Chapter 27
Harper hummed when she got home, despite knowing she’d once again sent Noah mixed signals. In fact, she could still feel his hands on her butt. She liked the feeling. A lot.
Did that make her a bad person?
“What am I doing?” What naughty Harper did was let off steam. Good Harper just had to deal with the guilt for both of them. At the moment, all she could think about was feeling good for a few minutes. How wrong could that be?
“At least I didn’t rip off his pants and bring this attraction to a head,” she said. “So to speak.”
Wandering to the kitchen for a cup of tea before the strip club adventure, she stopped inside the open doorway. The room looked off. She scanned her way around the room.
“That’s interesting.” Hadn’t she left the teapot on the stove? Further searching found the pot in top of the refrigerator. “Strange.”
She hadn’t had much sleep lately. Maybe she was losing her mind. That wasn’t far off. Stress and exhaustion could lead to walking around like a zombie. Not remembering where she put stuff was a reasonable side effect.
Once the pot heated, she went to the bathroom and splashed cold water on her face. She also called her aunt for a check-in and found her at senior Bingo.
Harper wasn’t worried she’d lose her condo and move in with her. Having lived through seventy-five snowy Michigan winters, Lila swore she’d never return unless the San Andreas Fault took Arizona along when California dropped off into the sea.
“I won five bucks!” Lila said and filled her in on the happenings at the resort living community in Sun Valley, between stamping her bingo card. “What about you, honey? Anything new with you?”
Harper tried to cut the conversation short before her occasionally forgetful aunt remembered Harper’s troubles and started fretting about the case.
“Have you found a husband yet?” Lila asked. “I hear you might be knocking boots with Noah Slade again.”
Big mouth Marty needed some of her leftover duct tape to repair his gossip leak. “We aren’t knocking anything.”
“Bingo!” Lila yelled in her ear. She faded out for a bit, then came back. “Well, you should be. He’s a hunk. Bitsy Allen’s poodle Frenchie gets more action around the complex than you do. And Frenchie’s on a doggie dating app, too.”
Good grief. She did not want to discuss the sex life of a dog. And what loony owners would take dogs to online dates anyway? What would the profile read? “Hi, my name is Frenchie. I like to chew fleas and hang around the local fire hydrant with friends?”
“I should go.” She loved the woman who raised her after her parents died, but even love had limits. Noah was a closed topic. “Love you! Bye!”
Noah rapped on the door and walked in as she finished rinsing her cup in the sink. “Ready?”
“Let me get my bag.”
He’d dressed in jeans and a worn black leather jacket. He had on boots and a button-up plum shirt. In her opinion, Deke Trotter, with his pretty boy looks, paled next to Noah. The former was sinful from his mussed hair to his toes. Noah was all bad boy with none of the soft and pretty edges.
“You look good,” he said. His eyes lingered on her mouth.
“Thanks.” She’d changed into black jeans and a red sweater. She slipped on a light jacket for the cool evening. For an outsider looking in, it appeared like they were on a date.
The flutter in her stomach from the intimacy of the brief sexually charged moment outside of Brash earlier made her wish they were going on an actual date and not another search for clues. It seemed wrong that a poodle got more action.
She puffed a breath. “Let’s go.”
They left the house and Noah steered her to his big truck. She tried to draw back, but his hand was on her elbow.
“I’m driving.” He left no room to argue. “There will be rough customers there and I’m not arriving in Harvey. That car is an invite to have my face punched.”
Harper easily conceded. The truck was decked out inside like a space shuttle. She secretly looked forward to taking a break from the rattling rental car.
Of course, she’d never tell him that.
“Don’t get used to getting your way,” she said, taking a firm stand as she climbed into the Chevy. “I’m the boss in this partnership.”
His eyes crinkled in the corners. Her nerve endings buzzed and she may have drooled a little. Thankfully, he wasn’t looking as she checked her chin.
“Yes, ma’am.” They pulled away from the curb.
Drat. Harper felt the warring struggle between doing what was right for her emotional good health and wanting to crawl over the center console and kiss him silly.
She really needed to get ahold of herself and stop the kissing and butt grabbing if she wanted to get to the truth on who killed Gerald. But she didn’t want to ruin what could be the nice friendship growing with Noah.
The hardest part of reconnecting with him had been realizing that the worst part of losing him hadn’t been the sex or the wild adventures. It had been losing their friendship.
