The NOLA Heart Novels (Complete Series)

by Maria Luis

  Luke lifted an eyebrow. “How gallant of you, Jules.”

  More with the non-eye contact. “Super gallant. Don’t worry, I won’t invoice you for overtime.”

  Tipping back his chin, Luke let out a belt of laughter. Damn, but Anna’s kid had the witty teenager personality down pat. He wiped a stray tear from his eye and rubbed his fingers together, miming the universal sign for money, when he said, “You’re gonna have to bill your mom for overtime, kid. Maybe buy her something real nice.”

  Julian lifted a hand to his hair. “So, yeah, that’s sort of the thing.”

  “You don’t know what to buy her? I’m kidding. You really don’t have to—”

  “She bought you something.”

  Everything in him froze. His limbs literally stopped moving, and even his left leg, which usually found a way to simply collapse beneath his weight, stayed harmoniously still.

  “You there?” Julian reached out to wave a hand in front of Luke’s face.

  He slowly blinked, feeling a bit out of sorts, like he was wading through water. Or just drunk. “I’m good.” Liar. Luke rubbed the back of his neck again, and went for nonchalance. “So, your mom got me something?”

  “Yup.”

  “Any idea if I’ll need to prearrange some bond money just in case she plans to land me in jail?”

  A strange expression crossed the kid’s face, one that Luke couldn’t even begin to interpret. But then, quick as a dime, the ever-present grin was back as though it had never taken a vacation to begin with. “Tell me your cane doubles as a sword like in every video game ever,” Julian said.

  Luke lifted the cane and twisted it this way and that. “Would it make me cooler if it did?”

  “Definitely.”

  “Are you saying I’m not cool now?”

  Julian’s knobby shoulders inched up. “You’ve probably got a year of coolness left. Might want to start stockpiling where you can.”

  Laughing, Luke shook his head and muttered, “You sure know how to make a man feel his age, kid.”

  “My mom says the same thing.”

  Once again, Luke experienced disorientation at the mere mention of Anna. He shouldn’t have bought her anything, even though when his gaze had locked on the twin, porcelain pizza tree ornaments at the store the other day he’d known that they belonged to her. Christmas might be less than three weeks away, and yeah, the gift was cheesy (pun intended), but he’d doubled back around to them no less than two times before finally grabbing the package off the hook with a grunt and dumping it in his shopping cart.

  They were a gag gift, that’s it.

  So why did he feel as though he’d given her something much more than a Christmas tree decoration?

  The thought had plagued him like the devil for the last five days, especially while knowing that she’d been out with a guy who played superhero to everyone’s four-legged best friend. A man who lived next door to her, who could slip across the front yard at any time and ask for some flour or sugar, or hell, some of her sugar.

  Dude, those thoughts are not fucking helping.

  Luke scrubbed a hand over his face, determined to play it cool in front of Anna’s son. He had a year left of coolness, right? Might as well try and pretend that he wasn’t feeling more emotionally unbalanced than he had since those first years that he’d been in the military.

  “So,” he started, reaching up with one hand to awkwardly pull the collar of his shirt away from his neck, “your mom bought me something?”

  “Yup.”

  Luke’s eyes narrowed. Obviously, Julian had no plans to make this easy for him. “Did she mention what it was?”

  Another slow shoulder shrug from the teenager, who was now appearing more interested in petting a drooling Sassy than anything else. “She might have.”

  “You gonna tell me what it is?”

  Julian’s gaze flicked up to meet his. “That would ruin the surprise.”

  The kid had to be shitting him. Shifting his weight to his good leg, Luke said, “If you didn’t come down here to tell me what the present was, then why did you? And don’t give me the whole, ‘Sassy and I needed some fresh air’ spiel.”

  “Sassy and I really did need some fresh air.”

  Luke groaned. God save him from meddling teenagers. Julian Bryce was worse than Moira, and that was saying something.

  “But,” Julian went on, “I wanted to ask you a question.”

