But the idea of someone else flirting with her, touching her, kissing her, making her laugh, watching her eat beignets, wrapping his arms around her as they stopped to listen to a band on the corner of Royal and St. Ann . . . he definitely wanted to punch something.
If that wasn’t a huge red flag, he didn’t know what was. Dammit, he was a fucking mess.
“Shut the hell up,” Gabe told his brother. “I forgot the meeting, but it’s fine. What do we need to get together?”
Logan gave him a knowing grin but dropped the subject of Addison. At least for now. “I’ve got photos of the inside and outside from Grandma,” Logan said, pushing an envelope across the bar. “I’m putting together a list of things that have been done over the years, the stuff that’s original like the bar, the stair and balcony railings, the interior doors, the flooring in the back rooms. We also need to list the things that have been replaced and updated. The windows, the flooring out here, the exterior doors. That kind of stuff.”
Gabe nodded as he leafed through the photos in the envelope.
The building that housed the tavern and the living quarters upstairs had been in the Trahan family for five generations. It was one of the first buildings built in the French Quarter after the fire of 1794 and, obviously, required a lot of routine maintenance. The basic structure was in good shape, but some of the unique characteristics of the Creole-style building needed a special touch to restore it to its original glory—something that was extremely important to Gabe and Logan’s grandmother Adele. She was eighty-eight and had been nagging them to do the restoration for about three years. She’d gotten to the point where she was now claiming that she’d haunt the place if they didn’t get it done before she died.
Gabe didn’t want that. He knew Adele would be an irritating spirit, unlike the three fairly good-natured ghosts that already, supposedly, occupied the building. He wasn’t sure he totally bought the stories, but they’d been passed down through the family for years, and he had heard some strange noises and had found things out of place for no reason. He’d never seen anything. And he was very okay with that. There was no reason to add a potential fourth haunting.
Now they finally had the funds to do a true restoration of the building, and they’d been courted by two of the best restoration firms in the city. They’d decided to go with Monroe & LeBlanc. Not just because Addison had been consulting with them on another project and had mentioned to Gabe, more than once, that the firm would do an amazing job on the tavern—though her opinion probably had far more weight than it should, everything considered—but because Gabe and Logan both sincerely liked and trusted Elena LeBlanc, one of the partners. She was a regular at Trahan’s, and they considered her a friend. Plus, she’d brought Addison into the bar that first night, and, hell, no matter how much he wished he wasn’t completely whipped, Gabe couldn’t deny that he was grateful to Elena for the introduction.
“So can you make up that list?” Logan asked. “I’ve got this about done.”
“A list of the things that have been replaced rather than repaired and restored over the years?” Gabe asked. “Sure. Reagan probably has a lot of it, right? We would have needed to report that stuff for taxes and stuff?”
Logan sat up a little straighter. “I hadn’t thought of that. Yeah, she would. I’ll get that from her.”
Gabe lifted a brow. “You’re going to do that list, too?”
Logan studied the page in front of him. “Well, like you said, she probably already has those records. It won’t be hard to pull those out.”
Gabe leaned back against the counter behind him and watched his brother try to pretend to be cool about talking to Reagan. “Right, so I can easily get that from her,” he said.
“Don’t you have receipts and stuff to do this morning?” Logan asked.
He did. But he would always take time to harass his little brother. “That can wait. Reagan might need a little time to pull everything together for us. I should call her right away.”
Logan already had his phone out. “I’ve got it.”
Gabe smirked and lifted his cup. Logan was a player. He loved flirting—and more—with the local girls and tourists alike who came into the tavern. He never spent a night alone unless he wanted to. He was cool and charming and could get a girl to giggle and blush faster than any guy Gabe knew. But when he was around Reagan, he stumbled over his words, fumbled paperwork, said stupidly inappropriate things, and generally acted like a doofus. Clearly, his little brother had a thing for the sweet accountant. But Logan wasn’t making any headway. Logan couldn’t seem to keep his foot out of his mouth, and if it were Gabe, he’d be hiding out whenever Reagan came around. But Logan seemed to think every time was going to be the time he managed to get his act together and charm her, so he kept trying. And Gabe couldn’t deny that he enjoyed the show.
