Page 25 of Marrying a Spy

Chapter Eight

Patsy, the owner of Thompson’s Parlor—and Noah’s old boss, greeted them with an enthusiastic hug. She stepped back and kept staring at Noah while stating that in all her life, she’d never expected to see him again.

Noah just smiled and pushed his hands through his hair, hoping to work off his nervous energy. It was hard to keep up his resolve to leave when all of his memories were pushing their way to the surface and begging him to stay. It was an all-too-familiar feeling. It had clung to his heart the day he drove out of this small town. He hoped he had enough strength to do it again.

He kept his conversation light and let Patsy lead them to an empty booth, where Noah sat across from Sophia.

A young girl with a high, blonde ponytail greeted them. She laid a menu in front of them and asked if they needed a minute to order.

Noah parted his lips to tell her he was ready, but Sophia picked up her menu, halting his words. He rolled his eyes as he tried to fight the smile spreading across his lips.

This was a ritual that they’d done so many times. He knew after agonizing minutes Sophia would always end up ordering a chocolate and peanut butter parfait. But, just to annoy him, she would study the menu until the waitress would tell them she’d come back.

He was hungry today, so reached over and grabbed the menu from her hands. “You do this every time,” he said, not stifling the flirty tone to his voice.

She quirked an eyebrow as she tried to grab it back. “Excuse me. That’s rude.”

He chuckled. “You do this every time, Soph. You order the chocolate and peanut butter parfait after you’ve perused the menu for ten minutes.”

“Maybe I should come back,” the waitress offered as she turned from the table.

Sophia dropped her jaw in an exaggerated movement. “Listen here, sparky. I don’t always get the peanut butter parfait. In fact, it’s been years since I’ve ordered that.” She glanced down at her menu and mumbled, “If you’d been here, you would have known that.”

Ouch.

He studied her for a moment before he cleared his throat. When she didn’t look up, he did it again.

“What?” she finally asked, meeting his gaze.

He narrowed his eyes. “Ask me.”

She raised her eyebrows. “What?”

He was done with this. There was no way he was going to be able to go the whole week like this. If she wanted to know something, he’d tell her. Well, as much as he was legally allowed to.

Sophia lowered her menu and clasped her hands on top of it. “You’re going to tell me the truth? About anything I ask?”

A spark of worry entered his mind, but he pushed it out. If answers were something she wanted, then he’d give them to her. “On one condition.”

She chewed her lip. “What condition?”

“I get to ask you as many questions as you ask me.”

She seemed to mull that over for a moment before she nodded and held out her hand. “Deal.”

They shook, and Noah tried to ignore the sparks that raced across his skin from her touch. It was frustrating him how his body seemed to overreact to her. He’d dealt with freezing temperatures and burning heat and been just fine. But one touch from Sophia, and suddenly he was out of control.

Thankfully, the waitress showed up and set two glasses of water on the table. Noah thanked her and ordered the Oreo surprise, which he’d helped create. And, just as he thought, Sophia ordered the chocolate peanut butter parfait.

Once they were alone, he turned his attention to Sophia. “Question one.”

She hesitated before she leaned forward. “Where did you get the scars?”

He winced at the directness of her question. But he’d promised to be truthful. “In a car crash in the Middle East.”

She parted her lips as if she wanted to ask more, but he held up his finger. “My turn.”

She pinched her lips together and glared at him. He brushed it off. He wasn’t going to give up his secrets that easy.

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