“I’m going to dinner with Noah,” I repeated for him, even though I was positive he’d heard me correctly the first time. “Noah London,” he clarified through clenched teeth. “Noah London,” I confirmed. “You know…tattoos, professional football player, lived with you in—” “I know, Juniper.” The growl of his voice sent a thrill through me that I chose to ignore. “What I don’t know is why the hell you’re going to dinner with him.”
