“Open.” I ordered.
She hesitated for a split second, then parted her lips. I guided the bite carefully to her mouth, watching her eyes widen as the warm, sugary pastry melted against her tongue.
“Mm…” she murmured, cheeks coloring slightly. “That’s wow. That’s really good.”
I smirked, taking the opportunity to tease her a little. “Glad you approve.” I leaned closer, brushing a small speck of powdered sugar from her upper lip with my finger. “You’ve got a little something here.”
Her hand shot up instinctively for a napkin. "That's not embarrassing.” She blushed, reaching for a napkin.
I held up a finger, cutting her off. “Relax. I’ve got it.” Before she could protest further, I leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to the spot, smearing the sugar just slightly, leaving a faint sweetness behind.
Her eyes went wide, lips parting in surprise, though she quickly masked it with a soft laugh.
I raised a brow, letting the moment linger just long enough to make her pulse quicken. “There. All handled.”
Elise ducked her head, a warm flush spreading across her cheeks, but there was no mistaking the spark in her eyes. It wasn’t a surprise; this was our third kiss already, but it left her feeling completely flustered, her usual composure faltering just enough to make my grin widen.
“Thanks.” she murmured, still trying to regain control.
“You’re welcome,” I said, taking a slow sip of my coffee, enjoying the way she fidgeted ever so slightly.
We left the café hand in hand or at least close enough that our fingers brushed more than once. The French Quarter greeted us with warmth and color, sunlight bouncing off cobblestones and brass instruments. Musicians filled the streets, their horns blaring joy into the humid morning air.
“Let me know when you’ve reached your quota of fun for the day,” she teased.
“You try your first beignet and now suddenly your wise-ass.” I retort back, making Elise giggle.
She led the way through the Quarter, stopping to admire painted masks and street art, sampling pralines, and snapping photos like it was her first vacation in years. Somewhere between Jackson Square and the riverwalk, we stumbled onto a parade. Brass band, umbrellas, dancers, and all.
Elise froze, eyes wide. “Oh my gosh, it’s a second line!”
Before I could ask what that was, she grabbed my hand and tugged me straight into the crowd. “Come on!”
I barely had time to protest before we were swallowed up by the music, which consisted of drums pounding, trumpets wailing, and people cheering as confetti drifted through the air. Elise moved like she belonged there, hips swaying, arms lifted. Her laughter rang louder than the horns.
“I like this side of you,” I said, my hands on her waist.
“I like it too,” she shot back over her shoulders, breathless.
The music shifted, slower now, a deep rhythm rolling through the street. She turned in my arms, chest brushing mine, her smile softening. For a moment, the chaos melted away until it was just her and me. The sunlight catching in her hair. The pulse of the city beneath our feet.
I drew her closer, one hand sliding to her lower back as we moved in time with the music unhurried, natural, and intimate.
“This isn’t part of your tourist itinerary,” I murmured.
“It is now.”
The world faded to the sound of brass and laughter, the warmth of her body pressed against mine. And when the parade finally passed, she looked up at me with eyes that said more than either of us was ready to admit.
***
THE SPEAKEASY WASan unmarked door behind a bookstore, just like Elise said.
I could practically feel her buzzing with excitement as we were let in. “I can’t believe we actually came.”
Inside, the lights were low, music soft and sultry. The air smelled of citrus and oak. Elise’s smile was all wonder as she looked around, and I felt that rare, dangerous tug in my chest again.
“This day,” she said quietly, “might actually be perfect.”
