Chapter 16
sixteen
N oah wiggled the mouse at the computer hub he’d sequestered, blinking against the bright light that suddenly flooded the dark room of the clerk of court’s office. “I’m in.”
Meanwhile, Cade paced the carpeted hall outside the cubicle, passing back and forth in front of Noah’s work station. Even this late in the evening, Cade was still wearing his fancy loafers. “I’m going to get fired.”
Elisa hovered halfway between them, as if torn over who to help first. She pointed at Cade as he wore a track in the carpet. “You most certainly are not. We won’t let that happen, sugar.”
Noah clenched the mouse tighter. The use of Elisa’s common nickname shouldn’t have bothered him—she talked to everyone that way. But that didn’t stop the fleeting urge to drive his fist directly into Cade’s face.
He shot his friend—he needed to remember Cade was his friend—a smirk on his next pass by the door. “And if you did get fired, it’s not like you can’t talk your way out of anything.”
“That’s right.” Elisa’s face suddenly lit in the dim room. She tugged at Cade’s arm, halting his pacing progress. “Remember that time in Mrs. Green’s class?”
Cade smiled down at her, his matching dimples breaking free. Noah frowned. Women always loved those on guys.
“I almost forgot. First grade, totally busted for breaking into Mrs. Green’s candy cabinet…” Cade chuckled.
“And what did you say?” Elisa returned his laugh, still holding onto Cade’s arm.
He winked. “That I was doing inventory.”
Elisa turned her smiling eyes on Noah. “She was so impressed Cade understood the concept of inventory and used it correctly in a sentence, she didn’t get him in trouble.”
“Cute.” The mouse beneath Noah’s hand made a popping sound, and he quickly released his grip. “Our Cade, the scholar.”
Cade shot him a quizzical glance, but Noah ignored him as he typed in his company access code. “I’ve got it.” He quickly pulled up the search engine for Magnolia parish records, denying himself the indulgence of looking up as Elisa settled into a rolling chair next to him. At least she’d finally let go of Cade’s arm. Knowing him, he’d probably been flexing, too.
The familiar hum of the computers sounded much louder in the still of the evening without the typical bustle of a courthouse to silence them. No murmurs at the water cooler, no rustling pages from parish workers or slamming doors and elevator dings. Only weighted silence…save for the whooshing of Cade’s footsteps on the carpet and the steady tap-tapping of Elisa’s fingers drumming an anxious rhythm by the keyboard.
He moved his hand to cover hers. Her erratic movement stopped, but her shoulders tensed. “Sorry.”
“Did you sneak an energy drink on the way here?” Not that he felt entirely calm, himself. And he hated to admit it, but it had little to do with their delinquent escapade and much more to do with Elisa.
“I think I’m absorbing Cade’s energy.” Elisa gestured to where Cade had taken his pacing to the stretch of hall between their research station and the front lobby door. His gelled hair stuck up in the back as if he’d forgotten about his designer products and stabbed his hand through it.
Noah smirked. “He’ll be okay. He secretly likes misusing his authority.”
“I heard that,” Cade called. “And for the record, accessing a candy cabinet without permission is a different penalty tier than breaking into a government building after hours.”
Noah tilted his head toward Elisa to whisper, “He probably had to Google that.”
Elisa snorted before clamping a hand over her mouth.
Man, he liked making her laugh. Which was trouble. All of this—the way the computer screen cast a soft glow over Elisa’s features, the way her eyes sparkled as she leaned in close to hear his whisper—was so much trouble.
Elisa nodded to the computer, seemingly oblivious to his churning thoughts. “So these are the online records, right? Don’t we need the actual property books for the next clue?”
“If Grandpa hid the clue in one of the physical books, like we’re thinking, then yes. But we have to figure out which book to check first—unless you want to start turning random pages.” Noah jerked his head toward the bookshelves on the other side of their cubicle, laden with dusty tomes and spreading the entire width and depth of the room.
Elisa shuddered. “No thanks. If we take that long, Cade might end up in the ER with a stroke.”
“Heard that, too.” Cade paused in the doorway, a dark silhouette in the shadows. “Can we wrap this up? That’d be great.”
