“You’re awfully dressed up for a work lunch at a hot dog place.” Claire tugged on Blake’s sleeve. “I haven’t seen you in anything but jeans and t-shirts since I got to New Orleans. Did you iron this?”
He jerked his arm from her grasp and smoothed the material, swiveling in his office chair to face her. “It’s a business lunch, and I’m supposed to be the boss. I figured I’d dress the part.”
“Really?” She crossed her arms and leaned against the edge of his desk. “Or did you do it to impress a certain employee?”
A week had passed since his heart-to-heart with Sydney. Seven days of low-key flirting, meaningful looks from across the room, accidentally brushing against each other when they were close. Hell yeah, he wanted to impress her. “Does it matter?”
“Apparently not. Keeping the workplace professional must not either.” She smirked. “But what do I know? I’m just a teenager. If you want to dig your own grave, go for it.”
“I’m not…” He inhaled deeply, squaring his gaze on his cousin. “Sydney and I are meant for each other. Don’t worry about it.”
“Okay. Look, if she really means that much to you, I won’t say another word. It’s just…” She picked at the hot pink polish on her nails. “I care about you both. You basically rescued me from my inner turmoil, and Sydney’s becoming a good friend. I don’t want to see either of you get hurt.”
“I appreciate your concern, but we’ll be fine.”
“That’s the last you’ll hear me say about it.” She pretended to zip her lips and throw away the key as she stood and stepped toward the bookcase behind his desk.
“Thank you.” While her concern for his well-being was a good sign in her emotional recovery, her interest in his personal life grated on his nerves. Yes, he’d screwed up in the past, but this time was different. Completely different.
He glanced at the clock on his computer screen. Sydney was meeting him in twenty minutes to walk to Dat Dog for the team’s weekly lunch meeting. He opened his email and scanned through the messages, his stomach sinking when he found Carmen’s name among the senders again.
“What now?” he mumbled as he clicked the message open.
Hi Blake. You never responded to my message, and I wanted to be sure you’re okay. I thought I might come to New Orleans for a visit, and I hoped we could talk. Please respond and let me know when a good time would be to meet up. I miss you.
“Jesus, Blake.” Claire’s voice came from right over his shoulder. “You’re trying to hook up with Sydney while you’re still involved with your ex-boss?”
He hit delete and slammed the computer shut. “Why are you reading my email?”
She straightened. “You were mumbling to yourself, practically reading it out loud.”
A book fell from the shelf behind her, hitting the floor with a thwack. Claire squealed and jumped to the side, rubbing the back of her neck. “This ghost is getting annoying. Can’t you tell her to stop?”
“She’s just trying to get our attention. Sydney doesn’t think she’s hostile.” He could only hope she was right. He wasn’t about to let a spirit scare him out of his home.
Claire returned the book to the shelf. “I wonder what Sydney would think about you and your ex-boss still talking?”
He stood and motioned to the door to get his cousin out of his office. “Sydney’s not going to think anything because you’re not going to tell her. Carmen has emailed me twice, and I’ve deleted them both. I’m not involved with her, and I never plan to be again.”
“Okay, okay.” Claire held up her hands as she strutted into the hallway. “I won’t tell her. You can have all the rope you want to hang yourself with.”
He stepped past her into the museum showroom. “I’m not going to let my past affect my future with Sydney.”
“Got it. Mum’s the word.”
The doorbell buzzer reverberated through the room. “That’ll be Sydney. Please keep your mouth shut.”
Claire rubbed her lower belly. “I need to use the little girls’ room before we go. I’ll meet you outside in a minute.”
“Make it fast.” He stepped through the door, and despite his annoyance with his cousin, as he greeted Sydney on the sidewalk, he couldn’t help but smile.
She wore faded jeans and red Converse, and her leather jacket, zipped halfway up, concealed most of her dark gray t-shirt. A gust of wind whipped her dark hair across her face, and as she ran her fingers through it, he glimpsed pale yellow polish on her short nails.
