by Kate, Jiffy
“Can I open it now or do I have to wait?” I ask, sounding like a kid on Christmas morning. I can’t for the life of me guess what it is but I love surprises, so I’m excited.
CeCe laughs. “You can open it now.” She steps to the side but keeps her hand on the top to keep it from falling over. Now that I’m closer to it, I can tell it’s something framed and I can’t wait to see it. Even though I want to rip the brown paper to shreds to get to it, I force myself to peel the paper back carefully, so I don’t mess anything up.
When I’m finally able to see what’s inside, I’m too shocked to do anything but stare at the gorgeous painting in front of me. I’m even more shocked when I glance down at the bottom, right corner and see the artist’s signature.
Peeling my eyes away, I look at my friend. “Camille Benoit-Landry painted this?”
“Yep! It’s an original, painted just for you. I think it’d look great right up there behind the desk, don’t you?”
I’m utterly speechless, nothing but stuttering sounds coming out of my mouth, as I look over the painting again. The swirls of colors on the canvas are breathtaking and I can’t believe CeCe did this for me. It’s absolutely beautiful and I get to look at it every day.
Finally finding my voice, I say, “Thank you so much. This means the world to me. I just can’t believe it’s mine!” I hug CeCe tightly while she giggles.
“Well, it’s kind of becoming a tradition here in the Quarter—a Cami Benoit-Landry original is like a lucky rabbit’s foot for businesses. I figured the Bayou could use all the luck it can get, and since you’re having your grand re-opening...I just wanted to say congratulations and I’m proud of you.” She sighs, looking down at the painting with a pleased expression. “Oh, and you can thank Cami yourself. She’ll be here for the party.”
“Shut your face! Oh my God, I’m just...” I hug her again. “Thank you. And I’m so excited to meet her. Please don’t let me do anything to embarrass myself in front of her,” I beg.
“The woman can only do so much, Carys,” Jules announces as he strolls in. “And, I like to think we’re all doing the Lord’s work when it comes to you. Can I get an amen?”
CeCe and Mary both say “amen” while laughing with Jules. I tell them to hush but they don’t listen. And really, I’m not at all insulted by Jules’ words because I know he’s right. I know I can be a hot mess and these people keep me in check. They’re my tribe and I’m so thankful for them.
The grand re-opening party is here and so are my nerves.
My brain is telling me to relax, that there’s nothing to worry about. It reminds me that this is just an opportunity for people within the community to come and see our renovations and what we have to offer. It’s also a chance for everyone to network and mingle.
So, no pressure, right?
Wrong.
My heart is arguing that today is extremely important and that the hotel’s future—my future—depends on the success of this party. Even though I know that’s not entirely true, it still feels that way.
A text brings my attention away from my inner turmoil.
Jules: Get out of that pretty, little head of yours and get your ass out here. You’re missing all the fun!
I sigh, knowing he’s right, and give myself one last look in the mirror before deciding nothing more can be done to my hair and face. I kept my makeup light and fresh because I’m just going to sweat it off anyway, and my hair is long and flowy, with the sides pulled back, because it has a mind of its own and, also, humidity.
I still haven’t heard from Maverick, but I don’t allow myself to dwell on that... too much. Last night as I read over the pages I copied out of the journal before sending it back to him, the ones he wrote while he was here at the Bayou, I tried to convince myself that if he doesn’t show up tonight, it won’t be the end of the world. I’m trying to be happy that he happened and not regret any of it, because all of it got me to this point. Who knows, maybe one of these days, I can take a little trip to Dallas and see what his world is like?
Stepping into the courtyard, I feel completely in awe. This is my courtyard, but it’s not. The flowers are bright and colorful, just like this city. They’re also fragrant and perfect for the space, along with the twinkling lights, faint jazz playing in the background, and the brush of sunlight still left in the sky, I feel transported to another world. Everything is simple and beautiful.
And hot as hell. Who on God’s green earth decided it would be a good idea to host an outside party in New Orleans during the summer?
