by Hart, Emma
Noah glanced at me. “When I rescued her from a burning building, ma’am.”
“Do I look old enough to be called ma’am to you? That’s no Southern accent on you. You weren’t brought up to ‘ma’am’ people.”
Oh, fuck me dead.
This was a terrible idea.
“Actually, my grandma was born and raised in Louisiana,” he said quickly. “She heard me call a woman older than me ‘miss’ and beat my ass until I apologized and addressed her as ma’am.”
Aunt Bethel looked him up and down. “Mmm. What are you doing here? Are you courting my great niece?”
Courting?
“Mom!” I shot her a look that said, “Get this crazy woman away from the hot guy at the door.”
This was why I could not live with my family.
I was twenty-six. I could handle my own stuff, and I certainly didn’t need my eighty-year-old great-aunt asking if someone was courting me.
“Okay, Bethel, that’s enough.” Mom finally stepped in and pulled her away from Noah. “Reagan, maybe you should both stay here. I’m not sure you’re up to—”
“Mom, if I didn’t feel well enough to leave the house, I’d be in bed.” I touched her arm. “I appreciate that you’re worried about me, but I’d like to go out. For an hour. It’s just lunch, and I’m not alone.”
Mom hesitated.
Aunt Bethel narrowed her bright-pink lined eyes at us, her clumpy mascara forming a black curtain so thick it was a wonder she could see past it.
“Besides,” I said brightly, stepping closer to Noah. “He saved my life once already. He’s not going to let anything happen to me, is he?”
“I—”
“Plus, buying him lunch is the least I can do,” I went on. I knew I was wearing her down because she was running out of things to say. “He saved my life, Mom. What’s an hour of my time plus a burger and some fries?”
“And a lie down in the back of his truck,” Bethel sniped.
“Mom!”
Mom flapped her hands. “All right, all right!” She took a deep breath. “Bethel, that was inappropriate and you’re being rude. Reagan, if you really feel like you want to go for lunch, you go and have your lunch with the nice man,” she finished distractedly. “Be home by ten.”
Aunt Bethel opened her mouth to protest, but Mom ushered her off toward the kitchen before she could say anything else to potentially insult Noah.
“I am so sorry,” I said, turning and meeting his bright green eyes.
His lips curved to one side. “Nah, your mom was right. I should have led with the whole ‘saved your life’ thing.”
I rolled my eyes. “God, don’t. I need to run upstairs and grab my phone and stuff—I’ll meet you in your truck?”
“I can wait here.”
“We don’t know this man!” Aunt Bethel trilled from the kitchen. “What if he’s here to kidnap her?”
“On second thought,” Noah said, taking a step back. “I’ll wait in my truck.”
I grimaced and nodded once. “I would.”
His little smile became a sexy half-grin, and he jumped down the steps to the front door backward, then spun and headed for his truck.
I left the door open as I did my own spin and darted up the stairs. I needed to get in and out and quickly as possible before Bethel made a break for it and tried to offend Noah even more.
I grabbed my phone and purse and, after one quick glance in the mirror to treble check—was it a treble check if you’d done it at least ten times?—I made my way back downstairs.
Aunt Bethel was still blathering on about the strange man with the tattoos, and didn’t my mom know that tattoos were what gang members used? That was the kind of thing those biker-types wore.
Wore.
Like they were a t-shirt.
If I said ‘Jesus’ any more times, he was going to appear.
I pulled the door shut behind me before she got any ideas and all but ran toward Noah’s truck. He’d turned it around in the time it’d taken me to get upstairs, and I climbed up into the passenger side of the cab.
I flopped down onto the seat and tugged the door shut.
“Hi.”
I glanced over at him, my lips curving. “Hi.”
“You ready?”
“To escape the madhouse? What do you think?”
“That I should put my foot down.”
I winked and clicked my belt into place. “Let’s go. Where are we going?”
Noah pulled away from the curb. “I was going to let you direct me. I haven’t been in town long, like I said, and I definitely haven’t been out for lunch.”
I leaned back in the seat. “Hmm. What do you want to eat?”
“You’re the one breaking out of jail. I’m happy to go wherever you want to.”
“Oh, no. I hate making decisions like this. Do you know how difficult it is to pick somewhere to eat?” I shifted my whole body so I could look at him. “Do you want Chinese? Thai? Steak? Korean? Pizza? Burgers? Caribbean? Mexican? Spanish? French? Italian?”
Noah’s gaze darted my way. “Do you have all those places in Creek Falls?”
“No, but that doesn’t make the decision any easier,” I replied. “Well? Burgers? Pizza? Mexican? Italian? Steak? Or Chinese?”
“I don’t—shit me, I feel like I’m being interrogated by the fucking government.”
“You may as well be. Pick somewhere and I’ll tell you where to go.”
“I said you can pick.”
“I don’t care. I’ve been everywhere. They’re all good. You’re the new boy in town. Pick somewhere.”
“You’re demanding, do you know that?”
“Yes, Preston—oh, he’s my brother—regularly points out how demanding and difficult I am.” I paused. “If you really want me to pick, I will, but you can’t complain after.”