“You’re early.” His heart pounded as she stepped beside him, and he fought the urge to wrap his arms around her and plant a kiss on those delicious mulberry lips.
“I’m always early; you know that. Where’s Claire?”
“In the restroom. She’ll be out in a minute.” The resident crow flapped onto the stairs leading to Blake’s apartment. It dropped a crushed aluminum can on the top step and puffed out its feathers, cawing at them.
“More trash?” He shooed the bird away and grabbed the can before walking down the sidewalk to drop it in the bin near the street.
Sydney followed, her eyes tightening with wariness. “Does it do that often?”
“Nearly every day now.”
“Here I am.” Claire beamed a smile as she trotted out of the museum. “Sydney, I have an idea for the new tour I can’t wait to tell you about.”
Sydney returned the smile and stood on the edge of the sidewalk, preparing to cross the street. “All of your suggestions have been stellar so far, so I can’t wait to hear it.”
“Hold on.” Blake moved next to her, motioning toward the museum. “I need to lock up.”
Tires squealed and a horn blared as a black sedan barreled around the corner. Blake grabbed Sydney’s arm, yanking her back against the building as the car lurched onto the sidewalk, knocking over the trash can before bumping back onto the pavement.
“Are you okay?” He clutched Sydney’s shoulders, ignoring the car as it skidded to a stop a few yards away.
“Yeah.” Her brows drew together, confusion clouding her eyes for a moment before her lips parted on a gasp.
The car door opened, and Claire raced toward it. “Hey! What the hell? You almost killed my friends.”
The driver slammed the door and sped away.
“Sydney?” Blake searched her eyes.
“I’m fine. Are you okay?” The corners of her lips twitched.
“I’m good.” He’d nearly had a heart attack and peed his pants, but he’d survive.
Sydney smiled, a look of relief smoothing her features. “That was a close one.”
“What a jerk.” Claire strutted toward them. “He drove off without even apologizing. I saw his face, though, so I’ll kick his ass if I see him again.”
Blake released Sydney’s shoulders, dropping his arms to his sides. “Did you get the license plate?”
Claire pressed her lips together and lowered her gaze. “I didn’t think about it. I’m sorry.”
Sydney tugged on the hem of her shirt, straightening her clothes. “It was probably a drunk driver. We’re close to Bourbon Street.” She nodded in the direction of the restaurant. “We better head out, or we’ll be late.”
“Right.” Blake locked the museum and walked next to Sydney. She was quiet, chewing on her lip and gazing at her surroundings as they trekked through the Quarter toward Frenchman Street. Thankfully, Claire remained silent too.
His heart finally slowed to a normal pace as they approached Dat Dog, and he peered at the two-story building with its bright blue façade and line of double doors with twin windows sporting cartoon caricatures of franks in various comic poses. The restaurant wasn’t much more than a hot dog stand when he’d left for New York, and now it was a culinary icon with multiple locations in Louisiana. A lot had changed in eight years, but his feelings for Sydney were as strong as ever. They’d simply been put on hold.
Sydney paused on the sidewalk outside the restaurant. “I stopped by the office e
arly this morning on my way to the warehouse, and a box of old bank ledgers nearly fell on top of me. I think our resident ghost wants to talk.”
“Are you okay?” First a ghost attack and then nearly getting run over by a car? The urge to protect her overwhelmed him, but he didn’t know what she needed protection from. Bad luck?
“Oh, yeah.” She waved off his concern, but it didn’t stop him from worrying.
Claire looked at her incredulously. “You’re not afraid at all? Even after the hatchet fell?”
“Nah. She hasn’t been aggressive, so there’s nothing to worry about.” She looked at Blake as if reassuring him.
“A book flew off the shelf and almost hit me today.” Claire put her hands on her hips. “I’d call that aggressive.”
“It fell like something knocked it off, but I wouldn’t say it flew.” He’d been quick to write it off as a grab for attention when it was Claire, but now that he knew Sydney had been affected too, he didn’t know whether to call the act aggressive or not.
“Still.” Claire shook her head.
