Chapter 11
eleven
I t’d only been two days, but it felt like two months since they’d signed papers in August’s office and started the hunt. And Noah wasn’t entirely sure he wanted it to end this quickly.
He picked up the clue card from its spot on the coffee table next to a half-empty box of pizza, and spun it between his fingers. “No more stalling.” His fingers itched to rip open the envelope, even as he wished time would slow down. Just a bit.
“I’m not stalling, I just want to revel in the win a little longer.” Elisa pushed her hair out of her face, leaving a streak of tomato sauce across her jaw. They’d come back to the Blue Pirogue to eat dinner and review the next clue together, riding the high of their victory. Elisa had insisted they not open the next clue until they’d properly celebrated finding it. A large pepperoni and two-liter of soda later, here they were.
Sitting next to her on the floor, eating a late dinner, brought back a wave of nostalgia. How many times had they done that together over the summer? Like the time when she’d doctored up the cartons of Chinese take-out he’d bought with several spices, claiming they weren’t Cajun enough. And the time she’d presented him with hand-torched marshmallows, toasted to the perfect degree of crispness for s’mores skewers.
“Does reveling involve finger painting with pizza?” He leaned toward Elisa from their shared spot in front of the coffee table, then thought better of it and handed her a napkin. A truce—or even a fledgling friendship—didn’t require that level of intimacy. And being alone here in the inn, with his crew gone for the evening and the haphazard mix of construction dust, scattered tools, and lingering paint fumes, somehow felt exactly that—intimate. “Your face.”
She scrubbed north of the sauce, then arched her delicate jaw toward him. “Did I get it?”
Freckles dotted her high cheekbones, and her blond hair waved perfectly away from her ear, despite the heat of their earlier climb. And yep, she still smelled like vanilla and honey, even with cheesy bread sitting two feet away from him.
Noah cleared his throat, hoping she hadn’t noticed him staring. “So you can find a clue hidden in a hundred-year-old lighthouse, but you can’t find food on your own face?” He took the napkin from her. “Some puzzle master you are.”
“You’re just jealous I found the clue first.” She lifted her chin in mock arrogance.
“Only because of something I said. And you better be nice, or I’ll let you walk around town like this.” He gestured to the sauce still dotting her jaw.
“You did help back at the lighthouse, I suppose.” She raised one eyebrow at him. “With all the not-fainting you pulled off.”
“Okay, have it your way, pizza-face.” He started to stand up, and she burst into laughter. The sound washed over him like waves against his favorite fishing dock, twice as comforting.
“I’m kidding!” She grabbed his arm, and he fell back the few inches he’d risen onto the rug. He landed closer than before, and the warmth of her arm heated his side.
“I surrender. Fix me.” She arched toward him again, waiting, chin extended.
He slowly brought the napkin to her face. This was new. The bantering, the jesting—all in good fun, rather than exchanging actual digs. He kind of liked it.
Which was a huge problem.
Their former dynamic was frustrating in its own sense, but this one…this one felt dangerous. Heady.
Sort of like he was standing on the lighthouse deck all over again, staring out at his future, once upon a time.
He wiped her face and crumpled the napkin into a ball. “Truth or dare?”
Surprise lit Elisa’s eyes, a spark he felt in the depths of his stomach. She squinted at him. “If I say dare, are you going to make me cartwheel down that hallway?”
“I guess we’ll find out.” What was he doing ? This wasn’t like him—or rather, not the Noah of late. That Noah was always stressed and overwhelmed, forever behind on his endless list. But today, Elisa made him want to slow down and smell the roses—or rather, smell the vanilla.
And he desperately needed a change of pace.
“No, we won’t find out.” She grinned as she reached for another breadstick. “Because I choose truth.”
“Chicken.” He couldn’t help but tease her, even though he had no idea what he would have requested if she’d chosen the dare. “Okay…ready?”
“I was born ready, sugar.” She fluttered her lashes at him and her southern twang, while exaggerated, coated him like the molasses on Grandmother’s homemade cookies.