“You can’t rush genius, sugar.” Elisa flashed a grin and Cade smiled back before resuming his pacing.
Noah was going to owe the clerk of court a new mouse. “Where were we?”
He knew where he still was, personally. Back at the library courtyard, leaning in for a kiss a decade in the making before Elisa had to go and figure out the next clue so fast. Couldn’t her brilliance have waited about five more seconds? Not that five seconds would have been enough. It hadn’t been when he was eighteen, and he was fairly certain nothing had changed in the last twelve years.
But maybe sneaking in even five seconds of a kiss would have stopped her subsequent declaration of not needing one at all.
“We decided we weren’t turning random pages.” She tossed back her hair, and her honey vanilla scent provided relief from the competing odor of musty books, old carpet, and the faint remains of air freshener. “So, where do we start?”
“I’m thinking with instrument numbers, which is the number assigned to an individual record.”
“What kind of record?” Elisa asked.
“Well, here, there will be records for civil suits, property deeds, mineral deeds, gas contracts, and so on. But everything is also cross-filed via book and page.” Noah opened the search bar and pulled up a conveyance record, attempting to remember how his job worked and not the way Elisa’s warmth penetrated his right side. “See how they’re formatted? Newer instrument numbers are usually seven digits, but older documents will have much shorter instrument numbers.”
She leaned closer to the monitor. “Goodness gracious.”
“Yeah. It’s a lot. And on top of that, book and pages could be any combination of length of numbers depending on what year it was filed. So an older document will have a smaller—or shorter—book number because they go in numerical order.”
She gestured behind them. “So somewhere out there is a Book 1?”
“Somewhere. And as the books get more current, the book numbers obviously get higher. This parish currently has books into the two hundreds. But the page number could be a single digit, double digit, or triple digit.”
“This could take forever.” Elisa’s eyes opened wide.
“Please don’t let it,” Cade called from the hallway.
“Bro, you think there’s a vending machine in the building?” Noah stood and pulled his wallet from his jeans. “Here.”
Cade reappeared in the doorway, eyebrows perked in interest.
“Load up.” He passed Cade a ten dollar bill—probably the last guy on the island who needed it, but Noah would pay a lot more for a few uninterrupted moments. They had to focus, and it was hard enough to do that as it was.
Cade folded the cash, his gaze landing on Elisa. “Want anything?”
“I’m all set. Thanks, though.” She smiled sweetly.
Noah sat back in his chair, landing a little harder than necessary. “Get her some M&Ms.”
Elisa grimaced. “I just can’t eat the blue?—”
“I know. They’re not part of the original color pack.” Noah let his eyes meet hers briefly. “I remember.”
He felt her gaze hover on his profile, but he forced himself to stay focused on the computer as Cade’s footsteps fell away and the lobby door eased open and shut. Finally, they could work.
“How do you remember that?” Elisa’s hushed voice was barely audible despite sitting two feet away from him. “I think I ate M&Ms with you, what? Twice that summer?”
Three times. He swallowed. “I remember a lot of things.” Could replay that entire month of July like a home movie in his mind if he flipped the right switch.
She nodded slowly. “So you’re like an elephant.”
“Something like that.” More like a fool. He cleared his throat. He’d made her a promise about her proverbial shoes, and if he was going to keep that promise, they had to stay on task—even though Elisa’s eyes were asking him a dozen questions he wished he could answer. “First, we need to think of some numerical combinations that might have meaning and correspond with the clue and these instrument numbers, or book and pages.”
Ideally, they needed to figure it out before Cade came back—and before the keyboard melted under Noah’s suddenly heated palms.
“Hmm.” Elisa drummed her fingers again as she focused on the monitor. “Longfellow wrote Paul Revere’s Ride. So what was Longfellow’s birthday?”
“November 1905.”
Her head swiveled to face him, her mouth a perfect O. “You have that memorized?”
Noah tried to keep his expression steady, but failed and chuckled.
“You liar.” She slapped lightly at his arm, and he couldn’t help but flex under her touch. Okay, maybe he should let Cade off the hook.