“The activity always seems to pick up when y’all are around,” he said. “When I’m there alone, I don’t hear anything but the residual sounds and the occasional slamming door.”
“I wonder why that is.” Claire tilted her head.
“The ghost is a woman, and so are we,” Sydney said. “She probably feels like we’ll be the easiest ones to talk to. I’ll have to start carrying a recorder with me in case it happens again. If she’s gathering strength, she may work up enough energy to be heard.”
“What would it take to make you scared of a ghost?” Claire asked.
Sydney shrugged. “I don’t know. We’ve dealt with a lot worse than Bernadette the painter. Maybe if she became aggressive. Started throwing stuff at me rather than knocking things over.” She glanced at Blake.
“Is that possible?” Claire’s eyes widened, but he couldn’t tell if it was out of fear or curiosity.
“I suppose. I talked to Sean this morning. He’s going to stop by and check it out next week.” Her dark eyes held his. “Emily and the baby are doing great.”
“That’s good to hear.”
They slipped inside the restaurant and placed their orders before settling into a bright blue wooden booth in the corner. Claire sat across from Blake, and Sydney slid onto the bench next to him, close but not nearly as close as he wanted to be.
The undeniable chemistry building between them was about to make him boil over in anticipation. Every moment he spent with her added fuel to the fire until he had no doubt in his mind she was the one for him.
He had to know if she felt the same.
The rest of the team arrived, and Eric sat on the bench next to Sydney. She scooted closer to Blake, her knee resting against his, as was now commonplace when they were together. If that wasn’t a sign she was interested, he didn’t know what was.
They discussed the week’s schedule and tossed around new ideas for the crime tour, he and Claire fitting into their machine as if they’d always been a part of it. It was a dream come true. Now if he could work his way into Sydney’s life after hours, he’d be set.
When they finished eating, Eric cleared the trash from the table and sauntered back, rubbing his hands together. “Tomorrow night is our monthly laser tag face-off. Are you two in?” He glanced from Blake to Claire.
His cousin straightened her spine. “Sounds like fun.”
“Actually…” Sydney drummed her nails on the table. “I canceled that right before Sable was born. I didn’t know our team was going to be growing by two at the time.”
“Aw, man.” Eric dropped onto the bench with a dramatic sigh. “I’ve been looking forward to kicking your ass all month.”
“Let me see if they still have availability.” She pulled out her phone and tapped the screen before looking at Blake. “That’s if you’re interested. We’ve been doing this once a month for a couple of years now.”
A slow smile curved his lips as he looked into Sydney’s eyes. Was he interested in spending time with her outside of work? Hell yeah, he was. “I’m in.”
“Good.” She lowered her gaze to her phone, her expression drooping with her shoulders. “They’re completely booked tomorrow.”
“Damn.” Eric crossed his arms.
Damn, indeed. Well, he’d just have to ask Sydney out on a date. If she shot him down, so be it, but her knee had been pressed against his leg the entire time they’d been sitting there, the energy between them charging so high he could practically hear it crackling. This taking it slow business was killing him.
“Do you guys ever play paintball?” Claire glanced up from her phone. “Some of my friends from class play at this place called Gulf Coast Gunslingers. It’s not too far from here, and they have an opening tomorrow afternoon at one.”
A conspiratorial look passed between Jason and Eric.
“She won’t have Emily to tip the scales,” Jason said.
Eric raised his eyebrows. “I’m down.”
Sydney smiled at Claire. “I think we can give these boys a run for their money. Let’s do it.”
Eric laughed. “You won’t stand a chance without your secret weapon. And you’ll be outnumbered. Prepare for the worst defeat you’ve ever experienced, Syd.”
She rolled her eyes. “Emily is good, but she’s also taught me a thing or two.”
“I see.” Blake stretched his arm across the back of the bench seat. “So, we’re teaming up boys against girls?”
Sydney leaned into his side. “Yep.”
“You know, my dad used to take me to the shooting range when I was a kid. Are you sure you want to go against me?”
