Winning Her Heart

by Harmony Evans

  “Isn’t she beautiful?” She beamed a megawatt grin, followed by a dismayed frown. “Wait. Don’t answer that. Just eat.”

  Between mouthfuls, he said, “You’re both beautiful. Must run in your family.”

  Jasmine wiped her hands and leaned against the back of the bar. “I didn’t want to believe you, but you’re right, Gram. He’s just like a Langston. A total flirt.”

  He put his sandwich down. “Takes one to know one,” he teased good-naturedly, unable to help himself.

  “Come on, you two. Break it up,” Lucy said, waving her hands like a referee.

  His eyes caught Jasmine’s again, and he shrugged in spite of the flame of interest he saw there. It was time to change the subject before he got into trouble.

  “How long have you owned the diner, Lucy?”

  “Over fifty years. I moved to Bay Point when I was twenty-two years old.”

  “That’s the same age I was when I opened up my first restaurant,” he exclaimed, surprised he had something in common with the feisty woman. “Now I have three.”

  Jasmine whistled. “Three restaurants!”

  “It’s not easy, but somehow I make it work.”

  “One is enough for me,” Lucy said. “I’m so blessed that Jasmine moved here to help out.”

  “Oh? How long have you been in Bay Point?”

  “Only a few months.”

  “She’s been a godsend,” Lucy said, looking over her shoulder as she rang up a customer. “I don’t know what I would do without her.”

  “It’s been about two years since I’ve been back in Bay Point,” Micah said, trying a more direct track to get the information he needed. He’d almost forgotten why he’d stopped there in the first place.

  Although the restaurant appeared to be doing well, he knew that keeping it that way was tough. If he did choose to open up his own across the street, Lucy’s customers would have a choice. He was confident that most would choose to spend their hard earned dollars at Society Red.

  “Things sure have changed. There are lots of new restaurants in town. Have they affected your business? Have you lost any customers?”

  Jasmine cut in, her tone sharp. “That’s none of your—”

  Lucy turned and laid a hand on her granddaughter’s arm. “Mind your manners.”

  “I mean. We’re doing fine,” Jasmine amended, folding her arms.

  Micah wiped his mouth with his napkin, hiding his frown of concern. Without meaning to, he’d stepped onto some invisible battleground between the two women.

  He sighed inwardly. Though he was curious, Jasmine was right. It was none of his business.

  “Lunch is our best time, though dinner is pretty steady, too,” Lucy added as she lifted the pass-through. “I’d better get back and start prepping tonight’s specials.”

  “Anything I can do to help?” he offered. “I know my way around a kitchen.”

  “Thanks, but no.” Lucy gave him a quick hug. “Careful what you ask for Micah or we’ll find something for you to do around here eventually. Won’t we, Jasmine?”

  Micah finished his sandwich while Jasmine took care of other customers at the bar.

  When she returned, she cleared away his empty plate and placed it underneath the counter.

  “How long are you in town?” she asked.

  “I’m just visiting. I’ve got to get back to Portland in a few days.”

  “Is that where you live now?”

  He shrugged. “Sometimes. I actually have an apartment in each city where I have a restaurant, so Portland, Chicago and New York City. I bounce around a lot.”

  “Sounds like fun, but I prefer to call one place home.”

  “You’ve only been here a little while. Is Bay Point ‘home’ for you already?” he teased.

  “Time will tell.” A shadow crossed her face, and he sensed she was unhappy. “My grandmother needs me.”

  She laid his bill on the counter. “I hope you enjoyed everything.”

  He barely glanced at the amount and reached into his back pocket for his wallet, keeping his eyes on hers.

  “I did, and if I said something that offended you earlier, I’m sorry.”

  Jasmine bit her lip and she seemed nervous. “You didn’t. I’m just protective of her, that’s all.”

  “And she seems protective of you,” he said, handing over his platinum credit card. “Sounds like she really relies on you.”

  “Lunchtime is busy and she needs the help.”

  She shrugged her shoulders, then glanced over at the kitchen. “But I do more than pour drinks, she’s been doing the books by herself all these years, by hand no less. I’m bringing her into the 21st century.”

  “Kicking and screaming?”

  Jasmine laughed. “Oh, yeah. Definitely.”

  “That’s wonderful. Do you help with the cooking too?”

  “No way. I try to stay out of the kitchen as much as possible.”

  She asked him if he wanted anything else, and he shook his head. He had other things to do that afternoon, but he also didn’t want their conversation to end.

  “I could give you a cooking lesson.”

  Jasmine pursed her lips. “Oh really? Can you give me an idea of what the first class would be like, so I can judge if I’m interested?”

  “How about I teach you how to make homemade spaghetti sauce? And then how to cook the perfect pasta al dente? There’s an art to cooking, you know.”

  Her half smile was sexy and dismissive at the same time. “Thanks, but with all I have to do around here, I don’t think I have time.”

  She handed him the receipt, which he quickly signed. She tried to reach for his pen, but he held on to it.

  “Wait. Before I go, I have something to ask you.”

  Jasmine furrowed her brow, but he couldn’t tell if she was annoyed or curious.

