Tell Me Something Good by Jamie Wesley Page B

fact that you looked like you were thinking about accepting that guy’s number hurt Mike.”
    “Oh.” Shannon stared at her shoes. “That makes sense, I guess.”
    Noelle laughed, recognizing a kindred soul. “Admitting you were wrong is hard for you, I take it.”
    Shannon looked up. “Yeah, it is. I guess I won’t kill Tate.”
    Maybe she wasn’t the only one. Crap. Noelle had welcomed the outrage. Because then she could deny that the absolute last man who should’ve gotten to her made her feel more alive than she had in a long time.
    Noelle took a fortifying breath. It didn’t matter. She had a plan. She wanted a long-term relationship filled with love with the right man. Tate wanted twenty minutes with the nearest woman. She didn’t know if she’d ever find what she was looking for, but she knew she wouldn’t find it with Tate Grayson.
    Which meant her unruly hormones and feelings could go back into hibernation.

Chapter Seven
    “Are you freaking kidding me?” Noelle glared at the flat tire on her way-too-new-for-this car. “This is the last thing I need.”
    She looked at her watch. Only thirty minutes till she was supposed to be at the bridal show. Probably enough time to change the tire and still make it on time. If she knew how to change a flat. Which she didn’t. And she didn’t have time to learn, even with the trusty internet on her side, or to call her roadside assistance service.
    She dug her phone out of her purse. What were her options? Call Caitlin? A cab? Yeah, a cab would work. She didn’t want to bother Caitlin.
    She heaved a sigh. But first she needed to call Tate.
    She scrolled through her contacts until she reached his name. Her thumb hovered over the call icon. “Get a grip.” Calling him was not the end of the world. She pressed her thumb down on the screen.
    “Hello,” he answered after two rings.
    “Hi, it’s me. Noelle,” she added because why would she expect him to know who “me” was?
    “I know. What’s up? Were you getting lonely not hearing my voice?”
    She rolled her eyes. “You wish.”
    He laughed softly. “What’s up?”
    Just say it . She gripped the phone tighter. “I’m-I’m going to be late.”
    “Late? You’re never late.” He sounded thoroughly confused.
    “I know,” she muttered.
    “You sound weird. What’s wrong?”
    Say it . “I have a flat tire.”
    He hooted. “Are you telling me the always prepared Dr. Noelle doesn’t know how to change a tire?”
    This was why she hadn’t wanted to call him.
    “You are correct,” she said stiffly.
    “Sooo…because you don’t know how to change a flat tire, you’re going to be late. Hey, didn’t you get on me about being late not too long ago?”
    No, this was why she hadn’t wanted to call him.
    “Dr. Noelle, I don’t hear anything,” he said in a singsong tone of voice.
    She laughed at his teasing. Something she did a lot around him. “Okay. You’re right. I deserved that. I’m going to call a cab. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
    “Where do you live?”
    She blinked. “What?”
    “Where do you live? It might be faster if I swing by and pick you up. I’m about fifteen minutes away from the show.”
    “Oh. I live in Uptown off Central Expressway.”
    “I’m driving south on Central as we speak. Text me your address. I’ll put it in my GPS.”
    Did she have a better option? No, she didn’t. “Okay. Thanks. Bye.” Noelle ended the call, sent the text, and went back inside her house to wait. A few minutes later, when she heard a car pulling into her driveway, she jumped off her couch and hurried outside. “Hey,” she said, walking toward Tate, who was stepping out of his SUV. “Thanks again for picking me up.”
    He continued around the car to the passenger side. “No problem. You’re in my debt now.”
    “Yeah, right. In your dreams.”
    “How did you guess?” He grinned and opened the door. She climbed inside, stopping midway to stare at the light blue piece of