Bayou Born (Fleur de Lis Series) (11 page)

She wondered what else James knew about her.

Hearing the
swoosh
of the kitchen door opening behind the booth, she folded her hands in her lap. Sara Nell stood beside the table, arms laden with plates. With a
clunk
so forceful it made the bread on the sandwich jump, she set Branna’s food down, then flashed another bright smile before gently sliding James’ plate in front of him.

“Ma’am, I made your fresh squeezed lemonade.”

Sara Nell’s “Ma’am,” dripped with sarcasm. There couldn’t be much more than a year or two between them, so it couldn’t be an age thing, but what? Not wanting to cause a scene, she ignored the rudeness and poured poppy seed dressing over her salad. The growls from her stomach demanded food, otherwise, she might transform into a snarling beast now rather than a pumpkin at midnight.

“Do you want
anything
else?” The waitress purred at James. Her lashes fluttered as though sending Morse code. What did the waitress expect James to say?

She couldn’t remember when she’d experienced poorer behavior in a restaurant. But it would be impolite to point out to the woman the errors of her ways.

“No thanks, just Miss Lind’s lemonade.”

“You were born and raised here?” Branna asked between bites, wanting to shift the conversation. Sara Nell took the hint and trudged away.

“Born in the only hospital in town. Raised about thirty miles west. I’m curious. Why does one go from event planning to full-time teaching?” James asked, then drug one of his fries through ketchup before eating it.

“That was a smooth transition.” She put her fork down. Through all she’d battled to get this job and leave home, no one until James had asked that question. “I love books and learning. I believe knowledge is power. I find it fulfilling to watch someone learn something new, and then have them discover how to use what they’ve learned to enhance their lives. I want to be part of that process.” She’d never uttered those words aloud. Speaking them filled her with a sense of freedom.

“But event planning to teaching?”

“Do you doubt my ability?” she asked, worried that he might think her less than capable.

“Nope. Not one bit. You’ve got the education, enough experience, more importantly the passion—and we need that in classrooms. Just wondered about the leap.”

What was it her father had asked when she announced she was leaving? Something about whether or not she was taking a blind leap into the shallow end of a pool.

“Ah, that. Well...let’s just say my prior job was part of the family business.” The last thing she wanted to discuss was family. Their ways weren’t an easy concept to understand—a large extended one steeped in old traditions in a modern live-for-the-moment world where everything was expendable or replaceable rather than treasured like antiques.

“Part?”

“What did
you
do before you came to teach at the college?” she asked.

“I can take a hint. Family is off limits?”

“I thought the purpose of this get-to-know-you lunch was a professional one. I take it, you’ve seen my resume. I’d like to steer the conversation in the direction of LCC. That’s the nickname for the college, right?”

The corners of James’ mouth curled. He winked. “Yes. Questions are an occupational hazard of mine, Miss Lind.”

His wink was an arrow to her gut. Tingles danced in her veins, the same as when he’d held her hand while they’d danced last night.

What was happening to her? Better yet, what was wrong with her? He showed no signs of experiencing any odd sensations. He’d flirted at bit, but only a bit. The quivering in her gut made her want to run. She’d left Fleur de Lis in search of simple. Independence. No relationship tangles. Nor complicated emotions that made her squirm. That wasn’t what she signed up for. Where did she go to unsubscribe?

Picking up her fork, she stabbed at the lettuce on the plate. Before the next stab, James tapped her hand with a single finger, and that mere contact sent a quiver up her arm.

“What would you like to know about your new job or the college?”

She raised her eyes to gaze at him. From across the table, he appeared totally at ease in his own skin while she twitched with panic in hers. She hadn’t had a date with a man, not that this was exactly a date, since before her engagement. The only man she’d dined with, other than the ones in her family for the last eighteen months, had been Steven. “Tell me everything.”

James wasn’t flirting with her, just trying to put her at ease, right? She must have somehow misconstrued the signals. Dr. Brown had described him well—a mixture of ambition and easy charm. His kind of charm put her on edge.

Steven had shown great talent at turning it off and on, making his moods sometimes unpredictable. “Slick as owl spit” was how Grandpa Lind described him. She didn’t know James well, but instinct assured her that he wasn’t at all like Steven.

Which made him dangerous to her heart.

James was exactly the kind of man she intended to avoid. She needed carefree and casual, but did her heart have a different mission? “Tell me about the expectations you had when you started teaching and how those have changed. What about the difference between theory and reality in the classroom?”

She focused on her meal while James shared his teaching experiences.

The second she finished her last bite of salad, the waitress arrived to clear away plates as if she’d been hovering behind them, watching and listening. Sara Nell offered James a grin that looked like a half-grimace, and then glared at her when James wasn’t watching as though she were the enemy before slapping dessert menus on the table.

Branna perused the pie list, but her desire had waned. She would have preferred lunch without a side dish of “waitress attitude.”

“All the pies are made here. What. Can. I. Get. You?” Sara Nell asked, hiking the attitude quotient higher.

“They have a little elf-grandmother in the back who works her magic with pies,” James said. “Ladies first.”

Sara Nell stood beside the table, shifting her weight from side to side, poised with pencil and pad.

“I’ll have sweet potato pecan, please,” Branna answered, then closed her menu and slid it to the edge of the table without making eye contact with the waitress.

“Excellent choice. I’ll try the lemon. If I share a bit of mine, will you share?” James said with a wink.

It made her breath catch.

“Fine. SPP and lemon.” Sara Nell left in a huff. Branna expected to see a puff of smoke. Or at least steam coming from both of the waitress’ ears.

“I considered the pumpkin,” James said. “But I’m dubious about eating that after learning you shape shift into one at midnight.”

