“To bug you.” She shot him a smile, one that hopefully masked the telltale thumping of her heartbeat under her floral tank. “Is it working?”
“It is now.”
Good. Nice and safe. “Don’t you think we should get along, though?”
“We do get along.”
She stopped at a four-way and tilted her head. “No we don’t. We’re always arguing.”
Noah sighed. “You do realize we’re only arguing right now because I disagreed with you that we don’t get along?”
Point taken. She tapped the steering wheel with one finger. “Maybe the truce should be a little more defined.”
“Sure. Name your terms.” He leveled his gaze at her, shadows playing hide and seek across his face, and for the life of her, she couldn’t remember which pedal would get the car moving again. “What do you want?”
She swallowed, avoiding his eyes. Such a loaded question. In all honesty, she wanted her life back before he popped up in the diner with her father, before he swept in to help her with Delia…before he discombobulated what had taken her years to regulate after that summer.
But she couldn’t say that. Luckily, she’d had years of practice toning down her real emotions. “I think we should work as a true team. With good communication.” The pedal on the right, that was it. She glanced both ways and eased down onto the gas. “And leave the past where it is.”
Hopefully he wouldn’t ask her to clarify whether she meant their past or their families’ past. The answer was both, but it seemed rude to specify.
“Works for me.” Noah stared straight ahead, his gaze fixed on the lighthouse drawing ever closer. “So how’d you figure this clue out?”
“I don’t know if I’m right.” She pulled up to the looming white tower, weatherworn despite a fresh paint job a few years ago. The hurricane hadn’t done any true damage to the time-honored structure, but it sure had tried. “A couple of tourists in Bayou Beignets were talking about the lighthouse, and the woman mentioned how poetic they were. It got me thinking about the poem, and the lines about light and shore…” She shrugged.
“My mind would have never connected those dots.” Noah shook his head. His hand rested on the door handle, but he made no move to get out as he studied her. “That’s impressive.”
Warmth flushed her neck. It was much too dangerous to let his compliment seep in—especially when he was just trying to be civil, maintain their truce. She cleared her throat. “I could be wrong. But it seemed worth investigating.”
“I think you’re right.” A muscle twitched in his jaw, and for a moment, Elisa wondered if he was referring to more than the lighthouse lead. Did he really want to work with her, for real and not only for survival? Maybe work toward a semblance of friendship again?
She weighed the pros and cons of such a move as he maintained eye contact, his brewed-coffee gaze slowly deepening to espresso. He opened his mouth, then shut it and offered a tight smile. “Shall we?
He popped open his door, and she quickly followed suit, shutting her side with one hip and meeting him in front of the vehicle. The lighthouse stretched above them, tall and proud, as waves lapped against the nearby shore. A plaque on a stand boasted the lighthouse operated for over a hundred years in official capacity before retiring and settling into the status of tourist favorite. Even now, a couple stood down the sandy beach by the water as a photographer knelt in front of them, capturing the lighthouse in the background.
“So, teammate.” Noah’s hands rested on his hips. “If you were a clue, where would you be?”
“That’s easy.” She gestured to the guard shack near the base of the tower. “Did you bring that cash?”
Noah frowned, then he scanned the lighthouse from bottom to top. Understanding etched across his features. “I don’t like heights.” He pressed his lips together as he stared upwards, his gaze shuttering.
“I know.” She tugged his sleeve, urging him toward the ticket stand. “That’s why I mentioned the lavender oil.”
“Do I look like the kind of guy who carries essential oils in his pocket?” Noah’s worry turned into a scowl that proved he must have been spending time with Linc lately.
“I don’t know.” Elisa gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder, trying not to notice the way his muscles, coiled with anxiety, clenched tight beneath her hand. “But lucky for you, Iamthat kind of girl.” She produced a vial from her jeans pocket and uncapped it. “Smell this, sugar. You’ll be fine.”
He stared at her, just long enough to make her wonder if he was going to get right back in the car and lock the door. Then he reached out for the oil, like maybe he did trust her, like they were friends again. Or at least heading in that direction?
Their fingers grazed as he took the vial from her hand. She cleared her throat as he held the tiny bottle under his nose and breathed deep.
Because wasn’t friendship what got them in trouble the last time?
After he inhaled several breaths, she took the vial from him and recapped it, hoping he didn’t notice how her fingers trembled.
Maybeneitherof them would be fine by the time this wretched hunt was over.
* * *
