The NOLA Heart Novels (Complete Series)

by Maria Luis

  “Not guaranteed,” he told her in a low voice, “but I can promise to try.”

  “Not good enough.”

  Damn, but this woman challenged him. Luke wanted to challenge her in return, to push her out of her comfort zone the way she continued to do to him. This talkative version of himself was not a version he recognized. In his past relationships—though “relationship” was a bit of a stretch—no one pushed him. Propositions began and ended between the sheets. They didn’t involve wine while still dressed, or talking about past sexual experiences with a guy that wasn’t Luke.

  You told her you weren’t interested.

  Great plan, right there. Fan-fucking-tastic.

  He stared down at the top of her blonde head and vowed, “I promise.”

  And then she told him about the asshat who’d lasted all of two minutes and had awkwardly moved inside her, shifting his hips like he was scooping ice cream.

  And then Luke laughed, and hell, it felt good to do so. It felt even better when Anna joined in, cutting loose and drinking her wine as though she were content just to talk with him.

  And that fact, that they both enjoyed each other’s company, was dangerous.

  Luke had lived dangerously for thirteen years. He wasn’t interested in doing so any longer, not even with Anna Bryce.

  13

  “Why are you sending me with Brady?”

  Anna busied herself with folding laundry at the kitchen table. “I’ve got things to do, Jules.”

  Julian leaned forward and plucked a red tablecloth out of the massive heap of freshly cleaned laundry. “Mom, you’re folding the Christmas stuff.” He lifted up the red fabric, which just so happened to be emblazoned with Santa’s eight reindeer. “We haven’t even hit Thanksgiving yet.”

  Thanksgiving was only two weeks away. For a second year in a row, it appeared that she and Julian would be joining Shae and Brady for the holiday, as Anna’s parents had taken off for Austria last week. In the years before Shaelyn’s return to Louisiana, Anna and Julian had mostly done Thanksgiving and Christmas alone.

  It was nice to feel like part of a family—or, at least part of a family who stuck around long enough to unpack their suitcases.

  Anna tugged the tablecloth out of Julian’s grasp. “It’s never too soon for Christmas.”

  “Do you not like Luke?”

  I want to jump his bones. Yup, totally not a parent-child-appropriate statement. “He’s fine.”

  “Fine” was an understatement. After confessing to an incredibly awkward experience that had kept her off the path to sex for a handful of years, Anna had drained the rest of her wine and fled Luke’s house like a bat out of hell. She’d then spent the rest of the football game replaying her visit to his house.

  His naked torso.

  His mussed brown hair.

  His gravel-pitched voice that reminded her of perfectly aged whiskey.

  Her infatuation with Luke O’Connor had no roots. Obviously, she was attracted to him—she’d have to be asexual to not notice that Luke was sex on a stick. But what did she really know about him, aside from the fact that he’d adopted an orphan dog and was a wounded veteran still on the mend?

  Nothing.

  Anna knew more about her dentist, and she typically tried to avoid the appropriately named Dr. Fayng for the majority of each year.

  Feeling Julian’s gaze on her, waiting, she said, “You’re the one he hired to walk his dog. Brady said he didn’t mind bringing you. He was heading down there anyway.”

  The mention of Sassy incited excitement in Julian’s blue eyes. “How awesome is the dog? I can’t wait to walk him.”

  “Please have Brady walk with you.”

  “Mommm. I’m not four.”

  “No, you’re not,” Anna conceded evenly, “but you are only fourteen. We’ve discussed you being in the Quarter alone and I told you—”

  “That I can’t be alone until I’m sixteen,” Jules grumbled with a teenage roll of his eyes. “You’ve told me that a million times.”

  “Then this makes it a million and one.”

  “Mom, I’m walking his dog. That’s it.”

  She wasn’t playing the game. His safety meant so much more than his teenage pride. “Take Brady or you can kiss your dog walking career good-bye,” she told him firmly.

  Looking very much like he wanted to argue, Julian crossed his arms over his chest. He was the poster child for defiant teen, but like every time he’d pulled a stubborn stint since he’d turned five, Anna didn’t give in. She continued folding her Christmas blankets and hand towels.