Oh, yeah, that would be me.
Thank goodness I also had enough sense to rent some of those cool air machines that are basically like air conditioning for the outdoors. God bless technology.
When I see Jules standing on the other side of the courtyard, I walk quickly to him.
“So, what’s all this fun I’m missing?” I ask, picking my hair up off my neck and draping it over my shoulder, allowing some of that air I was talking about cool me off.
“Hello, you look gorge, by the way,” Jules says, air kissing my cheeks. “And the fun I was referring to is this.” He swoops his hands out in front of him before ending the movement with jazz hands. He’s quite annoyed when he realizes I still have no idea what he means.
“This,” he repeats with a hint of annoyance, his eyes going wider to emphasize his words. “Watching all this man meat work up a sweat while they set everything up.” Biting his lip, he fans his face and continues devouring the scene before us.
I can’t help but laugh at my friend. “Don’t ever change, Jules,” I say, patting him on the shoulder as I turn to see if there’s anything I can do to get things ready.
“Listen, sis, just because you’re still pining for Dreamboat’s longhorn, doesn’t mean you can’t appreciate the scenery.”
“You’re absolutely right and these guys all look like nice, respectable, hard-working men. Thank you for the distraction.”
“Oh, my God. Just get out of here and leave the drooling to me. You don’t even know how to gawk correctly.” He rolls his eyes, then walks off toward where Micah and his crew are setting up the food table, presumably to get a closer look.
I take that as my cue to leave and walk inside, admiring the changes that were made this past month as I go. We didn’t do anything drastic, just enough to make everything shiny and pretty again, while keeping its original charm.
Mary and George are the smart ones. They’re still enjoying our bought air indoors, manning the front desk. They smile as I walk up and I see the pride all over their faces. It makes my heart feel so full.
“Everything looks just great,” Mary says, walking from behind the desk to give me a hug. I fold into her embrace, soaking her in and smiling at George over her shoulder.
“I want y’all to get out there and enjoy the evening. Jules and I will take turns working the desk. Besides, most of the guests will be out there, anyway.”
“Oh, we will,” George says with a wink. “We might even cut a rug if you turn that good music up just a little.”
I laugh, a memory of him and Mary dancing from many years ago filling my mind. “Definitely. Just for you.” And me, I think, as I lean over and kiss his cheek.
I’ve been waiting for this feeling since my mom died—contentment, happiness...feeling like my grandparents and my mama are looking down on me and smiling, proud of who I am and how I’m living my life. And it feels good.
An hour later, the music is turned up, people are mingling and I couldn’t be happier.
Okay, I could be. But I’m making the best of it and telling myself this is good enough. Maverick is the only thing missing, and him showing up tonight was a wild card. So, I’m trying not to dwell on it as I make my way around, greeting guests and thanking everyone for coming.
“The drinks are great,” I tell Shaw, actually a little surprised to see him. I thought he might send one of his bartenders, but I didn’t think he’d actually come himself. “I re
ally love this one.” I hold up the reddish orange drink before taking another sip.
“That’s the Come Again.” He gives me the same wink from the other night and I laugh, shaking my head when I feel the blush.
Shit.
He has an effect on me, what can I say. I want to tell him that his wife is a lucky lady, but I refrain, since I don’t know him that well. Besides, I wouldn’t want him to think I’m flirting, because I’m not. I’m just appreciative of his...appearance...and those tattoos.
He’s so interesting.
A hand touches my shoulder lightly, getting my attention, and I turn to see a tall guy with blue eyes—not Maverick’s blues, lighter. He also has deep dimples and a wide, kind smile that immediately endears me to him.
“Hello.”
“Hey,” he replies. “I’m Deacon, Micah’s brother. My wife Cami is—”
“The artist,” I finish for him, excitement building. “I’m Carys.”
When I offer him my hand to shake, he takes it and places a chaste kiss on the top.
