He rolls his eyes, but it turns to a look of relish as he crunches down on the nacho cheese corn chip.
“Right?” I say, stuffing another handful of mix into my mouth.
The drive takes significantly less time than our walk, and when we arrive back at the cottage, I scoop the plethora of junk food options up into my arms before sliding towards the door. “Thanks again, Lance.”
Noah walks just behind me, making sure to swing the gate and cottage door open. Once inside, with the food deposited on the counter, I turn to scrounge up a drink.
“You know what goes really well with trans fats and sugar?”
“What’s that?” Noah asks, leaning on his elbows over the counter.
His casual posture, and the way he watches me move through the bright kitchen continues to prod at that part of me whispering about tempting fate. If this were any other person, I tell myself, anyone else and I’d let myself consider a fling.
“Really expensive wine.” I flick the wine fridge open and run my fingers over the options and pull a fat bottle of champagne from the shelf. “You don’t think the Barker’s will mind, do you?”
“I’ll buy them a case to replace it,” Noah says, taking it and unwrapping the black foil.
“Keep your money in your pants. Bragging isn’t cute.”
He pops the cork out and scrambles towards the sink as it bubbles over. I welcome the distraction, considering I just implied I think about what’s in his pants.
We move our feast to the couch, but by the time I’m curled up with a bag of sour patch kids in my lap, I’m not as hungry as I was when I bought them. So, I sip on the buttery bubbles in my glass and smile as it goes down smooth.
“Damn, this is good. The wealthy might not have taste in a lot, but they sure know how to buy good booze.”
Noah chuckles and reaches for a handful of mini peanut butter cups. “Why does it sound like you don’t like people with money?”
I match his laugh and take another sip. “Is it that obvious?”
“I mean, you did call me a psycho for buying you a dress today.”
“A dress that costs more than my rent,” I clarify.
“Maybe you need a better house.”
I shake my head and adjust to sitting on my feet. “Seriously. You don’t think it’s a little asinine that Cheryl probably has an entire closet of dresses like that? And then shoes, and handbags? It’s outrageous. I can understand wanting to splurge occasionally, but the money could do so many other things.”
Noah tosses a mini peanut butter cup up in the air and catches it in his mouth, cheesing a wide grin at his success. I roll my eyes and he settles deeper into the sofa before speaking again.
“Tom and Cheryl have done amazing things for this town, and without their business there would be a lack of jobs as well as little support for the schools. Did you know they built a community center and set aside grant money for an afterschool program?”
My stomach curls, realizing my bias towards the wealthy overlooked this. “I didn’t.”
“Flourish has similar programs in the pipeline, too. It was one of my conditions when I started with the company. In the next three years we’ll be funding a nutrition program for schools in Portland and offering a full ride scholarship for students looking to study business or nutrition. I have money, yes. I always have. But I also see the importance of giving back to the communities we use. I don’t mean for this to be an excuse for every wealthy person, and I know my affiliation with people like Brad doesn’t help my case. But some of us are out here trying.”
For the first time since meeting him, I don’t need to question the explanation or his motives. Noah has continued to prove—through his care with this business trip and the relationship with Scented Acres, as well as his continued attention to my needs—he is genuinely considerate. Any misstep has been followed by a sincere apology, and he’s continued to give me the benefit of the doubt despite my apparent disdain for people in his tax bracket.
“I’ve been kind of an ass about it, haven’t I?”
Noah shrugs and takes a sip of his wine. “I think we’ve both had our moments. But all of that to say, this is why I don’t mind paying for your dress. Or anything else you might need on this trip. It’s not pity, but gratitude.”
“You do owe me big time,” I tease.
We settle into a comfortable silence, both staring into the fake flames of the electric fireplace.
“I don’t know if it will count towards the apparent outstanding debt I owe you, but I’m going to see my mom tomorrow,” he says, setting his glass on the coffee table. “Would you like to come with me?”
I fight a smile, considering his offer. It’s a once in a lifetime opportunity—a chance to meettheVivian Graves. But it’s also an opportunity to test the limits of our agreement, and I’m not sureI’m ready for that. After the spa and the way my brain is fighting against itself and the urge to test the waters of a quick fling, spending the day with Noah and seeing myself as a part of his world, in a role beyond a work colleague turned fake girlfriend, is tempting too much. I’m too close to the line as it is, and part of me fears I wouldn’t recover from a trespass.
