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fiber and protein.” The man flashed a huge smile before swallowing a green glob off his fork.
    “So does this.” Noah took a long swig and kept his gaze locked on the white double doors in front of him.
    People buzzed in and out. Some mingled near the entry. Others broke into groups and claimed big tables set up in the middle of the all-white room. All that heat and hiking made them chatty, which explained the sound of laughter bouncing around the room and why Noah picked the empty four-person table closest to the door.
    He was not there to make new friends. He had friends. What he lacked at the moment was a fiancée.
    But Lexy had to eat sometime. Since the place had one location to get food, or what passed for food, Noah figured she would wander in and across his path eventually. Probably eat some grasslike entrée and then run off again, but he would catch her first.
    “Where did you get the beer?” the unwanted table guest asked.
    “Brought it in.”
    “The rules forbid alcohol.”
    “So?” Noah took a nice long pull to emphasize his point.
    “It’s a pretty big violation of policy.”
    “Yeah, I got that the first time you said it. You gonna turn me in to the health police?”
    “I’d have to report you to me. I’m afraid we haven’t been introduced.” The man extended his hand across the table. “I’m Tate Carr. I own and manage the place.”
    “Noah Paxton.”
    “Yes, of course. Our newest guest.” Tate sat back after his too-long, too-squishy handshake and adjusted the collar of his green and white striped button-down shirt. “You were a tight fit.”
    Noah thought the phrasing of that sentence needed some work. “If you say so.”
    “I’m sure you will find everything satisfactory in your room.”
    Only if he found Lexy waiting on his bed. “It’s fine.”
    “The one problem we have is that beer in your hand.”
    “It’s not a problem for me.” Noah clutched the bottle. Good luck to any moron who tried to pry it out of his hands.
    “There are restrictions here.”
    Noah figured one of them required Tate to wear clothes that matched the color of the food. Why else would a grown man choose to look like a green bean?
    “You know what they say about rules, Tate?”
    Tate sent him a look of pity. “Not this one. See, the diet and nutrition concerns are reviewed quarterly for optimal fitness and output.”
    Everyone in the joint qualified as a walking, talking brochure. First Lexy. Now the green guy. “Why?”
    “People enjoy exercise and good health. We aim to give them what they need and seek. We pride ourselves on producing results.”
    “I meant why not eat real food and drink whatever you want. Like a hamburger. That’s a good source of protein, right?” Noah would trade the beer for any nonbark food at this point.
    “Well, we can’t…”
    “Yeah?”
    Tate adjusted his collar a second time. “It wouldn’t be…”
    Since he wanted the conversation over, Noah offered the guy an assist. “Nutritious?”
    “Exactly. These vegetables are natural and better for you than the processed food most people eat.”
    Noah did not want a lecture. “If you say so.”
    “See, in a macrobiotic diet—”
    “Don’t explain.”
    “You’re probably right.” Tate reached out and rubbed his hand up and down Noah’s bicep. “You look like you’re in good shape without too many dietary changes. Nice and firm.”
    “Whoa.” Noah jumped out of his chair.
    This is what happened when he tried to have a conversation. He should have told this Tate dude to get the hell out the second he sat down. Now Noah had to get the guy to back off without killing him. “Look, man. I’m not interested.”
    “Excuse me?” Tate asked.
    Noah tried words one more time. “I like women.”
    “I still don’t—”
    “I’m engaged. She should be here any minute.”
    The news chased the confused look off Tate’s face. “Your fiancée is at the spa?”
    As far as he was concerned they were still