“All right, Cindy, let’s start the party! Show these lovely people what New Orleans and Fleur-De-Lis have to offer!” I steadied myself on the scooter, practicing my balance before I turned it on. This would be an excellent time to remember that when I had said I excelled at everything, I was only kidding myself. I was never one for balance.
I put one foot on the scooter and tapped my other foot along for a kick-start while I watched Cindy and her fleet take off without me. My body veered to the left, and my feet stayed put on the scooter, making it look as if I were crop-dusting down Royal Street.
“You okay back there, Mr. Beaumont?” Cindy called from the lead.
“Yep. Yes. Perfectly fine!” I answered, puttering along in last place. I did not like that. Something was going to have to change.
The chill in the air beat against my cheeks as I aimed for full throttle and weaved my way around the clients and toward the front. I dodged a street dancer, a stray cat, a drunk, and—
Samantha?
There was no mistaking those long, blonde locks trailing down her back and the way she moved from one heel to the other, using her hands to talk. I knew it was Samantha from down the block.
She was standing outside of Cafe Beignet, wrapped up in a scarf three sizes too big and laughing. She wasn’t just giggling. She was full-on, slap-your-knee laughing—at a dude. His back was to me as I was coming up on them fast. I tried to veer across the street, but old man Sean cut me off. I was forced to ride past her. I gripped my handlebars and gave it full-speed ahead. I planned to whizz by her as fast as I could, leaving my cologne hanging in the air to mark my territory. Unfortunately, today was not my day because, as I’d said, I couldn’t fucking balance.
“Victor?” Samantha called as I passed by with my chest puffed out and my abs tucked in.
Everything was going smoothly and would have continued to go smoothly if she hadn’t noticed me. But the second her eyes locked on mine, I knew I was in trouble. My butt was sticking out too much on the left to keep me from losing balance and toppling over, and with her and the little man friend distracting me, it was all too much. My ass hit a streetlamp, causing me to thrust my hips forward, lose my balance, and howl out in pain like a dying coyote—or even worse, a dying female coyote.
I could see my clients and Cindy up ahead, trudging along and oblivious to me, Victor Beaumont.
What the fuck?
“Oh my gosh, Victor! Are you okay?” Samantha rushed to my side.
Her blonde hair framed her face as she leaned over me, putting her hand over her mouth. I didn’t know if she was shocked or about to burst out in laughter.
“Hey, man. That was a nasty wipeout you had there. You okay, bud?” her man friend asked, holding his hand out to help me up.
I gritted my teeth and took it.
Bud? Does he have any idea who he is talking to?
“Oh, yeah, sure. I’m fine. Just a little tumble. Nothing I can’t handle.” I brushed myself off and clenched my jaw. My ass felt like it had been ramrodded by a pole … or a streetlamp.
“Are you sure? That looks really painful.” Samantha stepped in closer to me, lowering her voice. “I mean, I just saw your ass play Whac-A-Mole with that lamp—and you whacked it pretty hard.”
Whack. Hard. My dick thickened. Yep, I am back in Samantha Land.
“I’m fine. Really,” I repeated, picking up my scooter and trying to get the hell out of there before she—or he—noticed my junk bulging in my pants. I didn’t need any more embarrassment.
“Okay,” she said.
“Okay. It was good to see you.” I regained my composure and took off at a snail’s pace.
My team was stopped ahead at the street corner. They must have finally caught on that I, Victor Beaumont, the guy they were here to meet, wasn’t with them anymore. I rolled up to them with my plastered-on fake smile.
“Sorry! I saw someone I knew and had to take a quick moment to say hi. I didn’t want to be rude. Carry on!” I gave them my best business smile as we continued on our way.
Sara picked up on the first ring.
“Sara,” I said. “Hey! I need you to send me the contact info for Samantha Masson.”
“Okay … just her number or address or—” she stammered.
“Everything. Just text it over now, please. And thanks! Have to run. Meetings.”
I hung up before she could respond. We had finished up lunch, and after I’d eaten an entire muffuletta, an order of beignets, and two scoops of ice cream, I’d noticed I was eating my feelings. Feelings, me. Something wasn’t right here. I was having the Mondayest Monday ever.
I slid my phone back into my pants pocket as we hopped on the scooters yet again and made our way to a candy shop. Of course, after all that food, no one could pass up pralines—including me. I wanted to stuff my face with candy, possibly stuffing the feels back down where they belonged—deep down inside me and out of sight.
“Wow, you really are magic. Appearing out of nowhere and vanishing just as quick,” Samantha said as soon as I walked through the door to the candy shop.
My jaw dropped as I quickly pulled my jacket around my gut. I remembered I’d left the top button of my trousers open after I feasted too much at lunch. This wasn’t sexy. It would be at least a week before this bloat left and I was my former ripped self.
“Samantha! What are you doing here?” I asked. My voice was two times too high, like I had just hit puberty and was trying to hide a boner. True story.
“What am I doing here? I’m buying candy and heading home. I live in the area. What about you? I know you don’t live anywhere near here.”
I nodded toward my clients, who were already checking out with a basketful of goodies. “I have clients in from Memphis today. I’ve had to do the usual touristy stuff, which brings us to this place.”
“Oh, I see. So, that’s why you were hauling ass on that scooter earlier. Sounds like you’ve had a fun day.”
I looked around the shop, but Dude wasn’t here with her. “You can say it’s been fun. But I’ve had better business meetings.”
She sighed, bringing her hand to her collarbone. “I’m sure you have.”
“Speaking of business meetings, how’s the circus?” I straightened my posture as I caught sight of Sean looking back at me.
“It’s coming along. I have a few ideas. Do you think you can get Sara to schedule a time to meet with me?”
“Why can’t you ask me?”
She stepped closer to me and whispered, “Because every time we meet, we tend to fuck.”
Yep, my cock was growing again. I picked up a bag of treats and held them out in front of me, trying to cover my shame—and admittance to her being right. I was already ready and willing for her.
“Huh. Well, how about we meet in public? We can’t do that in public, can we?” My voice hit another high note. Fucking Monday. I was not on my A game today.
“I don’t know. We did it in the guest house, right out there in the open living room. Then, we did it on your desk. So, next time—”
“There’s a next time?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“But you did.” I brushed against her as another customer made his way around me.