Oh, he’s a schmoozer. I can’t help the girly giggle that escapes as I shake my head at the gesture, earning me another wide smile from him as he laughs at his own antics. “Just wanted to say that this place is so great. Thanks for inviting us.”
“Thanks so much for coming,” I reply, glancing around him. “Is Cami here?”
“Oh, yeah, she and Dani, Micah’s wife, went on a tour of the hotel.” He grins, his blue eyes twinkling with a bit of mischief. “You better get used to seeing our faces, because I have a feeling we’re going to be taking up residence. They were gushing before they even stepped inside.”
“I’d be honored, and please, let me know anytime you’d like to stay. It’ll be on the house. I’d love to be able to repay Cami for the amazing painting she did for me. It’s hanging in the lobby,” I tell him, pointing behind him toward the hotel. “Would you like to see it? Maybe we can catch up with Cami and Dani.”
“Sounds great.”
He shoots a wave over his shoulder at Micah as we walk by, getting his attention, and then points toward the hotel.
Chapter 30
Maverick
Stepping out of the airport in Kenner, Louisiana, I groan as the heat and humidity hit me like a Mack truck.
“Holy fuck.” Shep lets out a disgusted huff. “This has got to be what hell feels like. Are you sure you want to come here?”
I slap his back and start walking toward the Uber by the curb. “Come on. You’ll get used to it.”
“And I thought Dallas was hot.”
Laughing, I toss my bag into the trunk and then slip into the back seat. Shep does the same, and a few minutes later we’re on our way. My heart starts beating faster with every mile and I start second-guessing my choices.
I should’ve called.
I should’ve come last night when I finished reading her note.
I should check my mail more often.
I should’ve never left.
“Dude, you’ve got to stop,” Shep demands. “You’ve been worrying and fretting like some grandma for the last five hours. You either want to do this or you don’t. I’ve never seen you like this before. Snap out of it.”
I want to do this.
I want to see Carys.
I want to hold her and feel her skin.
I want to breathe her in.
“Okay,” I tell him, too distracted to argue or offer a rebuttal. Also, he’s right. “Thanks for coming with me.”
“Don’t thank me,” he huffs, watching the scenery as we ride along. “I was ready to get the heck out of Dodge, so this was just a good excuse for a weekend getaway. Plus, I figure we can make this a business trip, so, tax deduction.”
That’s Shep. Always planning, always scheming. But he’s a damn good businessman and I’m happy he’s agreed to be my partner in this new venture. It’ll be good to get him to New Orleans and help him loosen up a little.
“You know, I might need you to come here from time to time.”
“Fine by me.” He pauses, looking over at me thoughtfully. “You’re not planning on coming back, are you?”
I give my head one firm shake. “Nope, not if she’ll let me stay. I mean, no offense, but the only real thing I have keeping me in Dallas is my house and it’s a seller’s market right now. So, I’m following my gut on this one.”
And my gut is telling me to listen to my heart. And my heart is saying Carys. New Orleans. Freedom. Do what makes you happy.
Shep sighs. “I don’t blame you, man.” Turning, he looks out his window. “If this thing works out and we can make some money. I might consider it myself.”
“Yeah, right. You’d leave Dallas and your country club and your fancy gated community?” I laugh, shaking my head. “No fucking way.”
He gives me his easy smile, but I see a smidge of sincerity there.
“I guess anything’s possible,” I tell him, realizing that if I can take a spur of the moment trip and end up in a hotel off the beaten path and find the woman of my dreams...dreams I hadn’t even allowed myself to have yet, I guess Shepherd Rhys-Jones could move to New Orleans...one of these days.
Fifteen minutes later, our driver lets us out in front of the familiar building, but I stop in my tracks as I collect my bag from the trunk. Sure, it’s the same hotel, but there’s a fresh coat of blue paint on the front doors and a brand spanking new sign that hangs sideways, getting the attention of people coming from every direction.
Welcome to the Blue Bayou
And in smaller print: where everyone always wants to come back
Smiling, I immediately feel the stress and tension release from my shoulders. And the humidity doesn’t feel oppressive any longer. It feels welcoming, as does the jazz music filling the night air.