  “What is it?”

  “Do you?”

  He watched her face, deliberately being obtuse.

  “Do I what?” she repeated, drawing out the words as if she didn’t understand.

  “Care.” He pointed at her with the pen. “Your T-shirt says Ask Me if I Care. So, I’m asking. Do you care?”

  She stared into his eyes, challenging him. “That’s an odd question to ask someone you just met.”

  “Let’s just say, I care about the answer.”

  Smiling, she lifted her chin. “Rub the crystal ball and see.”

  “That old thing is still here?”

  He glanced toward the door surprised that he hadn’t noticed the large glass orb nestled on a gold-columned pedestal near the front of the restaurant when he’d first walked in.

  Locals touched it on their way in or out, hoping it would bring them good luck. He remembered giving the thing a good rub on the night of his senior prom, hoping he’d get lucky with his date. But she’d slapped him in the face when he made his move. He didn’t even make it through the first kiss.

  Over the years, his luck had changed. He had no trouble seducing any woman that he wanted, and Jasmine Kennedy would be no exception.

  He gave her a large tip, and added his phone number before handing the receipt and the pen back to her.

  “What’s that sly grin for?” she asked.

  “Call me and find out.”

  Micah winked and felt her eyes linger on his back as he headed toward the front of the restaurant. He knew she was waiting to see if he would touch the crystal ball.

  But he refused, and sailed right past it. He wasn’t a superstitious man, just a cautious one, and he didn’t believe in magic. Just hard work.

  The sun nearly blinded him when he emerged from the poorly lit restaurant. He’d forgotten his sunglasses in the car, so he shaded his eyes with his right hand and looked across the street at his building.
<
br />   There was brown paper on the windows and the scaffolding was up, but no construction workers in sight. Checking his watch, he saw that it was nearly three o’clock. Were they already done for the day?

  He stuck his hands in his pockets and jingled his keys, debating whether to check on the renovation, as he’d originally intended. He was expected for dinner at his family’s beach estate at five o’clock, but wanted to get there early for a relaxing shower and shave.

  Temporary lodging in his boyhood bedroom, he told himself.

  At this point in his life, he just wasn’t sure if his hometown was even worthy of his time, talent and money.

  He traveled regularly, living out of one suitcase, trying new cuisines and meeting new people around the world. He loved his lifestyle too much to be snagged down in one place, with one woman.

  Micah looked back over his shoulder at Lucy’s, and decided to visit his building later that evening, and check out the interior instead. There was a back entrance he could use to avoid attracting attention.

  He got into his convertible and, after verifying that the road was clear, backed out.

  All the way to his parents’ house, he denied that it was because of Jasmine that he had changed his plans.

  * * *

  “My, my, Micah. Talk about afternoon delight!”

  The man had left her a twenty-dollar tip on a ten-dollar meal. She couldn’t decide whether he was a big spender or just trying to leave a big impression. He didn’t need to wave around his money. All he needed to make heads turn was to walk into a room.

  Jasmine hurried to the front of the restaurant. She bumped one of the empty rattan dining chairs to the side with her hip and positioned herself at the window. The gold curtain rings that held red-checkered café curtains pressed against her cleavage as she peeked outside.

  A local construction worker sitting the next table over cackled at her. She ignored him, though she could feel his eyes ogling her miniskirted behind. He’d finished two orders of buffalo chicken wings and a pitcher of beer, and she knew from experience that she’d get nothing from him but trouble.

  “Just one last look. That’s all I need.”

  She clicked her tongue against the back of her teeth.

  Micah Langston was just the break she needed in the middle of a busy day.

  Handsome, sexy and not planning to stick around.

  His clean-shaven, medium brown tone skin was unlined and appeared as smooth as a baby. His nose was a little smaller than she liked, but still fit with his oval-shaped face that angled at his jaws.

  He appeared to be in his late twenties, maybe early thirties. She didn’t see him pull out any reading glasses, and the piercing way he was looking at her made her think he could see just fine.

  She wondered if the flecks of gray in his close-cut black hair were due to heredity, stress or age. She was twenty-three, so if they hooked up, they would be pretty close in age.

  Those hazel eyes with specks of deep blue had sunk into hers, and she felt a little like when she slipped on her favorite fuzzy socks at night after a long day on her feet—warm, safe and a little thankful.

  Micah had full lips that he knew to close when he munched on his food, unlike some of the customers that ate at Lucy’s. Some of the things she’d seen since arriving at her grandmother’s restaurant made her cringe even now. Just because it was cheap didn’t mean it was okay to leave one’s manners outside.

  The black Audi proved he had terrific taste in cars, and the rental plates screamed just passing through.

  Fine man, he was. Very fine.

  She watched Micah slide his sunglasses over his nose, and check his rearview mirror, but not for his reflection.

  A man that looked like him did not need to check his appearance, Jasmine thought. He was perfect.

  She pressed the palm of her hand to the back of her neck. Her skin was hot, her secret gauge that indicated she was equally hot for a man, double verifying the exquisite pull in her loins that she felt when she first laid eyes on Micah.

