“That most men only want one thing from me. They see my boobs and my mother’s Colombian ancestry and . . . Let’s just say I’d always suspected as much, but that trip confirmed it.”
What had Barry the Bastard done to her? He had an urge to find the prick and beat the shit out of him. “How long ago was this?”
She sighed. “Between my freshman and sophomore years of college.”
“Oh, my God, Lib. You were a baby.”
She laughed. “It seems like that now, doesn’t it? Now that we’re supposedly adults.”
She was right. His own college years seemed like a lifetime ago. Back then he’d thought he would live forever and could get away with anything.
She shrugged, trying to act nonchalant, but he could tell it was forced. “Turning thirty has convinced me it’s time to grow up.”
“I would say growing up is overrated, but I guess we can’t all be Peter Pan.”
She reached over and stroked her hand down his arm, her touch sending tingles of sensation shooting through him. “You’ve been trying. You’ve inspired me.”
His eyes flew open in surprise. “I’ve inspired you to grow up?”
“Yeah.” She leaned closer. “Megan’s told me what Josh has said about you.”
“Nothing good, I’m sure.” He wanted Libby to base her opinion of him on her own experiences, not on half-truths and opinions she’d learned about in a game of telephone.
“You’ve changed, Noah. You’re taking responsibility. You’re helping your brother. You’ve inspired me.”
He shook his head and said bitterly, “I’m no inspiration to anyone.”
“Who would have thought Noah McMillan was capable of humility?” she teased.
But it wasn’t humility. The kicker was that he was still the screw-up, even after his temporary foray into responsibility.
Who was he kidding? This trip to Vegas was a huge waste of time. He was out of a job, and the company was out of a lucrative contract. He’d lost the respect of his brother . . . again. He didn’t have a shot at winning the woman next to him, and no matter how hard he tried he’d never quiet his father’s last words to him: “You’ll never amount to anything.”
He’d spent the last fifteen years proving just that. Why stop now?
He was exactly where he deserved to be.
Chapter Twelve
Talking about Barry had put Libby into a bit of a funk, but now Noah seemed to be stewing in some emotional mess of his own. She realized she might have given him the wrong impression about what happened on the trip, but it seemed too late to clear it up now. No one had physically harmed her or even coerced her into anything against her will, but it had shaken her to her core nevertheless. Normally it was easy to leave her ugly memories in the past where they belonged, so why had she even thought of Barry? The whole curse debacle was dredging up all kinds of things, it seemed.
She was sure she’d said something to trigger Noah’s bad mood, so she went over their conversation, trying to figure out where it had gone wrong. He’d reacted to her story, but he hadn’t retreated into silence until she’d told him that his change was inspiring her own. Was Noah the type of guy who wanted to hang on to the bad-boy persona, even if he was changing for the better? She was trying to figure out how to fix the problem when Noah slowed down and pulled over to the side of the road.
“What . . . ?” she asked, but then she looked up. Right there in front of them, on the other side of the highway, stood multiple old-school Cadillacs. They were arranged vertically, their hoods partially buried in the ground, and covered in splotches of multi-colored paint.
“Cadillac Ranch,” Noah said, resting his hand on the steering wheel as he turned to face the cars.
She’d heard of it, but had never seen it in person. “I wish I had some paint.”
Noah laughed. “I read about that online, that people just go into the pasture and paint the cars. How about we stop on the way back?”
“You’re not going to dump me by then?”
He swung his head to face her, looking startled. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Aren’t you irritated with me? Isn’t that why you’re so cranky?”
“What?” Noah shook his head. “No, I’m not mad at you, Lib. It’s all on me. I’m sorry for being an ass.” He released a long breath. “I’m not going anywhere, okay?”
“Yeah.” She leaned back in the seat with a sigh. No matter how much she wanted to believe him, history had taught her that no man ever stuck around. But to be fair, she’d done her own share of bailing. “Let’s go.”
Noah took a long look at her before he pulled back onto the road. “We’ll paint one when we come back. Unless we go straight to Seattle from Las Vegas. You can help me pick out a new place and then we can fly back to K.C. to get Tortoise and pack your things.”
She wasn’t sure why his suggestion filled her with so much happiness, but the idea of moving to Seattle felt so right. Of course, it was also incredibly dangerous. Now that her lusty feelings for him had made an appearance, she wasn’t sure how well she could hold them back. Seeing Noah for several days every two or three weeks was manageable, but living with him every day . . . How was that going to work? Common sense told her that their relationship was like a carefully constructed house of cards. One wrong move and the entire thing could come crashing down. Was she really willing to risk it?