“Come on,” I say, slapping Shep on the shoulder. I don’t miss the way he scrutinizes the place, taking in the exterior and the surrounding buildings, all different colors. When we walk inside, the place is vacant. Not one person, but there’s a tented note on the desk.
Welcome. Come to the courtyard. The party is waiting.
“This is my kind of place,” Shep muses, picking up a small glass of something pinky orange from a tray and downing it in one drink.
I take one for myself and sniff before doing the same.
We both shrug and take another, sipping on these.
“Let’s leave our bags here,” I tell him, motioning around the counter, feeling completely at home, even though I don’t know if I’m welcome here anymore.
That thought brings back a small knot in my stomach and I pull up short, turning toward the door and then back to the front desk.
“Maybe this was a bad idea,” I think out loud. “What if she didn’t write that note thinking I’d show up? What if she just wanted me to know? Or—”
“Do you know what you sound like right now?” Shep asks, one hand on his hip while he holds his fruity drink in the other. “A fucking girl,” he replies without waiting for my response. “And not a smart one, either. A stupid one. Who’s overthinking everything, when you should just shut the fuck up and walk out there, find your woman, and tell her how you feel.” He pauses his tirade for a moment, just long enough to take a drink and then continues. “And then you need to get laid.”
“A-fucking-men,” a familiar voice chimes in from somewhere behind Shep. I step around to see Jules walking up to us, taking in me and then going for Shep. “Speaking of getting laid.”
I’m glad I wasn’t taking a drink, because if I had, it would now be all over the now shiny floors of the lobby.
And the floors are super shiny.
Nicely done, Carys.
I take a second to look around the entire space, noticing each detail.
“Nice,” I mutter to no one but myself.
“I know, right?” Jules adds, still a bit standoffish, but also more welcoming than I thought he might be. We’ve spoken a couple of times on the phone, so it’s not
like he’s completely surprised to see me here. “Who’d you bring with you?”
“Oh,” I say, trying not to laugh when I take in Shep’s raised eyebrows as he keeps watch on Jules. “This is Shep. Shep, Jules.”
Jules offers Shep his hand and Shep takes it, expecting a shake, but instead, Jules takes it to his lips and kisses it. “The pleasure is all mine.”
This is fucking fantastic.
Seriously, I couldn’t have planned our reception better if I tried.
“Okay,” Jules says matter-of-factly, when he drops Shep’s hand and turns back to me. “To get the full effect of the evening, in my personal opinion.” His hand goes to his chest. “You really should enter from the side. It’s much more dramatic.”
Without another word, he whirls around us and motions for us to follow him back out the front door, so we do. Shep gives me a wide eye stare as if to ask, “What the fuck?” But I just laugh, shaking my head. I should’ve known he and Jules would hit it off. Shep is exactly his type.
Too bad Shep has a serious thing for busty brunettes.
If it weren’t for that tiny little tidbit, this could be a match made in heaven.
I’m still chuckling to myself when Jules leads us into the side entrance of the courtyard and everything comes into view. And by everything I mean Carys.
Her blonde hair.
Her pale blue dress.
Her creamy skin.
Her.
I feel like my chest is going to explode.
She’s standing next to a table, talking to a guy. His large frame leans in to say something and when his hand lands on her arm, everything inside me tenses—my jaw, my expression...my fist. I don’t like it. I don’t like the way he’s making her laugh. I don’t like the way her big blue eyes look as she talks to him animatedly. I don’t like any of it. Because I want that.
Before I get to make my move, they’re walking...heading into the Bayou and I pause, wondering if I’m too late.
Who is he?
What is he to her?
“Stop,” Jules demands, and I turn to see him and Shep making the same expression of exasperation. “He’s a guest...or...well, a friend of guest of a...oh, who the fuck cares. He’s not with her. She’s not with him. She’s waiting for you, jackass.”
