by Caro LaFever
“Luc.” Cyrus came to his side, his hand patting one shoulder. “Can’t help a man who doesn’t want to be helped.”
“I guess.”
“You know.” Dark eyes caught his. “From personal experience.”
The wisdom of the words sank into him. Like de Molina, he’d been lost. And thanks to his Miss Nina, he’d been found. “Yeah, I’d say so.”
“Come on, boy. Time to get this party your woman’s planned rocking and rolling.” Cyrus chuckled. “Get your head in the game.”
Out of necessity, he did get his head in the game. The sunshine beat a heated tattoo on the crowd, and the humidity was almost as bad as mid-summer, but everyone hollered and hooted along with the jazz coming from the stage. The food—his, and several other vendors he’d recruited—got gobbled down. The shops on his street did a brisk business, including Nina’s shop, much to his satisfaction.
It was nothing at first.
Nothing he noticed, as he ran to fix the electricity for the stage again. Nothing that bothered him as he chatted with Frank, who’d brought his food truck filled with burritos and tacos to the festival. Nothing other than a few whispers as he passed and one or two odd looks he got from the neighbors along his street.
Nothing much.
Nothing to think about.
Yet, by the time the afternoon had run into evening and people streamed into his terrace, heading for Club Del Oso, a feeling like a scratchy cat clawing at him refused to be banished.
“You know already, don’t you?” Nina ambled to his side, her mouth in a classic pout. “I wanted it to be a surprise.”
“You know what I think about surprises.” Tugging her close, he sank into the scent of sun and heat and woman. His heart settled, the worry he’d felt earlier about his love whisking away.
Jerking her head up, she gave him a strange look.
And the worry whispered back.
“I enjoy surprises.” Her jaw tightened. “Life is about surprises. You need to know that, Luc.”
“Hey.” His hand swept across her brow, pushing away the damp strands of her flyaway hair. “I got it. No worries. We’ll figure out how to surprise each other without getting upset.”
She shifted on her feet, as if readying for a fight. But her expression turned light and cheery, a mask of the Nina he knew covering the Nina he was worried about. “So anyway. The club is your surprise for tonight. I hope you approve of it.”
“I know I will.” He went with her, because he couldn’t figure out how to dig in and understand what was wrong. Not now, with the crowds surging around them, and the sounds of jazz beginning to soar in the air. He’d have to wait until later tonight when they were at home and in bed. Then he’d get her to explain and they’d unravel how to stop this worry filling the smoke of her gaze. “Let’s go see, huh?”
A swift smile blew the anxiety from her gaze and she sauntered by his side as they headed toward the rear of the terrace. He did the appropriate oohs and aahs as they entered, and his savvy lover threw him an amused glance, before leaving him to make sure the bartender had what she needed.
Rolling his shoulders, Luc strode to the club’s stage. “You guys got everything transferred from outside okay?”
“Sure. Got it all here.” Cyrus gave him a look. A look that scratched him as well. “Everything fine?”
Instead of being a statement, the old man’s last words were definitely a question. Confusion added to the scratchy feeling he couldn’t shake. “What?”
“You need to talk, you know where to find me.” With that strange comment, the man started tinkering with his new piano.
Before he could question Cyrus further, Nina rushed to his side, her manner almost frantic, her gaze not meeting his. Yet a smile lit her face. “We earned more money today then we’ve made since we opened.”
Her crow of delight didn’t conceal the weird edge to her words. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Not a thing.” The denial tumbled out, and she grabbed his hand in a friendly squeeze. “I have you to thank for our success.”
“Nina.” Again, he took her into his embrace, trying to settle her and this unknown problem. “Talk to me.”
“I am,” she piped, her voice going higher. Twisting in his grip, she grinned at Cyrus. “Is the music starting soon?”
“Yeah,” the old man drawled, his gaze keen. “Right now, if you’d like.”
“I’d like.”
“Now, wait a minute—”
The swing of the jazz filled the club, drowning out his objection. The crowd around them cheered and Nina tugged him to the center of the dance floor. “Let’s re-inaugurate this place, Luc.”
He grabbed her waving hands in a firm grasp. “You can tell me,” he roared over the noise of the crowd and the music.
A flash of pure panic flickered across her face before she stuck another smile on.
He hated that fake smile. With a passion.
“There’s nothing,” she mouthed.
Her body took off, gyrating to the beat of Shakey’s drums. Her breasts bobbed under her shirt and the way she moved her hips made him think of her on top of him, doing another kind of dance.
Trying to focus beyond the lust churning in his blood, he scowled at her.
“Come on,” she yelled, grabbing his hands in hers, and pulling him into her warmth. She shimmied along his body and, predictably, he turned hard.
A purr of female desire hummed on the side of his jaw.
“Nina,” he muttered into the shell of her ear.
Another purr, this one stroking the hollow between his neck and shoulder.
He wanted to sink into her, like a long slow song of the south whispering its enchantment, asking for his compliance, begging for his consent. But something inside him rumbled. The nothing had become something.
His instincts roiled, the hair on the back of his neck rose.
“Lucas.”
