Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 82472 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 412(@200wpm)___ 330(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82472 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 412(@200wpm)___ 330(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
“You anxious to leave?” I ask him, trying not to giggle at the scowl on his face.
“These goats are fucking aggressive and should be kept out in the wild. I have been bitten, nipped, licked, pounced on, and I swear to God that goat had his whole nose up my asshole.”
I reach out, grabbing his arm, but pulling my arm back when Tammy’s voice breaks through.
“I’m so sorry that this wasn’t as relaxing for you as for the rest of us. It just seems that they were drawn to you and your energy.”
Noah nods his head, handing me his mat so he can roll up mine. When he finishes that, he grabs the mat I’m holding as well as the one he just rolled up and grabs the bag. “Thank you for your class,” he says, walking outside barefoot.
I say a quick bye to them all, watching Stephanie smirk on the side as I follow Noah outside. I find him at the side of the building putting on his shoes.
“That has got to be the worst yoga class ever.” He ties his running shoes then stands up. “How much do I owe you for the clothes and stuff?” He grabs the bag, getting his wallet out, opening it to grab some cash.
I put my hand on his, stopping him from taking anything out.
“Trust me, it was on me.” I smile at him. “From one friend to another.” I wink at him.
“Really, then can this friend buy you a drink? Or better yet a bite to eat? I’m starving,” he says. “I know a great little Italian place around the corner.”
I think for a minute that this could be bad news. I shouldn’t actually go and eat with him. I am seriously playing with fire and right when I’m going to say no thank you I notice Karen lick her lips at him. Almost like a cat waiting to catch the bird about to fly over. “I would love to have a friendly dinner. Is it close enough that we can walk?” I ask him.
“Yes.” He nods, pointing down the street in the direction of the restaurant. “I’ll lead the way, friend.”
We walk first to Noah’s car where he puts the yoga mats and the bag in the trunk. As soon as he closes the trunk and locks the doors, his hand goes to my lower back as he ushers me in the right direction. When we make it to this little bistro, I notice that the inside is very small and they only have two tables outside.
“Hey, Mr. Noah.” A short bald man comes up to him, his arms open wide to give him a hug. Noah leans down to accept it. “What is that smell?” He backs away, his nose scrunching up.
“Giuseppe, it’s goat spit and probably shit.” He turns his head to smell his own shirt. He leans in to smell me, his nose lightly touching my neck, making my body almost shiver. “You don’t smell of goats.”
“You sitta outside.” He nods to the table. “Yeah, okay. I getta de bread.”
He pulls out a chair and sits first, making me grab the seat in front of him.
“Come here often, Mr. Noah?” I ask, sitting back in my chair, folding my legs and leaning back.
“Only when I want the finest Italian cooking in the city. ‘Mi Amore’ is just like eating in Italy. He has everything flown in.” He’s about to say something else when the bus boy comes outside to pour some water in our glasses.
I lean in, saying “thank you,” picking up my water, and almost finishing it off in one gulp.
Noah just nods at the boy.
Giuseppe comes back outside, grabbing the boy around the shoulder. “Noah, you meeta Giovanni. He’s my nipote.”
“I’m his grandson.” Giovanni smiles at us, walking back inside.
Giuseppe claps his hands together. “So whatta you going to eat thisa time?” he asks us.
“Is there a menu?” I ask him while Giuseppe just smiles at me.
“Bellisima, you tella me whatta you want to eat and I make it for you.”
“I’ll have the osso buco with the pasta on the side,” Noah says, drinking his water.
“Is that meat?” I ask him while he nods. “I don’t eat meat.” I look at Giuseppe. “I’m vegan.”
Giuseppe gives me a confused look then looks at Noah for help.
“Um,” he says, trying to explain what a vegan is. “Just vegetables,” he finally says.
“Also no butter, cheese.” When I see that he isn’t getting it, I smile at him. “I’ll take the salad with just olive oil and balsamic. And all the vegetables that you want to throw in it.”
He slaps his hands together. “I doa you the best salad in the place.” And he turns around, walking inside.
“Your smile totally threw him off of his game.” He smiles at me, bringing his glass to his lips.