“Are you writing in your diary about me?”

I fight to keep the iced tea in my mouth, for fear of spitting it out not only on my notebook, thus ruining the work I’ve been trying to do, but also putting out the tiny candle that’s on the table in front of me. Of course, on second glance, I realize I could have sprayed away: it appears the candle is battery-operated.

“Why are you hovering over me and invading my space?” I snap, placing my glass back on the table and whipping my head around to face him. Only I find myself mere inches from his face, our lips almost touching.

“Because, I feel like we need to clear the air, and what better way to do it,” he says as he steps back and holds his hands out at his sides. “We’re in a not-so-crowded restaurant, together. We can literally break bread.”

“It’s not like we’re on a date,” I snarl. Man, I’m cranky. I’m starting to annoy myself.

“No, we’re not, because if we were, you would know,” he says, winking as he pulls out the chair opposite of mine.

“Please, go ahead and sit down,” I say with as much sarcasm as I can muster. “Not like I’m sitting here working or anything so trivial.”

If he hears me, he’s great at ignoring me. “You know, I almost didn’t recognize you when I first saw you.”

“Riveting. Was I supposed to make sure you knew I had contacts now?”

“Ah-ha!” He snaps his fingers. “I thought it was contacts.” He points to his hair, then flicks a finger my way. “Your hair was shorter. Blonde?”

I let out a dramatic sigh. If I knew this was how my meal was going to go, I would never have left my hotel room, I’d have ordered room service. “Yes, it was. I guess … good for you that you noticed?”

“I definitely noticed you,” he says quietly, catching my gaze before he pulls his eyes away. Noah then nods at my notebook. “Is that for theAthletic Edgestuff we have to do?”

Tapping my foot on the floor, I let out a heavy sigh. Again, Mom’s words reverberate in my head:Play nice.

“Yes, it is. I’ve been scouting places in Maple Falls for us. My thought is that I get a list together then go over it with you, see what you feel is doable.” Crossing my arms in front of my chest, I sit back in my seat, an attempt at placing more distance between us. “Or should I have my people call your people and we go from there? As long as your people don’t try to blacklist me this time, that is.”

There it is, I pulled back the bow and let the arrow go. I wait for another flash of recognition to appear on his features, but when it doesn’t, I feel a weird flip in my tummy.

Noah’s face twists with confusion as he looks at the wall behind me, chewing his cheek and drawing my attention to his jawline. It’s strong, sharp, and well-defined. Part of me makes a mental note “for the photos” and another part of me just … likes it.

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about,” he says, tapping a finger on the table in front of me. “These comments about ‘my people’ doing something to you.”

Here we go. Of course he’s going to defend them. “What about my comments?”

Noah’s hazel eyes flash bright green as he speaks. “I’m kind of in the dark about them. You said the other night at the media event that my PR team blacklisted you.”

Grabbing my glass, I take another sip of iced tea to wet my whistle. Funny how my mouth goes ridiculously dry when I get nervous. “Yep. That’s pretty much what happened. You showed up a mess, as we both know, and when I asked you to leave …”

“I think you kicked me off your set, if memory serves?” he says, a smile playing on his lips.

“Whatever. Yes, I did kick you off because you were causing the work environment to be unstable and we were wasting money. But as a result of me making that decision, your public relations team made sure to let anyone I was trying to work withknow that I was the impossible one. Thattheymade the choice to have security escortmeoff the set.” A shiver crawls across my skin as my memory reaches back to that moment in time. The year where I could get no work. “Contracts I had were ripped up, money literally taken from me, and I was left with all the bills I had to pay. It happened so much that I finally called one of the accounts that fired me and asked them why.”

Noah shakes his head in disbelief. “That was my team?”

“It was indeed. The person who confirmed it was an old friend who was put in the terrible position of letting me go.” Leaning forward, I take my turn to tap my fingertips on the table for effect. “So I started asking around, and in every instance, I was told that Noah Beaumont and his team were blacklisting me. Do you even understand how awful that feels?”

Movement to my right pulls my attention away from Noah and his beautiful eyes. Our server has appeared and is holding two dishes of lasagna in his hands. He places mine in front of me, then looks at Noah, then back at me as if asking if he’s staying or going.

I incline my head toward Noah’s now-deserted table. “You can put Mr. Beaumont’s meal on his—”

“Why don’t I eat it right here?” he says to the server, moving my notebook aside and clearing the spot to make room for the dish. He drags his eyes slowly over to meet mine. “If you don’t mind, I want to talk this out.”

For the love of … all I wanted was to find somewhere to eat, call my mother, and do some work. Holding my fork in one hand and knife in the other, I let my eyes roll toward the heavens and say a little prayer. I’m also reminded that I made my own promise that if we had a chance to discuss this, I would do it. Because I am a big girl and that’s what I do.

I hate adulting.

“Fine,” I moan.