  Five . . .

  Four . . .

  Three . . .

  Two . . .

  Anna flicked her gaze to her son, waiting.

  One . . .

  He blew out a pent-up breath and she bit back a grin. For all of his bluster, she still reigned queen in the Bryce household, no matter that he now outweighed her by fifty pounds and stood half a foot taller. “What time is Brady coming to get me?”

  Anna peered down at her watch. “Should be here in about five minutes.”

  “Five minutes!” All bravado fled her son’s lanky frame as he shot to his feet. “I’ve got to get my gear together.”

  She lifted her eyebrows. “You’ve got gear?”

  “Well, yeah, Mom. How else am I going to walk Sassy?”

  “It’s called a leash,” she said dryly, “and a collar, of which Luke has both.”

  Grumbling beneath his breath about clueless mothers, Julian skipped out of the kitchen. There was the thundering of his feet hitting the stairs, and a door creaking open with a vibrant curse.

  “Language!” she shouted with a shake of her head. Boys. No matter how many times she reminded him that four-letter words were off-limits, he let them loose now and again. She figured his friendship with Toby next door didn’t help—Toby belonged to a family of a single father and a younger brother. Cursing was probably the norm.

  When the doorbell rang five minutes later, Anna tossed a hand towel over her shoulder and went to answer it, listening for the sounds of Julian’s feet clambering back down the stairs. Her brow furrowed. Seriously, what sort of “gear” did he need to walk one dog?

  “He ready?” said Brady the moment Anna opened the door. “Luke promised pizza if we get there before noon.”

  A man after her own heart. It was almost like fate—except that it wasn’t, she thought with a snort.

  Stepping aside to let in Brady, Anna said, “He’s gathering his gear.”

  Her cousin’s boyfriend turned to stare at her with arched brows. “What the hell sort of gear does he need? Walking a dog is traditional. Leash, collar, shit bag.”

  “I’m ready, I’m ready!” Julian called out, taking the stairs two at a time before jumping the last three at once. “Hey Brady, hear you’re the sacrificial lamb today and get to be my personal driver.”

  “Kid, the day you get your driver’s permit is the day I stand in line to buy you a car.” Brady, as he always did, snagged Julian by the back of the T-shirt and drew him in for one of those manly hugs and a quick knuckling of the head. “I’ve been driving you for a year now. I deserve a raise.”

  “Get in line,” Anna said, grinning widely as she unhooked Julian’s jacket off the coat rack by the front door. “If anyone deserves a raise, it’s me. Fourteen years of motherhood trumps one year of playing chauffeur.”

  They all laughed and Anna smiled at the scene, not for the first time thinking how lucky Julian was to have a guy like Brady Taylor in his life. How lucky they both were, really. Although Anna had known Brady for more than a decade, the last year had proved his loyalty not only to Shaelyn but to Shaelyn’s family as well. Even Shaelyn’s grandmother Elaine adored the guy, though she did often try to hide it behind a curmudgeonly personality.

  “You got all your stuff?” she asked Julian with a tilt of her head. “All the gear packed away?”

  Julian patted his backpack, which he had slung ove
r one shoulder casually. “Yup, all good.”

  “Good, now give me a kiss before you go.”

  Dutifully, Julian did as he was told, though the gleam in his blue eyes told her he didn’t mind. He bussed a kiss to her cheek. “Have fun on your lunch date, Mom.”

  Brady slowed to a stop to look back at her. “You got a hot date, Anna?”

  It was just coffee. At Starbucks. Nothing special. But she’d chosen a casual afternoon meeting to avoid Luke at Tuck’s. Yesterday at his house had seemed . . . way too personal, and what better way to put their platonic relationship into perspective than with a little online dating?

  Anna had gone the traditional route this time, signing up for a free dating site that guaranteed love matches. She let out a soft sigh. That was the problem: they all promised love matches. If she had to watch another commercial with a guy looking adoringly down at his significant other and praising the world of X dating site or Y dating company, Anna would be forced to take drastic measures.

  Like becoming a nun.