They’d shared a closeness she hadn’t been able to replicate with another man, despite several tries.
“What are you thinking about?” he asked and cut the silence. He glanced at her.
Should she tell him she was contemplating her grocery list or wondering about the state of foreign affairs? Those would certainly keep things impersonal.
“Do you ever miss our friendship?” Yep, her big mouth betrayed her again. So much for impersonal.
Without hesitation, he said, “All the time.”
There was a trace of wistfulness in his voice. Although he’d been the one to lay waste to their relationship, he’d clearly lost something, too. He’d loved her, for all his mistakes. That she knew with everything in her.
Her throat tightened. “Do you think we can be friends again?” If she was opening up, she might as well go all in.
Noah said nothing for the next seven minutes until they pulled into the parking lot of the strip club. He parked, paused, and then looked over at her. Her heart twitched.
“I don’t think we ever lost our friendship,” he stated simply. “I think we just took a break.”
* * * *
Looking into her troubled eyes, Noah sensed she was going somewhere with this but wasn’t sure of the direction. He wasn’t convinced she knew either. But somewhere over these last few days, the connection they’d had back in high school had flared up again. And he wanted her back in his life, for good.
That was something he’d keep to himself for now. If he said anything, he might chase her off. She was still deciding what to do with him, and he wanted her to make a decision that was right for her, for them both.
Scaring her off a second time would be forever. She’d never give him another chance.
Still he took hope. “Let’s go. I have G-strings to stuff.”
She smiled in spite of herself. “You have issues.”
“Yes, but you like me anyway.”
Beneath her curls, she sent him a look. He expected her to deny her feelings. Instead, she said, “That I do.”
And for a second, as she walked to the club in front of him, happiness punched him in the gut.
* * * *
The bar was loud and smelled like liquor and sweat and desperation. Empty-eyed women danced on the stage, using poles as their partners, while lonely men, seated in the dim light, fantasized about real connections that would never be.
A few couples rounded out the crowd, and the room was only a quarter full. It was early and a week night, and Noah was thankful. They’d have a better chance to talk to Angel if she wasn’t too busy with clients.
“What a sad place,” Harper said over the noise.
Although the Prancing Pony was cleaner and nicer than most strip clubs, the sparkle and shine couldn’t hide the place from what it was, lonely people and sexual fantasies for money.
“Let’s see if we can find Angel,” he said and steered her toward the bar. Several women in tiny panties, bikini tops, and stilettos passed them and sent appreciative looks at Noah. One gave Harper a smiled invitation. There was something for everyone at the Prancing Pony.
The bartender, a young man in his twenties, asked them what they wanted to drink. “No drinks, thanks,” she said. “We’re here to talk to Angel.”
He took a better look at them. Clearly protective of the dancer, he said nothing but waited for more information.
“We need to talk to her about an old friend of hers,” Noah said over the noise. “He died and there’s an estate to settle.”
The explanation wasn’t a full lie and left the bartender to come to his own conclusion. He went in the direction Noah had pointed him. “She might get an inheritance?”
Harper shrugged and continued the ruse. “We won’t know until we talk to her. Now will you tell us where she is or do we walk out of this bar?”
Eager now, the guy pointed to the stage. “She comes on next so you’ll have to wait.”
Figuring they’d be there awhile, Noah ordered a couple of beers and they took seats near the left side of the stage. The dancer finished her song and collected the money tossed at her feet. She waved as she walked off.
The lights dimmed and the first lines of a new tune loaded up. From behind a curtain, Angel, in shadow, strolled toward one single spotlight, confident in ridiculously high heels. She knew all eyes were on her and played to her audience.
The crowd cheered. She was obviously a fan favorite.
Slowly Angel revealed herself as she stepped into the light. To Noah’s surprise, she was young, blond, and beautiful, and engaged with the audience. By the noise, they were thrilled to see her. She was in her element and knew who paid her bills.
For a couple of minutes, she took off her outer garments in a teasing display. Money flew. He watched with a critical eye and understood why Gerald took up with her. She hadn’t fully become hardened by life. Yet. The question he most wanted to ask was why she let herself become entangled with a married man.
There must have been better options.
Suddenly, Harper caught her breath beside him. Turning his head, he saw her eyes locked on the young woman.
“Noah, do you see what I see?”