Noah grunted his acknowledgment of her update as they strolled the landscaped sidewalks in silence, bees buzzing in the bordering flowerbeds filled with tulips. The hangingSecond Storysign creaked on its rusty hinges as it swung from the porch ceiling of the used bookstore, freshly painted eggshell blue. Next door, Sawyer Dubois was heading inside the coral-colored Spin Shop, where he worked part time selling vinyls in exchange for discounted gear.
Despite the recent rebuilding efforts, effects of Hurricane Anastasia still lingered. For every storefront or stretch of street that seemed back to normal, there was a broken tree or patched siding. A few neighboring fences boasted new planks of wood, mismatched from their weathered counterparts. Some of the more unfortunate businesses still had tarps on their roofs.
As they walked, Noah shrugged out of his flannel, revealing a fitted tee beneath. Elisa slid on her sunglasses, grateful they hid the way her eyes kept finding the curve of Noah’s biceps. “So, where to?”
Noah glanced at her, a strand of dark hair flopping over his forehead. Why she wanted to move it out of his eyes was beyond her. “Don’t tell me you’re actually looking forward to this.”
“Why, Noah Hebert, are you still mad at little ol’ me? It was just a bet.” She thickened her accent, partly out of habit and partly because she knew it would irk him.
She wasn’t disappointed.
He stopped, crossing his arms. “Define mad.”
She tapped her chin. “Pretty sure Webster calls it ‘very angry.’”
“Then no. I’m not very angry.” He picked up the pace again, dodging a woman in workout clothes walking a corgi, and didn’t wait as Elisa quick-stepped to keep up.
“Irate?”
“No.”
“Infuriated, then.” Man, he walked fast. She was out of breath, despite her somewhat frequent gym visits.
“Aren’t those both worse than very angry?”
Goading him was fun—it gave her the upper hand. She needed to find her flirting pattern with him. Maybe it was sarcastic banter. “Depends on who you ask.” She nearly ran into his back as Noah stopped and spun around.
“Listen.” His gaze seared right through her sunglasses and his tense posture radiated enough heat to rival the sun. “We have a job to do. And the sooner we do it, the better.”
She was losing that upper hand. Elisa found her best smile despite the sting of his words. “Did you know that when you’re mad, you get all stiff and straight like a cypress tree growing right out of the bayou?”
“I’m not mad, though, remember?” He didn’t move, didn’t even seem to breathe as he studied her, seemingly completely unfazed.
Bless it, this wouldn’t do at all. Elisa blinked behind her sunglasses, praying he couldn’t read her eyes through the darkened lenses and interpret the sudden cacophony blaring inside her head. She wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to interpret it, herself. “Then what are you?”
He didn’t answer, just kept watching her, reminding her of the time that summer they’d had a staring contest on his grandfather’s old boat. The winner was awarded a kiss, and Elisa had never been so happy to lose a contest in her life.
She licked her suddenly dry lips. The spring sun overhead continued to warm her bare arms, but she’d heated up way before that. Ridiculous, but true. Maybe she could stay in denial with others, but it was much harder to pretend with herself.
She returned Noah’s stoic gaze, unable to move away from it and not even sure how willing she was.
Noah’s lips parted, and his gaze softened. Then a shadow flicked across his expression, removing all traces of compassion, and he clamped his mouth shut. “What am I? In a hurry, is what I am. And you should be, too.” He turned again, abruptly. “Chug a Mug is right up here. Good a place as any to get started.” Then he walked away.
Elisa pulled off her sunglasses and hesitated on the sidewalk, watching as the distance between them increased. She could call after him and remind him this washertown, that she knew good and well where the best coffee shop was. That she hadn’t been the one to leave and never look back, like he was doing right now. Or she could go after him, grab his arm, and demand to know what that look had meant, the one she’d felt clear down to her freshly painted toes peeking out of her gold sandals.
But she wouldn’t do any of those things. Elisa slowly slid her sunglasses back into place.
She was a good girl, and she’d stay calm.
Even if Noah had the potential to churn deep waters faster than any hurricane.
seven
The heady aroma of roasted beans and some kind of hot pastry wafted from the Chug a Mug. The coffee shop was situated across the street and two doors down from the Magnolia Blossom, which Noah figured Elisa would appreciate. As soon as they wrapped up this first clue, she could head to work.
And he could get back to the inn and finish planning his way through this mold fiasco.
He started to open the coffee shop door.