  Or kidnapping David Beckham and demanding that he sex her up (sorry, Victoria).

  The latter was infinitely more tempting.

  “We’re just grabbing some coffee,” she told Brady, lifting a shoulder in a half-shrug, “Nothing over the top.”

  His blue eyes softened with a brotherly affection she’d come to recognize. “Stay at the coffee shop,” he said, tone hardening as was his way. “Bring your taser, just in case.”

  Her date was at one in the afternoon on a Saturday. She was absolutely not bringing her taser. Even so, she saluted the detective with a dramatic flick of her heels snapping together. “Yes, Sergeant Taylor.”

  Seeing that she’d resorted to sarcasm, Brady pointed a finger at her. “Taser, Anna. Don’t make me send out reinforcements.”

  With her luck, he’d send Luke, and her plans for the day would be ruined. It wasn’t that she was calling off the dating challenge, but rather that . . . she and Luke needed some space.

  Okay, so she needed some much-needed space from Luke.

  Today’s date was the perfect chance to get to know a man over coffee like all the heroines in those rom-com movies Shaelyn devoured.

  Anna sent Julian a reassuring smile, seeking to ease the confusion tugging at his features. “Taser,” she murmured, “you got it, Sarg.”

  She had no plans of bringing her taser to a public place today. But she did intend to bring an open mind, and in her opinion, that was incredibly more useful when it came to dating.

  Luke’s first impression of Anna’s son was that he was tall.

  The second?

  “You’re a kid who likes to come prepared,” Luke noted, peering down at the backpack Julian had just unzipped to withdraw an assortment of different dog . . . things. Luke nudged a bright green pooper-scooper with his tennis shoe. “Ever hear of a plastic bag?”

  Familiar-colored blue eyes shot to Luke’s face. “A pooper-scooper works better,” the kid said with an air of authority, belied only by the nervous twitch of his left brow.

  “You’ve had a dog before?”

  Julian fell silent, working his bottom lip with his teeth. He sighed. “I’ve been wanting a dog for forever—Mom won’t let me.”

  “Forever” seemed an exaggeration, but who was Luke to tell the kid that? He hooked the tip of the pooper-scooper with his cane and sent it flying upward in the air. Luke caught it mid-flight by the handle. “You let me know how it goes,” he finally said, refusing to look over at Brady who was watching the two of them curiously. “I’ve never had a dog either. Sassy’s my firstborn.”

  The tension in Luke’s shoulders eased at the sound of Julian’s laughter. “Must’ve been a hard labor,” the kid quipped, reaching out to scratch Sassy behind the ears. The dog huffed and turned his giant head, giving Julian better access to the sweet spot. “You look good for only having just popped him out.”

  Luke felt a grin pull at his mouth. Damn, but the kid could trash talk. “It was hard as hell,” he said, “thought for sure the doc would let me have a C-section, but nope, made me go natural. Hurt like a bi—butt.”

  Julian gave him a look that said he wasn’t dumb and he knew exactly what Luke had been about to say, and “butts” had nothing to do with it. “My mom had a C-section when she had me.”

  That stopped Luke. “Did she?” He tried to eliminate the curiosity from his voice. The thought of Anna going under . . . Luke shook his head, hating the clammy feeling on his hands. He wiped his palms over his sweats. “You put her through hell or something like that?”

  The kid gave him a lopsided smile. “Something like that.”

  From his spot on the sofa, Brady lifted a hand. “Are we walking this dog any time soon? I think Sassy just farted and darted for safety.”

  They all looked at the Great Dane, who sat by the front door with a derpy grin on his big face. He twitched and glanced back at his tail, bending his head toward his own behind before rearing back around comically, ears perky and alert.

  Yup, definitely a sign that the Time had come.

  He looked toward Anna’s son, handing over the pooper-scooper. “You got everything you need?”

  Nodding, Julian thrust his backpack over one shoulder, a determined set to his face. For half a second, Luke felt transported back to another time, a time when he’d been just as fresh-faced and naïve about the world as the kid standing before him, dog leash gripped tight in one hand.

