Boudreaux 01 Easy Love (8 page)

“I’m kidding. I’d weigh four hundred pounds within a month.”

“No, you wouldn’t, and I’m not kidding. Say the word, and I’ll get them for you.”

I sit back in my seat and watch him as I chew the doughy goodness. What can I say to that? Instead of responding, I finish my beignets, then drink the delicious frozen coffee and wipe my mouth and brush the fallen powdered sugar off my shirt and pants.
 

“Ready for what comes next?” he asks and stands, holding his hand out for mine.

“Sure.” He leads me to the sidewalk, settles my hat on my head, and leads me up and down the streets, wandering through gift shops and antique stores, jewelry stores, and even novelty voodoo shops. I soak it all in, looking in every nook and cranny of every store, and Eli patiently waits for me, not saying much, letting me lead him where I want to go.

He’s protective while we’re walking from store to store, sure to keep his hand on the small of my back, but when I’m poking around, he gives me space to explore.

In an antique jewelry store, I find a silver and ivory cameo locket that I must have for my mother for Mother’s Day. When I pull my wallet out to pay, Eli beats me to it, handing the clerk his card.

“Eli, I’m buying this for my mom.”

“She’ll love it.”

“Yes, but
you
just bought it.”

He raises a brow and watches me with an amused tilt to his lips, as the clerk bags it up and hands it to me. “You’re not paying for anything when you’re with me,
cher.
”

Before I can respond, he turns and leads me out of the store, and we’re back to the palm readers and musicians before Jackson Square. A woman with deep mocha skin and a bight white smile waves at me, and I immediately sit at her table and pay her before Eli can blink, making him glare at me.

I stick my tongue out at him.

“Well, hello there, I’m Madame Sophia.” She grins and begins to rub hand sanitizer on her hands.
 

At least she’s a clean palm reader.

“Will I be reading both of your palms, then?”

“No,” Eli replies and shoves both his hands in his pockets. He always does that when he’s uncomfortable.

It’s kind of adorable.

“Scared?” I ask with a grin.

“Skeptical,” he replies, matching my grin and sending me off my axis.

“That’s okay, baby girl, he can just listen. Please give me the hand you’re most comfortable writing with.” I lay my right hand in hers, palm up, and settle in to be entertained.

“Ah,” she whispers and traces her finger around the outside of my palm. “You’re an emotional one, aren’t you, baby girl? You wear your heart on your sleeve.”

I bite my lip and glance up at Eli, who rolls his eyes. I know what he’s thinking: half the population does that.
 

“A smart one, you are. Oh, look at that! You’re a good liar.” She glances up at me, narrows her eyes, and then looks back down.
 

I lie for a living.

“Oh, baby girl.” She’s not looking at my palm anymore. Now she’s looking me in the eye, her chocolate brown eyes full of sympathy. “He didn’t deserve you, and you’re better off without him.”

I frown and glance at Eli, then back at Sophia. “I don’t think—”

“But you gonna be just fine,” she continues without a beat. “Sometimes, love be right under your nose, y’know?”

“I don’t think I really need love advice,” I reply nervously. She winks at me, and then returns to my palm.

“Ah, you’re stubborn, but that’s good. You don’t let people take advantage, but you are a sucker for the puppy dog eyes.” She chuckles when I simply blink at her. “Your parents miss you, way over there in Ireland.”

I gasp and move to pull my hand away. “How did you know—?”

“It’s just here,” she replies. “You’ll get a call soon that will change things for you.”

“Change them how?”

“That’s enough,” Eli says, and lays his hand on my shoulder, sending electricity down my chest, making my nipples pucker and Sophia’s eyes widen as she looks between the two of us, her hand still hanging on to mine.

“This is a powerful connection.”

“I said that’s enough. Thank you for your time,” he says and helps me to my feet.

“I don’t think she was done,” I say with a frown, and glance back to see Madam Sophia watching us walk away with a thoughtful frown on her worn face.

“She was done.”

His jaw is clenched and his eyes are narrowed as he leads me down the cobblestone street.
 

“Eli.”

He doesn’t stop, so I dig in my heels and pull him to a stop next to me.
 

“I’m fine.”

He tucks my hair behind my ear. “You should be wearing your hat.”

I settle it on my head, tipped a bit too far forward, so he has to bend at the knees to see my face. Finally, he smiles and tips the brim back.

“Why did that freak you out?”

He shrugs. “She was upsetting you.”

She was freaking me out.

“I’m fine,” I repeat stubbornly. He simply smirks and kisses my forehead.
 

“Are you ready for lunch?”

“More food?”

“You’re in New Orleans, dawlin’. There’s always more food.”

***

“I’m exhausted,” I sigh, as Eli walks me up to my door several hours, many shops, and two meals later.
 

“In a good way, I hope.”

“Definitely a good way. I had so much fun today.”

He smiles softly and takes my hat off my head, then tucks my hair behind my ear and drags his fingertip down my jawline. “I had fun too.”

“I’m glad you rang my bell at the crack of dawn.”

“I believe it was nine, not the crack of dawn.”

I shrug. “Same difference.”

He chuckles as I fish my keys out of my handbag and unlock my door.
 

“Do you want to come in?” I ask.
 

“I have a bit of work to do this evening,” he replies. His eyes look almost…determined.
 

“Okay, well thanks again.”

He nods as I close the door and toss my hat on the sofa. Holy crap, today was fun. The chemistry is still off the charts, but he was a perfect gentleman the whole day. He barely touched me, but we laughed a lot and he was…
friendly.

Huh. Eli Boudreaux and I are friends.

