The Note by Natalie Wrye (urban books to read .TXT) 📗

curiously, likely wondering what the hell is taking me so long to count money at the register.

But the sound of slow footsteps in front of us stops whatever he was going to say. I peer up and into the eyes of the stranger who’s suddenly joined us.

A set of serious, sapphire irises stare back at me, a stubbled jaw working its way underneath as Noah stares at me across The Alchemist’s bartop, a worried look on his face.

He blinks. Only once. “We need to talk.”

Chapter 14

NOAH

I fix my eyes on Sophia, meeting her amber gold-green gaze. She doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t falter.

Her stare is an accusation.

She looks angry. And I almost want to see that hot gaze grow even hotter.

But I’ve got better things to do.

Right now? I’ve got to talk to her. If we’re going to make any headway with moving forward as co-partners… AKA Ms. Note-Taker and Mr. Blackmailer.

“Briber” and “bribee.”

Man on top and woman underneath.

Scratch that. I don’t need to think of all the ways that Sophia Somerset could be underneath me.

“Would love to, actually.” Her eyes start to brighten. “But I can’t right now. I’ve got, uh…something I need to do first.”

I can feel my face fall.

I glance over to find another server from The Alchemist starting at us, the guy’s pale blue eyes bouncing between us.

Curiosity at who this fucker is fires underneath my skin, but the distraction causes me precious time. I turn only to find Sophia talking to a table of customers, handing them bills before hustling behind the bar and slinging a stashed black bag over her shoulder.

Heading for the exit within seconds, her legs move fast as she tries to hightail it out of the building, and I’m after her immediately.

The weather has worsened since the morning, the afternoon rushing in ice-cold rain showers.

The sound of wind and thunder rolling quickly into the city doesn’t break my step, and before she grab for the door, I reach for her arm, my touch light as I try to grab her attention.

She whirls on me, one hand raised over her head. Ready to slap.

I flinch. “Fuck, it’s me, Sophia.”

“I know.” She arches one perfect eyebrow. “I just figured if you were using this opportunity to argue with me one last time that I’d get ahead of you. I don’t need you ruining my morning, afternoon and my evening, if you don’t mind.”

“I mind a lot of things.” I glare at her outstretched hand. “Being slapped is one of them.” I point. “Do you mind lowering that?”

She does, a fire still in her eyes, her stubborn jaw set in place, and it’s impossible not to feel the pull towards her.

She’s sensual as fuck this way.

Full of passion.

Just as she’d been in that bar five days ago.

No amount of time (or scotch, for that matter) was going to erase that.

She drops her hand, letting it fall to her thigh with a thud, and the desire to press my lips to her limp wrist and inhale her lilac scent makes my insides twist.

With all that’s going on with the company, with my family, with our freaking debt, the urge to lose myself in Sophia Somerset is stronger than ever, and if she were any other woman that’s exactly what I would do.

The way I used to.

So why can’t I get the little thief out of my head?

I’m reminded why when Sophia’s small arms fold under her generous breasts, and I glance down to find her nipples tightening, turning to small peaks in the cold and humid air.

I lick my bottom lip, drawing my eyes back to her face as I start.

“I’m sorry…for exploding on you at lunch today. Yesterday, when we stopped by my office after the visit to Al’s Pawnshop, my employees had a lot of questions. And then my family had a lot of questions. And I was hammered with them.” I exhale harshly. “And so I hammered you. A lot of hammering went on today. And not the good kind.”

She smiles at that, lowering her gaze, and I shift directions.

I lean in. “I needed to talk to you. About our next steps. And… I thought you might need a ride through this rain.”

Her small chin lifts. “And what would make you think that?”

“Well, the last time I offered you a ride, you didn’t have a car—unless you’ve got a set of four wheels strapped underneath that skirt.”

I can’t help but grin a little as a blush colors her pale cheeks, staining the skin pink. I remember that blush very vividly from when I once nearly slid my hands down her body to do very fun things to her other set of cheeks.

“I’m not heading home,” she warns. “I’m meeting a friend.”

“That’s fine.”

“I might not have a lot of time to talk.”

“I won’t need much.”

Her mouth twists in that familiar way I’ve grown accustomed to. She gnaws on her plump bottom lip, releasing it with a soft pop seconds later, and the memory of tasting that plush skin assaults me where I stand.

Sophia stands straighter. “You’re right. Anyway, I need to talk to you, too.”

“About?” I glare at her with tightening eyes.

“It might be best to talk about this in private.”

I nod. “Then feel free to lead the way…” I wave towards the door. “Sophia.”

She arches an eyebrow (probably because it’s the first time I’ve used her name) saying nothing as I open the door first. I pop open my large black umbrella first, but Sophia has her own, and apparently sharing isn’t high on her list of priorities.

Having called my town car minutes before, it’s already idling around the corner when we walk up, soaked because of the slanting rain.

I open the door, letting Sophia inside before hopping in the backseat with her.

I don’t know why.

I could have easily taken the front passenger seat when it occurs to me: I don’t want to.

I want to be near her. For God knows what reason, I feel more alive next to the vixen