by Rayne, Sara
Nobody was eating.
“Well?” He spread his arms, addressing the room. “What’s the fuckin’ problem?”
Looking down at their plates, no one said a word. He stalked over to Fiona and Dash seated at the end of the counter. Lifting Dash’s plate, he looked the blueberry oatmeal crisp over. It was perfectly cooked, the pecan slivers toasted into a golden crunch.
“Doesn’t look like there’s anything wrong it.”
Dash cleared his throat. “It’s fine, man. Don’t worry about it.”
“Fine?” Voo straightened. “My food is not fine. This oatmeal crisp is perfection. Gordon fuckin’ Ramsay himself wouldn’t insult it. So why aren’t you eating?”
Fiona rested a hand on Dash’s arm, meeting Voo’s gaze. “Dash is allergic to nuts. Remember?”
Voo threw the plate across the room. It whizzed past Wendy’s head and smacked into the wall, oatmeal and blueberries sliding to the floor with the fractured plate. His chest heaved. Hands fisted, he stared at the floor.
“We’re closing,” he announced. “Food’s on the house.”
Nobody moved. There should’ve been crickets singing as quiet as the diner had become.
“Did I stutter?” Voo grabbed the closest mug and chucked it at the door. The glass cracked, splintering the carefully painted Hades Hotel & Diner on the front. “Get the fuck out! We’re closed!”
Chairs scraped across the black-and-white tile as people scurried from the dining room, muttering as they gathered their belongings. Coyote snagged Angel by the shoulder and told him to go home, turning the sign to “Closed” as he held the door open for the people filing out.
Voo turned and staggered around the counter. Dropping to his knees, he searched for his emergency booze stash beneath the register, knocking aside boxes of old receipts and dumping anything non-alcoholic on the floor.
A flask appeared, dangling in front of his face.
“Here, boyo. I always keep a little on me. For emergencies.” Jagger’s lilting Irish drew his gaze from the cabinet. The musician offered the flask again.
Grabbing it, he settled against the wall and took a long pull. He was losing his shit but was too drunk to care. What was the point? Hades had made him happy once. Now it felt like a prison. Lex had probably been the last glimpse of joy he’d ever get.
“Want to tell us what’s going on, bro?” Shep climbed on the counter, letting his legs dangle next to Voo’s shoulder as Jagger wandered around the dining room, picking bits and pieces from people’s plates. Coyote leaned against the wall, watching them.
“Non.”
Shep didn’t blink. “So something happened between you and Lex last night.”
“Nothing happened.”
“Ah.” Jagger nodded knowingly. “No wonder you’re growling like a surly sheepdog, then.”
“I didn’t want anything to happen.”
“You sure?” Shep gestured to the mess on the black-and-white tile. “Because there’s a whole lot of broken dishes on the floor saying otherwise.”
Around a mouthful, Jagger asked, “Yeah, what did oatmeal ever do to deserve such treatment?”
Voo snorted.
He couldn’t believe he’d forgotten Dash’s nut allergy. What the hell is wrong with me? After losing Lex, he couldn’t afford to lose his cooking prowess, too. He’d built Hades’ reputation on his ability to know what a person craved. He was never wrong.
But today, his instincts were fried.
“People didn’t like it.” His jaw tightened. “Everyone loves their food here. Everyone. If y’all are pulling some kind of prank—today is not the day.”
“This is a bacon cheeseburger omelet!” Jagger shot him an accusatory look. “Why didn’t I get this?”
He shrugged.
Shep sighed. “Voo, when was the last time I had a strawberry milkshake for breakfast instead of a Dr. Pepper?”
Merde.
An awful realization dawned on him. He hadn’t been thinking about his customers as he’d cooked, hadn’t considered them at all.
He climbed to his feet, steadying himself on the counter to scan the tables, hoping he was wrong. Hash browns and jalapeño poppers, bacon cheeseburger omelets and crème brûlée French toast, strawberry milkshakes and blueberry oatmeal crisp, couche-couche with cinnamon. Everything but gumbo.
“What’s up with the food?” Shep’s brows knotted. “Did the rum create this weird assortment?”
Coyote grabbed a spoon and took a bite of Fiona’s couche-couche. “These are Lex’s favorites. All of them.”