Cooper needs a sibling.
The thought seemed to come out of nowhere, but it was nothing new, really. Gabe and Logan were close, and while no one drove him crazier than Logan, there was also no one he’d rather have at his back. His son needed someone like that—someone who could tease him but who would also take care of him.
“Hey, don’t forget you’re picking Cooper up tonight from day care,” Gabe said.
“Yep, got it. What are you doing again?”
“Helping a couple of guys from the group bring some new tables to the community center.”
“The group” was the single-parents support group Gabe attended regularly. They’d decided to donate new tables to the community center that allowed them to meet weekly for free.
The group was like a second family, and Gabe had appreciated their support over the past three years he’d been attending. His mom and brother helped with Cooper, and he couldn’t imagine doing it without them, but the group made up of other single parents had given him a true “village.”
“Oh, will Dana be there?” Logan asked.
Gabe rolled his eyes. Logan had gone from excited over talking to Reagan to interested in what another woman was doing tonight. Typical.
“I keep telling you, she’s not your type,” Gabe said.
That was an understatement. The uptight single mom who’d lost her hero husband in Afghanistan was not the type to fool around with a playboy bartender who thought responsible babysitting meant no one bled. Of course, Logan only ever babysat Cooper, and Cooper’s only chance at bleeding was getting a paper cut from one of the pages in his books. Still, Logan would give the organized supermom a heart attack if he were around her kids. Or she’d kill him. Either way, Logan needed to stay away from Dana. Which Logan knew in the back of his mind. But it didn’t stop him from flirting at every family picnic. Dana’s cool reception to that flirting hadn’t slowed him down, either.
“No,” Gabe said. “Just me, Caleb, and Austin.”
Gabe loved hearing the female side of single parenting. Women just had a different take on things. But he couldn’t deny that he felt a bond with the other guys who were also doing it alone.
“But you’ll see her Thursday at the meeting, right?” Logan asked.
Gabe sighed. “Yeah.”
“Tell her hi from me.”
Logan gave Gabe a grin that he’d seen a million times directed at women across the bar. But Gabe didn’t have breasts, and he did not find Logan charming.
“How about I just say, ‘Logan, this is never going to happen,’ right now and save us all some time?”
“She doesn’t say it’s never going to happen,” Logan said. “She says, ‘I don’t think so.’”
“That’s not the same thing?”
“Of course not.”
He should just let it go, Gabe knew, but he couldn’t help asking, “Why?”
“If someone asks if you’d like brussels sprouts for dinner, what would you say?”
“Hell no.”
“Exactly.”
Gabe shook his head. “I don’t get it.”
“When you don’t want somethin
g, you know it. And it’s easy to say no to it. When you’re not sure, or when you do want something but you don’t want to let on, you say things like ‘I don’t think so.’” Logan sat back with a grin. “Dana has never said no to me.”
“Not even a variation?” Gabe asked, not sure Logan was right.
Logan’s grin dropped. “If she had, I would have backed off.”
Yeah, okay, that was fair. They’d seen enough women getting unwanted attention and guys who didn’t know how to take a hint to respect that no meant no. “I’ll tell her hi for you,” Gabe said.
“Thanks.” And the grin was back.
Gabe finished off his coffee and mentally reviewed how to rearrange his day for the meeting he’d blown off. If that was three hours from now, it would put them at about eleven and . . .
Suddenly it hit him. Addison would probably still be at the office at eleven. She always caught the last plane out of New Orleans on Mondays, working all day at the firm when she was there.
He would get to see her again before she left.
His heart thudded far harder than was warranted, even by the fact that she’d given him the best blow job in the history of blow jobs. A hard thud that probably meant he liked her for more than her blow jobs. A lot more.
