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“Two weeks,” she says. “But my boss prefers more than a minute’s notice.”
“I wasn’t suggesting we go today.”
“When were you suggesting?”
“Tomorrow.”
Her jaw drops again. “I can’t just drop everything and leave.”
“Fair enough. But would you like to go?”
“Well…yeah. I would like to. I’ve never been to New Orleans.”
“I’m the best tour guide around. I grew up there. I know all the hidden places to go to that capture the true spirit of the Big Easy.”
“You mean like Bourbon Street?”
I shake my head. “Absolutely not. Everyone knows about Bourbon Street. I’m talking about holes in the wall, where you can get the true feel.”
She bites her lower lip. All I can think about is how I haven’t even kissed her lips yet.
I haven’t done any of the things I want to do to her.
And right now? I’d settle for simple vanilla sex just to have her.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
“I wish I could,” she says.
“Talk to your boss tomorrow.”
“The shop is closed on Sundays.”
“Can’t you call him at home?”
“My boss is a woman, and I suppose I could, but…” She bites her lip again.
Is she actually considering it?
New Orleans is a special place—a place where magic happens. Mary needs some magic in her life right now. She’s floundering, in flux, and I want to help her. Because already I feel like she’s helped me. She’s shown me some of the beauty of my new home, and she’s shown me some of the beauty of who she is.
“Sometimes,” I say, “you have to grab the brass ring, Blossom. Sometimes…what will heal you is something you’ve never considered.”
Chapter Twelve
Mary
“Who says I need healing?” I say a little more harshly than I mean to.
“Don’t take it the wrong way. But you said a scene went bad. You still go to the club, but you don’t participate. Something’s eating at you. Perhaps a change of scenery will help.”
It’s odd how strong the desire is to go with him. To run away to New Orleans with Ronan O’Connor.
New Orleans with a Scotsman.
Such a contradiction.
Though half of him comes from the South.
