Page 148 of Beau and the Beast

“It’s ok,” Noah interrupted. “We can just forget about it.”

“Forget about it?” Lincoln asked, raising an eyebrow. “So you didn’t want me to…?”

“No—it’s not that—I’m just sure you want to move on and—“

“I don’t,” Lincoln said seriously.

“I know you were drunk so it’s—“

“I would’ve done it sober,” Lincoln said. “It’s not that.”

“I’m just saying, you made a mistake and it’s cool,” Noah said, struggling to twirl pasta on the end of his fork. “I had a good time with you and your friends and we can leave it at that. I really appreciate everything you’ve done for me and I don’t want things to be weird now.”

“I didn’t make a mistake,” Lincoln said. “I wanted to kiss you. Do you wish I hadn’t?”

Noah’s mouth fell open. “No—God, no, it was… It was great, actually.”

Lincoln nodded. “I just know that it’s not—you know, with everything going on with your brother—we shouldn’t.”

Jesus. Beau. Noah had gotten so wrapped up in everything they were doing, in their growing friendship and whateverelsewas happening, that he’d half forgotten that the work they were doing together was meant to make sure thatBeauwas safe.

How could he have been so selfish?

“You’re right—of course you’re right,” Noah said quickly. “That’s—yeah.”

Lincoln smiled and shook his head.

“I really like you, Noah. Did you seriously not pick up on that until just now?”

Noah stared down at his food. “I didn’t. Is that pathetic?”

“You should think more of yourself, dude,” Lincoln said, finally digging into his plate. “You’re like super smart and I like spending time with you.”

Noah grinned. “Same goes for you. Except the super smart part.”

Lincoln snorted and gestured at him with a fork full of pasta. “See? You can dish it out. I like that.”

Noah chuckled and realized his heart was beating quick in his chest. Lincoln liked him—actuallyliked him. He wasn’t someone Noah had picked up online or a blind date. Lincoln had gotten to know him and had somehow, against all odds,liked him.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Beau only wokewhen he felt shifting weight on the bed, the mattress slumping to one direction and threatening to make him roll to his back. He rubbed his eyes and flipped over to face the movement, only to find Wolfram fully dressed and sitting on the edge of the bed.

“What’re you doing?” Beau asked, blinking against the light of the lamp Wolfram had turned on.

“Serving you breakfast,” Wolfram said. He twisted to reach over Beau’s legs, depositing a tray on the foot of the bed. “Hang on—I’ve got a pot of coffee in the other room.”

Beau sat up, gathering the sheet around him, still naked from the night before. He hadn’t even noticed Wolfram getting out of bed, and now he was back with a second tray, a coffee pot, and two mugs.

“You made me breakfast?” Beau said, still not believing his eyes.

“I did,” Wolfram said. “Is that alright?”

“Wolf,” Beau said, barely able to bite down his smile. “That’s adorable. Thank you.”

Wolfram sat cross-legged on the other side of the bed, careful not to upend the two trays, and Beau surveyed the spread. Wolfram had brought him toast with sliced avocado, two eggs over easy, and a bowl of fruit.

“How did you do all this?” Beau said, barely able to imagine Wolfram maneuvering well enough in the kitchen to slice and cook.

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