  Luke’s first tour of duty had solved that naivety problem real quick. War tended to do that, especially when shit went wrong, and the only consolation was that you weren’t alone in the fucking mess. Once the cloak of innocence was stripped back, it became only that much harder to readjust to any semblance of normalcy.

  Some might classify Luke’s inability to sleep, his aversion to big crowds and loud noises, and a constant irritability as symptoms of PTSD.

  Luke didn’t think that was necessarily the case. He figured anyone who’d gone through the shit he had for thirteen years would have some weird tics. Fact was, Luke had learned rather quickly that the world was not, in fact, his oyster.

  Other than his mother, sister, and best friend, he hadn’t returned home from Iraq with a crowd of people hoping to wish him well. There hadn’t been a single get-well card waiting for him, nor any old buddies stopping by to catch up and shoot the shit.

  Just a year ago he’d returned home to find those same old buddies of his clamoring for attention. Alcohol, women, late nights. The uninjured Luke O’Connor had fit the mold they’d wanted of him—Bad Ass Soldier.

  Apparently Crippled Luke didn’t provide the same alluring draw. No shocker there.

  Which was why Julian Bryce’s dogged expression felt oddly . . . inspiring. The kid was doing nothing but walking a behemoth-sized dog for a man who couldn’t even walk ten minutes without having to stop and catch his breath. But one look at the kid’s face told a different story: Julian wanted the responsibility. He wanted to do a good job, even if all he was doing was picking up shit with a damn pooper-scooper twice a day.

  For a man without much softness left, there wasn’t much that gave Luke a moment’s pause.

  Julian Bryce did, just like his mother.

  And that thought alone was enough to send him to the fridge for a cold beer as soon as Brady and Julian left with Sassy. On second thought, he’d better make that two beers.

  Just in case he started to envision any sort of ridiculous ideas about a strong-willed woman with blonde hair and blue eyes a man could drown in.

  14

  Thunk.

  Luke peeled his eyes open, glancing blearily up at the ceiling as his vision swam. It wasn’t often that he got hammered drunk anymore, but after pizza with Brady and Julian—and their immediate departure afterward—Luke had settled in with Abita for himself and dog treats for Sassy. One beer had turned into two and two into three . . .

  Thunk.

  Sassy, masculine heavyweight that he was, le
t out a high-pitched whine and dropped his heavy paws onto Luke’s gut. “Aw, fu—” Luke rolled to his side on the floor, his apparent bed of choice last night, and clutched his stomach.

  Thunk.

  The door. Someone was knocking at the door.

  Another cry, this one sounding eerily similar to a canary’s. Sassy scrambled to his paws, using Luke’s legs as a launching pad as he made a straight shot to the front door.

  The dog was going to be the death of him. Finish what Trinket had started.

  Thunk-thunk-thunk-thunk!

  “All right, all right!” Who the hell even came knocking this early in the morning anyway? One glance at the clock on the wall showed that it was eleven. On a Sunday. All right, maybe he’d slept longer than he’d intended.

  Luke grappled with his cane, which he found under the sofa, and came to a slow, creaky stand on his feet. Scrubbing a hand along his unshaven jawline, he made his way to the front door. Whoever was there was in for a lovely surprise when they caught a glimpse of—

  He froze at the unexpected sight of Blondie. Maybe it should have been expected, considering that he’d hired her son to be his temporary dog walker. Still, the visceral image of Anna Bryce on his doorstep left Luke feeling awkwardly . . . awkward.

  Hell. Even his thoughts didn’t make much sense this morning.

  “What are you doing here?” he asked, his voice emerging as a husky rasp.

  “Dog walking.” She brushed past him, managing to turn her body to the side to avoid any accidental touching. “Julian’s still asleep, so you get me today.”

  So you get me today.

  A better man wouldn’t take those words and turn them into a sexual innuendo.

  Luke wasn’t a better man and he let his mind take him there, proving once and for all that being hung over was just as dangerous as being drunk. If he were sober, he wouldn’t be thinking about loosening her ponytail and letting the blonde silk strands trail over his chest, of sliding down the zipper of her sweater to see what she might be hiding beneath.