Midnight Kiss (Virgin River #12)(73)

His bark of laughter made her jump. “No, not this time.”

“Oh, thank God. You looked so mad for a second.”

“Did I?” His voice got softer when he was angry, and he was obviously angry now. Unfortunately, she loved that tone. It struck her like a cross between a growl and a purr.

“I’m sorry I’ve been…weird.”

“Is that what you’re sorry about now?”

She pulled her chin in. “What does that mean?”

A man in a white apron and a hairnet shuffled into view. “Sorry for the wait,” he interrupted. “What can I get for you?”

Elise and Noah stared at each other for a long time. She frowned. He glared.

The cook shifted. “Maybe just another beer?”

“I’ll have the turkey sandwich,” Elise answered.

“Fish and chips,” Noah muttered.

By the time they were alone again, Elise was beginning to register what he’d meant. That she was sorry about sleeping with him. That he didn’t like that. But why?

The silence of the empty restaurant stretched with impossible tension. A pot banged on the other side of the swinging door. Christmas music floated by as someone drove past in the parking lot.

“We work together,” Elise said, her stomach somersaulting like a gymnast.

“Yes.”

“So…that shouldn’t have happened.”

“Because we work together,” he said flatly.

“Yes.”

His expression offered no hint to what he was thinking. “We’re allowed to date.”

“You live in Denver. That’s not dating, Noah. That’s just sex. I don’t need my coworkers thinking of me that way. It’s easier for you.”

“Oh, yeah? How many jokes about flight attendants have you had to put up with this week?”

Right. “Maybe that was a bad idea. I apologize. I panicked.”

“I noticed.”

Elise remembered the look on Noah’s face just before he’d left her room. You want me to sneak out the window? He hadn’t been laughing.

What a mess. “It wasn’t a good idea, Noah. Surely you can see that.”

He raised his hands like he was going to say something important, but he stopped just as his lips parted. He took a deep breath, then placed both hands on the table very slowly. She couldn’t help but look at them, at the fingers spread wide, at the hard knuckles punctuated by the occasional scar. His nails were squared off well below the tips of each finger.

“You’re right,” he finally said. “We shouldn’t talk about this.”

She was lost. Reeling. Why did he sound so flat and resigned? What was going on here?

Her hands felt too light as she nervously shifted her bottle around on the table. If this were work, she’d just demand to know. She wouldn’t tolerate this silence. Maybe…

“Pardon me,” he murmured, sliding out of the booth.

Still caught in her uncertainty, Elise watched him stalk toward the bathroom. By the time he returned, their food had arrived and the moment was gone.

Her sandwich was a dry mess in her mouth, despite the gobs of mayonnaise slathered on it. Noah glared at his fried fish like it was the number-one suspect in his accounting investigation.

“We should meet tomorrow,” she blurted. “I want to know exactly what you’ve found so far.”

“Sure.”

“How about nine o’clock?”

He tossed her a hard glance. “Your room or mine?”

“The conference room,” she snapped.

“You got it, boss.”

Stomach aching, she watched Noah toss his napkin on top of his half-eaten food. He reached for his wallet.

She shook her head. “I’ll get it.”

“Happy New Year,” he said as he walked away, his tone implying the New Year was a curse instead of a possibility. Elise understood perfectly. The year stretched out before her like three hundred and sixty-five opportunities to screw up her interactions with Noah. And the worst thing was, now she didn’t even know what she was doing wrong.

Everything, probably.

Elise finished the last drops of her beer, then leaned back in the seat, listening to the faint sounds of dishwashing leaking through the kitchen door. A phone rang behind the bar. Nobody answered it. Cars roared by on the street, their horns honking in a bright staccato celebration.

Elise waited a long time for the bill. When it finally came, the cook shot a meaningful glance at the empty seat across from her. “You know, there’s a singles’ party at the VFW hall tonight.”

“Pardon?”

“For people who don’t have a date on New Year’s.”

She stared at the curls of white chest hair that had escaped above the grimy collar of his T-shirt. He had to be close to sixty. “Are you asking me out?” she whispered, unable to make the words louder in her tight throat.

“Ha!” he barked. “Lady, I have a date tonight. But you should go. Have a good time. Live a little.”

Unbelievable. Brain spinning in horror, Elise paid the bill, added a twenty-percent tip just to prove she didn’t resent his suggestion, then tossed down twenty bucks in cash for the three beers she was about to grab from the fridge.