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Miss Viola had been a good one for celebrating. She’d ridden Mardi Gras floats, dined at the finest restaurants and danced in the streets. Now she was gone. He’d seen her in her casket, had listened to the prayers said for her eternal soul, had watched her children and grandchildren cry, and still none of it seemed real. She’d been in his life forever, the one person he could always count on, and it was too damn wrong that he would never see her again.
“Hey.”
It took him a moment to realize the voice was addressing him. He shifted his gaze from the Saint Louis Cathedral on the far side of the square to the woman—no, girl—standing a few steps down from the one he sat on. She was blond, slight, smiling at him the way the Kingsley family’s Chihuahua likely eyed the T-bones Alia had talked about. He nodded in greeting, hoping she would go away, knowing she would...eventually.
The girl cast a look over her shoulder, and he followed her glance to the three girls watching a few yards away, all of them blond and slight and enjoying their night in the Big Easy. They were dressed for the weather and for fun, their four dresses combined falling short of enough fabric to make a decent tablecloth.
Not that he had anything against skimpy.
The nearest blonde smiled again, and the tiny stud in her nose flashed in the light. “My friends and I thought you looked lonely.”
“You did, huh.”
“We did.” She tugged her tight blue dress down an inch or so before seating herself on the warm concrete beside him. Expensive perfume and cheap beer caught on the air for a moment, too much of both. “We thought you might like a little company.”
He gave her a long look. If she and her friends showed up in his bar, he’d definitely card them and, depending on the quality of their fake IDs, probably wouldn’t serve them. Obviously, not all bartenders had his high standards, he thought sardonically. “I appreciate the invitation, but—”
A flash of long legs in killer heels caught his attention. The newcomer stopped a few feet from the other girls and said in her dry, steady voice, “Whoa, catch and release, Landry.”
Slowly he looked upward over lean calves, muscular thighs and a white dress as short and snug as any of the girls’ to Alia’s face, her smug smile, her black hair done up in some style that bared her neck. Oh, hell, yeah, he appreciated skimpy, even more on a woman who did it such justice.
“What does that mean?” The girl beside him didn’t sound as if she was smiling anymore, a fact confirmed by a glance that showed her brows drawn together into a pouty frown.
Sure she wouldn’t appreciate being compared to an undersized fish tossed back into the water, Landry shrugged. “Like I said, I appreciate the invitation, but...”
Scowling, the blonde stood, tossed her long curls, flounced down the steps and took off across the street with her friends.
Alia watched them. “They’re too young to be allowed in public without a chaperone.” Then she looked back at him. “I hope your tastes don’t run that young. They’ll get you in trouble.”
“My tastes didn’t run that young when I was that young.” He let his gaze slide down again. “So you do have something other than ugly shoes in your closet.”
“You try running around in heels all day. You’d prefer ugly shoes, too.” She grimaced. “My feet are killing me. I intend to take them off as soon as I get to my car.”
“An early end for a date, isn’t it?”
“My friend got a babysitter at the last minute, so we had dinner at a new place over there.” She waved off past Jax Brewery. “Unfortunately, Mom with a seven-month-old doesn’t stay out late.”
He didn’t allow himself to consider that bit of relief he felt at hearing she hadn’t dressed like that for a particular man. It wasn’t his business who she dated or if she dated. “The dress is a nice change from the suits.”
She glanced down at herself, then smiled. “Yeah, I like dressing up from time to time. I look pretty damn good.”
Amen.
Gesturing to the foot traffic around them with her small white purse, she said, “Best free entertainment around, isn’t it? The last time my parents visited, their favorite pastime was people-watching. Mom critiqued their outfits, Dad their behavior.” She gave a soft regretful sigh. “If I’d ever left the house wearing dresses like your young friends’, he would have sent the MPs after me—and trust me, there’s not much more embarrassing to a teenage girl than being escorted from a party by MPs.”
“You mean dresses like the one you’re wearing?”