“Cute.” She leaned on the table and motioned James closer. “Do I have food between my teeth or something?”

“No. Why?”

“Does my perfume smell repugnant?”

James shook his head.

“Does she treat all female customers like that?”

“Sarah Nell?”

“Yes.” Exasperated, she restated the obvious. “Sara Nell.”

“Just ignore her.” James patted her hand. “She and I never had a second—”

Before James finished his sentence, Sarah Nell appeared again. She plopped down their dessert plates and left in another huff.

Branna checked her plate to be sure it hadn’t cracked in two. “Guess I don’t want coffee,” she said picking up her fork. “You never had a second what?”

“Date.”

That explained everything. “Dr. Brown said you had a lot going for you. For the record, I think I should tell Sara Nell that
this
is the opposite of a date. This is lunch between two colleagues because
you
missed the official work one.”

“I’m sure she’d be happy to hear that. But it won’t make any difference where I’m concerned.”

Taking a scoop, she spooned pie into her mouth. The smooth texture and rich flavor of the filling combined with the crunch of the nuts made her taste buds dance. She closed her eyes to savor the flavor. It tasted like home. She took another scoop just to be sure her imagination wasn’t playing tricks. She had discovered a slice of heaven...in a slice of pie.

“I don’t know when I’ve ever seen a woman enjoy her food more.”

Submerged in a sweet-potato-pecan-pie brain fog, what could she say? She wouldn’t apologize for loving dessert, though she didn’t appreciate the teasing. When their eyes met, admiration shone in his. He wasn’t teasing, but totally serious. He enjoyed watching her eat.

Embarrassed, she shrugged. “I
love
this pie. If it wouldn’t make me hungry all the time, I’d have candles that smelled like this in every room in my house. I’d bottle it and wear it as perfume. Pour it into my bubble bath. I always wanted to be the sweet-potato-pecan-pie queen.”

James raised one eyebrow, then reached across the table and touched the corner of her mouth. A small piece of pecan dropped to the table as Sara Nell marched up. She gave Branna yet another glare and c
linked
the metal plate with the bill onto the table between them.

“Call me,” the waitress purred at James before departing.

Branna glanced at him, then to the spot where the waitress had stood before her departure. “The food’s great. The service—not so much. If I brought Momma in here, she’d have the owner by the ear, then give the entire staff lessons in decorum.”

“Sara Nell, her nose is a little bent out of shape. She’s not usually this way. Besides, if you say something, you’ll get the woman fired.”

Branna shrugged. “I won’t say anything, but she won’t ever wait on me again.” She didn’t blame Sara Nell for trying. She’d been a fool for a man once, too, but once in a lifetime was enough for any woman. Besides, she wanted a man who was the strong faithful type. She wanted the “and two shall be come one” in a relationship. Nothing smothering, but a man with whom life would have balance and would feel complete.

“Shall we take our tour?” James asked, rising from the booth.

Her radar blipped. She blinked. There was a smoldering tension between them. She recognized it now.

James would be a problem. No handsome, southern charmer for her. She wanted a man-free life. Her brain reaffirmed that concept, but her heart waffled when James placed his hand in the small of her back and guided her toward the front door.

“That went well, don’t ya think,” James said. “How about if we try this again...soon. We haven’t covered everything about the job, mostly hit the important highlights.”

She saw mischief in his eyes. “Okay, sure...soon.”

“Wait here a moment. I have an idea.”

She stood outside the café as he walked down the street. Confused, she watched him go. Then her cell phone vibrated in her purse. She didn’t recognize the number, but it was a local area code. “Hello?”

“Miss Lind, I was wondering if you’d like to go on a non-date?”

“James?” Half way down the block, she could see him, but he had his back to her.

“How about around seven-thirty this evening? A drive through the country to learn your way around and maybe a late-night drink? I know a place with a live band on Saturday nights. You’ll experience local color. We’ll do this for the LCC team.”

“I’m not sure...that’s such a good idea.” He had walked away to call her?

“What if I promise, you’ll be home before midnight? After all, I don’t want to witness any shape shifting. I don’t know if I’ll ever look at pumpkin the same again, knowing you change at midnight.”

“Dr. Newbern, I want to keep things professional.” Was he afraid she’d say, no?

“Good. Then I won’t pick you up. We’re two colleagues getting to know each other better. Sort of a professional-bonding night. Where would you like to meet for a non-date?”

A non-date? She could handle that, right? She ignored the shouting voice in her head that told her to
Run! Run away
. Far away, from this man. The jitterbug dancing in her stomach threw a one-two punch to her head, which caused her heart to skip a beat.

James Newbern was not what she had anticipated in any way, shape or form.

“Why not?” she said. “You name the place.” After all, she came to Lakeview for adventure.

Chapter 10

The tall wood-framed etched glass doors created an elegant entrance to the bar at the only hotel in town.

“Wow. The newspaper said this had a five-star rating.” Branna stared at the beautifully crafted doors.

She’d read about the hotel’s restaurant and bar in a local survey. That seemed like a reliable recommendation. After all, options weren’t endless in Lakeview. Five miles west near the interstate, a handful of cut-rate motels for one-night-only tourists flashed
No Occupancy
signs on Saturday nights. None of them served food or adult-only beverages.

She spotted the Historic Register plaque on the brick wall beside the tall doors. The lodging establishment had remained locally owned since its opening. She had researched the place after James suggested meeting there, wanting to know what to expect, since she shied away from surprises. The building had antique character, and Lakeview folks might consider the 1900’s construction ancient; however, Bayou Petite had signed its city charter almost a hundred years earlier than when Lakeview called itself a town.