  “More than the one thousand questions you ask me daily? No, you cannot throw water balloons at tourists from your mother’s shop, and, yes, I promise that wearing glasses will not be the end of your lady-killing world.”

  “None of those questions.”

  Luke couldn’t even imagine the absolutely crazy shit Julian would come up with today. He made a give-it-to-me gesture. “Okay, let’s do this.”

  This time when Julian’s shoulders snapped back, the move wasn’t slow and easy. It was sharp and militaristic, as if he’d been waiting days for this moment and didn’t dare screw it up.

  Luke instinctually girded himself for the worst.

  Not that he knew what the “worst” could be, because Julian’s favorite game was being unpredictable.

  He watched the kid take a deep breath, hook an arm around Sassy’s neck, and rub the dog’s ear with his other hand.

  “I’m losing more of my coolness every second, Jules. Hurry up before it’s gone.”

  Julian’s breath whooshed out all at once, and his question hooked on the tail end, “Do you like my mom?”

  Luke opened his mouth, and then was soundly cut off: “I know you said that she was the last woman on earth you’d date, but you gave her a present. She’s giving you a present. She told me that her date with Mr. Ajax was okay, but not life-changing. Are you . . . do you like her?”

  At the mention that Anna’s date with Ajax hadn’t been spectacular, Luke felt an absurd burst of pleasure.

  But then reality set in, and Luke remembered shit that he shouldn’t have even un-remembered, and that seed of pleasure dropped into the black void. “Listen, Jules, I think your mother is great, but I—”

  Julian’s mouth firmed. “Don’t lie to me, Luke.”

  “Or what?” he fired back, only slightly annoyed with himself that he was sparring with a teenager.

  Julian’s blue gaze flicked back and forth, searching. “Or I won’t walk Sassy anymore.”

  Poor Sassy lifted his big head, tongue lolling out of his mouth, eyes all squinty, as if to ask, you would abandon me?

  In silent reply, Julian curled his hand into Sassy’s fur and edged the Dane just a little bit closer.

  “You’d be a good blackmailer,” Luke finally said.

  “I learned from the best.”

  Lifting a disbelieving brow, he asked, “From your mom?”

  “No, from Game of Thrones.”

  Ah, touché.

  “But do you, Luke? Like my mom, that is?”

  Heart pumping, Luke looked beyond Sassy to the bustling French Quarter street. It was early evening and the tourists were out in full bloom. Moms pushing strollers, couples hanging off each other as they drank from their go-cups, tour guides leading schools of groups through the crowd.

  He took a deep breath and turned to face Julian with the truth. “I shouldn’t.”

  “But you do?”

  Luke could only shake his head again. “I shouldn’t.”

  As though accepting that was the best answer he was going to get, Julian began to back up with Sassy in tow. “You might want to figure that out before this evening. I think my mom is planning to bring her gift to your house.”

  Shit. Tonight? He was a walking mess. He’d been restocking shelves, painting the office—he needed a shower, and he needed one about three hours ago. “You walking Sassy straight back to my house now?” he demanded to know instead of asking the myriad questions streaming through his head.

  “Yup!”

  “Straight back to my house, Jules!” Luk
e hollered. “You call me as soon as you enter the door, and you don’t move an inch until your mother picks you up.”

  Julian was still close enough that Luke spotted the kid’s classic eye roll. He waved his hand in the air, and called back, “All right, Mom!”

  The kid’s good-bye left Luke reeling on the stoop of Herbal Heaven. Because even though he knew Julian had just been joking, Luke imagined another word taking the place of “mom.”

  Dad.

  And that was a three-letter word that Luke had never let himself dwell on. Not once.

  23

  Anna had planned everything out perfectly.

  Julian was having dinner with Brady, Shaelyn, Danvers, and Jade.

  The shop was closed up for the night, security alarm set to ON and the frosted doors locked and shut tight.

  She was wearing her favorite pair of black stockings with a classic, off-the-shoulder cream-colored dress that practically screamed Audrey Hepburn’s name, and her legs appeared slimmer, longer, thanks to her sky-high black heels.

