Page 6 of Duty and Desire

“Yo!” he bites out. I spin around and find him storming in my direction. “Next time you get out of my truck before I’ve even put it in park, we’re gonna have a problem.”

“Wh…? What?” I back up a step as he closes in on me.

“I get you’re upset about what that douchebag you married said, but you will not put yourself in danger. Do you understand?”

“I wasn’t in danger,” I say quietly. He makes a deep growling sound in the back of his throat that causes the hairs on the backof my neck to stand on end as his eyes narrow scarily. “I mean, okay,” I quickly amend.

“Okay,” he grumbles, not looking any less angry. I shift on my feet as his eyes bore into mine.

“Should we go eat?” I blurt, wanting to end the awkward stare-down between us.

“Yes.” He grabs my wrist, startling me. My skin burns from his touch—not in a bad way, but in a way that makes me very aware of his proximity—and I oddly miss it when we reach the restaurant, and he lets me go to open the door.

When we get inside, I see people standing near the entrance, waiting to be seated, and the entire dining area is packed. We get in line, and I look around, noticing that many of the patrons have their eyes on Noah. Not just women but also men. I wonder if he always draws so much attention everywhere he goes.

“Is it just you two?” A young woman who’s probably still in high school greets us with a smile when we finally reach the podium.

“Yep,” he tells her, and she drops her gaze to the paper in front of her, then looks between Noah and me.

“It’s going to be about ten minutes. Is that okay?”

“That works for us.” He lifts his chin, then gives her his name. She writes it down on the list.

As we move to stand in the alcove near the front door with everyone else, a handsome man with gorgeous dark skin, dressed in jeans and a thermal shirt with a vest over it, approaches us with a blinding-white smile. There’s a woman on his arm that I swear must be a model. If she’s not, she should be. Like the man’s, her skin is flawless, and her tall, thin frame would make most designers cry with happiness. I mean, honestly, even in the jeans she has on with a turtleneck and trench coat that matches her pointy boots, she looks like she should be on a runway.

“Noah.” The man gives Noah a fist bump. “I was just talking about you this morning.”

“Oh, yeah?’ Noah asks while the woman leans in to give Noah a one-armed hug with a smile to match her guy’s. I stand slightly away, feeling awkward and out of place.

“Heard you tossed your hat into the ring for detective.”

“I did,” Noah tells him, and I tip my head back to look at him, in awe of the news because I’m sure it’s a big deal.

“If they don’t give it to you, I’ve got a desk in Nashville with your name on it.”

“I appreciate that, man,” Noah says quietly.

“Just speaking the truth. They’d be stupid not to give you what you want, especially when you’ve been helping them solve cases without the title,” he says, and Noah places his hand against my lower back, sliding it around my waist to pull me closer to his side.

“Babe, this is Sergeant Devon Marshall and his wife, Nova. This is my best friend’s sister, Bridgett.”

“Nice to meet you both.” I fiddle with the handle of my bag in front of me as Nova looks between Noah and me.

“Your best friend’s sister?” Nova raises a brow, her eyes landing on Noah. “That sounds complicated.”

“We’re just friends,” he tells her, and I chew the inside of my cheek.That’s a stretch, I think. We’ve only been around each other a handful of times over the last couple of months and have barely spoken.

“Hmm.” She meets my gaze. “I love your scarf and bag.”

“Thank you.” I touch the Burberry scarf around my neck, one I have plans to sell and probably shouldn’t be wearing. “I love your whole outfit.”

“Thanks.” She smiles at me, then leans into her husband. “We should go before your mother kidnaps our children.”

“I wish she would,” Devon tells her, and she smacks his chest, making him laugh. “All right, all right. It was nice meeting you, Bridgett. And, Noah, I expect a phone call if things don’t work out.”

“You’ll hear from me,” he replies. Nova gives us a wave while Devon lifts his chin. When they leave, I look up at Noah and start to open my mouth to ask about him wanting to be a detective, but a woman approaches carrying two menus.

“If you’ll follow me.” She smiles, then turns. We walk behind her, wending through tables to the back of the room and a corner booth just big enough for two.