Page 16 of Noah

Noah reached beneath the bar and produced some. "I'd rather lick it off you."

I coughed, nearly choking as my face burned and my cock thickened. I hadn't been expecting that. I'd convinced myself that Noah wasn't interested. His statement spoke otherwise.

"Maybe some other time," I responded, barely believing I had laid out a flirtatious line.

"Maybe I'll hold you to that."

Then he was gone. Once I finished up, I sought him out. He always seemed to know when I was leaving. He smiled at me, nodded, and winked. That wink went straight to my dick.

The fact the simple action had been directed at me was still making my imagination run rampant the next day at work. After a long day of preparing for my next trial date, I finished up and made my way home to take Bentley out, which took less time than I needed it to.

Time crawled as I sat on my couch and waited for when I needed to show up at the pub. Noah seemed to keep the same schedule. I'd gone in earlier one day, and he had spent the first hour I was there out on the floor, assisting the other staff. I needed him to be behind the bar.

I rolled my eyes.

Maybe I was stalking him.

The smile Noah gave me when he spotted me coming through the doors waylaid those fears. He was happy to see me. If I was freaking him out, his facial expression would be different.

"How's my most gorgeous customer?" Noah said as I sat down. My cheeks and ears burned, but I couldn't help a subtle smile from creeping onto my face.

"Oh … so you do know how to smile," Noah teased.

My throat emitted a quiet grunt and I almost shifted straight to telling him my order to avoid answering him. But there was no need. Noah patted the bar top. "I'll get you your drink."

I appreciated that he seemed to know when to back off. Not many people did. They would push and push, not satisfied when I would give them the only answer that came to me. Life wasn't like work. Being a crown prosecutor, I knew what needed to be said. I knew how to pick a case apart and ask the right questions. I knew how to respond to the answers given.

Then came my personal life.

Alesia was the only one outside my family who knew how to handle me. She was the only one other than my mom and brother whom I trusted. Even still, I picked and chose what I told her.

"Here you go." Noah set my drink in front of me. He had set two lime slices on the rim. He must have noticed me wringing out the single one that usually came with the drink.

"How has your day been?" I asked as a conversation opener.

A quick flash of surprise flitted across Noah's face. Maybe he'd read about autism spectrum since last night and hadn't expected me to open a dialogue with something so mundane. There were some drastic misconceptions when it came to what people on the spectrum were like. They called it a spectrum for a reason. We all landed somewhere different on it.

"It's been good," Noah replied. "Busy. You?"

"It was a long day." I looked down at my drink. I hated small talk. "We had a bunch of paper files go missing. Someone took them to photocopy. Left them in the machine."

"Nothing missing when you got them back?"

"No. It was all good." I searched for my next question. "The pub doing well?"

Noah leaned on the bar top, the same as he had yesterday, bringing him so close, I could feel his breath on my lips. "Honestly, Brody … I'm not feeling the best about it."

"What's got you worried?"

"It's not where I wanted the pub to be after four years."

"Where did you want it to be?"

"A total refresh from the way it was when I bought it. I had so many dreams of fixing it up."

I peered around to see what he was talking about. There was nothing wrong with the place. It was a British-style pub. Lots of wood. Lots of brass. Busy carpeting. Cheery atmosphere.

I turned back to him. "I don't see it. What's wrong?"

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