“Jeez, if you were so concerned, you should have taken it out of the bag and kept it with you.” She grinned. “But now that you mention it, I need to go back—”
She made a play of turning around and heading to the restroom, but he grabbed her arm. “Not a chance. Let’s go.”
He grabbed his toothbrush out of the bag as he ushered her out the doors.
“What’s the deal with the toothbrush phobia?” she asked. “There has to be a story there.”
His eyebrows rose. “If you’re a good girl, maybe I’ll tell it to you.”
She turned around and walked backward. “Are you suggesting I’m not?”
“Asks the woman wearing a shirt that says, ‘I should come with a warning label.’”
She laughed, feeling happier and . . . lighter than she had in weeks. “I figure it’s true.”
A cocky grin spread across his face. “Good call.”
He plugged in his phone as soon as they got into the car, and after they gassed up, he headed west on I-70.
“Thank God,” she said in a gush. Carthage was in the opposite direction. “No demonic cherubs.”
“Lucky for you, Libby St. Clair Day doesn’t involve torture.”
They were quiet for a few moments. Then she asked, “Shouldn’t you check in with Donna?” Just saying the woman’s name filled her with irrational anger.
He grimaced. “I suspect I’d get cussed out if I called Donna.”
“Ah . . .” She cringed, trying not to feel guilty about how much his answer gratified her. “That bad, huh?”
“Let’s just say I don’t have to worry about her using my toothbrush.”
“What happened? You find someone else to replace her with?”
A grin tugged at his lips, but it looked off. “Something like that.”
She wondered if she should offer him sympathy. Donna was a rare exception to his parade of women—she’d lasted nearly a month. Did that mean she had meant something to him? The thought sent an unexpected wave of jealousy through her, but she reminded herself that she and Noah worked better as friends. She had no right to feel jealous, yet that ugly emotion simmered inside her nevertheless. Today was about fun, not this guilt and jealousy, so she decided to change the subject. “What about Josh? Shouldn’t you call him?”
“I’m not his favorite person at the moment either.”
“Pissing people off right and left, aren’t you?”
“It’s what I do best.” Only there wasn’t any humor in his tone now.
That got her attention. “Want to talk about it?”
He turned to look at her. “Want to talk about why you asked Mitch to marry you and then let him plan your entire wedding?” He could have sounded condemning, but it was more conspiratorial. Yes, they both had baggage they’d rather not bring on this trip.
“Touché.” She kicked off her new shoes and sat cross-legged. “Any other taboo subjects?”
“I refuse to discuss fracking, Obamacare, and the Dalai Lama,” he said without missing a beat, then turned to look at her. “In that order.”
She laughed. God, it felt good to be with him, on the road to some new adventure. “Fair enough. That leaves global warming, campaign fund fraud, and the Mormons.”
He grinned and a happy glow filled his eyes. She knew in that moment that he needed this just as much as she did. But why? She knew he’d been working a lot lately—something he wasn’t used to doing. Maybe he was relieved to have the time off. Or maybe he was more upset over Donna than he was letting on.
“Where are we going?” she asked, unable to stop herself from asking again.
His grin told her that was exactly what he wanted. “It’s a surprise.”
“Are we going to Colorado?”
He shook his head. “If I tell you yes, will you leave me alone?”
“No. I wouldn’t believe you now.”
“Good call.”
They fell into a comfortable silence before he asked, “What’s going on with your photography project?”
“The one with shadows? I stopped working on it.” She’d used him as a model in some of the photos, putting him in various poses with his face in the shadows. The idea was to capture the interplay of light and darkness with the angles of his face. He had the face of a god, with his well-defined nose and strong jaw, and the way the light loved his features made the project exciting. Since he hadn’t been back in town for a while, she’d tried to use Mitch, but his features weren’t as pronounced, so the images hadn’t turned out as well as Noah’s.
She’d given it up.
“So what are you working on?”
“Nothing.”
He frowned. “Libby. The exhibit’s in two months. This is your dream! To be on display in a New York art gallery.”
“I know,” she sighed. “But nothing seems right anymore.” The invitation to display her photographs in the gallery had been a dream come true, and the project had progressed much better than she’d expected until her somewhat-fallout with Noah. After that . . . well, she’d lost touch with the heart of it.
“But it was going so well.”
She shrugged. “I’ll come up with something else.” But she was worried she wouldn’t.
“Lib.” He seemed to think over his words for a moment. “I know you and I are the type of people who tend to feel suffocated by deadlines, but stick with it. You know it could be your big break.”