“I’ll Google it.” He pulled up an internet window, but she was faster with her cell.
“February 27, 1807.” She pursed her lips at him. “You weren’t even close.”
“So for the instrument number, that’d translate to 2271807.” He pecked the number into the search field and hit enter. “That’s a mineral deed for a Mr. Keats.”
Elisa lifted one shoulder in a shrug, her expression crestfallen. “That name doesn’t sound familiar.”
“Agreed. But…” Noah held up his finger. “Grandfather could have tucked the next clue into that book. The actual document details might not matter. I think we’re only looking for the holding place.”
“That’s true.” She brightened again. “I’ll go look.”
“Let’s think of a few more potential hits and then I’ll show you how to find the right book. Every courthouse has its own filing system on the shelves.”
“Sounds good.” She leaned close again, her arm brushing his. “What else?”
“Paul Revere’s birthday?” Noah pulled up the date and typed it in. “That’d be 12211734.” He frowned. “No, that’s too long to be an instrument. Or a book and page.”
“Maybe we’re going about this wrong with the birthdays.” Elisa leaned back in her seat. “The clue read ‘the truth to end a fray.’ What day did the war end?”
There she went again with the brilliance. Noah quickly ran the search. “April 19, 1775.”
Elisa hesitated briefly. “So, 4191775.”
Bingo. “That’s two good leads.”
Hope pitched in her voice. “You think?”
“Absolutely.” He turned to look at her. Mistake. She was much too close. The barely suppressed excitement in her eyes reminded him of standing in line at the Magnolia Bay Festival for a roller coaster ride. Of foot-long corndogs that left a streak of mustard across her dimpled cheek. Of counting to three and jumping off the dock hand-in-hand.
Noah abruptly pushed back his chair. “Let’s give it a try.” And give him a bit of space in the process.
He and Elisa might be in a room surrounded by old documents, but the only history he could think of was theirs.
* * *
Elisa shut the conveyance book, then sneezed into her elbow. Noah had explained to her how the courthouse kept the conveyance records organized on the shelves, but for the life of her, she couldn’t remember anything except for the way his eyes sparkled when he got to teach her something. He’d been pretty business-like since the park, so seeing him in his element brought a hope that maybe her shooting down that near-kiss hadn’t done any lasting damage.
And if she didn’t know better, she’d have thought he was acting jealous of Cade—a concept that had both her mind and heart buzzing.
She shut off her phone flashlight that she’d been using to skim through the pages, since Cade had insisted they not turn on any overhead lights, and lifted the heavy book into her arms. Dust coated her fingers.
“Find anything?” Noah looked up as he slid another book onto the shelf a few rows over. His phone, balanced on the shelf beside him, cast a halo in the dim room.
“There’s nothing for the date the war ended.” She attempted to hoist the heavy tome back on the shelf above her head where it came from. “Any luck with yours?”
“Nope. I flipped through several pages before and after my number, too, just in case.”
“Same.” Elisa fumbled to reach the book’s proper shelf slot. “I guess it’s back to the drawing board.”
The book slipped from her fingers. Elisa shrieked as she ducked and threw her other arm up to protect her head. But Noah was there, catching the bound volume and easily sliding it into place. “Careful.”
“Th-thank you.” She slowly straightened, her gaze lifting from his shirt stretched tight across his chest to the permanent stubble etching his chin. Her gaze rose another inch to his lips, the ones she’d almost kissed twice now in the last week.
She suddenly couldn’t remember why she hadn’t.
His right arm remained lifted to the shelf above their heads, and that, combined with the surrounding shelves, provided a barricade that somehow felt much more comforting than suffocating. In fact, the whole vibe made her think of soft hoodies and cut-off shorts by a bonfire. Snuggling on driftwood and roasting marshmallows. Her pulse thudded.
The summer of Noah.
His voice dipped low. “I guess the courthouse is dangerous this time of night.”
“Very.”
He was right. But the entire bookshelf could collapse on her right this second and it wouldn’t be nearly as dangerous as what Noah was doing to her heart rate. She dared to look into his eyes, which were hooded with caution. Most unfortunate.
