If I’d still believed in romance, I might’ve called it fate.
Since I didn’t, I shot Babs a look across the table—one eyebrow raised.
She just smiled innocently, unfolding her napkin with the kind of exaggerated care that made it clear she was definitely not innocent.
Across the table, Ed and Eddie were in deep conversation with Roger and Helen, discussing stories they’d heard about our hotel. Josie was playing with her phone when her sister shot her an admonishing stare.
“Are you livestreaming again? Tell me you’re not livestreaming…”
“Nope. I don’t think so.” But her confused frown made me not so sure.
Meanwhile, Patty and Denise were already sipping their wine, peppering Mrs. Grady with questions about real estate. Apparently, Noah’s mother was an agent.
And the doctor himself?
Like me, he was simply watching it all play out. And yeah, I was feeling a little better about this trip, but I still felt pretty out of place.
I resisted the urge to sigh.
“I think I’m in at least two of Josie’s Facebook Lives.” He’d leaned closer, his arm accidentally brushing mine.
“Oh, I know I am,” I replied. “We’re Facebook besties now.”
He huffed a quiet laugh. “I haven’t been on Facebook in years. Now I’ve got about twenty new friends. Not something I had on my bingo card this year.”
Which somewhat begged the question: what did he have on his bingo card? I slid him a sideways glance just as the waiter appeared, setting salads in front of us.
“Oh, yeah. Josie wants to tag everyone,” I said.
Noah shrugged. “I didn’t think boomers even liked social media.”
I almost laughed. If only he knew. Leo and Luna’s Lavish Lunches had racked up a ridiculous number of followers—most of them over sixty and terrifyingly engaged. Those people didn’t just watch. They commented. They shared. They had opinions. And suddenly, I realized what I’d done.
I’d accepted several friend requests from people on this trip today.
If even one of them so much as browsed my feed, it wouldn’t take long before someone stumbled onto The Incident. That last horrible episode.
Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.
A flush crawled up my neck as I reached for the breadbasket, my fingers suddenly shaky and weirdly detached. Of course, I bumped my water glass.
It tipped onto the tablecloth with a soft thunk, and then all I could do was watch as the ice water crept forward...streaming right into Noah’s lap.
Wincing, I grabbed the nearest napkin. It was too late to help the table, so instinctively, I began dabbing at Noah’s lap. At the same time, he reached down to do the same, and in an instant, our hands were fumbling under the table, brushing and wiping the damp fabric of his pants.
His thighs felt as hard as they looked. The heat of his skin radiated through the material. It was just water, just an accident, but suddenly, I was very aware of exactly where I was touching him.
My hands shot back like I’d touched a live wire. I risked a glance up, and sure enough, the entire table was watching.
An uncomfortable silence—for me anyway—stretched, until Babs, who was looking far too entertained, mercifully cut through it.
“Noah, dear,” she said breezily. “Do you enjoy being a doctor?”
Noah glanced over at her, clearly still a little stunned. “Uh. Yeah. It’s…a job.”
I couldn’t look at him. But when my gaze landed on his mother instead, seated beside him, I quickly looked away again.
If looks could kill, I’d be a goner.