He turned the blinker on so we’d head in the direction of Main Street. “You just said they’re all good.”
“They are, but it’s not my fault if you feel like pizza and end up with a taco.”
“I can honestly say that I do not care what I eat for lunch as long as it’s edible.”
“Right. Then turn left, then right, and pull into the parking lot next to the liquor store.”
“I see you’re taking us to a reputable location.”
“Oh, no. The liquor store is a pit stop. It just happens to be on the way to the Mexican place I like.”
“I see. So you’re using me for liquor.”
“You’ve met my great-aunt. Damn straight I’m using you for liquor.”
Noah laughed, turning as I’d instructed him.
I tried really hard not to ogle his arm. I did. I’d swear it. I’d take it to my grave that I was not staring at his tattoos.
Apparently, he didn’t agree with me.
“Do you want another picture of my arm or are you all right over there?”
I jerked my face away, looking out of the car window. “I’m all right.”
“Are you sure?”
“I will ask them to spit in your tacos. Lifesaver or not.”
He laughed, making another turn. “How can I fairly judge if they’re good tacos if I’m aware that they may have been spat in?”
“Order the fajitas instead,” I deadpanned.
Noah pulled into an empty spot outside Rocky’s Liquor, and I unclipped my seatbelt.
“Well?” I asked when he didn’t move. “Are you coming to help me buy my body weight in liquor to get through living with my parents or not?”
***
“I told you the tacos are good.” I licked my fingers as I set my half-eaten one on the plate.
“I wouldn’t know,” Noah said dryly, leveling me with a look that held only a hint of amusement. “I had the enchiladas because I don’t know if I can trust you or not.”
With a sigh, I grabbed my taco and held up the end I hadn’t yet bitten into and held it out. “Here. Take a bite. I swear I didn’t spit on this e
nd.”
Noah stared at me. “You said this wasn’t a date.”
“Taking a bite of my taco does not make this a date.” I paused. “My legs are firmly closed, just so you’re clear on which taco I’m referring to.”
“One, the taco you’re holding out to me is clear enough, and two… Do you really refer to your vagina as a taco?”
“I don’t make it a habit, but it’s been a crazy week. I’m rolling with it.”
He took a moment before he shrugged and leaned forward. His fingers closed around my hands as he guided the soft-shell taco toward his mouth and angled it to take a good bite.
It was unfairly, ridiculously, and probably illegally hot.
I did not sign up for this.
“You’re right,” he said, lowering my hands to put the remainder back in the basket. “They are good tacos.”
Yes.
Good tacos.
Very good tacos.
Ahem.
I shook my head and reached for my ice water so I didn’t have to respond. I wasn’t quite sure what would come out of my mouth if I did, so it was much, much easier to seal my lips around a stupid paper straw that was soggy as hell.
What was I saying about it being easier?
Right.
That was when we were allowed to use plastic straws.
I was all for saving the ocean, but I was also all for being able to drink my water.
I pulled the wet straw out and replaced it with another. It was good for all of two minutes until—wait, never mind.
It was useless when I reached the end of my water and was sucking up air.
Welp.
There went my ignoring tactic.
“So,” Noah said. “Have you heard anything from your insurance company yet?”
I shook my head and tucked my hair behind my ear. “They’re waiting on the reports from y’all. Do you happen to know anything?”
“I might have heard some things.”
“You have to tell me.”
He half-smiled. “You know you didn’t start the fire. You’re going to get your full claim.”
“I know, but you know what these companies are like. They’ll take everyone and their mother to court to make sure it’s guaranteed.”
“True, but the source of the fire was in the laundry room, believe it or not.”
“Are you serious?”
Noah nodded, leaning forward on the table. “From what we’ve been told, one of the appliances overheated and short-circuited. It’s all hearsay and not guaranteed, but that’s the working theory right now.”
“Wouldn’t surprise me. Those things were old.”
“They’re still waiting on final results, so don’t tell anyone I told you that.”
“I won’t,” I promised. “Honestly, I’m not sure what to do now. Living with my parents is my worst nightmare, but I don’t have anywhere else to go.”
“What about your friends? The ones who saw you in the hospital?”
I shook my head. “Halley—she’s the blonde—is dating my brother, and I’m not interested in hearing them get dirty whenever he stays over. Ava, the other one… Well, shit, we just couldn’t live together.”
“Why not?”
“Because friendships are weird.”
“You’ll have to explain.”
“People say opposites attract, and sometimes that’s true for friendships, too. Halley is the mayor’s daughter; she’s the local librarian and a total bookworm even though she’s strong-willed and a ridiculous animal lover to the point there’s a pregnant raccoon living under her back porch.”
Noah raised his eyebrows.
“Exactly,” I said. “Ava is a reluctant runner who works in a café on Main and is a serial dater despite her endless failures with long-term relationships. She’s emotionally shut off and in perpetual denial about said relationships even though she’s a raging romantic. That said, she’s the sweetest, most supportive person you’ll ever meet.”
“And what about you, Dr. Reagan? Where do you fit into the friendship?”
