Chapter 4
“Remind me again how this helps me forget my troubles?” Harper said to Kerry later that evening as a country singer from the bar band warbled about love and loss from a raised stage. On her other side, a drunken, mullet-sporting, faux-cowboy—who probably didn’t know which end of a horse to feed—breathed hot and peanut-scented breath on her neck.
“Get off!” She jabbed him in the ribs with her elbow when he touched his tongue to her lobe. He cursed something about her being a bitchy man-hater and sauntered off.
“As if he’s the best bull in the herd,” Harper said, irritated and scrubbed her ear with her sleeve. “Living alone on the range is my fate.”
Kerry grinned. She was Harper’s friend and ex-sister-in-law, from a brief marriage to Harper’s brother, Gage. They only saw each other a couple of times a year, as Kerry was active military. This happened to be her final night at home, and Kerry wanted to party.
“You promised that if I paid for our night out, you’d make an effort to have fun.” Kerry adjusted her sleeveless top over a curvy chest and at least a dozen men almost fell off their bar stools. She seemed not to notice. “So drink your beer and pretend to enjoy yourself.”
Harper saluted. “Yes, Drill Sergeant.”
Kerry laughed. “That was the Boy Scout salute, but I appreciate the effort.”
A nice looking, rawboned man in a cowboy hat and scuffed boots, who appeared to have come right off a rodeo poster, asked Kerry to dance. She waved her fingertips at Harper as he led her away. He probably knew a lot about horses.
Music welled and couples paired up for a synchronized two-step around the large dance floor. Everyone in the place seemed to be having fun. Well, almost everyone.
A deep scowl from Harper kept the male masses away. All but one guy in a pale green suit who looked like a lost businessman who’d wandered in by mistake. Shorter than her by four inches, it took an evil glare added to the scowl for him the get the hint and head off for more receptive fillies.
Good grief. She had to get out of here before her head exploded with country western clichés.
A few minutes outside was what the doctor ordered.
She dug around in her purse for cash to tip the bartender. Damn, where was her wallet? The purse wasn’t big and she quickly realized the wallet was gone.
“Oh, no.” Her driver’s license, cash, and her credit card were in there.
A body slid onto the stool next to her, and his thigh bumped against hers. She nudged him off with her knee.
“Not now, buddy,” she growled. Someone had taken her wallet and she didn’t need a lonesome cowboy offering to ride off with her into the sunset. She needed the police.
“Suit yourself,” a deep voice said with a hint of wry humor. “But I thought you might like this back.”
Her eyes shot up. She managed to realize Noah was the lonely cowboy; her gaze traveled downward to where her small brown wallet was clasped in his hand.
“Where? How?” Relived, she took the item from him and dug through it. Everything was still there.
“The guy with the mullet lifted it when you were conversing with the hot woman in the tight jeans.” He turned to the bartender and ordered a beer. When he turned back, a lazy smile appeared. “I convinced him to give it back.”
For some reason, Noah calling Kerry hot tweaked her temper. Thankfully, the fact that he’d gotten her wallet back tamped down the twinge of jealousy. Somewhat.
The idea of mullet guy in possession of her driver’s license and knowing where she lived turned annoyance to gratitude. She didn’t need some creep stalking her.
“Does he still have his teeth?” She remembered teen Noah liked to fight with all takers. Had he grown out of his propensity for making trouble?
A smile flashed. “Mostly.”
Nope, he still liked trouble. In this case, she was pleased that he hadn’t changed. “Well, thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
The bartender brought his beer. Noah took a long swallow. The familiarity of his movements sent her back to the first night they’d kissed, under the stars, each working a beer like they were cool kids. Well, he was a cool kid. She was the nerdy dork with the unruly curly brown hair who awkwardly sat there in the dark, on the hood of his beat-to-hell old Pontiac, wondering how in the heck she’d gotten there.
Somehow he’d noticed her, and to this day, she had no clue as to how. No amount of explaining made sense. He’d thought she was cute and that was that.
Noah had locked on to her like a heat-seeking missile and after weeks of flirting, she’d broken down and climbed into his car for the ride of her life.
Until they’d crashed in an equally dramatic fashion.
An awkward pause followed. She drank her beer and forced herself not to notice the way his short-sleeved shirt tightened over strong arm muscles when he bent his arm to drink. She’d seen how he’d held the wrench at the garage. Between his rough hands and his muscles, he was a sexy package.
Feeling slightly buzzed, she spun on her stool and leaned her right arm on the bar. Cupping her head on her open palm, she stared up at him. He had the shadow of a beard along his jaw as she scanned his face, then moved south.
“Is this meeting by chance or did you hunt me down?” Her blunt comment was followed by another long swallow. She watched, fascinated by the up and down movement of his Adam’s apple.
He took his sweet-time answering. “I asked your cousin, Marty, where you were.”
