Page 50 of Play On

Noah has seen me like this.

With a lozenge stuck in my hair.

I begin to laugh, which then makes me cough, so I stop. I wash my hands and return to the sofa, feeling so lucky to have Noah here. He doesn’t care that I’m sick and he’s not going to be getting any action tonight. He’s not afraid of catching anything from me.

All he wants to do is take care of me.

And I can’t think of anything more romantic than that.

I head back out to the living room and resettle on the sofa. I can hear Noah in the kitchen, but due to my nose, I can’t smell anything. Before long, he’s coming back to the living room, carrying a steaming bowl on a platter.

“This was the closest thing I could find for a tray,” he says.

“Thank you. I appreciate this so much.”

“You’re welcome.” He puts the bowl and a spoon down on the coffee table in front of me. “I’m going to heat up mine and I’ll join you.”

I nod, and Noah heads back to the kitchen. I pick up the bowl of soup, dip my spoon into it, and take a sip.

Okay, to be honest, I can’t taste much due to how stuffy I am, but what I can taste? Spicy and good. The warm liquid feels good on my raw throat, and gratitude for Noah fills me all over again.

Within minutes he’s joining me, and I glance over at what is on his plate. “What do you have?”

“Panang curry with chicken,” Noah says, taking a seat next to me. “It’s my favourite curry.”

“I like Thai curry better than Indian, is that weird?” I ask, taking another sip of my soup. “Nicholas and Amelia love a good Indian takeaway, but I always crave the Thai flavours.”

“Not at all. It’s my favourite, too.”

That begins another easy conversation that flows between us, just as it did last night. I notice Noah is taking the initiative in conversation just as much as I am, and it seems like the quiet man who stood back and watched me the first time we met at Wisteria House is gone, replaced by this man who is comfortable in my presence.

I love the fact that I brought this out in him.

When we’re done, Noah insists I stay seated and takes all the dishes back to the kitchen. Then I hear the tap turn on, and I would yell at him to stop if it wouldn’t hurt so much. When hereturns, I smile at him. “You didn’t have to do the dishes. I have a head cold. I can manage that.”

Noah takes a seat at the end of the sofa and picks up a cushion. “My goal is to get you better, so we can have lots of dates in Dorset next week.”

I lift a brow. “You might be sick in Dorset after all this exposure to me.”

“It’s a chance I’m willing to take.”

I’m having sooooooo many feelings for Noah right now, it’s unreal.

“Well, if you are sick, I promise I’ll nurse you back to health,” I say.

A huge smile lights up his face, and my heart thumps happily as a result.

“That might be worth getting sick for,” he declares.

“No, it’s not,” I assure him.

“Come on,” Noah says, putting the cushion in his lap. “Lie down and talk to me.”

I pause.

He wants me to lie in his lap. It’s an intimate, caring gesture.

And he’s offering it to me.

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