“Sworn off men?” Gram asked in dismay.
“Leave the poor girl alone, Maude,” Nana Ruby muttered, shaking her head. “She doesn’t need a man. A year off might be good for her.”
“Poppycock!” Gram exclaimed, waving her hand around as if she were physically batting away nonsense. She turned to Libby. “Why would you give up men? Have your ovaries shriveled up? Are you having hot flashes?”
She was having hot flashes all right, but not the kind Gram was talking about. “No, Gram. Let’s just say I keep making stupid choices with men. Maybe it would be best if I took some time off to focus on me. Then I can figure out what kind of guy I want.”
It was far easier to figure out what she didn’t want—some version of Josh, Garrett, or Mitch. She’d be bored in ten minutes if she married a responsible, rule-following, white-collar guy. And that was the problem. The men who weren’t like that were the ones she’d wasted the last twelve years—okay, fifteen years if she included high school—of her life on. Men like that didn’t stick around.
And she couldn’t begin to untangle the knot of complicated feelings she had when she thought about Noah.
But Gram was like a bulldog with a peanut-butter-filled treat. “A year? That’s ridiculous. What if you meet the perfect man for you? Your soul mate?”
Gram’s words sobered her. “I don’t think I have a soul mate.”
“Pfft.” Gram waved her hand. “I know for a fact you have a soul mate.”
Libby needed to change the subject fast. There was no way she wanted to spend this entire trip in some existential funk. “What else is in there?”
Gram put everything back except the black dress. “Oh, you know. This and that.” She leaned toward the bathroom door and shouted, “Noah, you can come out now.”
Dammit. How much had he heard? Why hadn’t she taken into consideration that he could probably hear every word? Of course, she’d already told him about her celibacy plan, but she still didn’t like the thought of him overhearing their conversation.
He emerged from the bathroom grinning ear-to-ear and looked around the room. “What? No Chippendale dancers? No collapsible stripper poles?”
Libby couldn’t suppress her giggle. Given that it was Gram, those things were entirely too possible.
“This girl doesn’t need Chippendales when she has you,” Gram said.
Nana Ruby made a sound like she’d started to choke. If only Libby could get Gram to choke her words down.
“I’ve seen her dance,” Gram said, holding up the dress. “She doesn’t need a stripper pole. But this is a lucky dress. If you want to win at the tables tonight, you should make sure she wears it.”
“Gram!” Libby protested. The dress wasn’t much better than the lingerie. Probably worse. At least if Noah saw the lingerie, it would likely be with the purpose of removing it. The dress was pure provocation. She had one way out of this. “Noah isn’t superstitious, Gram. He doesn’t need luck.”
“That’s not exactly true.” Noah wrapped his arm around her back and rested his hand on her upper arm. “Libby’s my lucky charm. But if the dress makes her even luckier, then it’s a deal.”
Gram smiled like she’d just stolen the crown jewels. Nana Ruby muttered under her breath. But Libby barely even noticed because Noah’s hand slid down her arm, sending flutters through her insides.
This was bad, bad, bad. He wasn’t even touching her bare skin, yet his touch was igniting a fire inside her that refused to be doused with a blanket of common sense.
But Noah seemed totally oblivious to her struggle and his hand continued to make a lazy trail up and down her forearm. “If you and Ruby are going to the show, you better get going. According to the signs downstairs, it starts at seven-thirty, and this place is huge.”
Given the state of her surging hormones, Libby wasn’t sure losing her chaperones was a good idea, but it gave her an excuse to escape Noah’s hold without looking suspicious. She bolted for the door and jerked it open, her hand slipping on the handle in her haste.
Gram chuckled as she closed the suitcase and started to zip it. “That eager to ditch us, huh? I get it.”
She’d forgotten all about the suitcase. And she’d never even asked about her license. Good God, Libby. Get it together. “Gram, did you bring my wallet too?”
The older woman snickered as she patted the case. “It’s all in here, Libby, my girl.”
She started to lift it off the bed, but Noah slid over and pulled it from her. “I’ll take it from here.”
Gram pointed a finger at him. “You owe me a drink later. And I plan to collect.”
Mischievousness filled Noah’s eyes. “Just text me and I’ll tell you where we are.”
She gave him a brisk nod and then tilted her head toward the door. “Come on, Ruby. Let’s go see some old fogies spit their dentures into the audience. But I’m warning you, I’m not throwing my Depends up on that stage.”
“You don’t even wear Depends,” Nana Ruby grumbled as she walked into the hall.
“Damn straight, I don’t,” Gram said as she grabbed her purse and followed her friend out of the room. “I’ve got on a black piece of cloth that looks like dental floss riding up the crack of my ass, and nobody wants to see that flying anywhere.”
Gram was wearing a G-string. Libby couldn’t let herself picture that.