“Why don’t you cook anymore?”
She blinked. “You go right for the gut, don’t you? I told you, culinary school fell through and my ex?—”
“No, I get all that. But culinary school and cooking aren’t inexplicably twined.”
Her gaze dropped.
He wasn’t trying to upset her. But she had been too good to quit so easily. It didn’t make sense. “I guess I’m saying I want to hear the rest of your story. After our climb today, I’ve got blood, sweat, and tears invested in it, remember?” His sweat, at least, was most certainly back on those lighthouse stairs.
“I should have known my good deed of helping you would reach around and nip me in the behind.” Elisa released a short laugh. “Fine. But I get to ask you truth or dare next.”
“Fair.” He’d cross that bridge when it came.
She drew a breath, leaning her head against the couch as if settling in for story hour. “I don’t cook anymore because it felt like a lot of it was tied up with the school, and all my failure there.” Her voice hitched as if she’d struck a nerve in her own memory. “I guess I could have gone somewhere else, searched for a job on my own. But I wanted to come back home.”
Noah nodded. “To your dad?”
“And Delia.” She was quick—maybe too quick—to clarify as she stared up at the ceiling.
Vague answers. And they still left an obvious question. “So why don’t you cook for the Magnolia Blossom? You have all that education and time put in.”
“Delia’s not interested in branching out—she’s been making the same southern favorites for years and her customers love it.” Elisa shrugged, head still against the couch. “It’s not my place. Besides, I like managing.”
Like she kept stating…or rather, overstating. But it didn’t feel right to pry further—she didn’t owe him any answers. He went for lightening the mood instead. “I suppose you were always good at telling people what to do.”
She elbowed him in the ribs, and he folded into his side, laughing. “I’d say I’m kidding, but…” He caught another elbow to the ribcage. “Ow. Okay, truce.”
“Another one? I’m going to need to start a list.” She met his gaze in challenge. “My turn.” She rose to her knees and faced him, anticipation lighting her gaze. “Truth or dare?”
“Dare.” Whatever she came up with had to be far safer than admitting to anything she might ask. He’d rather streak Bayou Boulevard than admit he’d missed her even a little the entire past decade. That he’d compared every woman he’d dated ever since to her, and they all came up lacking.
Elisa’s eyebrows lifted, but she quickly recovered from the surprise. “I dare you to answer my question.”
He sucked in a tight breath. Clever. “Let’s have it.”
A somber expression slid over her face as she sat back on her heels, giving him her full attention. “Why is the Blue Pirogue so important to you?”
Speaking of going for the gut. But at least she hadn’t asked about their former relationship. He cleared his throat. “It’s my heritage.”
“There’s more to it than that.” She tilted her head, studying him as if she’d never fully seen him before. “It’s not only a building to you.”
“Of course it’s not.” Which was something Elisa’s father and grandfather, the men who’d been actively attempting to take it away from Noah’s family for decades, would never understand. It wasn’t about an age-old feud or who owned what property rights the inn rested on. It would always be more than that.
He had to give her something, though. She’d never give up as easily as he did. All part of that good ol’ Hebert curse.
Quick to quit.
Elisa waited, watching him closely, and he hoped she couldn’t read the myriad thoughts scattering around his brain.
Noah sighed. “The Blue Pirogue is my childhood. It’s a testimony to my family through the ages…all my favorite memories are here. Grandpa would make up silly adventures for me when I was a kid. He always had some kind of puzzle going in his study—usually a 3D one, or a two-thousand-piece puzzle.” He smirked. “None of that easy five-hundred-piece junk, as he’d say.”
Elisa smiled softly. “That sounds like him.”
Her encouragement—and the safety of the inn around him—loosened his tongue. “He was there, you know? I could always count on Grandpa to show up when my dad—” He cleared his throat. “When no one else could. Like for Little League games. JV ball tryouts. Whatever I was doing.” Noah swallowed. “The inn represents that, somehow.”
