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He scans the page in front of him and turns to the next. “Don’t mention it. What did you initially say? Three weeks?”
“Um, yes, but—”
“Hmm…I can’t do it this week, but I can upgrade you to a suite next week.”
“A suite? No,” I snap. “The room you gave me is enough. Perfect, in fact.”
He shakes his head. “It’s not suitable for long-term. The suite is.”
“Well then I insist on paying full—”
The overhead bell on the door chimes, signaling patrons, and we both turn.
Noah strides in like he owns the place—and okay, maybe a portion of it—and heads straight for the corner end of the bar. “Tess, espresso to go please.”
I hold my breath as his eyes scan the place before landing directly on mine.
His expression is hard as usual. And unfortunately for me, he doesn’t look away like he typically does when we accidentally cross paths. Shifting his gaze between Aiden and me, he starts toward us.
I turn to Aiden, unable to speak but hoping he can read the desperation in my eyes.
But just like the curse of the Reeves, Aiden’s expression is blank. Like he doesn’t see nor care what I’m trying to signal.
“What are you doing here?”
The tightness in my shoulders releases at the cold hostility of his voice. Because it can only mean one thing.
He doesn’t know.
“Oh, hey Noah,” Aiden starts, acting cool before turning back to me. He gives me a pointed look. “It was nice of you to stop by, Charlie. Tess will…uh, get that coffee ready for you.”
Great. In other words, I’ll let you take this one.
He disappears into the kitchen, abandoning me to handle Noah on my own.
“Hey,” I squeak uncharacteristically. “I guess I’m a little early for our meeting. But now that you’re here, we can get this over with. Where shall I park?”
Noah perks a brow. “We were meeting at the bakery.”
I frown. “Nope, pretty sure you said the Inn.”
“You insisted you’d rather not.” There’s an edge to his voice. The same one he gets when someone tries to challenge him.
“And then we decided it was easier to meet here,” I lie through my teeth.
Noah runs a hand down his face. The telltale sign of his irritation growing. He’s about to argue when his eyes drop to my purple slippers. He waits a beat before flicking his gaze back to me. “No. We didn’t.”
“Yes. We did,” I stammer back like he’s the idiot.
“Are you making a fool of me again?”
My stomach squeezes in a way that makes me think I’m going to be sick. But I’ve been here before with him. And I won’t make another scene. Not here.
“Let’s just get this over with,” I mutter quietly and take a seat at the closest booth.
From the corner of my eye, I catch him run a hand down his face again. Probably muttering something along the lines of 'It's too early for this shit.'.
It takes a moment, but he eventually joins me, sitting across the table. “I apologize.” His words are flat and low.
