“Bullshit.”
His jaw tightens. “I don’t have time for this. Stay here, have your beers with the team, and don’t do anything stupid. I’ll be at the hotel if Marshall needs an update.”
He turns to leave, and I don’t know why I do it, but I grab his arm.
“Noah.”
He stops and stiffens. But he doesn’t turn around.
“Why are you really here?”
“I told you. Marshall?—”
“Fuck Marshall. Why are you here?”
He finally turns, looks at me with those deep dark eyes, and for one brief second I see a crack in his professional facade.
He must realize it too because when he clears his throat, the eyes ice over and he’s back to being his normal pompous, uptight self.
“Because it’s my job to make sure you don’t destroy your career.” His voice hardens. “That’s the only reason I’m here. That’s the only reason I’ve ever been here. So don’t read into things that aren’t there.”
He pulls his arm free and walks out the door.
I stand there, staring at the door, trying to figure out what the hell just happened.
Back at the table, Carter nudges me. “Everything okay?”
“Fine. Noah just needed to do his babysitting check-in.”
“He seemed tense.”
I roll my eyes and pour myself another beer. “He’s always tense.”
But that’s not entirely true. He was more than tense.
He was jealous. I saw it, and he knows I caught it. That’s why he left, I’d bet my left nut on that.
Noah Enver is fucking jealous.
And he made a pathetic attempt to cover it by being a complete asshole.
I finish my beer, barely listening to the conversation around me. My mind’s back at the hotel, two blocks away, where Noah’s probably pacing his room trying to convince himself he did the right thing.
An hour later, we pay the tab and head back to the hotel. The hotel lobby’s quiet when we get there. Most of the guys head straight for the elevators, but I spothim.
Noah’s sitting at the hotel bar. Alone. Still in his suit, tie loosened slightly, nursing what looks like whiskey. He’s staring at his phone, but I can tell he’s not really reading it.
“I’m gonna grab some water,” I tell Carter. “See you tomorrow.”
Carter follows my gaze, sees Noah, and grins. “Good luck with that.”
“Fuck off.”
I walk to the bar and slide onto the stool next to Noah’s.
He doesn’t look up. “You should be in your room.”
“So should you.”
