I zeroed in on Noah, who sat alone halfway between the booth and the door. He’d traded his usual workout clothes for jeans and a long-sleeved shirt he’d shoved up to his elbows. The material clung to his broad shoulders, and his dark russet hair stood up in disarray as if he’d been running his hands through it. He looked up from his phone, and his gaze met mine like a body blow. I stumbled over the industrial rug at the entrance and nearly face-planted onto the floor. Today was not a good day for my coordination. Noah’s lips curled into a slow smile, and for a second, I wondered if I’d hit my
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