I grin as I walk through my loft, and my iPhone lights up with a FaceTime call from my cousin Rhys. I grin as I press accept and sit out on my balcony to take the call.

“Well, hello, gorgeous. You are a sight for sore eyes.”

“Hey, handsome. Back at you.”

Chapter Six

Eli

“Do you want to come in?” she asks, her green eyes smiling up at me.
 

Fuck, yes, I want to come in.
Which means, I’d better not go in there because I’ve kept my hands off of her all day and my resistance is dying a slow, painful death.

“I have a bit of work to do this evening,” I lie easily. She immediately looks down, disappointment shadowing her eyes, and I feel like the first-class asshole I’m known to be. But I’d be an even bigger asshole if I followed her in and seduced those expensive panties off her.

“Okay, well thanks again.” She offers me another of her sweet smiles, then closes the door behind her and flips the deadbolt lock with a loud click.

I lean my forehead on her door and quietly take a long, deep breath.

I can still smell her.

I walk down her stairs and stroll to my own empty house, thoughts of Kate still running through my head. I don’t remember the last time I took a whole day away from the office, and I certainly don’t remember the last time I enjoyed myself so much.

Kate’s enthusiasm for everything new is contagious. Her love of the music, the food, hell…even that crazy palm reader. She jumps in with both feet and relishes the experience, making being in her company simply effortless.

And maybe that’s what has me scared shitless.

I’ve taken my home for granted my whole life. My father always pointed out to us that we live in a special place, but until I spent the past week sharing it with Kate, it never occurred to me to truly appreciate it.

Her delight in red beans and rice and a shrimp po’ boy this afternoon brings a smile to my lips. The woman can eat unlike anyone else I’ve ever been with. Most women pick at lettuce and turn their nose up at walking
anywhere
, not to mention walking for blocks and blocks, wandering through shops full of overpriced gaudy knick-knacks.

Not that I typically pay attention to those sorts of things, as long as they’re fun in bed and don’t get too attached.

But Kate’s different. Yes, I want to tumble her into bed and mess her up more than I want my next breath, but I enjoy her company just as much. Making her smile makes my stomach clench. Listening to her laugh makes my chest ache.
 

And when she slid her hand in mine and linked our fingers when we crossed the street, it was the easiest touch I’ve ever had.

I walk up the stairs to the master bedroom, toe off my shoes, and stare at my balcony, wondering if she’ll go out to enjoy the rest of her evening.

And if so, would she mind if I join her?

God, I’ve become a pussy.

I just saw her five minutes ago, and I’m already craving her company. And that’s exactly what it is: I crave her. Her body, her thoughts, her smile.

All of her.

She’s made parts of me come alive that have been long dead, and I’m not sure if I can trust this yearning in my gut, yet I can’t stop it.

I cross to the doors and open them, but before I can step out onto the balcony, I can hear her voice. And a man’s.

I shove my hands in my pockets and finger the half-dollar in my right hand.

“Well, hello, gorgeous. You’re a sight for sore eyes.”

“Hey, handsome. Back at you.”

“How are you down there in the Big Easy?”
 

I inch outside and see that her back is to me, and she’s talking via FaceTime on her iPhone.
 

“Things are great down here. How are you? Are you taking care of yourself? I know you work so hard, and I worry, you know.”

“Stop worrying about me, love. I’m strong as an ox.” I raise a brow at the term of endearment, and feel my breath catch in my throat.

“Stubborn as one, too,” she replies. I can hear the smile in her voice.
 

“You miss me and you know it.”

“I do,” she replies with a sigh. “I miss you very much. When do I get to see you?”

I turn and quietly let myself back into my house, gently closing the doors behind me. So, she does have someone. I shake my head and laugh ruefully. I’m such a fucking fool. Sharing beignets and palm readings means nothing.

She
means nothing.

I can hear her laugh trickle in from my door, and every hair stands up on the back of my neck.

She’s not nothing. She’s the least nothing I’ve ever met in my life. And I can’t have her.

***

“Uncle Eli, I want to go outside and play catch.” My youngest sister’s son, Sam, is staring at me with hopeful hazel eyes, his Chicago Cubs hat planted firmly on his head, baseball mitt and ball in his grubby little boy hands.

“I know you don’t have a hat on in my kitchen,” Mom gives Sam a stern look, and he takes the hat off and lowers his chin to his chest.

“No, ma’am.”

“After dinner,” I inform him, and pull him in for a hug and to ruffle his shaggy dark hair. “You can take both me and Beau on.”

“I throw better than both of you,” Sam says, and grins at Beau, who is chopping vegetables for Mom on the other side of the counter, across from where Sam, Gabby, and I are sitting.

“You don’t throw better than me,” Beau insists with a frown.

“Do too,” Sam says, and eyes the pecan pie sitting on the counter cooling. “Nannan, can I have some pie?”

“Don’t even think about touching that pie until after dinner.” Mom shakes her spatula at Sam, making him grin. “You’re just like your uncles. Always diving into dessert first.”

“I’m a growing boy. Right, Mama?”

Gabby smiles down at her son and kisses his head before he can pull away with a cringe. “You are a growing boy. Growing on my nerves.”

Sam smiles and walks toward the back door. “I’m gonna go toss the ball in the air until dinner.”

“Good plan. Stay close!” Gabby calls, as the screen door slams.
 

“He’s adorable,” Charly, at the stove next to Mom, says with a grin. “And knows it.”

“He’s seven going on thirty-five,” Beau says with a laugh. “He tried to talk me out of twenty bucks the other day when he dragged the garbage cans down to the road.”

“He what?” Gabby asks with a gasp. “I’ll kill him.”