Elisa nodded. “Consistency.” The word, heavy with southern accent, stretched between them. “That makes sense.”
“Grandpa never quit on me.” Noah looked down, wishing he could reel the words back in like Cade with his high-end fishing rod.
“You two always seemed close.”
“Very.” He stared at his hands in his lap. “That’s part of why it was so hard when he and Grandma Edith divorced.”
Elisa’s voice dipped with compassion. “What happened between them?”
“Honestly, I’m not sure.” Noah shifted into a more comfortable position on the floor. “Grandma was there for the early years of my life, with her molasses cookies and patterned aprons. Always smelling like cinnamon and offering warm hugs. Then she was gone, and all the adults were hush-hush about it.” He shrugged. “I just put two and two together when I got older, figured out he left her.” He shot her a look. “This might shock you, but Hebert men aren’t particularly skilled in the relationship department.” He only had to look at his own dad to see that. “Grandpa was a terrific grandfather—but apparently not such a great husband.”
Elisa nodded. “I guess we all have our hang-ups.”
Some more than others. Noah swallowed.
“So if the inn is so important to you, why aren’t you staying?”
“I need to get back to Shreveport.” The words flew off his tongue as if they were rehearsed. Yet the meaning behind them didn’t feel nearly as strong as it had even earlier that morning.
The inn was already working him over. Or was that Elisa? He needed to tread carefully. He cleared his throat. “Ready for the next clue?”
She picked up the envelope—the one he’d been so eager to open moments ago, yet nearly forgot about during their impromptu game. “Do you want to do the honors?” She extended the card.
“Sure.” He took it from her, scooting a few inches away from his spot on the floor, resting one shoulder against the couch and facing Elisa so he could keep his distance as he read. Thankfully this time he knew to brace himself against his grandfather’s handwriting.
The origin of that fateful command
Lives among us even today
Search the books if you want to find
The truth to end a fray. (UJC)
Elisa pulled a little black band from her wrist and began wrapping her hair into a short ponytail. “Read it out loud.”
That wasn’t going to help. Oh, Grandpa . He muffled another sigh as he repeated the confusing words for Elisa.
“Huh?” She frowned, her hands slowly falling from her hair.
“Yeah, exactly.”
She snatched the card from his grip, re-read it, then looked up. “This isn’t a poem.”
“It’s a bad one, if it is.” They were back to square one all over again. Make that square two, technically. Now what?
“Maybe it’s about the poem from the first clue.” She licked her lower lip, her gaze running back over the handwritten words. “That fateful command… what command? What books?”
“Grandpa has a library.” Noah pointed behind them down the long hallway. “Maybe he means one of his history books?”
“Maybe. And this UJC.” Elisa shook her head. “It’s in parentheses. Would he mean that as an afterthought? Like a sub-clue?”
“Or that part isn’t even important.” Noah shrugged. “Maybe it’s optional.”
“Or it’s further explaining the last line somehow.” Elisa sighed. “This one will be a doozy.”
He snorted. “I thought that was my line.”
“Maybe being an Eeyore is contagious.” She handed him the card, then stood.
Noah did so as well, his left foot tingling from sitting on the floor so long. “Wait a second. You think I’m Eeyore?”
“Well, you’re sure not Tigger.”
“I guess that makes you Piglet, then.” He was starting to see why teasing was so much fun. In fact, if he was in fourth grade, he might just reach out and tug her ponytail. Instead, he caught her wrist as she started past him.
She turned, glancing down at his grip, and her soft hand warmed.
He opened his mouth to tease her further, but couldn’t remember what in the world he was going to say. Her smile waned as awareness hit her eyes.
His breathing shifted, subtly, until their rhythms matched. She inched closer, or maybe he drew her in—didn’t matter. Only inches separated them, giving him a close-up view of her freckles and those cheekbones that itched to be traced.
He obliged, dragging one knuckle gently across their length. Her breath hitched off rhythm, and she licked her lower lip.
