I point to mine, my mouth watering despite downing my bagel on the drive here. “Chocolate banana?”
A brow lifts. “Would it be anything else?”
He doesn’t have to say another word. I pounce, biting into the treat, not caring enough to be embarrassed by the moan that leaves me. It’s completely warranted. These fritters are that damn good.
While I love all their flavors, the chocolate banana is my favorite. Noah knew it too.
“God, I love these things,” I say through a mouthful. I meet Noah’s eyes. “Don’t you love these things?”
He doesn’t say anything. He just watches me.
I chew, and he stares. I swallow, and he stares. I take a sip of my coffee, and he stares.
And all the while I’m growing hotter and hotter under his gaze.
It’s probably just the heat. He has it cranked in here, which isn’t surprising since it’s so cold this morning.
“Noah?” I finally say.
It’s like something in him snaps, and he realizes he’s been watching me.
“Sorry,” he mutters, then shoves his fritter into his mouth, his eyes now on the floor.
Huh. Weird.
I shrug it off, and we finish our breakfast in silence.
When we’re done, Noah tosses our napkins in the trash bin, then puts the box from Sunnie’s under the counter on the shelves I know are back there.
“Got more for later,” he says as an explanation. He grabs his coffee off the bar top. “You ready?”
I sigh. “As I’ll ever be.”
“Nobody asked you to do this, you know.”
“I know. I want to.”
He gives me a disbelieving look but doesn’t say another word. He just waltzes toward the front door, and I guess I’m supposed to follow him because he stands there with it open, looking back at me expectantly.
“I guess we’re getting started now,” I say under my breath as I slide off the stool.
He holds the door open as I slip by and moves himself out of the way, careful not to touch me.
I didn’t realize I repulsed Noah so much, but I’m too tired to comment on it.
When I head toward my car, he grabs my elbow.
Guess he’s not that grossed out after all.
“Leaving already?”
“Just got to grab some tools.”
His brows crush together. “Tools?”
I don’t answer him as I pull out of his grasp and open my trunk, then reach for the toolbox I stashed away last night.
I’m unsurprised when Noah bursts out laughing.
