Page 53 of Negotiating Tactics

He pulled away, and I shivered at the loss of his warmth.

As he pulled on his clothes in those now-familiar fluid movements, I couldn’t look away, wanting—more than anything—to ask him to stay.

But I was too scared to say the words, almost too scared to even accept that I was thinking of it.

Noah had never even suggested staying over, and I was too chickenshit to ask why.

Maybe he didn’t want to, or maybe he thought asking would scare me off.

I internally shook myself, reminding myself that I was letting things get out of hand.

Noah was nothing if not upfront, so if I had questions, all I needed to do was ask him.

That I was terrified of the answers was my own problem, one that I wouldn’t visit on him.

“So, you’re not doing anything tomorrow,” he said.

I scrunched my face up. “I didn’t say that.”

Noah laughed. “Your face is going to get stuck like that, Alex. And be ready by five.” He leaned over and kissed me on the cheek.

“Ready for what?” I asked.

“Good night, Alex,” he said as he left my bedroom.

I just laughed and listened as he left my apartment, deciding that it wasn’t even worth wasting my breath to push for answers.

Noah wouldn’t say anything until he was good and ready, so I wouldn’t waste my time.

Better to focus on tempering my growing excitement and telling myself it was nothing.

By the time five the next day rolled around, I had done—more or less—a pretty good job of doing just that.

I hadn’t even agonized over what to wear, deciding to dress casually in jeans, ballet flats, a nice scoop neck shirt that showed more cleavage than I usually went for but knowing I would appreciate the way Noah would look at me while I was wearing it.

Other than Birdie and Dominic’s wedding, I’d never seen Noah dressed in suits like his brothers. He definitely preferred a more laidback style.

I told myself tonight wouldn’t be any different.

Maybe dinner, some chocolate-covered strawberries, and maybe Noah would spend the night.

A nice, low-key birthday.

He knocked on the door at four fifty-nine exactly, and I rushed to open it, not even trying to pretend I wasn’t excited and relieved when I saw he was wearing a black T-shirt, dark wash jeans, and his leather jacket.

“What’s that?” I asked, looking at the large green box with white ribbon wrapped around it.

“Happy birthday, Alex,” Noah said as he walked in.

“Did you get me a gift?” I asked, trying not to smile or to stare at that box.

He lifted one corner of his mouth and shook his head. “Yes, Alex, I got you a gift.”

“You didn’t have to give me a gift,” I said, even though I couldn’t stop myself from smiling.

“I know I didn’t have to get you a gift,” he said, his voice so patient I knew he was teasing me.

“I’m just saying, that wasn’t necessary,” I countered, unable to resist the desire to be contrary.

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