“How did you know?” Jealousy stirred in his gut, swirling with the booze as he squinted at Coyote. He cursed the bitter feeling. When Voo thought on his sins, envy always floated to the top.
“There’s very little I don’t know about most people.”
“Have you hacked me?” Jagger’s fork was suspended halfway to his mouth. “Be honest.”
“Of course not.” Coyote rolled his eyes. “Although, you should pay your electric bill. You’re two months past due. Late payments are not gonna help your credit score.”
“Fuck my credit score. I keep my bar tab clean—what else matters?” Jagger grinned.
Voo groaned. “What is wrong with me?”
“You’re in love.” Shep lit a cigarette.
He avoided Shep’s all-too-knowing gaze. “You can’t smoke in here.”
“You want to ask the owner for permission?” The former VP held it out to him.
After a beat, Voo shrugged.
“Fuck it. We’re closed anyway.” He accepted the cigarette and inhaled, holding the toxins in his lungs for a few seconds.
“Let me know if you want something stronger. Pretty Boy delivers.” Shep snagged a coffee cup from the counter to use as an ashtray.
“Since when?” Jagger snorted.
A slow smirk spread across Shep’s face. “He delivers for me.”
“Yeah, but I’m guessing I would be comfortable tipping him the way you do.” Jagger laughed.
Voo blew a stream of smoke toward the ceiling. “I’m so screwed.”
Coyote straightened. “So you fucked up. Call her—fix it.”
“I can’t.” Voo tousled his dreads, his head throbbing. “I know what I deserve, and she’s way too good for me. Lex needs an honest, decent kind of guy.”
Not a two-bit criminal from the swamp who lied to his fiancée until the day she died.
“I don’t see the problem.” Jagger snagged his flask back. “Blue’s way the hell out of my league. I don’t give a damn. Way I see it, a lady’s got as much right to make bad decisions as a gent. I got no problem encouragin’ the inclination. If she ever has it.”
Shep laughed. “Still haven’t found a way in, huh?”
“Give me time, boyo. Every woman is unlockable, if you know how to use your pick.” He waggled his eyebrows. “Speaking of Blue, your hash browns were my only means of tempting her to breakfast. How long you planning on being closed?”
Voo turned his glare to the Irishman.
“Alright, don’t crucify me. Sorry I asked.”
He sighed. “I don’t suppose any of you have seen Lex this morning?”
They shook their heads. Coyote pulled out his phone. “I can look in on her if you want. Hacking a cell is a cakewalk.”
Voo waved the offer away. “I’m not spyin’ on her.”
“Good man.” Jagger clapped him on the shoulder. “Go see her in person. Like you still got balls.”
“What’s the point? I doubt she’ll speak to me.”
“I suggest skippin’ straight to the kissin’ and makin’ up part.” The musician grinned. “Grovelin’ is for suckers.”
“I ain’t changing my mind. The two of us won’t add up to anything good. Not for her.” Voo rolled his shoulders but couldn’t find a comfortable position to save his life.
He was cursed. Had been since he’d gone looking for a loa he didn’t really believe in all those years ago. He’d m
ocked the voodoo gods his grand-mére had warned him to honor and then witnessed the devastation of the natural destruction the spirits wielded.
It would have been so easy to fall into bed with Lex—accept her love, enjoy her body—but eventually, he would hurt her. It was who he was. Artie had paid the karmic comeuppance for his mistakes with her life. He’d be damned before he’d drag Lex down, too.
“So what are you going to do?” Coyote pocketed his phone.
“Moi?” Voo laughed harshly. “Buy more rum.”
“Maybe you should eat somethin’ first, boyo. There’s some oatmeal crisp on yonder wall if you’re interested.”
“Shut the fuck up, Irish.”
“Coyote, call Angel. We’re gonna need him to run by Eddie’s and grab us some ‘shine,” Shep instructed.
Voo looked up.
“Rum doesn’t quite cut it when heartbreak’s involved, trust me.” He leaned back on the counter. “Get comfortable, boys. We’re gonna be here a while.”
“What the fuck you think you’re doing?” Voo stared at Shep.
“Keepin’ misery company,” Jagger answered. “We’re here for you, mate.”