  Not a strand of hair was out of place, and she had Luke’s gift tucked away in her oversized purse.

  Now all she had to do was deliver the goods. Something that might prove easier said than done, thanks to the fact that the front lights were out in Luke’s half of his shotgun.

  This is what you get for not sending a head’s-up text.

  No, this is what she got for being impulsive and perhaps a shy bit desperate. One look at the pizza Christmas tree ornaments and Anna’s grin had tipped the scale at shit-eating. The fact that he’d remembered her somewhat ridiculous love for God’s gift to humankind in the form of dough, cheese, and pepperoni had left her waltzing on Cloud 9 for days.

  Even her date with Ajax on Saturday hadn’t dampened Anna’s happiness.

  The front entryway light flicked on in Luke’s house and a hulking shadow passed before the window. Sassy. There was no chance of mistaking the lean body and that massive head.

  Her fingers curled over the steering wheel. This was her chance—her time—and, oh boy, she’d been nervous for hours. What if he thought her gift was stupid? She supposed it didn’t matter, really. It wasn’t as though they were dating.

  Anna angled the rearview mirror so she could fluff out her blonde curls. With a half-shimmy, she put the girls back in place and plucked at her dress sleeves until they fell just right. Her deep breath barely stabilized her nerves.

  This was her time, her moment.

  She cranked open the driver’s side door, grabbed her purse, and stepped out on her heels. Another deep breath. Another quick shimmy, this one for a boost of confidence because she was about to enter the lion’s den.

  “Lookin’ good, girl!” called out a tourist from across the street, and Anna gave him a weak smile and an even weaker wave. “You got big plans tonight, looking like that?”

  Do not answer. Do not encourage.

  Anna put her head down and climbed Luke’s porch steps, not the least bit surprised when the guy doubled back around to wrap a hand around a wrought-iron pole from the house next-door.

  “You are beauuutifullllll! Anyone ever tell you that?”

  She rapped on Luke’s door, perhaps a tad bit more desperately than the situation warranted. But after last year’s events, you just never really knew a person’s true motivations, and Anna had no plans of finding out if the drunk had anything up his sleeves. Glancing beseechingly at the front window where she’d seen Sassy’s silhouette, she muttered, “C’mon, Luke, open up.”

  As though he’d been waiting just on the other side, the door flung open, and she let out a huge sigh of relief to see Luke standing there, looking as strong and delicious as always. The urge to leap into his arms for safekeeping had her pinning her heels together.

  His crystal-green gaze shot from her to the drunk now spinning around the pole as he hollered “singing in the rain” at the top of his lungs.

  Huh. Maybe he was nothing but three sheets to the wind, and so maybe Anna had overreacted.

  “Is he your plan for the night?” said the drunk, in between spins around the pole. “I can see why you were distracted, girl—he is fiiiinnne.”

  Luke lifted a brow. “He a friend of yours?”

  “Yes!”

  “I’ve never met him,” Anna said. Slowly, as though in stages, she became aware of the fact that Luke’s chest was glistening. So was his hair, for that matter. A droplet of water careened down his sternum, over his washboard abs (how did he keep so fit even after all of these months of inactivity?) and slipped under the waistband of his drawstring sweatpants.

  He was the epitome of male perfection on every Calvin Klein ad she’d ever seen, and she would be lying if she said that the sight of him didn’t have an effect on her. She wanted to see what lay beneath the pants. She wanted to taste the trail of flesh that the droplet of water had already traveled.

  Heat fanned her cheeks, which not even the crisp night air could alleviate.

  This is why you shouldn’t have worn stockings.

  The stockings had been a must, a paltry attempt at a modern-day chastity belt.

  Luke gave her a slow smile, like he knew exactly where her dirty mind had taken her. Stepping to the side, he motioned for her to come inside, just as he called out, “Hey, my man, have a good night, all right? I’m being summoned to provide entertainment.”

