Page 7 of Gifted

The man gave us directions to the room on the top floor. Noah asked about a food store before we went up, stating we’d need to set in supplies for Christmas day, but Niles assured us the pub, owned by his brother-in-law would be open. He did give us direction to the market, though, explaining that the hours everywhere would be limited for the next few days.

“We’ll head over to get some food in the morning,” Noah told me as we walked toward the elevator.

It seemed very domestic. I liked the idea of shopping with him. “Do you think we could go to the Christmas Market? Since we’re here anyway?”

He started to answer, but a clamor had us both looking over our shoulders. A few of the men from the bar had come in, their entrance shattering the quiet atmosphere of the lobby.

“Hold the—hey what’s that thing called?” one of the guys asked his two friends when the elevator doors opened for us.

“The up? The…lift. Lift!” one of his companions answered.

“Hold the lift,” the first guy called, but Noah already had his hand on the door, keeping it from shutting. He was more polite than me. Clearly.

“Thanks, man,” one of them said when they’d all tumbled on.

Noah nodded.

“You guys on vacation here, too?” another one of them added.

“They’re staying at the hotel, what do you think, Buzz?” the tallest one of them cut in, reaching in front of us to hit the floor button. They were staying on the level below us.

I took the opportunity to study them—because that’s what I did. I cataloged everything. With his dark hair, sharp cheekbones and blue eyes, the tall guy was quite handsome. More good looking then his blond-haired friends, who still looked as if they could be in TV commercials featuring boys next door. None were nearly as stunning as the man with me.

“Yes, we are,” Noah said, his hand moving from my grasp. It snaked around my waist and pulled me closer to him.

“Hey, you’re Americans,” the guy who’d yelled at us to hold the elevator exclaimed as if finding another countryman was some rarity.

I nodded and snuggled closer to Noah while his arm tightened. “Newlyweds.”

It was our ruse, and I didn’t want anyone getting any ideas, not that I was the kind of girl people got ideas about. Bookish mice like me rarely got second glances.

To my surprise, my statement got me a couple once-overs.

“Lucky guy,” one of them said.

“Yeah, I am,” Noah replied.

My gaze shot up to him, just as he moved to kiss the top of my head. His lips brushed over my nose. A shiver shook through me.

Oh. My. God!

Noah Kessler just kissed me. He kissed me!

My eyes must have shown my shock, because that little smirk returned. Yeah, he’d kissed me. And clearly, he had no regrets.

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