Page 52 of Blind Justice

He nodded slowly. “I’ll try. For you.”

She smirked. “Good. Now eat your steak. You’re not leaving here without finishing it.”

Noah chuckled, shaking his head. “Bossy.”

“You’re catching on.”

For the first time all day, the tension began to lift. As they ate, laughter replacing exhaustion, Ruth couldn’t help but think—maybe they’d be okay.

* * *

Their conversation flowed,a rhythm forming as laughter replaced tension. Their day melted away, leaving only the warmth of shared moments and the flicker of something deeper growing between them.

Noah, cutting into his steak, savored a bite before he said, "Okay, I’ve gotta admit—this steak might be the best I’ve ever had. How’s yours?"

Ruth nodded, her fork poised over her next bite. "It’s really good. Perfect sear, just the right amount of seasoning... I might have to ask the chef for tips."

Noah lifted his chin. "You’re going to try to recreate this at home?”

Ruth grinned. "What, you don’t think I can handle it? I’ll have you know I’m pretty decent in the kitchen."

Noah raised an eyebrow playfully. "You’re probably good in every room.”

She turned beet red. “Noah…”

He burst into genuine laughter. “You walked right into that.” He wiped his lips with his napkin, catching his breath. “What’s your signature dish?"

Ruth paused, her color returning to normal. "Pasta. Simple, classic, always a crowd-pleaser."

"Now that I have to see." His eyes locked on hers.

Ruth leaned in slightly. "Well, maybe you will. But only if you’re lucky."

"Oh, I’m feeling pretty lucky already." He matched her tone.

They both paused, their eyes meeting over the table. There was a moment of quiet, comfortable connection before Ruth broke the silence. "You’re smooth. I’ll give you that."

Noah smiled, shrugging. "Smooth or not, I’m just saying the truth. Dinner with you makes this steak taste even better."

The waiter passed by, refilling their water glasses. Noah gestured toward Ruth’s plate with a smile. "You’re slowing down. Don’t tell me you’re one of those people who never finishes their steak."

Ruth narrowed her eyes playfully. "I always finish my steak. Just pacing myself. You should try it sometime instead of inhaling yours."

His hand moved to his heart. "Inhaling? This is called enthusiasm, Ruth. I’m a passionate eater."

Ruth’s cheeks began to pink again. “Youarepassionate.”

"Absolutely. It’s a lifestyle."

"Well, Mr. Passionate, you’d better leave room for dessert. I saw a chocolate lava cake on the menu with our names on it."

"Hmm. There is something else with our names on it.” He looked at her like dessert.

The evening air had turned sharp and cold when Noah and Ruth stepped out of the steakhouse. The golden warmth of the restaurant vanished behind them, swallowed by the dark chill of the night. Ruth walked a few steps ahead, her heavy wool coat swaying as she moved, her breath misting faintly under the parking lot lights.

Noah trailed behind her, his hands tucked into his jacket pockets, a teasing grin tugging at his lips. “Hey,” he called, voice low and amused. “Even after my day in detention, I’d still rather be me than those two idiot FBI agents when Ethan gets ahold of them.”

Ruth turned slightly, smirking over her shoulder. “Oh, sure. You just love collecting enemies, don’t you?”

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