“Okay, Bethel, that’s enough.” Mom finally stepped in and pulled her away from Noah. “Reagan, maybe you should both stay here. I’m not sure you’re up to—”

“Mom, if I didn’t feel well enough to leave the house, I’d be in bed.” I touched her arm. “I appreciate that you’re worried about me, but I’d like to go out. For an hour. It’s just lunch, and I’m not alone.”

Mom hesitated.

Aunt Bethel narrowed her bright-pink lined eyes at us, her clumpy mascara forming a black curtain so thick it was a wonder she could see past it.

“Besides,” I said brightly, stepping closer to Noah. “He saved my life once already. He’s not going to let anything happen to me, is he?”

“I—”

“Plus, buying him lunch is the least I can do,” I went on. I knew I was wearing her down because she was running out of things to say. “He saved my life, Mom. What’s an hour of my time plus a burger and some fries?”

“And a lie down in the back of his truck,” Bethel sniped.

“Mom!”

Mom flapped her hands. “All right, all right!” She took a deep breath. “Bethel, that was inappropriate and you’re being rude. Reagan, if you really feel like you want to go for lunch, you go and have your lunch with the nice man,” she finished distractedly. “Be home by ten.”

Aunt Bethel opened her mouth to protest, but Mom ushered her off toward the kitchen before she could say anything else to potentially insult Noah.

“I am so sorry,” I said, turning and meeting his bright green eyes.

His lips curved to one side. “Nah, your mom was right. I should have led with the whole ‘saved your life’ thing.”

I rolled my eyes. “God, don’t. I need to run upstairs and grab my phone and stuff—I’ll meet you in your truck?”

“I can wait here.”

“We don’t know this man!” Aunt Bethel trilled from the kitchen. “What if he’s here to kidnap her?”

“On second thought,” Noah said, taking a step back. “I’ll wait in my truck.”

I grimaced and nodded once. “I would.”

His little smile became a sexy half-grin, and he jumped down the steps to the front door backward, then spun and headed for his truck.

I left the door open as I did my own spin and darted up the stairs. I needed to get in and out and quickly as possible before Bethel made a break for it and tried to offend Noah even more.

I grabbed my phone and purse and, after one quick glance in the mirror to treble check—was it a treble check if you’d done it at least ten times?—I made my way back downstairs.

Aunt Bethel was still blathering on about the strange man with the tattoos, and didn’t my mom know that tattoos were what gang members used? That was the kind of thing those biker-types wore.

Wore.

Like they were a t-shirt.

If I said ‘Jesus’ any more times, he was going to appear.