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He smirked. “Right. The cliff dive was just an elaborate ploy to pick up chicks.”
It was the first time he’d spoken of the accident so lightly. My heart swelled.
“I’m not a big fan of covering up those amazing eyes of yours,” I told him, “but you look…sexy.”
“Mmm,” he said, running hands down my bare arms. “What are you wearing?”
“Blue blouse, sleeveless. Loose cotton pants, beige. Sandals.”
“You look beautiful.”
I almost teased him back that he was just flattering me, but I could see he meant it, in whatever way he perceived me. “Thank you.”
He bent to kiss me, and shivers danced along my spine. It was a gentle kiss, but with Noah, I’d quickly come to find out, there was always a smoldering energy in every touch, ready to ignite.
I pulled away with a nervous laugh. “This is…weird.”
“Weird? Why?”
“Beingwithsomeone again. I’m just not used to it, I guess. And we’re already living together…”
“We’re taking it slow, remember?”
“And what about the whole employee/employer thing?” I asked. “I don’t particularly want to talk about us in a business sense, but don’t we have to deal with that?”
“Yeah, we do,” Noah said. “But can we haveonedate first?”
“Yes, please.” I laughed. “Are you ready to go?”
Noah frowned. “I guess so. We’re not eating there, right? I think I’ve had enough Annabelle’s to last me a lifetime.”
“No, we’re going to a little bagel place on Amsterdam, but I promised Anthony I’d stop by Annabelle’s. I can’t wait for you to meet him.”
He rubbed his chin. “They know me there, don’t they? Or they knowofme. The asshole shut-in who kept firing his assistants?”
I grasped his hand that wasn’t holding the cane. “You don’t have to do a single thing you’re not up for. I can always call Anthony—”
Noah brought his hand up to my chin, tracing my lower lip with his thumb. “It will make you happy to go to Annabelle’s, right? So let’s go to Annabelle’s.”
My heart felt like it was ready to burst now, and I tried not to get overly emotional. But it was taking some time to get used to this; the heady euphoria of being cherished and cared for. I felt reckless and impetuous but also exhilarated too. I felt like how a skydiver must feel the moment before she throws herself out of the plane.
On the sidewalk outside, Noah took the crook of my arm with his left hand and held his white cane in his right.
“Talk about weird,” he muttered.
“You’ll get used to it.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of.”
I gave his hand a squeeze.
We walked, and I could practically feel the tension coiled tight in Noah’s every muscle. His mouth was turned down in a mask of concentration and his grip on my arm was a smidge shy of uncomfortable. But by the time we turned up Amsterdam Street—damp from last night’s deluge—he was walking easier, his cane tapping the sidewalk side to side in a light rhythm.
I didn’t want to make Noah self-conscious, so I bit back the stream of joyful encouragement that was threatening to pour out of me and just strolled with him.
We arrived at Annabelle’s, its yellow and white striped awning sagging with a small puddle of rainwater. The restaurant was busy but not packed. Maxine greeted us at the door with her usual stiff smile. “Two for breakfast?”
“Hello, Maxine.”
