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Claire panicked. Her stomach dropped. “What?”

She looked at the tacos, then at him, mentally calculating how quickly she could get him to an emergency room.

“I’m kidding, oh my gosh, you should’ve seen your face. Shrimp is literally one of my favorite foods.”

“That was rude. Do that again, and I’ll develop an allergy to you.”

Noah laughed. He glanced at the perfectly arranged toppings and then at her. “How long did this take you?”

“That is not relevant.”

“Claire.”

“Two hours.”

His expression softened. “You spent two hours making me dinner?”

“I said don’t make it weird.”

He shook his head and took a bite. “This is really good.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “You’re lying.”

“I’m not.”

Claire took a bite of hers. “It’s actually pretty good.”

“Who would’ve guessed you can cook,” he teased.

“I didn’t even set off the smoke alarm,” she said proudly.

“Coffee?” Noah asked once they finished their tacos.

“Noah.” She frowned. “Have you ever seen me drink hot coffee?”

He furrowed his brows, thinking. “No,” he said slowly.

“Well, I actually do. Yes please.”

Hot coffee required sitting down. It wasn’t something she could carry through the city while answering emails. It asked her to stay. So she did drink it, but not as often.

He started a pot of coffee. A few minutes later they were sitting on his couch, mugs in hand.

“Do you ever miss home? Your family?” Noah asked.

Claire looked away. Her eyes landed on the drafting table by the window. Even now, everything had a place. The blueprints were rolled neatly beside the scale model, and every pencil was perfectly lined up. “You keep everything organized.”

He smiled. “Comes with the job.”

“Mine too.” She traced her thumb around the rim of her mug. “Control makes life easier.”

Noah studied her. “Is that why you plan everything?”

Claire shrugged. “If I depend on myself, I know I’ll be okay.”

He was quiet for a moment. “You didn’t actually answer my question, you know.”

She looked down at her coffee. “I know.”