Page 18 of Inn To You

“Says who?” I snap. “And don’t tell me my heart says so.”

Noah reaches for the side of my neck and cups that vein that gives away the racing of my heart. “But it does.”

“My heart says I need protection from you.” I pull free of his palm and nearly jog to Jonas. After checking for oncoming traffic, we turn the corner. The shoreline road isn’t extensively traveled but populated enough. In the summer months, vehicles drive too fast down the winding street.

Noah is quick to catch up to us, and as my shins ache from my quickened pace, I slow a little. We remain quiet for a few steps before he speaks.

Finally, he nudges me with his elbow. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” The question comes out as harsh and agitated as I am.

“I wasn’t trying to accuse you of doing anything with Mason.”

“Why would it matter if I did?” Not that I would because I’m not interested in Mason.

“It doesn’t,” Noah states, but his eyes narrow, and his gaze stays forward. The sudden pinched expression on his face is unreadable, but I’m still interpreting it loud and clear. He isn’t interested in me.

Another minute passes before he says, “Did you know I grew up on this road?”

His question is such a topic-shift that I nearly stumble again. “What?”

“I lived on this street when I was a kid.”

I take a minute to calculate what that implies. “That means we grew up on the same street. When I was younger, my dad and I lived in Bluebird Hollow’s owner’s apartment.” I haven’t gotten very far in life as I now live in the apartment with Jonas.

“I don’t remember ever seeing you,” Noah says.

“Considering our age difference, I’m certain we didn’t cross paths, old man.”

“Old man?” He snorts. “I’m in my prime.”

He certainly is, and I hate him a little more for looking so fine. His light brown hair with those speckles of gray makes his eyes spark. How can he look so good while I feel one hundred even though I’m not even forty?

Another awkward pause falls between us before I clear my throat.

“So you live in Autumn’s condo. If you need a place to stay, I did offer you a room as part of the manager position.” I’d rather have a paying customer in the guest rooms, but I did mention living arrangements.

Noah scrunches his face. His rejection obvious.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

He side-eyes me. “What do you mean?”

“The room included with the manager position doesn’t really exist anyway. When you appeared out of nowhere for the job, I offered the room and said take it or leave it. I really thought you’d leave it.”

“I did have an interview.” He ignores the suggestion of the spare room.

“That I didn’t schedule.” I huff. “Anyway, when I laid out the arrangements, I wasn’t thinking. I mean, why would a big city hotel manager want to work at Bluebird Hollow Inn? You had a look in your eyes that said this-place-is-beneath-me.”

“I did not,” he stammers, taking a sip of his coffee as a distraction.

I focus on Jonas riding ahead of us. My son’s head tips side to side, like he has a song on his mind. He’s probably singing out loud, but I can’t hear him because of this all-over-the-place conversation with the man beside me.

“Okay, maybe I was skeptical at first,” Noah quietly admits. “The inn is so much smaller than what I was used to.”

“And not quite so sparkly, I imagine.”

“Hardly,” he huffs, then clears his throat. “But it has charm, and it’s growing on me.”