Voo thumped his fist over his heart and forced a smile. “If you’re plannin’ on staying ‘til I feel better, you’re in for a longer haul than you know.”
“No rest for the wicked. Ask the prospect.” Coyote pulled out his phone and dialed Angel.
Shep snagged his cigarette back, looking at Voo thoughtfully as he blew a smoke ring. “You ever tell Lex the truth about Artie?”
“Non. And I never will.”
“Seems to me, being honest couldn’t make things worse. Might even salvage things between you. At least she’d understand why you rejected her.”
“I didn’t reject her.” Voo folded his arms.
Jagger wandered back to the counter. “You’re confused, boyo. Not rejecting her means you say ‘yes’.”
“I want her to have better than me.” The words felt like a lie on his tongue. Lex with someone else? The thought transformed into a demon rampaging through his brain. He modified the statement. “She deserves to be happy.”
“If she thinks happiness is in your bed, then thank your lucky stars and call it a day.” Jagger stretched out on his half of the counter, crossing his legs at the ankles. “We should all be so lucky.”
“Speaking of men in love….” Coyote picked his way around Voo to the coffeemaker, putting on a fresh pot to brew.
“Shut your pie-hole, whelp.” Jagger laced his hands behind his head. “I’m not the settlin’ down type. Banish the thought from your addled brain.”
Voo dove at the chance to talk about someone else’s woes. “Not even for Blue?”
“The sight of her face puts a song in me poor heart.” The Irish brogue deepened as he covered his chest with a hand. “But the girl’s a viper. I see it in her eyes—somethin’ dangerous. My money’s on her not bein’ the settlin’ down type either.”
“I am.” Shep smiled. “What about you, Voo?”
“Last time I tried to settle down, the whole city washed away.”
“Fair point.”
The guys spent the rest of the day holed up in Hades with Voo, drinking peach moonshine out of mason jars and swapping road tales. When they were finally too trashed to continue, Angel helped him cross the parking lot to his house while Coyote got Jagger and Shep keys for empty rooms in the hotel.
Voo pushed away from Angel, tugging off his shirt and tossing it to the floor. He fell backward on the bed, and Lex’s honeysuckle scent drifted from his sheets.
“Do me a favor and shoot me in the head.”
“Fresh out of ammo. Sorry.” Angel yanked Voo’s boots off and set a bottle of water next to his bed.
Shivering, Voo tugged the blankets around his shoulders. Another cold snap had blown in from Canada this morning, as if Lex’s absence from his life had drawn down the arctic chill.
“What do you want to do about Hades tomorrow? Should I come in and open…?”
“Non. We’re closed.”
Angel nodded. “You taking a sick day?”
Voo shook his head, eyes sliding closed.
“I’m calling off dead.”
Chapter Eleven
At dawn, Lex crossed the Texas-Louisiana border. Every moonlit mile she’d driven last night had lightened her spirit. Leaving her home state in the rearview mirror felt like freedom in the glory of the rising sun. No more Carol and Brad. No more campus. No more Dad.
Best of all? No more mother-truckin’ Horsemen.
Sounded like a vacation to her.
Her phone rang. Dad. Dammit.
“Hi, Dad.”
“Hi, Lex. Where the hell are ya?”
“I’m driving to New Orleans. What’s up?”
“Yeah, I saw the note you left.” He cleared his throat. “Thought I’d see how the trip was goin’. You check the tires before—”
“Yes, Dad. I checked the tires and the engine fluids. Dani did a great job—the car’s fine.” And so am I. She shook her head, biting back a smile despite her irritation. This was the closest to an apology she’d ever get—advice on her car, worrying about the road trip, and a lot of awkward beating around the bush.
“So it’s running okay? You’re makin’ good time?”
“Yes, Dad. I used cruise control and everything.”
“For the love of Christ, ask her how long she’s gonna be visitin’ her friend already,” Eddie’s voice echoed in the background.
Cap cleared his throat. “How long you plannin’ on stayin’ out there?”
“I’ll let you know when I know.” Permanently was on the table.