“Me? I’m the resident asshole. I’m the one who doesn’t have a filter and will tell you you’re a goddamn idiot while simultaneously accepting my own stupidity and ignoring it. I’m a huge pessimist who refuses to see the best in people because then nobody can ever disappoint me.”
“Wow.” Noah pulled his water toward him and sipped. “Sounds like you’re the walking reality check.”
“My apartment building just burned down and I’m living with my parents and crazy great-aunt. I think I’ve earned the right to be a pessimist at this point.”
He grinned. “You’ve had a rough few days, I’ll give you that.”
“You think? One week ago, I woke up to some weirdo’s penis in my texts, and now I’m having lunch with him.”
Our server paused at the end of our table.
I bit the inside of my cheek and looked down as she quickly walked off in another direction.
“Thanks.” Noah met my gaze. “That was exactly how I was hoping to be introduced in a new restaurant.”
“You’re welcome.” I grinned. “So, the check?”
“You’re not paying, by the way.”
“Yes, I am.”
“No, you’re not.”
I groaned and slumped onto the table. “Oh, no, you’re one of those.”
Noah sat back and smirked. “One of what?”
I waved my hands. “I am man. Must pay for food. Woman cannot.”
Raising his eyebrows, he leaned forward. “If I’m one of those, then so are you.”
“What?”
He held up his own hands and wiggled his fingers. “I’m so independent, I must pay for my food! God forbid a man buy my lunch!”
I pursed my lips, trying not to laugh at the high-pitched voice he was putting on. “Shut up. This isn’t a date, and I can pay my half.”
“I didn’t dispute this not being a date.” He pulled his wallet out and slipped out a card. “But I can want to pay for your food, can’t I?”
“You can, but you won’t.” I removed my own wallet from my purse and slapped down my card.
“We appear to have reached an impasse.” His green eyes shone with suppressed laughter.
“It’s not that hard to figure out. We split the bill based on what we ordered and split the tip fifty-fifty.”
He held my gaze. “I’m not going to win this, am I?”
I shook my head, my hair flying around my shoulders. “Not a chance in hell.”
“Fine.” He sighed and motioned for the check to be brought over. “You’re stubborn.”
“Yep. It’s one of my better qualities.” I grinned and all but accosted our blushing server as she brought the bill over with a card machine. She’d obviously heard our conversation because the wallet contained two receipts with our bill split.
I pulled them out with another grin in Noah’s direction and selected mine. I added the tip and handed it to the server with my card for her to charge it.
She swiped; I signed. Then she moved onto Noah who did the exact same thing, all the while glaring at me across the table.
I was trying not to laugh.
I really was.
I would bet a hundred bucks that he’d never met anyone like me before. Not that I was tooting my own horn—I knew I was what normal people called ‘unique.’
I mean, my best friend fed raccoons, so compared to her…
I was only a little strange.
We both stood at the same time, and Noah held the door for me on the way out.
“Thank you,” I said softly, stepping out into the almost-stifling heat.
“Well, I saved your life. I think I can hold a door for you.”
“Are you going to bring that up every single time I talk to you?”
“Maybe. Like I said, it’s one to tell the grandkids.”
I side-eyed him. “Slow your roll.”
“I didn’t mean our grandkids. Just my gran
dkids in general.”
“I don’t think it works the same if I’m not your wife.”
“Nah, I’ll be like Ted from How I Met Your Mother. You’ll just be one of the women who is not The Mother.”
I hopped into the truck and, when he’d gotten in, too, said, “You do know that Ted was the absolute worst character in that show, don’t you?”
CHAPTER EIGHT
* * *
REAGAN
Mahalo For Nothing, Netflix
He looked at me as if I’d kicked his puppy. “No way. Barney was the worst.”
I shook my head as he pulled out of the parking lot. “I’m sorry, but you are one hundred percent wrong. Barney was a terrible person, but he owned it. Like, he basically broadcast it across the entire city that Barney Stinson was a jerk. Good guys don’t have an entire wall of porn in their apartments, Noah.”
He opened his mouth to speak. “None I’ve ever met,” he said after making a turn. “But Barney treated women like shit. How can he not be the worst character?”
“Even Lily is a worse character than he is.”
“Okay, wow, Ted is one thing, but now you’re hating on Lily?”
“Yes!” I laughed, turning to look at him. “She was mean and manipulative and forced everyone to do what she wanted. Not to mention, her baby’s first trip out of the apartment was to a bar. A bar.”
“All right. The first trip thing, I’ll give you.” He paused. “Actually, all of it. You’re right. She was fucking mean.”
I nodded. “But still not as bad as Ted.”
“What did Ted ever do to be a bad character?”
“Well, he made us sit through all that drivel for that bullshit ending, for one.”
“Technically that’s on the writers.”
“Whatever. It was Ted’s story.” I rolled my eyes. “Okay. He cheated on Victoria with Robin and lied to Robin about it. He bugged that tattoo doctor until she literally had no choice but to go out with him. He constantly compared every woman to Robin even though she’d made it blatantly obvious that she wasn’t interested. He made his friends feel guilty for being in relationships when he wasn’t. He argued with Robin over Quinn’s apartment when he was the one who made things weird in the first place. He ran away with Victoria when she was going to get married—”