all kinds of excuses about what she and those girls were doing in that hotel. Follow her back to the house and see if they have any more business tonight.”
Noah rolled his blue eyes, but he’d said he’d do the job, and he understood the need for undeniable proof. He drove back to the house, got out his map, and spread it out over his steering wheel, again.
The little sports car pulled into the driveway not long after he’d parked, and all four women got out. Evidently, the rentals had been taken back. The women all went into the house, and three of them emerged a few minutes later in jogging clothing and took off in different directions. Noah was about to leave when a ratty old pickup that reminded him of the one Teresa drove parked out on the curb. The guy who got out of the vehicle unzipped his coveralls and let the top hang to his waist. When Prissy met him at the door, she was wearing a filmy little teddy. With a little hop, she wrapped her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck, and they were locked together in a kiss when the man kicked the door shut with a heel.
Noah got out his camera and put a long lens on it. Right through the bedroom window, when the wind blew the lacy curtains off to the side, he shot several pictures that were proof positive Prissy was not a faithful wife.
“You should have pulled the blinds, lady,” he muttered as he sent the pictures to Daniel.
“Now your job is done,” Daniel said when he called a few minutes later. “You can’t trust women. They’ll nail your heart to the outhouse door every time.”
“If you’re ever up this way, come see me,” Noah said.
“Will do, and thanks again,” Daniel told him. “Same goes for you. Anytime you’re in my area, we’ll go out to dinner and talk shop.”
They ended the call with goodbyes, and Noah sat there for several minutes with the words You can’t trust women running through his head. That went for trusting men, too. He wanted Teresa to believe that he would continue to be a recovering alcoholic and that he would never go back to that lifestyle. She deserved someone to love her enough to stay sober and treat her right.
Chapter Thirteen
I can’t believe that Miss Janie is giving us this much. Do you realize we might put in our business before long if we can find a decent place to rent?” Teresa hugged the copies of the papers the bank had given her close to her chest. She’d be getting twice as much every month as she’d made working at the nursing home, and she’d have room and board for as long as she wanted to live in Birthright.
“Don’t pinch me,” Kayla said as she got into the back seat of Noah’s truck. “If I’m dreaming, I don’t want to wake up.”
“You aren’t dreaming, and if there are a few more moments when Miss Janie is lucid, you should tell her what your plans are.” Noah got behind the wheel and started the engine.
Teresa adjusted the air-conditioning and fastened her seat belt. “Does what Miss Janie left you have any bearing on what you intend to do with your life?”
“Yep,” Noah answered. “For a long time, I thought that after she was gone, I’d rent out the property—if y’all didn’t want to live in the house—and move to either San Antonio or Houston and keep doing PI work, but I’ve changed my mind.”
“For sure, or are you toying with an idea?” Kayla asked.
“Pretty positive right now about changing my profession.” He put the truck in reverse and backed out of the bank parking lot. “I’m going to hang out my shingle and do pro bono work. I don’t really need the money, so I can choose the cases I’m passionate about, whether the client can pay or not. The words giving back to the community keep running through my mind. That’s what y’all are doing, you know.”
“That’s pretty generous of you,” Kayla said. “I can’t believe I don’t have to work anymore, or for some rich lady who acts like I’m something she tracked in on her shoes. To get to be help to people who will appreciate it just blows my mind.”
“Me too.” Teresa’s voice was barely above a whisper.
Noah turned into the parking lot of the Dairy Queen. “Either of y’all up for ice cream?