Page 32 of Snowballed

“What do you prefer? The woman I live with? My landlady? My billet mom?”

“Euw. Those are worse.” I glare and wish that he not talk about me at all. “What do you want?”

“I need a ride home,” he says.

“I’mthe one who gets to take you home.” Helen has reappeared with a full drink. She’s swaying slightly.

“I don’t think you should be driving,” Noah says.

Helen lifts a finger. “Correct. So you’ll have to sleep over instead.”

Noah raises an eyebrow. “Thanks, but that’s not a good idea. Zoe, let me know when you’re leaving.”

I check my watch. It’s after midnight so Rocky can’t complain. “Now. Probably too early for you, right?”

“Nope. I like to get enough sleep during the season.” He looks over at the bleary Helen. “I guess we better take her home first.”

His level of consideration for Helen surprises me. “Okay, I’m still parked at the arena, so we can drop her on the walk there.”

I say goodbye to Rocky, and Noah shuffles Helen over to the front door.

“Zoe,” a voice calls out. It’s Martin. “Are you going already?”

“Yeah. I live out in Shelburne, so it’s a bit of a drive.”

He swallows. “Well, um, maybe you can give me your contact info. I can send you my mom’s pickle recipe.”

Noah snorts, but I ignore him and exchange numbers with Martin.

“I’m sure Martin has a very impressive pickle.” Noah starts in as soon as we’re outside. Helen is on the other side of him. She’s hanging onto his arm like she’s Tarzan and he’s a vine.

“He’s a farmer. Well, his family has a farm. They’re converting from corn to soybeans.”Stop babbling, Zoe.Gah.

“That’s probably safer. Martin looks a lot like a stalk of corn. Wouldn’t want a farm accident.”

I bite my lip to keep from giggling. Martin is thin and pale, and his light blond hair is unfortunately spiked at the top. “You’re so funny. Not. I do want that recipe. Martin and I have a shared interest in canning.” If I practiced for hours, I could not sound lamer.

“Maybe a shared interest in caning would be more fun?” Noah suggests.

I ignore him. People like to make fun of old-fashioned preserving methods, but when it’s time to eat, they’re happy to enjoy them. And I’m trying hard not to wonder whether Noah has an interest in caning. Yow.

“Do you know how hot you are, Noah?” Helen pipes up.

At least he has the decency to blush. “Uhh, no.”

“It’s true.” Helen blinks at me. “Even Zoe admitted that you’re the hottest guy she’s ever met in real life.”

He grins and winks at me. “Is that a fact?”

“Yeah, and she never finds any guys cute, so…” Helen’s voice trails off before she can embarrass me further.

“I also said you have the biggest ego of anyone I’ve ever met,” I tell him.

“But is it ego if I actually am that wonderful?” Noah asks.

Helen pulls at his jacket. “I have a question. Why do you wear so many clothes? You would look better in less clothes.”

While I agree with Helen in theory, I already know the answer to this one. He’s cold, and it’s only September. By the time it’s January, he’s going to look like the Michelin man.

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