“Alright then. Well, you drive safe and be careful. New Orleans is full of weirdoes, druggies, and assholes—”
“Dad, I’ll be fine. Promise. I won’t get in any vans with weirdoes or take any drugs. Swear.” The female voice of the GPS gave her instructions. “Crap. Hey, I gotta go. It’s telling me to turn somewhere.”
“Alright, baby girl. Focus on the road. I…” His breath hitched, and his voice softened. “I love you very much, Lex.”
She sighed, relenting. “I love you, too, Dad. Give Eddie a hug for me and I’ll call you later, okay?”
“Talk to you soon.” She could hear the relief in his voice. The phone beeped as the call ended.
Lex felt better, too. It never felt right fighting with her dad. Lex still had a bone or two to pick with him when she got back, but for now, they were fine. Time to focus on herself for a while.
Two bathroom stops later, she passed the city limits, stopping to snap a picture under a “Welcome to New Orleans” sign crested with a gilded fleur-de-lis. Following the GPS instructions, Lex wound her way through the back corners of the French Quarter.
Everything here was lush and green. Great sweeping oak trees and weeping willows dripping with Spanish moss lined the wide streets. The spicy scent of gumbo and jambalaya mingled with the rich bite of café au lait and French pastries in the air. It smelled warm and earthy, safe and expansive.
She inhaled deeply, the enticing aroma drugging and familiar as it washed through her.
Voodoo.
As if he carried the bayou in his blood, the scent of his warm skin when she’d woken sprawled across his chest had been the same. If Lex thought she could escape thoughts of Voo in his hometown, she’d been mistaken.
Lex swallowed and tucked the thought in a mental back pocket while she concentrated on finding Josie’s address. She turned left onto a cobblestone driveway leading through an ornate wrought-iron gate.
“You have arrived,” the GPS informed her.
The car rumbled over the stones as Lex peered through the windshield. Gnarled live oaks lined the drive, sunlight filtering through the greenery shading the lush lawns. Graceful magnolia trees in full bloom sprawled across the grounds.
The Chance Brulé Bed and Breakfast loomed into view at the end of a landscaped cul-de-sac, a shining
white pearl set in lush flora. The turn-of-the-century home was built from solid wood, every plank perfectly whitewashed. The iron two-story deck shone a deep satiny black, beautifully framed by twin wrought-iron spiral staircases leading from the lower to the upper porch on either side. From every gracefully arched eave, hanging pots trailed blooms down to the railings.
It was breathtaking.
As Lex pulled to a stop, Josie raced out of the grand double doors at the top of a set of wide marble steps.
“Lex, you’re finally here.” She held her arms wide as she reached the bottom of the steps.
Shutting off the car, Lex hopped out and raced around it, flinging herself at her friend. “Hi! It’s so good to see you.”
“Come inside.” Josie wrapped an arm around her. “Are you starving?”
“Absolutely.” Lex peered at the gorgeously restored building. “So this is it, huh?”
“What all my tuition dollars were meant to save? Yep, this is home.” Josie ascended the stairs, and Lex followed. Josie had been on scholarship and worked two part-time jobs to pay for her school. She’d told Lex cheaper, public universities didn’t provide the same opportunities and she needed all the help she could get to rescue the family business. “Come on, I’ll give you the grand tour and show you to your room.”
“What about my car? Should I move it or…?”
“My cousin, Boone, will park it around back and grab your bags. He’ll meet us in your room. You’re gonna love him.” She sighed. “All women do, curse his black heart.”
“Sounds interesting.”
“And you gotta meet Aunt Phee.” Josie grinned. “She’s one of a kind.”
Lex let Josie drag her up the stairs, feeling like Alice tumbling through a looking glass. She loved this topsy-turvy, crazy, beautiful world. The rooms were scattered throughout the house, and wide archways with intricate crown molding led to comfy nooks and window seats. The hardwood banisters and floors had been polished until they gleamed, the light from the antique gas lamps on the walls reflecting in their luster.
After the tour, Josie introduced Lex to Boone.
Objectively speaking, he may have been the most good-looking man Lex had ever laid eyes on. Her own personal preferences for mocha skin and silvery eyes aside, he was damn near flawless. Olive skin wrapped around a slim, lithe frame of tight-corded muscle, a straight patrician nose, defined cheekbones, and plush lips curved in a sensual smile.