She reached out, trailing her finger down his forearm still lifted above them. Goosebumps immediately pebbled his skin.
“Elisa…” A warning echoed in his voice as his entire body stiffened.
“Yes?” She inched closer and tilted her face toward him, the near-kisses from the past cheering her on. It’d be a shame to waste such chemistry, right? Unforgivable, really.
All the reasons she’d turned Noah down a few hours ago hovered just out of reach, and she mentally batted them away like the pesky gnats they were. No longer important. She offered a soft smile. “I’m right here.”
“I’m very aware of that.” His tone, coated in gravel, sent a shiver of motivation up her spine.
She edged closer. “So what are you going to do about it?”
“Your shoes.” His voice cracked.
“I can get new ones.” Then she closed her eyes and launched into his arms.
Her lips found his by pure muscle memory. Time stopped. His right arm came down from the shelf to wrap around her, his other hand landing firm on her waist and gripping tight. His lips worked with hers in a choreographed dance they hadn’t practiced in years, but had never forgotten. Joy and shock jolted through her like lightning bolts—no, like lightning bugs—beautiful and hard to explain.
Elisa’s fingers clenched his biceps, which tightened under her grip. Then her hands, as if with a mind of their own, crawled up his shoulders and latched around his neck. She nudged his hat out of the way with her fingers, and he let go of her with one hand long enough to knock it off to the floor, out of the way.
She couldn’t get close enough. Someone was groaning. Was it her? No, him.
Maybe both of them.
With a quick side step, Noah turned them, pressing her into the shelf of books, the hard volumes providing a convenient back support as her hands found their way into his hair. He growled deep in his throat, briefly coming up for air before reclaiming her lips.
But they’d always been his, hadn’t they?
Her breath stuttered, mingling with his as Noah’s lips teased their way across her jaw to her ear. Color exploded behind her eyes. The scent of cedar and something earthy, like the beach after a hard rain, worked their way through her senses and lit her stomach. If that Noah-scent could be bottled, she’d go broke on cologne purchases.
He returned to her lips before she had a chance to miss him, deepening the kiss and pulling her hard against his chest. Confidence radiated from every movement, but the slight tremble in his arms testified to the contrary. A fact that sent her reeling.
She’d never felt this way with Trey. Or with the few other men she’d kissed. Even kissing Noah back in the day couldn’t compare with this version of him.
How had she lived the past twelve years without it?
Then a thought occurred, and she mentally flicked it away. But it came back, sticky and persistent. She pulled away, gasping for a full breath as Noah pressed another kiss against her cheek. “Noah?”
“Hmm?” His lips trailed to her ear and she shuddered.
Maybe a few more minutes…no. “Noah.” She gripped his shoulders and pushed slightly, giving them enough space to breathe even though his arms remained around her. She hated the thought of him leaving. But… “Cade still hasn’t come back with our snacks. He could walk in any minute.” And see her mussed hair and swollen lips. Was that lip gloss on Noah’s shirt?
Noah’s eyes met her, glazed and unfocused, until her words sank in. Understanding registered. “Right. I better go check?—”
The thought of his absence, even for a moment, was enough to undo her. “Maybe one more.” She pulled Noah back in, and he immediately acquiesced.
A sudden beam of light cut through the room and landed directly on them. “There they are.”
Noah stepped back, bumping into the shelf as he jerked one hand up in front of his eyes. Elisa blinked rapidly, shielding her eyes as the beam swept the room and then darted back to them.
“Found ’em.” A brusque voice was interrupted by the squawk of a walkie-talkie. “Roger that. We’re clear.”
Another flashlight clicked on, illuminating Cade standing in the doorway of the room, surrounded by Sheriff Rubart and two policemen. Cade shrugged sheepishly, then held up a pack of M&Ms and a bag of Cheetos. “Hungry?”
Elisa glanced up as Noah’s face blanched white. A rock settled in the pit of her stomach, and she pressed her fingers to her lips as she surveyed the officers and their hard stares. “Looks like that ‘need-to-know list’ just got a bit longer.”