he only smirks and says, “I’m good with my hands. You’ll find that out soon enough.” Naturally, I look to the sun and blame it for the red blistering my face. “You can’t say stuff like that until we’re married, Noah.” He chuckles. “So I am too much for you?” “I just don’t need thoughts occupying my head.” Surprisingly, Noah sobers us. “Of course. I’m sorry, Esme. I sometimes think before speaking and let the flirt get the best of me. Forgive me?”