  Whatever the drunken guy said in reply was lost after Luke slammed the door and grabbed a terrycloth towel off the entryway table. He rubbed it over his head, sending water droplets everywhere, and then hooked the fabric around his neck like a pro-athlete after a hard-fought victory.

  Oh. Wow. Talk about fantasy material.

  She bet he didn’t even know how much he’d just rocked her world with nothing but a damp chest and a towel-sling. Or maybe he did. It wasn’t like she’d made her attraction to him a secret since they’d collided at his mother’s shop. Just like he hadn’t bothered to hide the fact that her attraction was definitely one-sided.

  Except for that hot-as-hell kiss against her car.

  And the unexpected gift on Thanksgiving.

  At the sound of dog nails clipping across the hardwood floors, Anna tore her gaze away from Luke’s naked torso and slipped a hand over Sassy’s back. His tongue scraped from her wrist to her elbow, leaving behind a trail of sticky dog drool.

  “Ah, shit, I’m sorry.” Luke slicked off the terrycloth towel and snuck a hand around her bicep, gently tugging her close.

  Anna’s breath caught. Held. How did he render her silent with just the slightest touch? It was incredibly inconvenient, especially when you factored in the fact that Luke had no intention of doing the deed with her anytime soon.

  Which left just Anna and her vibrator for company.

  Not like she wasn’t accustomed to that arrangement by now.

  Unless she set up another date with Ajax. Except that she wasn’t all that interested, and Anna had never been the sort of person to lead somebody else on. Either she was all in or she wasn’t in at all, and after the previous weekend’s lackluster date, she didn’t think her neighbor was interested in setting up a second outing either. He’d asked, but she had chalked it up to him trying to be polite.

  At the soft rub of the towel against her skin, Anna jolted and averted her eyes. “Where’s your cane?” she asked, in what had to be the most obvious subject change known to mankind.

  “By the bed.”

  Oh, by the bed. He said it like he said everything else—matter-of-factly. If he was also thinking of her naked and in his bed, his tone gave nothing away.

  Anna sighed in defeat.

  “Did you get the go-ahead to stop using it?” He was still rubbing the drool from her arm, only she was pretty sure that he’d wiped everything up already. He didn’t stop, though his touch gentled, and Anna didn’t step away.

  Pull yourself together. This is getting ridiculous.

  Shut up, she told herself, and then promptly rotated her a
rm so he could access another part. She felt like she’d devolved back to high school, when it was totally cool to pretend that you’d sprained your ankle just so the cute, popular guy would stop and check for any permanent damage.

  Sassy’s drool didn’t even constitute as temporary damage, and she didn’t miss the way the Dane’s gaze snapped up to hers as though to say, Girl, I’m not that gross.

  He seemed to read her expression—which gave off a more, don’t-judge-me vibe—and snuffed through his snout before prancing over to the couch. He climbed up with one heavy leg and then the other, and didn’t even hesitate before collapsing in a hundred-fifty-pound heap on the armrest.

  A masculine hand flashed in front of her face, trying to get her attention. “You there?”

  “What? Yes.” I’ve just been having a cold war with your dog. “I’m here. Totally present. One-hundred percent in the game.”

  Luke’s brows lowered. “Are you drunk?”

  If she were, this whole gift-giving thing would probably go a lot smoother. Which brought up the question: why hadn’t she bothered to have a quick nip for courage before she’d left the boutique? Obviously, she hadn’t been thinking clearly. “I’m not drunk,” she said, forcing a light laugh that sounded strained to her own ears. “Do I seem drunk to you?”

  If it were possible, his brows lowered even farther and Anna swore they were on the verge of knitting together. In a low grumble, he muttered, “You seem . . . something.”

  Besieged by nerve-ridden anxiety? Why, yes, yes she was.

  Sassy lifted his head to stare at her, as though waiting for her to embark on a nervous meltdown. Anna didn’t do meltdowns, no matter the extent of her nerves, and when the Dane realized nothing exciting was about to go down, he planted his chin on his paws and closed his eyes against the pathetic sight of her scrambling to form coherent sentences.

  She didn’t blame him.