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Chapter Five
After Julianna’s departure, Val took a seat on the leather pad covering the gazebo’s iron bench and drank in the scents and silence. Julianna was certainly a remarkable woman. Val thought the LeVeq matriarch and her grandmother Rose would get along famously should they ever meet. Rose made her living as a seamstress and hadn’t remarried after the death of Val’s grandfather. Every man who courted her seemed focused on controlling her money, she’d once told Val, so she’d charted her life alone, seasoning it with feistiness and dogged independence.
And now, here her granddaughter sat awaiting her meal with Drake LeVeq. She’d never dined alone with a man outside of her family’s acquaintances. What would they talk about? Would she be able to mask her nervousness? More importantly, would she be able to remain aloof? Something told her that women came easily to him and she didn’t want to be viewed as a potential conquest. Yet and still, the prospect of being alone with him filled her with an odd sense of anticipation. She wanted to know more about him, which could be seen as unbecoming for one with an intended, and as the properly raised, straitlaced young woman her father so wished her to embrace and be. But she’d always been daring. Lying dormant inside herself was the young girl who’d enjoyed climbing trees, playing baseball, and who’d without a whimper accepted the whipping she’d gotten from her father in response to her three-day expulsion from Mrs. Brown’s School for Proper Girls of Color, for demanding she be taught science. She sensed being around Julianna was going to make that girl regain her wings and rise. What Drake LeVeq might give rise to, she didn’t know.
Moments later, he arrived carrying a tray topped by covered silver dishes. His fresh shirt was pale blue. Two buttons at the neck were open exposing the strong lines of his throat. Realizing she was staring again, she quickly looked away.
“Your food, mademoiselle.” His French accent was another weapon in his arsenal of things she found attractive. Declaring herself immune was a lie.
“Thank you.”
He set one of the covered plates in front of her, placed the rest on the other side table, and took his seat. Avoiding looking his way for the moment, she concentrated on unwrapping her tableware from inside the linen napkin.
“Do you need anything else?” he asked.
She removed the silver top from her plate and eyed the grits topped with shrimp, scrambled eggs, and toasted baguette slices. “No. I should be fine with what I have.”
“Excellent.” His plate was piled high with chops, yams, collards, and bread. There was also a large bowl of gumbo and rice. He must’ve seen the wonder on her face because he said, “Roofing is hard work, and I’m still a growing boy.”
Amused, she nodded.
“Shall I say grace? Or would you care to do the honors?”
She was so surprised, all she could say was, “No, go ahead, please.”
He nodded, bowed his head, and whispered the words. He finished with, “Amen.”
She echoed the word and tried not to show more wonder.
He picked up his cutlery and began in on a chop. “Problem,cheri?”
“I—wasn’t expecting you to say grace.”
“No?” he asked with a hint of humor in his voice and dark eyes.
She shook her head.
“We were raised in the Catholic faith and grace is always recited before a meal. In fact, when we were little, my brothers and I would fight over the opportunity. Saying grace pleased our mother and we lived to please her. We still do.”
Val forked up her grits and shrimp. It was a dish she’d never eaten before and it was so flavorful, she hummed with delight.
His eyes shot to her.
She froze in response. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do that aloud.”
“There isn’t a man alive who doesn’t enjoy hearing a woman’s pleasure.”
Heat flared inside her and she realized she had no business being alone with him.
“Tell me about yourself,cheri. Where’s home?”
Deciding that talking about herself was a far safer subject than her pleasure, she replied, “New York City.”
“Siblings?”
“One. An older sister named Caroline.”
“Are you close?”
