I don’t bother haggling with the guy. He mentions his price, and I pay double. After a few words in his ear, Maria climbs into the carriage with me right behind. Whatever she says leaves a smile on the man’s face.
Wolfe and Brady give me a look. Wolfe rolls his eyes. Brady returns a cheeky grin.
I’m going to catch shit for being overly romantic with the guys, but I don’t hardly give a damn.
Maria’s worth it.
As for Wolfe, he’s not happy being made to walk behind the carriage, but Wolfe knows the drill. It’s all about making the right impression.
“Here, lean against me and close your eyes.” I settle in the padded seat and pull Maria close. “You can catnap if you want.”
“I might, but to be honest, I’ve always wanted to ride in one of these. Sybil said it was silly and for tourists only. I’d absolutely hate it if I missed out because I couldn’t keep my eyes open. If I fall asleep, pinch me, okay?”
“Pinch? Is that on your green list?” I waggle my eyes suggestively. One day, I’ll get her to tell me what’s on that list and the others.
“I’m not telling you what’s on my list.”
“Never say never, princess. I can’t wait to get into that dirty mind of yours.”
“Not today.” She grins, pleased with herself.
“But today is a special day. I’d say getting engaged allows us to break a few rules.”
“I’m not telling you what’s on my list.”
“I can be quite persuasive.” I lean back and take in the sights.
New Orleans is a pretty city, mixing old and new seamlessly. The steady clop, clop, clop of the horse’s hooves is a gentle rhythm that will put me to sleep if I’m not careful. I blink against my fatigue and focus on the mission.
“Have you heard from Sybil?”
Maria stiffens beside me, surprised by my question.
“I hope she’s okay.” I continue, hoping Maria gets the hint. “Do you think something happened with her father? Is that why she didn’t make the auction last night?”
Sybil’s disappearance needs to be addressed. After Maria told me Sybil’s father was sick, receiving treatment for leukemia, I figure that’s good enough to use as an excuse. As for this conversation, it isn’t for us.
It’s for our carriage driver.
“I suppose.” Maria sits straighter, letting me know she remembers our conversation about her friend.
“Are you going to call her?”
“I don’t want to bother her. If she flew home, she’ll call when she knows more.”
“Right. In the meantime, it is a gorgeous day, and I plan on monopolizing all your time.”
There’s no lie about that. Bright, blue skies welcome the beginning of a new day. With sparse clouds covering the sky, it’s going to be a scorcher, but I plan to have Maria indoors before the heat gets to be too much.
We talk about our engagement and plans for the future. Not because we have plans, but for the benefit of our carriage driver.
No doubt Rossi minions will descend on the poor guy demanding to know everything we talked about. I give him more than enough content to make it easy on him.
The steady clop, clop, clop of the horse’s hooves makes me yawn. My eyes droop, making me forcibly blink against my fatigue. We both need more caffeine. What better way to grab some than a stop for beignets and more coffee at a New Orleans landmark?
34
LIAM
Wolfe and Brady keep up with the sedate pace of the carriage without difficulty. We pull up at the rear of the line of carriages and dismount. Eager tourists are out, queuing up for a morning carriage ride. I tug Maria to my side again. I can’t get enough of holding her close.
“You hungry?” I kiss the crown of her head and angle toward beignets and coffee.
“A bit. I need more coffee if we’re going to stay out much longer.”
“How do beignets and coffee sound?”
“That sounds amazing.”
Maria is blessed with the most beautiful smile in the world. Her sapphire eyes make her beauty all the more intense. Add to that her raven hair with its cascading waves and the girl is a knockout.
She brushes a wayward strand of hair out of her eyes, completely oblivious to the stares of others, and glances back at Wolfe and Brady, who trail behind us as the dutiful bodyguards they are.
“I feel bad for your friends.”
“Why?”
“Having to follow us.”
“That’s what bodyguards do, love. They follow.” I gently remind her Wolfe and Brady are not Liam Cartwright’s friends but his employees.
“Sorry.” She peeks up at me, then lowers her voice. “I’m not that good at this.”
“You’ll get better.”
The beignet shop comes into view. Already, a long line extends outside.
“Whoa! That’s a beast. Is there somewhere else you’d like to go?”
“Oh, that’s not bad at all.” She tugs me toward the end of the line.
“But the line snakes down the street.”
“Yeah, but it moves really fast.” She picks up her pace, suddenly invigorated.
“I was hoping to sit down and get you off your feet.”
“Most of those people are picking up to go. I’ve never had problems getting a seat.” She twists around. “What about them?”
“They’re working.” I lift her hand and kiss her knuckles.
“Sorry …”
“It’s okay. I love that you care. I take it having men protect you that you respect is much different from having them forced on you.”
“Yes, much different.”
We get in line, and to my amazement, the queue moves quickly. In less than a few minutes, we order and find a cozy table looking out on the street. Wolfe and Brady treat themselves to coffee but forego the beignets. They stand protectively outside, each with a different view of the street.
As for Gerald and Stefan, I don’t see them. Either they gave up or are far better at hiding than I give them credit for.
“How long were you thinking we stay out?” Maria takes a bite out of a beignet. The powdered sugar coats her lips and she gets a bit of it on the tip of her nose.
“Enough to make my point.” I lean across the table and swipe the powdered sugar off her nose. “Are you enjoying yourself?”
She plows away at the beignets. I didn’t notice at first, probably because I’m only now relaxing around her, but she’s not like other women I’ve dated.
Dated?
More like engaged in mutually pleasurable activities. That’s a nice way to say I’ve only ever had fuck buddies: women for whom my interest extended only to the bedroom and never beyond. At the prerequisite wine-and-dine portion of the evening, those women picked at their food like tiny, little birds, as if what they ate, and how much they ate, made one bit of a difference to me.
Maria doesn’t care what I think and dives in with gusto, enjoying the experience as much as the food. There’s no apology. No mention of counting calories, carbs, or any of that silly stuff. There is, however, one big problem for me, and it’s growing by the second.