is a given in this city, and waiting for it to turn would keep us all indoors all the time.
“Do you always research things so thoroughly?” I ask, hoping to distract my brain from the way it feels to walk next to him likethis, comfortable and dare I say date-like. Shit, how long has it been since I’ve been on an honest to god date? Not that this is that.
“I do. As I mentioned in our riveting pizza debate, I take great pride in finding and consuming only the best.”
“For curiosity’s sake, what happens if you were to eat somewhere that isn’tthe best?” My dramatic air quotes elicit a throaty chuckle from him. “Will you simply combust?”
“No. But what would be the point?”
“Experience.”
He shrugs. “In my experience, it’s not worth it.”
“I think you’re missing out on some gems, Graves. Trusting an algorithm, or a random writer at some Portland periodical takes all the fun out of exploring the world.”
“I do my own research too, you know.”
“Right, right.” I laugh. “You walk the city scoping things out. I see you.”
“Fine,” he says, his tone sobering, but only a little. “If you eat tonight, and it isn’t the best Thai food you’ve had in this city, then next timeyouget to pick the restaurant, and I will happily eat at whatever mediocre chain you choose.”
Next time? I make a show of considering his proposal while I chew over the idea there could be a next time.Logic runs through my limbs as I extend my hand. Of course, he means the next business dinner. Knowing this project, there are sure to be more.
“Deal.” He takes my hand and a warm shock rolls up my arm, my fingers closing tighter around his palm to avoid yanking them back. “But don’t you dare complain when we end up with Dominos at our next staff luncheon.”
He slips from my grasp as he holds his hands up in surrender. “No complaints, I promise.”
The restaurant Noah picked appears out of nowhere, and if he didn’t stop short on the sidewalk, it would have slipped by without my notice. Sandwiched between a craft boutique and an insurance agency, the bright red awning of Time for Thai extends a cozy invitation. There are more people than seats, which means we have a bit of a wait for one of the coveted tables.
Noah puts us on the list and we find a spot under the overhang. The threat of rain turns to light sprinkles, and drives a few other waiting patrons under as well, pushing us closer together. We’re tucked in against the brick exterior near the narrow alley; the smell of rich, spicy food weaves amidst the clatter of a clamoring kitchen, the combination smoothing the evening into a moody scene.
“I hope the wait isn’t too long for you,” Noah says. “I’d hate for the call of your roommate’s leftovers to be too strong for you to resist.”
I loll my head towards him with a chuckle. Even in the damp he’s handsome. His back is pressed against the brick, his hands tucked into his jacket in an effortlessly relaxed pose.
“I’m here now, I might as well hold out. At this point, even with the wait, this food is closer.”
He gives me half a laugh before his brow is pulled down in a quizzical frown.
“Your roommate.”
It’s not a question, but I answer.
