He was teasing, and it was a bit on the egotistical side, but also quite possibly true. However, I also didn’t want to end up on a magazine cover with him. Because even though he thought himself safe here, I’d seen enough paparazzi photos to know that they sometimes lurked and got personal moments on film.

The server arrived then with our food, and it was enough to completely cover our table.

I picked up my burger and took a bite and couldn’t help but let out a little moan of appreciation. This was amazing.

Noah asked, “So was I right or were you wrong?”

“Okay, yes to both, and I am definitely eating my words, because this is worthy of being offered as a sacrifice to the old gods. But good doesn’t necessarily equate to healthy.” I waved my hand at the stuff he’d ordered.

“If I’m not eating right, at least I’m eating a lot,” he quipped back. “I don’t see any vegetables on your plate.”

I pointed at my ranch sauce.

“Ranch dressing is not a vegetable.”

“I eat it with vegetables, so it’s basically the same thing. Your onion rings aren’t vegetables, either. I think the healthy parts are negated after you dip them in batter.”

I was halfway through my cheeseburger when I realized he hadn’t eaten anything and was looking around for our server.

“What are you doing? You’re the one who said this place was amazing.”

The server came over, and Noah said, “Can you box all of this up and bring us the check?”

“What?” I laughed.

“We have plans,” he said with a wolfish grin. “I wanted you to have a chance to eat it hot, and you did, so now we can go.”

I wanted to ask him if he was being serious, but it was plain that he was. The server brought over a mountain of boxes and two bags while I ate a bunch of my fries and put the rest of my burger into a box. I didn’t take the fries, because they were never good once they were cold. Noah was busy shoving boxes into bags until everything was packed up.

He stood up, throwing several (American) hundred-dollar bills on the table, while I marveled at how well this server was about to get tipped. He grabbed the bags with one hand and mine with the other and said, “Let’s go.”

I was surprised by how excited I was to leave with him.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Noah definitely was in a hurry. He even asked me about how committed I was to the idea of driving the speed limit. “I’m against tickets, so I’m practically married to it,” I told him.