Page 42 of The Keeper

My gaze traveled up his chest and neck to his face. Golden stubble shadowed his jaw, and he smelled like soap and clean laundry. His eyes were cool as they assessed me for a split second before he shifted his attention to Samson, who twisted around on his stool to give Noah that weird bro handshake guys loved.

“Hey, man. Glad to see you out tonight.” Samson tilted his head toward me. “You know Carina, obviously.”

“Obviously.” Noah’s voice was as cool as his expression.

The other player’s smile faltered.

“You might’ve heard we live together,” I added quickly, hoping to defuse the tension. “I’m Evie’s nanny. We, um, see a lot of each other. But the situation is temporary. I mean, I’m not going to live with them forever. Not that it’s a bad job or anything. It’s great. I love Evie.”

“Ah, right.” Samson saved me from my rambling. “Sorry. I always forget you two live together since you—” He stopped, his expression turning awkward.

Since you treat each other like strangers. I didn’t have to be a psychic to guess the end of his sentence. I didn’t blame him; Noah was acting like he barely knew me. I’d thought we were becoming friends, but clearly not. The difference between our private banter and his public coldness made me feel like I was losing my mind. I didn’t know what was real anymore.

“Want to join us for a drink?” Samson recovered with impressive ease. “I was telling Cece about the end-of-season party I’m planning.”

“For the record, I did not sign off on that nickname,” I said.

Samson’s smile flashed again. “Come to the party as my date, and I’ll call you any nickname you want.”

Okay, wow. No ambiguity there.

“I…” My thoughts scrambled. I risked a glance at Noah, but he didn’t even appear to be listening.

He ordered a ginger ale and drained it all in one go. He signaled for another, his face like stone the entire time.

“What do you say?” Samson asked. “No pressure and no strings attached, I promise. Just two people having a good time.”

“That does sound fun,” I said, too distracted to come up with a proper response. “I, um⁠—”

Noah suddenly pushed his bar stool back. He left his second drink untouched and stalked off without another word.

My chest tightened. His bad mood wasn’t my problem, but…

Dammit.

I bit the inside of my cheek and gave Samson an apologetic look. “Sorry, can you excuse me for a minute? I have to, uh, use the loo.”

“No problem,” he said easily. If he was upset by my obvious excuse, he didn’t show it.

I felt bad about leaving him hanging, but I had to sort out this situation with Noah. It was going to eat away at me until I did.

“Noah.” I pushed through the crowd. He continued walking, his broad frame towering over the rest of the crowd. “Noah! Wait.”

The crowd drowned out my voice, but I finally caught up to him near the back exit.

“Noah.” I was slightly out of breath from speed walking and the nerves buzzing under my skin. But he heard me.

Noah’s shoulders visibly tensed. After a long pause—so long I thought he’d pretend he didn’t hear me and leave me in the dust—he turned, his face a study in neutrality as I approached.

I came to a stop about an arm’s length away. We were standing in the alleyway behind the pub. During the summer, it was filled with people chatting and smoking, but tonight’s unusual chill kept them corralled inside.

The brick walls shielded us from prying eyes, yet I felt horribly exposed beneath Noah’s dark stare.

My earlier drinks swirled in my stomach. I was tipsy before, but they were really hitting me now. Samson hadn’t been lying when he’d said they were stronger than they looked.

Noah raised his eyebrows, clearly waiting for me to speak.

Words jumbled in my throat. None of them seemed right. Perhaps I should’ve thought this through before I chased him into a dark alley.