The sound of his father’s voice shouting through the crowd and music brought his head up. His parents were enthusiastic supporters of the festival, and he’d seen them more than once earlier in the day. But his mami had pleaded for some cool air and a place to put her feet up late in the afternoon, and they’d both left for home. He’d thought, for the day. “Popa.”
His mami stood by his father. Tears in her eyes.
Alarm raced through him and he stiffened, bringing Nina’s attention from the dance to his parents. He only got a glimpse of her expression before she turned away from him.
Her skin was white, her smoky gaze glassy with pain.
Jesucristo. What the hell was wrong?
“We need to talk.” His father didn’t have to yell. Luc easily read his lips. “Let’s go to the club’s office.”
“Mami?” Reaching out, he skimmed the tips of his fingers along his mother’s shaking arm.
His popa grabbed his wife’s hand and pulled her through the dancing crowd. Luc turned to reach for his own love. Whatever was going on, he needed her by him.
Nina stood aside, her face turned away. She was no longer dancing or smiling, she was no longer pretending. In an instant, all the strange looks, the whispers, the unease in his gut, coalesced into certainty.
He grabbed her arm in a tight, hard grip. “What have you done?”
Her skin was clammy, goose bumps flittering on the creamy surface. Finally, right before he jerked her around, she swiveled to confront his growing consternation.
She looked like she was heading for the guillotine. Her lips moved, but the sound of her words didn’t penetrate the noise around them. Yet, as with his popa, he read what she said. “I’ll come with you.”
The nothing that had turned into something was all about Nina. It was written on her, a tapestry of guilt.
“Mierda,” he growled.
“Exactly,” she mouthed once more.
They cut a path through the crowd, following his parents. Luc hadn’t spent a lot of time in the back area of the club. He’d tho
ught there was plenty of time to overcome the ghosts weaving inside the office, the hallway, the store room. After all, he’d tackled the ghosts lurking in the club’s main room and handled it fine. Eventually, he’d defeat the last of them.
Foreboding slid into his gut.
Whatever he confronted in these back rooms now was going to be as bad as what he confronted before.
The hall light flashed on, but his popa didn’t stop his march toward the office. The crowd’s noise mixed with the music sounded discordant and far away, as if he, his parents, and Nina had stumbled out of happiness and into purgatory. She’d cleaned the club’s office, he noticed when they entered. Like she’d known he planned on conquering every one of his demons at some point.
“What’s happened?” His words filled the dinky room, a low thunder. “What’s wrong?”
“You didn’t tell us.” His mami lifted her trembling hands to her mouth. “You didn’t let us help you.”
Confusion wrapped around his brain, making it start to pound. “What didn’t I tell you?”
“Did Mama or Papa call you?” his love inserted from behind him. “Or did you find out from one of my sisters?”
Her tone was nothing like the Nina he knew. Nothing like the winsome girl who’d stolen his heart, before he realized he had one to steal. Her tone was brutal, hard, and tough like the stone lining the walls of his club.
Twisting around, he reached for her. “What did you do—?”
“Your mother called me to console. Then we heard all about it when we arrived at the club moments ago. Everyone knows,” his mother said, a weary regret in her voice. “You couldn’t expect us not to come for our son.”
“No, I wouldn’t expect you not to come.” Nina shuffled away from his touch. “I expected it at some point. I was just hoping…”
His confusion swung into frustrated anger. “Someone tell me what’s going on.”
“The baby,” his father stated in his usual blunt way. “You didn’t tell us Genia was pregnant.”
“You didn’t tell us what she did to you,” his mother cried.
Everything inside him—the nothing, the something, the promises he’d been given by Nina—everything fell away, leaving only the yawning hole inside. The dark, black place he thought his love had filled and chased away.
But now, she’d brought it back.
“You told your parents?” His whisper echoed in the room with fierce, frantic pain. “You told my secret to your sisters?”
She didn’t answer with words. She answered with her misty eyes and pale skin.
“Jesucristo.” The crippling pain welled out of the black hole, threatening to bring him to his knees.
His mami swept into his shaking arms. “We’ll talk about it. It will get better.”
His popa stared at him, a grim line of white circling his tight mouth. “You should have told us, son. We would have been here for you.”
He didn’t want anyone to be here in this wretched place with him. That was the point. If a man loved his family, he wanted them to be happy, not sad. He wanted to protect them, not bring them hurt.
Nina had done this.
She had taken his secrets and spread them in front of everyone, and in the process had destroyed him once more. Turning, his crying mother still in his arms, he gave Nina the last thing he’d ever give her. “Get out of my life.”
Chapter 29
The bluesy notes of jazz filtered through his house, like a low chant of woeful misery. Nina sat on his black leather couch, a cotton blanket covering her, although the day’s humidity continued to linger in the air.
Luc hadn’t come home.
After he’d thrown his awful words at her, words he had a right to throw, she’d run from the club. Run onto his street, past her shop, and into the streaming crowds of a typical New Orleans night. The smiling and dancing mob had seemed to cling to her, making it hard for her to run and hide. Eventually, she’d ended up here. At his home. The place she’d come to believe was her home as well.
They’d talk, she’d thought.
