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“She’s saying something about them having an agreement, and he said he just wants to talk,” I whisper.
Noel nods, not looking away. His eyes are the color of dark roast coffee, and the way he’s watching me has a warming effect to match.
I clear my throat. “Were you in Seattle with her?”
Noel shakes his head, and a tousled curl falls over his brow. “My buddy saw her in the parking garage at O’Hare. Lost his shit. Stole my car. Ditched our flight. Blew my plan to escape. And followed her to wherever we are.”
“Wow. Lots to unpack there.”
“Right?” Then, “Who is she?”
“Stormy? My sister and roommate.” At least until she moves. “And we’re in Chestnut Hill. Who’s Diesel?”
A little dent forms between his brows, like maybe he’s not so sure he wants to tell me.
The look I give him has him quickly reconsidering.
Thought so.
“Whoa, easy there,” he says, hands coming up with his smile. “He’s my buddy and teammate. And I have no idea how he knows your sister.”
“Vegas.”
He looks past me to the open door. “She’s coming to Vegas with us?”
“No, she met him there last year. But aside from his name, that’s all I know.” Though the way she’d said it and the weird mood she’d been in for the month after the trip had been enough to figure out that whatever went down had been good.
“We don’t know much.”
I shrug. “It’s driving me nuts.”
He cocks his head and gives me a grin. “So enough about them. Who are you?”
I laugh. “Um, not interested.”
This guy has player written all over him. Not my thing, hot or not.
“Cool, me neither. I’m heading to Vegas when my boy wraps it up with your girl. But I figure, while we’re waiting, why not make a new friend.” He leans forward. “What’s your favorite snack?”
“What are you, five?” I laugh, turning to face him.
“Twenty-five. And a half. You?”
This is ridiculous. But I can’t even hear Diesel and Stormy anymore, and well, even if I’m not interested, which I’m definitely not, there’s something about this guy that puts me at ease. He’s got a friendly vibe to him, so I throw him a bone. “Twenty-four. And a quarter.”
His grin spreads, showing off a criminally cute dimple, and I figure what the hell. “And my favorite snack is white cheddar popcorn. Why do you ask?”
“There’s this challenge going around social, where you go to the store with a date and buy each other stuff from this list. I haven’t done it, but I like the questions. Favorite drink?”
“Hot cocoa.”
His head tips back as he lets out an appreciative moan, giving me a peek at the thick column of his neck. Nice.
When his eyes meet mine again, there’s an intensity to them… I think.
“This is important. Whipped cream or marshmallows?”
Okay, maybe not so intense. But even so, I try to firm up my stare to mirror his. “Marshmallows. Mini.”
