Her hand stilled and her words came out small. “I don’t know.”
“Well, why don’t you give yourself the chance to collect more evidence?”
She let her thumb scrape across the puckered skin of her nipple and shivered at the idea of Carter’s tongue there instead. “Okay, fine. I’ll meet you somewhere. But it has to be later because I’m not going to cancel my brunch for you.”
“I would never dare ask a lady to cancel brunch.”
“And you have to send me a dick pic.”
He sounded surprised. “What?”
She cleared her throat, straightening up on the bed. “You heard me. Those are my terms.”
“Okay...”
“It’s for collateral. Your face has to be in it. You got a dirty pic of me. I get a dirty pic of you. Fair’s fair. Them’s the rules.”
“I’ll do it on one condition.”
She lifted a brow. “What’s that?”
“You have to answer a few questions.”
Her curiosity piqued. “Ask away.”
Men’s voices called in the background, rustling Carter’s phone. “No, I’ll text you later. I have to get back to the course.”
She shook her head. “For someone who appears so incredibly normal, you really are the weirdest person I’ve ever met.”
“You like games? We’ll play a game.”
She shrugged. “Fine, and Carter?”
“Yeah?”
“Make it a good pic.”
Chapter Thirteen
Lucille and Noah were drunk, and they were two of the happiest drunks Perdie had ever seen in her life. The trio was seated in a corner booth of one of Perdie’s favorite brunch spots on the main strip of Sullivan’s Island, the Smokewood Café.
Perdie was packing away her stacks of color-coded notes from her discussion with Noah as a server came out with tin trays of burnt ends, barbecued chicken thighs, smoked pork shoulder, homemade sweet pickles, fried okra, cheesy grits, and deep-fried mac-and-cheese balls. On a crisp, chilly afternoon, Charleston comfort food simply could not be beat.
As was custom for Perdie and Lucille, they’d started with many rounds of drinks well before ordering food. This gave Perdie and Noah ample time to discuss the case. Although only Lucille and Noah were partaking in the drinks, since Perdie was acting as designated driver. Oh, and hired legal counsel, of course.
Noah was a surprisingly easy client in terms of communicating complicated material, and this was a huge asset in Perdie’s eyes. He had a serious yet concise way of describing the most esoteric concepts, even while he was sucking down the Smokewood Café’s famous frozen pineapple and bourbon drink, the Mind Melder. Perdie was lucky she got what she needed before he and Lucille were both inevitably too drunk for coherence.
She’d also been furtively checking her phone the entire time, but Carter hadn’t texted since they’d hung up. It was probably for the best as she’d needed to concentrate on Noah anyway. But they were done with business stuff. Now they were onto barbecue stuff.
“So, Noah.” Lucille stabbed a fist-sized chicken thigh with her fork. “How’d you get into neurogenetics anyway? You always dream of being a neurogenitician when you were a little kid?”
Noah’s eyes were heavy, his long, dark lashes lowered from so much alcohol, and his lips were curled faintly upwards. He gazed up at Lucille. “No, I don’t believe I knew what neurogenetics were as a child. I never was allowed a wide scope of exploration when I was young.”
“No? That’s so depressing.” Lucille twirled the little hairs sticking out of one of her space buns. With her shiny jet-black hair, the spray of freckles across her nose, and the bright red wool crewneck sweater fitted on her petite body, Noah didn’t stand a chance.
Then Noah’s voice surprised her. “I grew up in...well, something similar to a cult.”
Perdie choked on her sweet tea.
Lucille’s eyes went wide. “Oh my god. Was it a weird sex cult?”
Perdie rested a hand on Noah’s forearm. “As your acting counsel, you don’t have to answer that. Lucille, shut up.”
Noah shook his head and waved a hand. “No, it’s fine, I don’t mind talking about it. It was very rural. There wasn’t a lot of opportunity for conducting scientific research, which is why I only discovered my life’s passion later on in life. After breaking away.”
Lucille frowned. “Breaking away? What about your family?”
Noah methodically sliced through a fried mac-and-cheese ball before answering. “We don’t speak anymore. It’s unfortunate but inevitable. I pursued my education, which I wouldn’t have been able to do otherwise. Sacrifice is a part of life, and we don’t get to choose into which family we are born.” He forked a chunk of mac and cheese into his mouth before continuing. “I have a very skilled therapist.”
Lucille hiccupped. “I sell flowers,” she blurted out.
Perdie’s head was ping-ponging between them, interested in what might happen next.
A slow smile spread across Noah’s face. “A florist? Why did you choose that profession?”
Lucille leaned in close with a somber air. “Because I hate everything else,” she whispered. They both stared at each other before breaking into laughter.
Perdie laughed as well. It was cute, but it was like she was in the middle of weirdo mating season. She took the distraction to check her phone.
