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“My friend Clarke has pink in his hair,” he blurted.
“It’s a cool look,” Quinn said with a broad smile, and frowned when the guy in whose lap he was sitting—Levi—ruffled his hair.
Chris levered himself out of the chair and put his arm over my shoulder, tucking me into his side. “I’m dating Noah,” he said, and everyone nodded as if him hugging me and making that announcement wasn’t a surprise at all.
“Noah, you poor bastard,” Scott deadpanned, “run while you can.”
“Whatever,” Chris snarked. “He’s all mine right now.”
There was laughter and lots of banging echoed from another room, which interrupted the warm and fuzzy feelings I had going on.
“The kids are in there; Laurie, Archie, and Oliver,” Scott said and pretended to wipe his brow. “At least they don’t need feeding. Thank god for takeout pizza! Levi, Quinn, it’s your turn to check on the boys.”
Quinn scrambled from Levi’s lap, and they headed out of the door, and all I could hear, then, was laughter.
“Please sit, Noah; we have a ton of food.”
Overwhelmed, I did as I was told. Then, bounced back up again. “Can I do anything to help?”
Scott glanced over at me. “It’s cool, take the weight off and sit down.”
Chris cleared his throat and gave me a hesitant glance, leaning in to give me the gentlest of kisses. “Well, we don’t have dessert, so if you want to check the refrigerator and cupboard for stuff to make something?” He winked at me as well, and when Scott turned to tell Chris something in the lines ofhe’s a guest, I was already over by the cupboards, searching for inspiration.
Now, this I could do.
ChapterFourteen
Chris
Noah seemedto relax an inch at a time as he mixed and stirred and hummed with happiness. Given that he sometimes looked as if he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders, that was a good thing.
“Is it okay to watch you?” I asked Noah, and he glanced at me and nodded, so I eased myself out of my wheelchair again and leaned against the kitchen counter, taking the weight off my spine, watching Noah immersed in his baking. I’d left Fox engrossed in a conversation about horses with Micah and Levi, the latter having made it out alive from the kid’s playroom and was intrigued to see what Noah was up to. I’d seen how awkward he’d felt, in the way he was tense, and I’d thrown him into a den of misbehaving lions and expected him not to be angry at me.
I don’t know why I’d suggested they stayed for dinner—or rather guilted them—but seeing Noah appear in the office had made my crappy day a million times better, and there was no way I was letting him go yet. He made everything in my world brighter.
Noah had ingredients laid out before him: flour, sugar, and butter, and he wasn’t weighing or measuring anything. He stirred the batter with practiced ease and lifted the spoon, letting it slide, then making a happy noise that implied it was mixed to his idea of perfection.
“What are you making?” I asked. I was curious, but also, the thought of another dessert of any type from him was making me anxious to get the pasta main course out of the way.
Noah glanced up, a gentle smile playing on his lips as he replied: “A cake dessert with toffee sauce.” Then he frowned and glanced over at my brother. “Do you think people will like that?”
The very thought of it made my mouth water. A cake with toffee sauce sounded amazing, a perfect end to our dinner, and I nodded.
“Wow. I’m sure everyone will love it. So, what are you doing right now?”
He took down two baking tins from the shelf above the counter. “Greasing the tin. I need to get it slippery so that it slides out at the end of baking.”
“‘Slippery,’ uh huh.”
He side-eyed me. “Very slippery.”
From my vantage point leaning against the counter, I watched the muscles bunching in Noah’s forearms as he tilted the batter and filled two pans.
“So, you can create sweet things with random ingredients at the drop of a hat because, sometimes, I have these cravings in the middle of the night.” He sent me a glance that said he knew what I was doing, then chuckled, and I leaned in a bit closer. “Are you ever available to cater for these… cravings?”
He smiled, not missing a beat. “Only when I’m sure the result will be thoroughly enjoyed,” he quipped, his gaze flicking to mine in a way that sent a warm shiver down my spine.
I watched as he poured the batter into the pans, the smooth consistency reminding me of silk. “Looks like you’ve got quite the technique there.”