So much for treading carefully.
Red flags waved across the back of his mind, but he didn’t want to think about them. Or about impossible clues, or about losing the inn because of stupid mold.
He just wanted to feel eighteen again.
* * *
Good gravy—Noah Hebert was going to kiss her.
A dozen voices stammered at Elisa to run. But she ignored them, drawn toward Noah like a moth to an open candle. A masculine candle that smelled like the sun on the bay and the forest after a heavy rain and all her favorite things about the island.
The back of his hand grazed her cheek, and she turned her face into his touch, breathing in his warmth and the caress of his knuckles. He held her eyes with his deep brown gaze, drawing her chin up and providing her a better view of his whiskered cheeks. She wondered if they felt as rough as they looked, and her hand longed to find out.
Before she could, his fingers continued an exploration along her jaw, then trailed quickly down the side of her throat until his hand cupped the back of her neck. She remembered that move. The first time he’d kissed her that summer, it’d been the exact same progression. A less secure woman would wonder if he’d pulled such a thing on every woman he’d dated since, but the smolder in his eyes assured Elisa it was reserved for her.
The warmth of his hand sent contrasting shivers down her spine, and she stepped closer toward the fire—toward being burned. Her finger buried into his shirt, knotting the material with both hands. One palm came up to graze his cheek. Just as prickly as she imagined…as prickly as she remembered …yet she wouldn’t change a thing.
He ducked his head and she arched toward him on her toes, her body operating completely on autopilot as if the past twelve years had been an unfortunate blip on the radar. This was bad.
But so, so good.
Her breath hitched. She should move. Abort.
But she might as well have been chained to him, chained to the past. Her eyes fluttered closed.
“Elisa Bergeron!”
Her eyes flew back open at the slamming of a door. That wasn’t the sweet mutterings of the man about to kiss her—it was the voice of her father.
“Dad?” Elisa’s bewildered, high-pitched tone hurt her own ears as he strode across the floor. She wasn’t sure if she had stepped away first or if Noah did, but sudden distance spread between them. Had her dad seen what had almost happened?
What had almost happened?
She stared at her father, whose red face testified he’d seen plenty. “What are you doing here?”
“I could ask you the same.” Dad crossed his arms over his polo shirt. “I left several messages.”
She automatically patted her jeans pocket for her cell, but it was back on the coffee table, near the abandoned pizza boxes.
“Not you. Him.” Isaac’s gaze swung sideways to include Noah.
Noah repeated a similar pat down, to no avail, looking as flustered as she felt.
“But I can see you were otherwise engaged.” Isaac frowned.
Oh, boy. “Dad. What are you doing here?” Elisa kept her voice calm. Be a good girl…
“I wanted to check on the proceedings for the mold mitigation. When no one answered, I thought I’d swing by.” He nodded toward Noah, his lips pressing into a hard line. “I can see I came just in time.”
Noah cleared his throat, shifting his weight from foot to foot. “Proceedings are under way.”
“Proceedings to fix the Blue Pirogue, or to weasel back into my daughter’s life?”
“ Dad .” Elisa moved to stand between them, even though they remained on opposite sides of the room. She stretched a hand toward both men. “Noah and I are working on a project. That’s all.”
Noah’s gaze cut hard to her, and she averted her eyes.
Isaac lifted his chin. “I know what I saw.”
Embarrassment crept over her shoulders. “You got your answer about the mold. Was that all?”
Isaac nodded stiffly at Noah. “Hope your proceedings are well-planned. You’re going to need all the help you can get.”
She quickly tugged at her dad’s arm, willing him to move toward the door before he could humiliate any of them further. “I’ll go with you. Come on.”
She fought to hide her sigh of relief as her father turned and stalked for the front door. She cast an apologetic glance over her shoulder at Noah, who stood with feet braced apart in the middle of the lobby, his expression unreadable.
Boy, nothing like feeling eighteen all over again.