“Because shooting a piece of paper is exactly the same as a moving, human target.” She grinned. “I’m shaking in my boots.”
He laughed. “You should be.”
“He is a pretty good shot,” Claire said. “My step-dad used to shoot with him.”
Sydney let out a dramatic sigh. “All right. So you guys don’t get too cocky, I’ll call in reinforcements to even out the team. Three on three, tomorrow at one.”
Blake smiled. “I can’t wait.”
Chapter Ten
“It can’t be that different from laser tag, can it?” Sydney strapped on her chest protector and eyed the black plastic mask lying on the bench.
“The concept is the same.” Trish tightened one of the straps, cinching her gear in place. “Except now you’re actually being hit when you get shot. It stings.”
“I should’ve worn long sleeves.”
The midday sun hung high in the cloudless sky, warming the field to a comfortable seventy degrees. Sydney wore an ancient pair of jeans, a worn-out Eric Clapton t-shirt, and her old Adidas shoes.
“I should’ve rethought my entire outfit.” Claire wore pale yellow cotton pants and a crisp, white sleeveless button-up. She’d curled her brown hair and put enough contour in her makeup to make her look more like she was headed for a runway than a paintball field.
“You’ll be fine.” Trish shoved up the sleeves of her appropriately long-sleeved t-shirt. “It doesn’t hurt that bad.”
Massive, bright yellow inflatables dotted the field, and a line of trees created a U-shaped ring of forest around the area. A heron squawked from somewhere in the distance, and gravel crunched beneath tires as Blake’s silver Audi A4 rolled into the parking lot.
Sydney’s stomach fluttered, and she clenched her teeth. The man hadn’t even stepped out of his car, and she was already giddy as a school girl. Get a grip.
“Y’all lucked out with the weather.” The lone attendant handed Sydney a rifle. “Winter’s a slow time here.”
“I bet.” She smiled at the attendant before locking her gaze on the driver’s side door swinging open.
Blake stepped out, rising to his full six-feet two-inch height and raking a hand through his light brown hair. He wore faded jeans and a loose-fitting black shirt with long sleeves that blocked he
r view of his muscular arms, but it didn’t matter. Blake would look good in a potato sack… Even better in nothing at all.
As he shut the door and met her gaze, his thousand-watt smile sent a jolt of lightning straight to her heart, solidifying her decision to move forward with their relationship.
After her strange vision had tumbled into a head-on collision with a car, and then the near-miss on the sidewalk yesterday, she was convinced they were in the clear. That the vision had been warning her about the drunk driver, and Blake’s quick action thwarted the impending death.
But as she’d stepped out of the shower this morning, she was pulled under again, finding her friends in the same damn cemetery, Jason joining the crowd now. The options for who occupied the coffin were narrowing, and her hope that the funeral was symbolic diminished with every trip to Wonderland. The most recent adventure down the rabbit hole ended with her floating in darkness again, a Mardi Gras float shattering in front of her, and a Cheshire cat head, carved from ice, tumbling through space.
She couldn’t decipher the confounding vision if her life depended on it—and someone’s obviously did—but one thing was certain. The path she was on wasn’t going to stop the funeral. It was time she changed direction.
Eric parked his Toyota next to Blake’s car, and he and Jason clambered out in jeans and long-sleeved t-shirts. It seemed Sydney and Claire were the only ones who didn’t consider what getting blasted with a stream of paint would feel like on bare skin.
Trish let out a low whistle. “If he were ten years older, I’d be all over that.”
“Which one?” Claire curled her lip, glancing between the guys as if she wasn’t impressed with any of them.
“Eric. He’s a hottie.” Trish shoved the chamber of paintballs into her gun and cocked it.
Sydney’s heart pounded as the guys approached, but she straightened her spine, playing it cool despite the urge to grab a handful of Blake’s shirt and plant her lips on his. Was it getting warmer outside?
Eric crossed his arms and cocked an eyebrow. “You didn’t tell me Trish was coming.”
Love & Omens Page 10
