I look at the cup like it might explode.
“What’s this?”
“Peace offering,” he says, holding it out.
“I didn’t ask for one.”
“Still good coffee.Shame to waste it.”
I hesitate.
This is how it starts, I tell myself.
Accept one small thing and suddenly you’re smiling at him again, and suddenly you’re remembering how he looks when he laughs, and suddenly you’re taking off your clothes—stop.
But the coffeedoessmell amazing.
And I did skip breakfast.
I sigh and take it.
“Thank you,” I mutter.
He grins like he just scored a try.
Like it’s progress.
It’s not.At least, that’s what I tell myself.
And I ignore the fact that he looks sexy as hell in his practice shorts and tank top.
The next day, I schedule his appointment for a different time.
Later in the afternoon.
No coffee surprises that way.
I have fifteen minutes between appointments normally, but Noah shows up early again.
This time he drops a pack of gum on my desk.
“You chew this brand.”
I frown.
“How do you know that?”
“Saw the wrappers in the bin after our session yesterday.”
“You notice strange things.”
“Occupational hazard,” he says with a shrug.
I shake my head and tuck the gum into my drawer before I can think too much about how attentive that was.
Since it doesn’t matter what time I schedule, Noah is going to do what he does, I go ahead and switch back to mornings.
He’s already there, stretching, when I walk into the treatment room the next day.
