I wasn’t sure what he was implying. What was wrong with being a waitress? “What if someone asks what I do?”
“Good point.” He sighed again, pursed his full lips, and kept on tapping. “Not work, then. Best to not even bring it up.”
That seemed odd, but I let it go and tried to come up with more ideas. “How about a dating app?” I asked.
“That could work.”
“But which one?” I asked.
“I’m not sure it matters.” The hot lawyer set his still-full cup back down on the table, turning towards me slightly.
“No, probably not,” I agreed, feeling the heat of his gaze again. “How long have we been engaged?”
He shifted in his seat, and although I tried not to notice, his eyes snuck a look at my cleavage. Trying hard not to move, a thrill ran through me, making me want to jump up and down.
Someone that attractive wanting me? It was the best feeling in the world.
I even sat up a bit straighter, so my chest stuck out more.
“Good question,” Noah continued, then finally took a sip of his latte. “It would have to be fairly recent, which is why we haven’t told anyone yet.”
“Good point,” I conceded.
“Does a month sound about right?”
“Yeah, that’s good for me. I don’t really know anyone here in L.A., so it is unlikely that I’ll be asked.”
“Good then.” Noah nodded. He took another big sip of his drink and let his eyes wander up and down my body. There was a mix of feelings in his face. I could sense heat, but also something else. Something I wasn’t sure about.
“Anything else?” I prompted, suddenly feeling uncertain.
“Nothing comes to mind. Anything you make up should work. I can wing it if necessary.” He leaned forward on the table. “Can I ask you something?”
“Of course.” My heart started beating a mile a minute as his bright-blue eyes held mine.
“Why were you so desperate to do this? I mean, I had considered hiring an escort, but then, there you were.”
What the fuck?
My stomach dropped. Here I was, trying to do something nice for this man, and he was equating me with a whore. Noah’s gaze suddenly felt dirty on my skin.
“Are you calling me a hooker?” I asked, my voice breaking.
“No, no, but this seems like the sort of thing a hooker would do. You always seemed so wholesome.” He looked me up and down again. “We can negotiate a price for the evening, but I just don’t want to get too carried away. So, if you let me know what you need the money for, I can figure out how best to help you.”
Feeling flabbergasted, I stared at him. He thought I was after money. Here I was genuinely trying to be helpful, and Mr. Wells thought I was playing him. Not this girl!
“Well!” I snapped, leaping up from the table, accidentally dumping my coffee in his general direction. “You’re the one who needs help, not me.”
With a dramatic flip of my hair, I stormed out without ever looking back, even when I could hear him shouting behind me.
Maybe being bold was a bad idea, after all.
Chapter Four
Emma
The alarm clock rebounded off the wall before crashing onto the floor. I really didn’t know my own strength sometimes. I’d also been playing aggressive music all night on my headphones to avoid noise complaints and was still in a bit of a bad mood.
What happened with Noah was not helping things much. Making matters worse, I still couldn’t think about him without getting wet. Even when I remembered what he had said to me.
The fact that he resembled Thor’s cleanly shorn cousin was a major factor in the equation. I’d yet to see him standing up without a coat on and hadn’t quite been able to check out his cock. Going by the rest of him, I guessed it was big. The thought of it, or at least what it might be, was both scary and exciting at the same time. I could barely get my fingers inside while I was playing with myself, I was so tight, but I was still intrigued by the idea of being gently fucked by a nice big cock.
I showered quickly to avoid having time to do anything that could make me late for my shift at Java. I put on the first clothes that I found that were clean, a denim skirt that was probably a bit too short and a plaid, flannel shirt giving me the overall look of a sexy lumberjack and headed for the car, my long, dark hair still wet.
I made a note to get a new alarm clock on the way home.
I left early enough that there wasn’t much traffic, a true oddity in downtown Los Angeles. On the other hand, it was 5 am on a Saturday, and the majority of the city was still sleeping off their hangovers. Something that made parking a lot easier than usual as well. I usually had to park a few blocks away from the cafe.