“To the Love Bus.”
“May she rest in peace.”
We clinked—paper cups and all—and took a sip.
The wine was chilled just enough from the ice, fizzy and bright, with a splash of peach and oddly enough, a hint of nostalgia.
Noah glanced at me over the rim of his cup. “She’s toast, then?”
I nodded. “Tay says they’re sending a new one over.”
A pause.
“Love Bus Number Two,” he said.
He held my gaze for a beat, his grin tilting sideways.
“Out with the old, and all that…”
We clinked again, softer this time, and drank.
“What do you think?” I asked, staring into my cup.
“It really does taste like peaches.”
And it really, really did. But also, everything else? The ice, the paper cups, the half-dressed doctor beside me on a hotel bed?
It all tasted like exactly where I wanted to be.
“You don’t hate it, then?” I wasn’t going to say it, but I knew Leo would have hated it. It wasn’t traditional. It wasn’t to his standards.
“Why would I hate it?”
I didn’t really have an answer for that, not one that I wanted to give anyway. I was tired of Leo popping into my mind when he had no right to.
So, I just shrugged. Noah stared back at me for a disconcerting second and then leaned back against the pillows. “What are we watching?”
Like we were just friends, hanging out.
Like we hadn’t kissed under a waterfall. Like his leg hadn’t just brushed against mine.
I scrolled through the options, pausing on one of those slick, over-the-top action movies—John Wick, with Keanu Reeves in a black suit and blood on his knuckles. “What do you like?”
Noah glanced at the screen, then gave a small shrug. “Whatever you want.” His tone was even, but something in his jaw ticced—so fast I might’ve missed it if I hadn’t been watching him so closely.
“Not this one?” I asked.
“Not really in the mood for it,” he said simply. Not dismissive. Just…honest.
I nodded, the remote still in my hand. There was something tender in the way he kind of just sidestepped around it.
Could the other part giving him troubles at work possibly have something to do with violence? Before I could tailspin on that, he turned on me with a crooked smile.
“Maybe something more like The Grumpy Millionaire?”
I blinked. “You…you’ve been spying on my book?”
He gave me an exaggeratedly innocent look. “Impossible not to, and way more interesting than some of the scenery. Has he bent her over the desk yet?”
