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Reminding myself that this isn’t my house so I should be polite, I paste a smile on my face, as if this man isn’t getting between me and my food. “I wouldn’t say I was naked. I have clothes on.”Just not a whole lot of clothes.
“Ri—ght,” he draws out the word, a look in his eye I can’t quite decipher.
The tone tells me he thinks I’m lying, and based on the fact that all I have on my lower half is a v-shaped high leg thong, I’d have to say, he’s right.
In the intimate confines of his apartment, where it’s just us, I feel incredibly naked.
As soon as he leaves, I’ll go and put some leggings on. Anything to not feel so exposed. I think the embarrassment of being caught in next to nothing would at least be lessened if Sutton was here. Maybe we could even laugh it all off. There definitely wouldn’t be a weird tension swirling in the air as he stands there with heavy eyes, daring me to move.
“Would you be a peach and just leave?”
His chin jerks up, as if surprised by my request. It might be his apartment, but the least he could do is be a gentleman and give me enough privacy to get back to my room.
Oh no. What if he tells Sutton about this and she thinks I’m trying to seduce him? We’ve become closer in the weeks I’ve been staying here. I’d hate to ruin our friendship. I might still have some feelings for Noah, but I’d never try and take another woman’s man. It’s just not who I am. But, of course, she doesn’t know that.
Noah pulls me from my spiraling thoughts. There’s a lightness to his voice as he leans against the walled arch that separates the kitchen and living room and asks, “If you’re not naked, why do I need to leave?”
There’s a challenge in his voice. One I haven’t heard since I was a kid. He’s going to make me walk out from behind this counter with him standing right there.Why’s he doing this?
I mean, it shouldn't be a big deal. I wear less than what I have on now on the beach. But it’s Noah. It’s different.
That night in the hallway I was in less than I am now.
Right, but that was in the dark. He could hardly see any of my lower half. I should have set the mood with the smaller lights while I was cooking. The overhead lights show every inch of my exposed skin.
Every. Single. Inch.
My gaze drops to the black granite counter as I pull in a breath through my nose, blowing it out through my lips. I steel myself for whatever might happen when I step out from around this counter.
Okay, here goes nothing.
When I look back up Noah is gone.
What the hell was that?
I can only hope he knew what I was going to do and thought he’d save us both the embarrassment of me having to go through with it. Or he got some sense and realized how inappropriate he was being. Either way, I’m grateful he left the room.
Listening intently, I slowly move, peeking around the corner into the living room. While the coast is clear, I race back to my room, only relaxing when I step inside and close the door behind me.
A pair of oversized gray sweatpants lay across my unmade bed. They’ll do. My movements are rushed as I try to tug them on, my balance wavering. I stop, concentrating on the action of dressing. The last thing I need is to fall and get knocked out with my pants around my ankles. That would be worse than what nearly happened in the kitchen. A million times worse.
With both legs securely in the holes of the pants, I pull them up to my waist. When I let them go, they slide down on my hips. Shoot. These were on my bed to be adjusted. I’m short and these sweats are long.
My stomach chooses that moment to make itself known. It gurgles as a sharp hunger pang contracts my muscles. These really will need to do. Rolling down the waistband helps somewhat but it’s still not perfect.
Ducking my head through the door, I look left then right before deeming it safe to exit my room. The apartment is quiet as I walk back to the kitchen. He must be cooped up in his office. It’s usually what he does when he’s here. Noah doesn’t seem to have much of a life outside of working.
In the kitchen, I swipe up my bowl, slurping down some of the noodles over the edge. Grabbing a spoon, I turn off the music that’s still playing over the speakers then fill up my wine.
With my bowl and wine glass in hand, I head into the living room. An episode of theBacheloretteis calling my name. I need to see who gets chosen tonight. The choices so far have been very questionable.
I’m lost in the episode as Jessica, the bachelorette, picks Dustin over Austin. For a moment, I forget that I’m not home alone and shout, “Honestly, Jessica, if that boy had a idea, it would die of loneliness. Get. It. Together. Girl.”
“I forget just how Southern you can be with those sayings.” Amusement laces Noah’s voice.
Whipping around on the sofa, my gaze lands on him. He’s wearing a pair of black sweats and black t-shirt with bare feet. It’s the most casual I’ve seen him in the nearly three months I’ve been living here.
Admonishing him, I reply, “I thought we talked about you sneaking up on me?”
