Noelle chortled. “Seriously? You warned me too well what it could hurt. He could make a fool of me. He could have a change of heart and leave me broken hearted. He could probably give me chlamydia.” She smiled. “Allegedly.”
“You want me to encourage you to walk away? Or are you asking for permission to say yes?”
“Maybe. I’d hoped we might start out as friends first before rushing into anything.”
“Have you seen his car?”
Val expected to earn another laugh, but a tear rolled down Noelle’s cheek. The scotch had caught up with her. She let out a sigh. “I do love that car.”
“And Dane?”
Noelle focused on her glass, lifting her eyes as though they were fighting gravity. “Perhaps.”
Val grabbed the strap of her purse hanging from the chair, slung it over her shoulder, and stood. “Then it’s easy. March up to him first thing Monday and tell him in no uncertain terms you want him.”
“Yeah, that would look great to the board of directors.” She started to stand but wobbled. “I should go over there, tonight.”
Val hesitated. Dane would love that, but it would be better if this played out with some witnesses. “Not tonight. Dane’s probably out on a date by now.”
Noelle’s gasped. “You think?”
“I told you he won’t wait around forever.” The knife slid in. A little twist to drive it home. “But if heisout, he’s probably just trying to take his mind off you.”
Noelle slumped. “What if it’s too late?”
Val didn’t believe in God, but she prayed Dane would record every word Noelle would say to him Monday morning.
“I’m gonna head home, but take the weekend to think it through. I’m pretty sure you know what you want. Why deny yourself?” She leaned in to give Noelle a hug. “We women have to work too hard as it is.”
Noelle’s hand flopped up in a drunken wave. She didn’t get up or escort Val to the door. When Val turned back, she was staring into her glass like it held the answers. Val hoped she’d remember their conversation tomorrow.
He was being followed. The car had tailed him off the interstate and through several turns. Dane pulled over to the side of the road and let the car pass, laughing as the brake lights flashed. Poor Morty wouldn’t know if he should keep driving or stop and wait. They were the only two cars on this side street. Dane could turn around and make Morty change course. Instead, he got out and climbed on the hood of his car, waiting.
Morty parked down the lane, far enough for plausible deniability maybe. Dane checked his watch. It was dinnertime, and Morty wouldn’t want to be out in the suburbs trailing Dane around. He could probably lose the guy, but he wanted to be sure. When he heard the car door slam, he jumped down and started walking.
“Morty? What are you doing?”
“Where are we?” Morty was heading his way. At least he wasn’t going to play a game, but he hadn’t answered.
“Who sent you out tonight?”
“Beg pardon?”
“Was it Val or Noelle?”
“You did, sir. You asked—”
Dane closed his eyes. Right. “I think you misunderstood me. I’m not playing tonight.”
“Well, since I’m here . . .”
Dane slid his hand into his pocket and produced a wallet. He slipped a one-hundred-dollar bill out and held it up. “For your troubles.”
Morty took the cash. “A hundred? Thank you, sir.”
Dane slipped out a second bill. “And you won’t report my whereabouts tonight?”
“Couldn’t if I wanted to. I’m not sure where you’re headed.”