He grinned, thinking about her surprise when she saw him walk into Monroe & LeBlanc. She was always the one to make the appearance at the tavern, on her own timeline and terms, so he was the one to turn, see her, and feel his heart thump in a very not-just-a-fling way. Now it would be her turn. Maybe her reaction to seeing him unexpectedly would tell them both more about how she felt.
Gabe’s grin dropped away immediately. Did he want to know more about how she felt? What did he want her to feel, exactly? And why would it matter? She fricking lived in New York. Even if she were head over heels, it wouldn’t matter. He was not in the market for a long-distance relationship.
Even if what he had going with Addison felt like he was already in one.
Okay, he hadn’t been interested in going out with—or even fooling around with—any other women since meeting her. Okay, he thought about her way more often than he should. And okay, he really fucking wanted to send her flowers. But he did not want to be involved with a woman who lived more than a thousand miles away and was in town only once a month.
It could only be a fling, with the miles and time between them. They couldn’t get more serious than that. Because with his business and his son, he couldn’t make regular trips to New York, and he wouldn’t introduce Cooper to a woman he’d see only every thirty days at most. Addison didn’t even know he had a son. Because that part of Gabe’s life wasn’t a part of whatever he and Addison were doing. Hell, nothing about his life was really a part of whatever he and Addison were doing.
Besides, Cooper was only five. If he got attached to Addison but didn’t have her in his life on a regular basis, it would be confusing.
And frankly, if Addison was only in town for a little more than forty-eight hours each time, Gabe wasn’t sure how much of that time he wanted to share with anyone else. Even Cooper. Which probably made Gabe a bad father and an asshole. So it was better not to go there.
“Reagan didn’t answer,” Logan said a moment later. “So you might need to start putting together a list, after all.”
Gabe nodded. That was good. He needed something to do. Something other than thinking about Addison and how she might react to seeing him at the architecture offices and how he wanted her to react to seeing him.
“Did you leave Reagan a message?” Gabe asked.
Logan ducked his head. “Yeah.” He looked almost . . . embarrassed.
Gabe grinned. “What did you say?” He knew Logan had put his foot in his mouth.
“Doesn’t matter.”
Oh, yes, it did. But Gabe would just ask Reagan. She really didn’t understand why Logan acted like a dipshit around her. She thought he was like that with all women. Which was hilarious, considering Logan was a well-known charmer and ladies’ man.
“Okay, I’ll get the list done,” he said, pushing away from the counter and heading for the back office. He’d get right on it.
As soon as he sent Addison some flowers. Without analyzing why he was sending them. And he was only writing, See you soon, Gabe on the card. Nothing frilly, nothing romantic, and nothing about blow jobs.
Gabe had sent her flowers.
Addison stood staring at the gigantic bouquet of white flowers sitting on the desk she was using for the day.
“These are magnolias, right?” she asked Elena. Elena was one of the partners at Monroe & LeBlanc and had been a classmate of Addison’s in college. She’d been the one to call and ask for Addison’s help on the project they had finished two weeks ago. The project that had been, unbeknownst to Addison, her application for a job with the prestigious restoration architectural firm. The job she’d started today.
“They are. The state flower of Louisiana.” Elena stroked the petal of one of the gorgeous flowers. “Someone knows your weakness for all things New Orleans.”
He definitely did. Addison hadn’t even needed to read the card to know who the flowers were from. Gabe knew she was a sucker for anything that was traditionally associated with the city. Beignets, bourbon, masks, beads, gas lanterns, and balconies with looping wrought iron railings. For six months he’d been taking her out on the Sunday she was in town and letting her soak up the city. And now she’d gone from associating those things with New Orleans and the unique spirit of the city to associating them with him. And the hottest, most decadent, most satisfying-yet-never-get-enough sex of her life. She could simply hear a jazz trumpet and her panties got wet.
But why was he sending her flowers? That was new. So far, their routine was she showed up at the bar on Saturday night, they spent the weekend together, she left on Monday morning, and then thirty days later, they repeated it all over again. There was no contact in between times. No texts or calls—they didn’t have each other’s number. No letters or gifts—he didn’t have her address. And definitely no flowers.
