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 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 says 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 shes 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?”