“Damn it!” she hissed grabbing a menu and holding it over her face.

“Oh! It’s Drake and Henry and… oh.” Paige nervously moved Cat’s utensils out of her reach. “We can go somewhere else.”

“Where the hell else are we going to drink? The parking lot of a liquor store?” Cat hissed. She was going to have to talk to Drake and Henry about where their loyalties lay. Cat rolled her shoulders and shook her head. “No. We’re staying. He can leave.”

They ordered their drinks, cosmos all around plus a double shot of Jameson for Cat, and Cat busied herself shooting daggers in Noah’s general direction.

Angela put her feet on the rungs of her stool and stood to get a better look. “Oh, is that Noah?” she asked.

Cat yanked her back down. “Mom!”

“What? He doesn’t look like a hell beast. He’s very good-looking. The glasses make him look like an intellectual.”

“Hell beasts don’t have to be ugly. It’s what’s on the inside that’s a rotting smorgasbord of asshole.”

Paige’s eyebrows winged up her forehead, and she sent Angela a meaningful look.

“What?” Cat demanded. “Do you know what he said to me?”

“No,” Angela answered. “The only thing we’ve pried out of you is ‘rotting smorgasbord of asshole.’”

“He comes storming up to the Hai house. I’m sitting outside with April and Sara after April got a little teary-eyed inside. He asked if I like making little girls cry. He acted like I’d just given both girls breakdowns and salaciously filmed it for a salivating audience of soulless sadists.”

“You get really descriptive when you’re mad and sober,” Paige observed. “And your alliteration is spot on.”

“Don’t make me add you to my hit-and-run list,” Cat warned.

“Why was he in your face?” her mother asked.

“He thought I made April cry on camera until I pointed out that there were no cameras outside. Duh. Then he launched into another tirade about me being a shining beacon of everything that’s wrong in this universe. And I finally let him have it. Verbally at least, because I’m a fucking lady.”

The waitress returned with their drinks. “You three ladies are lu-u-ucky. Courtesy of Drake ‘Hottie’ Mackenrowe.”

Cat glanced toward the bar. Drake and Henry waved cheerfully. Noah just stared.

Paige and Angela raised their glasses in a thank you. Cat stared back at Noah, willing him to read her mind.

Fuck. You.

He raised an eyebrow, and the corner of his mouth quirked. Cat’s eyes narrowed. How dare he look so calm, so pleasant.

Paige pulled out her phone.

“What are you doing?” Cat hissed.