He glanced at Liam and Min, catching the slow slide of Liam’s hand up Min’s thigh, his fingers disappearing beneath the hem of her skirt before Min shot him a slightly alarmed look and dropped her napkin over his hand.Nope. Nope, nope, nope,he thought, quickly averting his gaze.
Turning to his sister and Daemon—and praying they were not similarly engaged—he found Daemon’s hand resting casually on Liv’s knee, her arm behind her fiancé’s chair and her hand playing with the short hairs at the back of his neck.Doable. But a hand on Callie’s knee wasn’t likely to be seen by anyone else, and the point was to be seen, though he couldn’t deny that he liked the idea of putting his hand on her knee. If he was honest, he liked the idea of sliding that hand up her thigh and—Nope.
Finally, he settled for laying his arm across the back of her chair. No actual touching. Just closeness. Just a quiet signal that they went together, like interlocking puzzle pieces. Callie stiffened in her seat—but just for a moment.
“Noah,” Mrs. Cole said, her voice sickly sweet. “How long have you been seeing my daughter?”
“Yes, I’d like to know as well,” his mother asked, leaning her chin on her hand.
“About a month,” Noah replied.
Callie’s eyes flared.What?Was that the wrong answer?
“Well, that’s not long at all,” Mrs. Cole clucked.
It isn’t?A month of dating the same person seemed like an eternity to him. Then again, he’d never seen the same woman for more than a single night, so what did he know?
“We only made it official about a month ago,” Callie said with an easy smile, “but we’ve been seeing each other since May. You know how Noah is. It took a while for him to be comfortable with the idea.”
The table laughed and Noah fought the urge to scowl, forcing his mouth into a half smile that he was certain looked more like a sneer. He didn’t like the idea that Callie would put up with anyone not committing to her for months on end, even him.
“I’m glad to hear it,” his mother said. “It’s about time you settled down. By the time we were your age, your father and I were married with two children.”
“Do you want children, Noah?” Mrs. Cole asked.
He nearly choked on his water.
“I think that discussion’s a bit premature,” Callie said, glaring at her mother.
“You’re not getting any younger, dear. If you want children, then you have to ask these questions of the men you date.”
They were saved from having to respond when the server arrived with their salads—a local heirloom tomato and burrata salad with fresh basil and pistachios. Everyone else’s salads came drizzled with a dark, syrupy looking dressing, but his dressing arrived in a little cup on the side. Liv winked at him when the server set the dish in front of him.
The salad was delicious, the tomatoes juicy and sweet. But something was missing. He frowned, poking at the cheese that couldn’t seem to decide if it was solid or liquid. Callie, mid-conversation with Maggie about a program she was hoping to bring to her library that would help senior citizens register for Medicare, reached over and, without asking, drizzled the thick dressing over his salad. He stared as the brown liquid slid over the tomatoes, sank into the cheese, and pooled on his plate in little sticky drops. With a challenging eyebrow raise, she compelled him to take a bite.
He dragged a tomato through the dressing and warily brought it to his mouth. And just as before, in the diner when she’d fixed his burger, the flavors exploded on his tongue—tart and sweet, acidic and bright.
“Try it with the cheese,” she said before returning to her conversation with Maggie.
So he did. He speared a piece of cheese with a tomato this time, wiping up the dressing from his plate and popping it into his mouth. He closed his eyes and hummed in appreciation. It was the most delicious thing he’d ever eaten.
“What is that?” he asked.
“Balsamic reduction,” she said.
“Did you just get Noah to put dressing on his salad?” Liam asked at his side, his eyes narrowed in disbelief.
Callie shrugged. “Who wants to live a life without balsamic?”
Noah met her eyes as he chewed his tomato.Not me,he thought.Not anymore.
Dinner went well into the night, dessert and coffee turning into drinks in the lounge. And the whole time, Noah and Callie touched. His arm over the back of her chair morphed into an arm around her waist when they stood at the bar to collect their drinks, which turned into a hand on her knee as they sat together in the lounge, laughing at his mother’s recounting of Liv’s impromptu backyard musicals co-starring her stuffed animals. By the time Jamie was telling everyone about the summer Daemon worked as a cabaret singer on a cruise ship, Callie was cuddled up beneath Noah’s arm, her head resting on his shoulder so that when she laughed, his body shook. After the first hour or so, Noah was surprised to find it felt natural to be touching her, that this wasn’t so different from the way he’d touch a woman he was trying to take home with him. Maybe he knew how to do this after all.
On the elevator ride back to their room, Callie was practically swaying on her feet, leaning against him for support, the long day of travel finally taking its toll. Callie pushed open their hotel room door, kicking off her shoes so that they flew across the room and flopping, arms and legs spread wide, onto the bed. Noah chuckled as he removed his own shoes, setting them in the corner by his sneakers, and gathered hers from where they’d landed to line them up next to his.
“Tired?”
“Mmm,” she hummed sleepily. “Lying down was a bad idea. Now I don’t want to get up.”