Annoyance flashed through her. Marty needed a second job to keep him busy. The man lived to fix Harper up with any guy who wasn’t a dangerous felon. He had six kids of his own and loved his wife. He wanted that for her, despite her protests.
Although she was sure Noah’s past was riddled with misdemeanors and no felonies wasn’t the point. He was the last person on earth she’d ever date again.
“If you plan to run me off, don’t bother,” she said, and dragged her fingertip through a circle of condensation on the bar. “I got the message.”
He sat the empty bottle down and tossed cash on the bar. “Can we go somewhere and talk?”
Suspicious, she leaned in. He smelled so good. She twisted a loose curl in her fingertips. “The last time you said that to me was the first time you got me out of my panties.”
Noah snickered and his eyes crinkled at the corners. Despite how he’d treated her in her hour of need, it was impossible to argue against him being the best-looking guy she’d ever seen. Too bad he was the biggest jerk, too.
“If I promise to keep my hands off your panties, will you come outside?”
The way he said “panties” sounded like he wasn’t entirely against repeating that long-ago night under the stars. Not only did the memory send nervous energy along her skin, but it terrified her at the same time. He couldn’t still be interested in her, could he? After more than a decade, their romance was as fossilized as a mastodon bone dug out of a tar pit.
No, he had Lori. That was enough to keep her from panting when he sent a covert glance down her cleavage.
The desire to flee before she did something foolish, like lean in and steal a kiss, became secondary to wanting to know why he’d coerced her lovable but somewhat gullible cousin into becoming a human GPS.
Marty knew Noah was the last man on earth she’d ever marry. Still, he’d come all this way. It might be in her best interest to hear him out.
“Let me tell Kerry.”
* * * *
Noah watched her weave her way through the crowd toward the dance floor, her worn jeans, though loose, followed her curves and stirred a little more than his interest. She was still the hottest woman he’d ever seen.
Damn. Her thin frame had filled out in eleven years, and she had a fine-looking butt. All those cheerleading workouts must have had a positive influence on her shape and she carried herself with a confidence that he was very sure was not deliberate.
Harper still had some of that awkwardness he remembered.
From the second he’d heard her voice on the phone from jail, his Spidey senses had filled with images of her, and he hadn’t had a moment’s peace since. All he could think about was their past and his screw-up. Okay, he’d thought about a hell of a lot more than that, mostly the two of them naked.
Shit. If he was to help her, he had to keep his hands to himself. Sex would only complicate an already complicated situation.
Harper spoke to her friend who was snuggled up to a cowboy. The woman nodded and Harper headed back. Two guys in various types of western clothing stopped her and she shook her head to both. Clearly, she wanted to know what he had to say over dancing the two-step with a guy who might smell like cow.
“Let’s go,” she said and passed him.
He knew he shouldn’t stare at her ass, but the dog in him wasn’t well-trained and often misbehaved. Harper was far above the women he’d dated since their breakup. He’d kept to casual relationships and made sure the women were of the same mind. Harper, with her glasses and braces and funny laugh had taken his heart and had never given it back.
Damn. He sounded like a greeting card.
If this partnership had a chance to work, he needed to keep emotions out of the investigation. They were both different people now. History was better left buried.
“My truck is over there.” He pointed and she veered that way. The large silver Chevy had been his last big purchase before he “resigned” from the FBI. The payments were a dent in his current finances, but he couldn’t let it go. He’d lost too much lately. He’d cling to what he had left.
Knowing that the two of them alone in the cab could mean trouble, he jerked the tailgate down and turned for Harper. Before she could climb on, he caught her hips in his hands, hoisted her up, and took a seat beside her.
She was still a perfect fit in his grip.
Music escaped through the doors and filled the night. Trucks and cars came and went, but he’d parked at the end of the lot so they’d be far enough removed from the loudest distractions to manage a conversation.
Harper didn’t have to speak for him to feel her nervous energy. She was locking and unlocking her fingers and swinging her feet, and looking everywhere but at him.
The image blended with the first time he’d sat under the stars with her and the same twitching she’d done then.
Harper had been nothing like the other girls. She was bookish and nerdy and serious. She’d just joined the cheerleading team, gotten contact lenses, and Layla Thomison had taken her in hand for a wardrobe revamp. But he’d already known for months that there was something special under that protective cover of plaid and denim. He’d seen her at the lake in a blue bikini the summer before senior year and had chased after her the fall of the school year like a bird on a bug.
He smiled.
She’d wanted nothing to do with him. His reputation as “That worthless Noah Slade” had already taken a foothold. His behavior had solidified the moniker. It had taken some time to wear her down, but it was well worth the effort.
“Why don’t you tell me what you want, Noah,” she said and snapped his attention back to the present. “I should get back in before Kerry misses me.”
The warm breeze blew a few strands of her hair across her face, and she tucked them behind her ear. Her big brown eyes stared up at him, and her lips drew his attention. He’d taught her how to kiss. He wanted to kiss her now.
She’d probably kick his ass if he tried.