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She’d sucked him in, stretched him outside his intentions… and damned if he wasn’t intrigued by the connection between them. It felt like something he’d never felt before. Or maybe he was on a high from nailing his interview.
“Wish I were dressed nicer so we could go somewhere swanky,” she said as they fell in step on the deserted sidewalk.
“I see how you roll,” he said, laughing when her eyes widened.
“No, I’ll totally pay for my own dinner. It’s just you’re dressed nice and if it’s been a while since you’ve been to New Orleans…”
“I come to New Orleans often enough… just not since November. Besides, New Orleans is a city where even the cheap eats are good.” Graham looked back toward the edge of the Marigny District, spotting the huge warehouse he’d toured that afternoon in the distance. Something warm and right settled in his gut at the thought of returning to his first love. The sound of tugboats blowing their horns on the Mississippi echoed the certainty in his soul.
“So a job interview brings you to the Big Easy?” Tess asked.
The puddles along the worn streets tossed back reflections of the buildings. Occasionally someone rode by on a bike or a cab passed as the rhythm of the city reestablished itself after the early spring rain. The squeal of brakes, the rev of engines, and the occasional shout of laughter accompanied the music spilling into the streets. The earthy smell of New Orleans which had once been like bacon and eggs to him filled his nose.
“Yeah, I worked for NASA for six years, but with all the federal cuts, my project was canned. Since I have to relocate, I wanted to come home. Something called me.”
“That’s almost romantic,” she said.
“Except it was an actual phone call,” he said, with a wry smile. No one had ever accused him of being romantic.
Her laughter tightened something within him. He glanced at her profile. Her nose tilted up, button cute. He liked that. Cute. Like he could drop kisses on it all night. Then and there, he revised his earlier impression. There was something sexy about Tess.
“Did you get the job?”
“Not yet, but I have a good shot because I have experience in the field. Years ago I started a company doing what this guy does, plus I got my MBA on top of my engineering degree. But who knows? Felt like the interview went well and the guy’s pressed to find someone soon.”
“Good for you,” she said, tossing him a smile. “Where do you live now?”
“Houston.”
“So you’ll be transferring here?”
He nodded. “I have some job leads in Houston, but my family lives here. Well, my brother lives on the Northshore, but that’s essentially here. You originally a New Orleans girl?”
“Born and raised. Can’t you hear the accent?”
Each region of the Crescent City had its own dialect. “Not from the Westbank or New Orleans East. Uptown?”
“Close enough. My parents still live in Old Metairie.”
“I went to Jesuit. You?”
“Country Day.” Whoa, swanky, yet Tess didn’t give off that vibe.
“Class of ’02.”
Tess whipped her head around. “So you’re ten years older than me.”
“Is that too old for you?” They turned on Decatur Street, skirting the edge of the eclectic, high-rent neighborhood.
“No. Am I too young for you?”
He had to think about that. Ten years was a big difference, but not that big of a difference. He’d dated a twenty-seven year old last year. “No, I don’t have an issue with it. So where shall we eat?”
She looked relieved. Like she wanted to be old enough for him. Like she was interested which allowed satisfaction to settle inside him.
“Do you have a favorite place?” she asked.
“I have lots of favorites.” And he did. Galatoire’s. Dickie Brennan’s. GW Fins. And on and on and on. “Somewhere with a good po’boy? Haven’t had good Nawlins bread in forever.”
