Maria needs a win, even if it’s a cold-hearted mother just as oblivious as Maria was.
“I was wondering why we were driving in circles. I thought it was just so Mitzy could brief you. Gerald and Stefan are going to be pissed.” She snuggles against my side and draws my arm over her shoulder. “You smell nice.”
“Good to know.” After an evening of clubbing, I’m several seasons past fresh, but if Maria likes it, I don’t mind one bit.
Wolfe has more fun with Gerald and Stefan, driving in circles and figure eights. By now, Gerald and Stefan, if they’re any good, know we’re fucking with them.
Up ahead, a line of horses and carriages wait for tourists eager for the experience of riding through the French Quarter in a horse-drawn carriage. We’ve driven past no less than three times, but an idea pops in my head.
“Hey, Wolfe …”
“What?”
“Next pass around, stop at the carriages.” I give Maria’s hand a squeeze.
As a New Orleans resident, the chances she’s indulged in the classic tourist activity is slim to none. What better activity for the newly engaged couple to enjoy?
Wolfe looks at me through the rearview mirror, one scruffy brow raised in question. I know what he’s thinking. It’s corny as shit and complicates his role as bodyguard, but I’m looking to kill time.
Originally, I planned on returning Maria to her apartment in the Belvedere, letting her get in a few hours of sleep before we engaged with her mother. After the confrontation in the coffee shop with her security team, I put myself in the position of making a power move when I told Gerald and Stefan I would do as I pleased, returning Maria when I was damn well ready.
Now, I have time to kill. I hope it’s not too draining on Maria.
It may be time for more coffee.
Wolfe makes another circuit around the French Quarter, dragging Gerald and Stefan behind us. As we return to the carriages, he pulls off to the side.
“You want us following on foot or stay in the car?” Dark hair, dark eyes, and scruff covering his jaw, I don’t doubt Wolfe is also shy a night’s worth of sleep.
“Would you kill me if I had you follow in a carriage?” It would be epic if I could force Wolfe and Brady to take a romantic carriage ride around the French Quarter together.
“Fat chance, asshole.” Wolfe turns to Brady. “You up for a stroll watching the lovebirds?” He pulls up to the curb. He and Brady exit the vehicle, searching for threats like good little bodyguards, before signaling the okay for me to exit. Brady opens my door. After I climb out, I offer Maria my hand, then check in with Mitzy and Forest.
“You all set?” Inside the SUV, Mitzy crawls into the driver’s seat.
“As much as possible.” Tucked into a shielded pocket of my jacket, her tiny dragonfly drone waits for action. I have several other new gadgets I’m anxious to try. Wolfe and Brady carry the same stealth tech hidden on their person.
“You know the drill.” Mitzy peers out of the SUV. “Check in as you’re able.”
“Not my first rodeo, sunshine.”
“It’s your first rodeo with me, dickhead. Don’t fuck it up.” Mitzy’s quick to remind me this is my first solo operation with the Guardians.
Like I’ve said a million times, I prefer operating as a team. Not that I’m left with my ass hanging in the wind anymore. I’ve got Wolfe and Brady to watch my six. Ignoring Mitzy, I turn toward the carriages.
“Have you ever ridden in one of these?” I march to the head of the line, arm wrapped protectively around Maria’s shoulders.
“Never. I’ve always wanted to, but there’s never been time.” Despite her fatigue, eagerness shines in her eyes.
“Well, we’ve got time to kill, and it’s kind of romantic.”
“It’s romantic up until the moment the guy points out that it’s romantic.” She gives a playful jab to my ribs. “Looking to get lucky, lover boy?”
“What did I say about that name?” I spin her, facing her toward me, and playfully rub my knuckles on the top of her head. She giggles and dances out of my embrace. Rubbing her arms, she peeks up at me, fluttering those impossibly long, black lashes.
“Fine. Hollywood it is.”
“I want a different nickname.”
“Sorry.”
“What do you mean, sorry?”
“You don’t get to pick your nickname. You get what you get. What’s it going to be? Lover boy or Hollywood?”
“How about I kiss you until you give in?” That first kiss I gave her flashes through my mind. I want more of that.
“You can kiss me all day, but I’m not giving ground on your nickname. Besides, you call me princess, and I distinctly remember asking for something else. All’s fair in love and war.”
“So it is.”
Maria stops suddenly and surprises me. She places her hands on my shoulders and lifts on tiptoe to brush her lips over mine. It’s almost a kiss—agonizingly almost a kiss. Then she whispers in my ear and throws me for a loop.
“If you behave, there’s more where that came from.” Then she ruins it as a yawn escapes her mouth. “Sorry.” Maria covers her mouth and blinks sleepily. “That didn’t exactly pan out the way I meant. It was a lot sexier in my head.”
As much as a buzzkill as that yawn is, I can’t help but laugh. Nor can I help but test the waters.
“I hope to explore more of that, but first, we have a show to put on for Gerald and Stefan.”
“That we do.” She grabs at my hand, much more comfortable touching me than when we began. Maria doesn’t give a firm yes to the idea of taking this crazy, insane attraction we share for each other to the next level, but she’s interested.
Another yawn escapes her.
“As for that …” She covers her mouth. “You’ve got to be as tired as me. We’ve both been up for over twenty-four hours. I’m like a zombie, practically asleep on my feet. I think we need a nap before any of that. Do you think we can manage to share a bed and actually sleep?”
“Hardly.” I pull up short and take both her hands in mine. “I’ll crash on the couch. I don’t think it’s possible for me to share a bed with you without taking full advantage of it. If sleep is what you need, then I need to sleep on the couch.”
“There will be time for more, Hollywood.” She pats my chest and laughs. “Give it some time.”
The sound of her lilting laughter is nothing short of spectacular. I could listen to that all day. Unfortunately, she’s right. We’re both running on empty. After we’re rested, I’ll see what she thinks about taking whatever this is between us to the next level.
I approach the lead carriage. The driver is decked out in all his finery, wearing a bright purple suit with a ruffled collar. His boots are black and worn, but his horse looks healthy and eager to spend a day outside. I feel a little sorry for the horses. What kind of life is it drawing a carriage down a street filled with noisy traffic and inconsiderate tourists? He tips his fanciful top hat, then removes it in a flourish.
“Beautiful day for a beautiful couple.”
“It is at that.” I take a moment to admire the horses and his carriage. “How much?”