Page 9 of Chasing Infinity

“You should stop in the bar down the road,” I blurt out. A flash of disappointment streaks across his face so quickly that I almost miss it.

Then he leans back, the moment broken. I hadn’t realized how close we’d gotten to each other until he moved away. His fingers drum against the laminate at a nervous pace. “Why?”

“I just think you might enjoy catching up with the owners. They’ve missed you too, you know.”

“Who owns it?” he asks, his dark eyebrows arching, his intrigue piqued.

“You don’t want to wait and be surprised?” I tease him.

“No. I hate surprises, you know that.”

“Fine, spoilsport. It’s Jordan and Caleb’s bar. They opened it a few years back. I’m sure they’re both there today if you want to pop in,” I explain, knowing that the names of his best friends from growing up might be enough to convince him to say hi.

“Really,” he says, rubbing his finger along his jaw in contemplation. “Maybe I will.”

“You won’t regret it. They’re still just the same as you left them, Trouble with a capital T.”

Noah laughs—a deep noise from his chest which makes my lower abdomen flutter. “Well, that’s a relief. I guess I’ll put that onto my list of things to do today.”

“What time do you have to go meet your dad?”

“Whenever,” he says with a noncommittal shrug. “I didn’t tell him I was coming, so I’ll just go by whenever I get the chance. What do I owe you?”

“It’s okay—” I start to say. I let him eat free yesterday simply because I hadn’t seen him in a while. But the image of him sleeping in his car this morning burns in the back of my head, and I press my lips together, feeling bad for him.

“No, let me pay you. You’re going to go out of business if you just keep giving free meals away,” he says teasingly, but the edge to his tone tells me he’s not playing around.

“Fine,” I respond begrudgingly and pull out his ticket from the pocket of the apron tied at my waist. He takes it from me, shoots me a wry smirk, and places a shiny blue credit card on top of it. I scowl back at him but go off to run his payment.

When I return, I hand it to him and tell him sheepishly, “I put the friend’s discount on it, and there’s no going back now.”

Noah’s eyebrows raise, and he chuckles under his breath and stands up, sliding his wallet into his back pocket. “You’re impossible.”

As he stands, shock courses my thoughts again at how tall he is. Growing up, he was always taller than me, but his profile is now more built since the last time I saw him—broader, developed shoulders now lead down into a lean tapered waist. His sharp jawline is alluring, as is his heightened gaze as he takes me in.

“That’s kind of my MO around here,” I reply breathlessly.

“Why am I not surprised? I suppose I better go,” he says, still studying me. I can see a hint of what he’s not quite willing to say right behind his eyes.

“Yeah,” I whisper in agreement, my chest threatening to cave in from a lack of oxygen in his presence.

My heart aches to take another step closer to him. Just a brush of my hand against his would be enough. The magnetic pull to him is nearly too much for me to ignore. It’s a revelation that it hasn’t waned in intensity even after all these years. Everything about him lures me in.

But I hold my ground and give him a kind smile instead of throwing myself at him like I want to. “I better get back to work. And you have two rowdy bar owners to go tend to.” I take a few steps toward the back room, still not tearing my eyes away from him. “But let me know what your dad says. I really would like to go to the funeral.”

Noah nods, watching me back away from him with amusement lighting up his eyes. He knows. He always knows. “I will.”

“Okay, good.”

“Just go back to work, Parks. I can see myself out,” he says with a chuckle, shaking his head at me.

“Right. Bye then!” I toss an embarrassing wave at him and spin around, hurrying back to the stockroom, ignoring the pointed looks Jack and my staff are giving me.

I step into the storeroom and close the door behind me, not bothering to switch the light on. When I’m alone, I turn my back and lean against the cool paneled door, covering my face with my hands and taking a few deep breaths.

I need to get a grip. It’s only Noah. But therein lies the issue, doesn’t it?

It’s only Noah.

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