“See you soon, Gabe,” Elena read from the card. She lifted her eyes, meeting Addison’s. “Gabe? Who’s Gabe?” Then her eyes widened. “Wait. These aren’t from Gabe Trahan, are they?”
Oh, crap. Addison took a deep breath, thought briefly about lying, and then realized there was no real reason to not tell her friend the truth. “Yes.”
Elena’s eyes widened, almost as if she hadn’t expected that answer. “Really? You’ve seen him since that first night?”
Addison rounded the desk and set the folder she was carrying on top of the nearest stack, straightening the pile of already straight files. “Yes,” she said simply. The fewer details she offered, the better, probably.
“When?” Elena asked. “I had no idea you’d seen him again.”
And then it hit Addison . . . Elena wasn’t just her friend anymore. She was Addison’s boss. Was this going to reflect badly on her? Was a just-when-she-was-in-town affair something Elena would frown upon?
“I didn’t think it was important to mention. We just . . . went out a couple of times.” They had. They’d gone out to Preservation Hall for jazz. They’d gone to Café du Monde for coffee and beignets. They’d gone to the French Market. They’d gone to Gabe’s bedroom. And his shower. And his kitchen table. And his balcony . . .
“You’re dating Gabe Trahan?” Elena asked, planting her hands on her hips.
“No,” Addison said quickly. “Not dating. We’ve had . . . drinks when I’ve been in town.” And many, many orgasms. And laughs. And fun.
“Which time?” Elena asked.
“Which time what?”
“Which time that you were in town did you have drinks?”
Addison sighed. “Each time.”
“You’ve seen him every time you’ve been in town since you met him?” Elena asked, clearly shocked.
“Yes. But,” Addison added before Elena could go on, “it’s nothing serious. It
’s been . . . a fling. Just a little fun. No big deal. And”—she took a deep breath—“this weekend was the last time. Now that I’ve moved here, I won’t be seeing him anymore.”
Saying it out loud made her heart clench even harder than it had when she’d driven away from him that morning.
Elena was frowning. “Really? You broke it off?”
Well, no. She hadn’t said the words I’m not going to see you again after this. But it wasn’t like she was ending a relationship. She was simply going to stop sleeping with the guy she was only sleeping with. She ignored the voice in her head that said, It doesn’t feel like you were only sleeping with him.
“I ended it this weekend,” she hedged. She’d ended it by saying goodbye to him. And meaning it this time.
Technically, she had only been sleeping with him. So she might have gotten a little addicted to the sex and the fun. So her heart might have gotten a little involved. Gabe Trahan was the kind of guy that hearts just went a little nuts over. He was funny and sexy and sweet and dirty and confident and charming and gorgeous. She wasn’t dead or stupid. Of course she had a little thing for him that went beyond lust.
But—and this was a very important but—she didn’t want anything more than sex from him. Well, okay, sex and beignets. And jazz. But just those things. Just those fun, harmless, no-big-deal things.
“I just . . .” Elena looked at the flowers again. “I had no idea.”
Addison frowned. “Is it a problem?”
“Well, no. Not exactly. Probably,” Elena said, still frowning at the flowers as if trying to figure something out.
“What do you mean ‘not exactly’ and ‘probably’?” Addison asked, trepidation suddenly creeping up her spine. Dammit. She hadn’t mentioned this to Elena because, honestly, it didn’t matter.
Gabe was . . . okay, Gabe was amazing. He was the best time she’d ever had, and she knew that she was in danger of falling for him. Which was incredibly stupid. She didn’t even really know him. She knew things about him just from being around him. He was funny and intelligent, he loved his bar and its patrons, he loved his city and was so patient about letting her go all touristy on him when they went out. He was kind to the homeless people who approached him for money, instead giving them his business card and telling them to go to his tavern and show the card for a meal. He joked with business owners throughout the French Quarter when he ran into them, and it was obvious he was well liked and respected. And damn, the things that guy could do with his mouth and hands and . . . other parts.
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