She’d explain and he’d understand, she assured herself.
Slumping farther into the leather, Nina gulped in another guilt-filled breath. Because how could he possibly understand when she didn’t, herself?
Why had she spilled his secrets?
Why had she been so foolish, and worse, so careless?
He’d told her of his pain and loss, and she’d gone and used it as a weapon to defend herself against her parents.
First, forgive yourself.
Her Maw-Maw’s advice whispered around her, as if her grandmother’s spirit had entered the dark room. She appreciated her grandparents and their wisdom. She loved them far more than her own parents, and she knew what they’d given her was meant for good. But this time, for the first time, she knew their easy way of going through life wasn’t going to work for her. Not here, not now. Not with what she’d done to Luc.
Nina sniffed.
First, forgive yourself.
She’d done a terrible thing. She’d known it the moment she’d opened her mouth and spilled the words out. Except she hadn’t done it to hurt him. She hadn’t meant to cause him more pain.
Selfish, yes. Cruel, no.
Yet, she couldn’t sweep this under the rug of her conscience and let it be. One person needed to grant her forgiveness before she’d ever be able to forgive herself. And that one person, darn it, hadn’t arrived home so she could plead. Clutching the damp tissue in her hand, she glanced at the old grandfather clock in the corner. It was past two in the morning, and clearly, he wasn’t coming home tonight.
But he had to appear at some point.
And she’d make him listen. This wasn’t the end for them. She wouldn’t let it be.
She stood, letting the cotton wrap fall to the floor. If Luc had been around, he would have grumbled about folding the blanket and putting it away in its right place. A glimmer of amusement lightened her mood. He was such a man with his iron-clad routines and steadfast habits.
Still, she realized now, when she’d risked losing him for good, she liked that. For all her teasing, she appreciated his solid sense of responsibility, the determination he had for following through, his stubborn fixation on doing what was right.
He grounded her.
She wanted that back.
Tomorrow, she’d find him and talk to him. Tonight, she needed to sleep. Wearied, she walked past the kitchen. The buzz of her cell phone, coming from the purse she’d laid on the counter, brought her to a sudden stop.
Luc!
Running over, she clawed through the jumble of lipstick, tampons, and good luck charms to her phone.
Her heart sunk when she saw the screen.
Not Luc.
Lali.
I can’t lose him again to a woman’s negligence, Nina.
Another worry popped into her head. Would all the work she’d done to bring him out of his hole be lost? Would the man use this incident to slide back into being a saleau, a man lost to happiness and joy?
“No, I won’t let you,” she whispered into the quiet of the kitchen.
You won’t. I promise.
Her own words swirled around her like a sword of condemnation. Like many times in her life, she’d given a promise, meaning every word, but not realizing or weighing the cost. This time, however, she meant to keep her word to Lali. This time, she understood what the promise meant to her future, and she wasn’t about to lose what she’d found.
The phone buzzed in her hand again.
She was tempted to put it down and hide in her bed. The night was old, and she felt as if she’d been through several wars today and come out the loser. But Nina Blanchard wasn’t a coward, never had been, never would be. And she also wasn’t one to break a promise. Even though she had broken an unspoken one with Luc.
But she could fix it.
She wasn’t going to lose him.
“Lali.”
A long silence
came from the line before the woman coughed. “I didn’t think you’d answer.”
“I didn’t think I would, either.”
The wry tone of her voice made the other woman go silent again.
“I’m sorry.” For all her life, she’d landed in spots of trouble because of her impetuousness. Except she’d never thought of it that way. She’d thought of it as being free and thinking outside of the box. Not until now, when her rash words had hurt the man she loved, did she confront the reality of her own habits.
Habits that needed to change.
“Where are you?”
“At his house.” Her hand slid across the surface of the counter, where every morning he placed her café au lait.
“He’s not there, I take it.” A sigh drifted through. “He’s upset.”
“Yeah. I know.”
“His mother and father drove him crazy until he left the club on foot.” Lali snuffled, as if she couldn’t decide whether to laugh or cry. “He won’t answer his phone.”
“I tried too.” About a thousand times.
Another silence fell between them.
“Is it true?”
The plaintive note in his friend’s voice ushered in a fresh bout of tears. Because she realized all over again the trust Luc had placed in her. He hadn’t even told Lali about his devastation. “I think I’ve spilled enough secrets for now.”
“So it is true, every bit of it. I knew Genia was bad for him. From the moment I met her, I knew.” A huff of loathing came from the phone. “But I never realized she was pure evil.”
Apparently, everyone knew his secrets, the ones she’d spilled out so carelessly. Sorrow and guilt billowed inside. “The gossip must be horrible.”
Lali sighed.
“He must have seen something in her,” Nina said, trying to banish the thought of him with another woman. “He was married to her for years.”
“Luc met her when he was seventeen, and she was a decade older. He didn’t stand a chance.”
She tried to envision her love at that age. And thankfully, along with her bad habits came some good. Like a vivid imagination. She could easily see a young Luc Miró. During these last weeks, she’d detected the man behind the gruff exterior. Passionate about his food. Alive with intelligence.
