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“Did you knock?” He questioned, scratching his cheek, the light stubble making a rasping sound.
“You look terrible,” I said instead of answering and then felt a flush crawl up my cheeks. “Your eye. I mean your eye looks terrible,” I sputtered, my face getting hotter. “You look like March. Mr. March.” I closed my eyes. “I didn’t knock,” I finally answered, my voice faint.
“Smooth,” Nico crowed, his wings flapping as he flew into Noah’s house.
“Here,” I thrust the Thermos at Noah, about to turn on my heel and abandon Nico in my mortification.
“Come inside,” Noah said quickly. “I was getting dressed, then I was going to come get you to go for coffee and donuts.” I hesitated, trying to weigh my embarrassment against my desire for coffee. “The coffee from last night,” he cajoled, sealing the deal. “And the best donuts this side of the Mississippi.”
“If you insist,” I mumbled, like I hadn’t just been about to run away and abandon my best friend over an embarrassing comment. “And some guy called the phone you gave me.”
Noah froze, his gaze turning alert. “I didn’t realize anyone would try to call the phone,” he muttered apologetically and I shrugged.
“He said, ‘Johnny has information for you,’” I recited, watching him carefully to see if he reacted. His expression never changed and I narrowed my eyes. “Remind me never to play poker with you.”
“Noted,” he answered with a quick smile. “Let me grab a shirt. I was going to shave, but –”
“Don’t bother on my account,” I mumbled under my breath and he eyed me. “Ignore me,” I begged, positive my face couldn’t turn any redder. “Or shoot me. Either way.”
He laughed, moving out of the door so I could slip past him. “Some women are adorable when they blush. You look like I need to spray you with a hose,” he informed me and I elbowed him. He grunted, curving his arms protectively over his torso, and I rolled my eyes. “Watch those elbows, woman.”
“I’m only here for the coffee,” I retorted, then checked him. “Not your coffee.”
“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbled, going left as I went right into the kitchen. “Play your cards right and I’ll hook you up with my supplier.” He winked as I stared after him, open mouthed.
A few minutes later he was back, his hair wet, a white t-shirt hiding what I now knew was an impressive chest, and a five o’clock shadow still covering his cheeks. “Casual day at work?” I asked, trying not to stare as a drop of water rolled down his collarbone.
His mouth twisted. “I took a couple of days off,” he muttered cagily.
“Helping your friends,” I stated carefully, reading between the lines.
“Observant,” he acknowledged, his lips curving up briefly. “A little too observant.”
“Is that why the guy called last night?” I persisted and he held my gaze for a second before exhaling with a nod.
“I don’t know for sure, but that would be my guess.”
“He seemed insistent,” I mentioned and Noah smiled.
“He’s used to getting his way.”
“I noticed,” I griped, frowning at the memory. “You mentioned donuts?”
“I’m learning all kinds of things about you,” he observed and my eyebrow arched in question. “Sugar and caffeine motivate you.”
“Or maybe I’m just hungry,” I deadpanned, then admitted, “But I might do some shady shit for that coffee.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” he smirked, grabbing keys off the counter. “You ready?”
“Stories,” Nico cawed, flapping his wings angrily.
“Oh shit, Nico, I almost forgot you,” I gasped, spinning around. “I’ll take you back to the trailer and turn on the TV.”
“He can stay here,” Noah offered, clearly not knowing what he was getting into with his offer. “The TV is in there.”
Nico flew out of the room and reluctantly, I followed, sighing when I saw the TV. “Score,” Nico crowed excitedly, walking back and forth on the leather couch.
“Think your TV is big enough?” I asked rhetorically and Noah gave me a puzzled look.
“A bigger TV wouldn’t fit,” he commented, handing me the remote.
“Of course it wouldn’t,” I muttered under my breath, changing the channel to Animal Planet. I raised my voice, “You know the rules,” I reminded Nico, but he wouldn’t look at me. “Nico,” I warned, crossing my arms. “I mean it. No hiding anything.”
“Hide,” Noah questioned warily.
“Keys. Pens. Money,” I rattled off, my tone exasperated. “Anything he can lift.”
“111,” Noah stated sternly, catching Nico’s attention. “Stolen goods.” Nico hopped from foot to foot. “72. Arrest in progress.”
“Nico good,” he squawked. “Good birdie.”
“Uh huh,” I mumbled, narrowing my eyes warningly. “You better be a good birdie.” Noah rubbed his mouth, hiding a smile as Nico tucked his head under a wing. “I’ll see you later.”
“Miss you already,” he answered, his beady eyes glued to the television.
We walked out together, Noah locking the door behind us. “He’ll be alright?”
