“I’d better go. I’m…I’m late for work.”

I’d started to walk away when he called out from behind me.

“Thought you said you didn’t have to work for another hour.”

I turned around and glared at him.

He shook his head, laughing.

He’s laughing at me.

Again.

Great. It seemed Noah was either scolding me or laughing at me. There was no middle ground.

The only way to handle this and keep my pride in check was to continue walking away, which was exactly what I did.***Jack Foley’s Pub is known for its burgers, local beer selections, and pool tables. While not the fanciest of places, it’s a popular joint around the lake. Especially in the summer, Jack Foley’s is a happening place any night of the week.

Despite its brisk pace, my shift this evening had been uneventful until about 9PM when I looked toward the corner of the room and spotted him.

What’s Noah doing here?

Looking all broody and mad, he stared right at me. Still ticked off that he’d called me out on my behavior earlier, I refused to acknowledge him.

No way was I going to serve him.

“Can you handle table nine in the corner?” I asked my friend and co-waitress Marlene.

“Why?”

“That guy is my tenant, and I don’t want to talk to him right now.”

She turned around to look at him. “Jesus.”

“I know.”

“Why the heck are you avoiding him?”

“I made a fool of myself earlier. It’s a long story.”

“He’s hot as hell, Heather.” She bit her lip. “I’d be glad to service him.”

“I asked if you would serve him, not service him.”

I watched as she waltzed over to Noah and said a few words, only to return a minute later.

“He asked if you could take his order.”

Shit.

When I glanced over, he was looking straight at me.

With a sigh, I walked over and made sure to match his cold demeanor. “What can I get you?”

“Shouldn’t you be a little more cordial to your customers?”

“Not when I know the customer is here to chastise me.”

His expression softened. “I’m not here to chastise you.”

“No? Then why did you come here of all places? You know this is where I work.”

“I came here intentionally, yes…but not to make trouble. I came to apologize.”

I inhaled and calmed down a bit. “Really…”

“Yes. I was hard on you earlier. You were looking out for me. I snapped at you for no good reason. I’m sorry. I can be an insensitive asshole sometimes. It’s who I am. I don’t hide it very well.”

“Well, I’m glad you see that. Not that you’re an asshole—which, yes, you can be sometimes—but that I was only trying to look out for you.”

We stared at each other in silence before he spoke.

“Look, not that I owe you an explanation, but I didn’t come to Lake Winnipesaukee to fuck around with women or complicate my life. I came to get away from stuff like that. So you don’t need to worry about me and what’s her name. I don’t even remember what her name was, to be fair. All I want is to be left alone—some peace. That’s the truth.”

“I seriously feel like you think I’m this crazy buttinski.”

“A what?”

“Buttinski. You’ve never heard that term?”

“No. Is that a New Hampshire thing?”

“No.” I laughed. “It means someone who meddles in other people’s business.”

“Oh. Well, then, you’re definitely that.”

He smiled. I felt goosebumps all over my body. This guy had the strangest effect on me. One minute I was dreading talking to him, and the next all I wanted to do was get lost in his big brown eyes.

I cleared my throat and grabbed the pad of paper out of my apron. “What can I get you?”

“I’ll take whatever you recommend. I didn’t even look at the menu. I just came to say sorry, actually. But since I’m here, I might as well eat.”

“I’ll hook you up.”

He cocked a brow. “Should I be concerned?”

“No. I’m not gonna spike your food or anything, although maybe I should after the way you spoke to me today.” I winked so he didn’t think I was still hung up on that whole thing.

I ended up asking the chef to make Noah one of his specialty burgers with mushrooms, Swiss, and fried onions.

I handed Noah the plate with a heaping portion of garlic parmesan fries and watched as he devoured his meal. It gave me a strange pleasure to be feeding him, which was not something I could say I’d ever felt before. Look at the way he’s inhaling that food. Poor guy must have been starving after slaving away all day.

I imagined what other things he might do with such vigor. I shook my head and forced myself back to work.

Later, when he tried to give me his credit card, I held up my hand. “It’s on me.”

“I can’t let you do that.”

“Seriously…it’s on the house. Told the chef you were a friend. He insists.”