“No, I get all that. But culinary school and cooking aren’t inexplicably twined.”
Her gaze dropped.
He wasn’t trying to upset her. But she had been too good to quit so easily. It didn’t make sense. “I guess I’m saying I want to hear the rest of your story. After our climb today, I’ve got blood, sweat, and tears invested in it, remember?” His sweat, at least, was most certainly back on those lighthouse stairs.
“I should have known my good deed of helping you would reach around and nip me in the behind.” Elisa released a short laugh. “Fine. But I get to ask you truth or dare next.”
“Fair.” He’d cross that bridge when it came.
She drew a breath, leaning her head against the couch as if settling in for story hour. “I don’t cook anymore because it felt like a lot of it was tied up with the school, and all my failure there.” Her voice hitched as if she’d struck a nerve in her own memory. “I guess I could have gone somewhere else, searched for a job on my own. But I wanted to come back home.”
Noah nodded. “To your dad?”
“And Delia.” She was quick—maybe too quick—to clarify as she stared up at the ceiling.
Vague answers. And they still left an obvious question. “So why don’t you cook for the Magnolia Blossom? You have all that education and time put in.”
“Delia’s not interested in branching out—she’s been making the same southern favorites for years and her customers love it.” Elisa shrugged, head still against the couch. “It’s not my place. Besides, I like managing.”
Like she kept stating…or rather, overstating. But it didn’t feel right to pry further—she didn’t owe him any answers. He went for lightening the mood instead. “I suppose you were always good at telling people what to do.”
She elbowed him in the ribs, and he folded into his side, laughing. “I’d say I’m kidding, but…” He caught another elbow to the ribcage. “Ow. Okay, truce.”
“Another one? I’m going to need to start a list.” She met his gaze in challenge. “My turn.” She rose to her knees and faced him, anticipation lighting her gaze. “Truth or dare?”
“Dare.” Whatever she came up with had to be far safer than admitting to anything she might ask. He’d rather streak Bayou Boulevard than admit he’d missed her even a little the entire past decade. That he’d compared every woman he’d dated ever since to her, and they all came up lacking.
Elisa’s eyebrows lifted, but she quickly recovered from the surprise. “Idareyou to answer my question.”
He sucked in a tight breath. Clever. “Let’s have it.”
A somber expression slid over her face as she sat back on her heels, giving him her full attention. “Why is the Blue Pirogue so important to you?”
Speaking of going for the gut. But at least she hadn’t asked about their former relationship. He cleared his throat. “It’s my heritage.”
“There’s more to it than that.” She tilted her head, studying him as if she’d never fully seen him before. “It’s not only a building to you.”
“Of course it’s not.” Which was something Elisa’s father and grandfather, the men who’d been actively attempting to take it away from Noah’s family for decades, would never understand. It wasn’t about an age-old feud or who owned what property rights the inn rested on. It would always be more than that.
He had to give her something, though. She’d never give up as easily as he did. All part of that good ol’ Hebert curse.
Quick to quit.
Elisa waited, watching him closely, and he hoped she couldn’t read the myriad thoughts scattering around his brain.
Noah sighed. “The Blue Pirogue is my childhood. It’s a testimony to my family through the ages…all my favorite memories are here. Grandpa would make up silly adventures for me when I was a kid. He always had some kind of puzzle going in his study—usually a 3D one, or a two-thousand-piece puzzle.” He smirked. “None of that easy five-hundred-piece junk, as he’d say.”
Elisa smiled softly. “That sounds like him.”
Her encouragement—and the safety of the inn around him—loosened his tongue. “He was there, you know? I could always count on Grandpa to show up when my dad—” He cleared his throat. “When no one else could. Like for Little League games. JV ball tryouts. Whatever I was doing.” Noah swallowed. “The inn represents that, somehow.”
Elisa nodded. “Consistency.” The word, heavy with southern accent, stretched between them. “That makes sense.”
“Grandpa never quit on me.” Noah looked down, wishing he could reel the words back in like Cade with his high-end fishing rod.
“You two always seemed close.”
“Very.” He stared at his hands in his lap. “That’s part of why it was so hard when he and Grandma Edith divorced.”