  He watched for cars, of which there were some crisscrossing the road, before pulling out onto Magnolia Avenue, heading west toward the beach.

  She sighed and put one hand on her hip, watching until he disappeared.

  “Get away from that window,” her grandmother said, picking up a set of rooster-shaped salt and pepper shakers from an empty booth. “Never let a man know you’re interested.”

  Jasmine turned and plastered an innocent smile on her face. “I’m not interested and besides, he’s gone.”

  “Excuse me, ma’am.”

  She moved out of the way so Donnie, one of the busboys, could clear a table that was recently vacated. His arms stretched here and there removing every dish and piece of silverware into a square plastic tub.

  As soon as he was done, Lucy slapped a wet rag down on the table and started to scrub.

  “Great. A man like Micah Langston is no good for you.”

  Jasmine spotted another patron in the corner gesturing for a check, and hurried over. After she’d run their credit card and provided the receipt, she joined Lucy back behind the bar.

  “What do you mean that Micah is no good for me? I thought the Langstons were a little like royalty in this town.”

  Lucy cocked a brow. “Just because Gregory is the mayor?”

  Jasmine shrugged, placing a used beer glass on a tray under the bar.

  Two years ago, Jasmine had graduated with honors from Tulane University with a degree in business administration, and a minor in accounting. Because of her strong internship history, she was lucky enough to land a job with a small advertising agency in the French Quarter as a junior account manager.

  The pay was decent, the work interesting. She’d enjoyed helping the agency’s clients, who were mostly restaurants, shops and historical sites, with their marketing strategy in hopes of attracting increased numbers of tourists to their respective businesses.

  Then one night she’d stayed until almost midnight to help finalize a new business pitch. Her boss put his hand on her thigh, and she gave him a right hook across his leering mouth, and she never went back. Broke her lease and used her rent money to fly one-way to California.

  “The Langstons have been here for generations,” Lucy continued. “Micah is the only one who, after college, didn’t come back to stay.”

  “He probably figured you were the best chef in town, so why stay here and get his butt beat?”

  Lucy patted Jasmine’s cheek, and she relished the touch of her grandmother’s hand.

  “You’re kind to flatter me, but I’m not the one who is on television, am I?”

  “Did you ever want fame and fortune?”

  Lucy shook her head. “No, I moved to Bay Point to brush shoulders with both from time to time.”

  “The town used to be a weekend getaway for the stars, wasn’t it?”

  Lucy wiped down the bar and smiled wistfully. “I’ve seen my fair share of Hollywood royalty during the almost fifty years this restaurant has been open.”

  Lucy’s Bar and Grille was an institution in Bay Point. It was no Sardis, the famed New York City restaurant with hundreds of celebs and Broadway stars on the walls, both in atmosphere or price, but it was charming nonetheless. Several black-and-white or color autographed celebrity photos hung on the walls, alongside old porcelain, Cajun art and other antique treasures her grandmother had brought with her from her native Louisiana.

  To most people in Bay Point, her grandmother’s restaurant was just a homespun place to eat, but Jasmine knew that it was Lucy’s life. And she also knew that as the town continued to grow, so would the competition to threaten its existence.

  “The men and the women were gorgeous. Glamorous! And the directors?” Lucy wrinkled her nose. “Pigs, mostly, with hands like an octopus.”

  She tho
ught about her boss, Peter, and what he’d tried to do, what he wanted to do. A flash of anger rose up inside her, like bile, and Jasmine almost thought she was going to be sick. She poured herself a ginger ale and sipped it slowly until the feeling passed.

  Donnie gathered up the last of the shiny aluminum carafes that held Lucy’s famous “bottomless coffee.” The lunch crowd was slowly filing out which meant only one thing. The dinner crowd would soon replace them, gathering again in the vintage button-tufted blue vinyl booths that lined the walls or at the green Formica tables scattered about the room.

  Jasmine rang out the last customer at the bar and sighed. Since she’d arrived, she’d been so busy helping her grandmother that she barely had time to notice anything but receipts spitting out of a credit card machine, and the unpaid bills piling up in the back office.

  Although Mayor Langston had done a great job revitalizing downtown Bay Point with new restaurants, housing and shops, and they had customers other than the regulars, they weren’t out of the hole yet.

  She’d already talked the landlord, George Stodwell, off the cliff of eviction. He’d given them another six months to pay the back rent owed or she’d be selling jerk chicken from the trunk of her Mini Cooper.

  Jasmine wrung a rag out in the bar sink, wishing for a moment that it was Stodwell’s neck. But she knew better than anyone that violence didn’t solve anything. It just made things worse.

  Besides, her grandmother needed her, though she would never admit it. Now in her seventies, Lucy Dee Diller was as feisty and fierce as her Cajun dishes.

  Growing up, Jasmine had never really known her. Lucy’d been so busy with the restaurant that she rarely returned to New Orleans. This was her chance to give her grandmother the love and affection she’d wanted to since she was a little girl. Lucy was trying to teach her how to cook, and now with her warning about Micah, also about men.

  “Some guys are okay,” Jasmine said, handing Lucy the cash drawer.

  “Yes, the mayor is a fine man. But he’s taken. Money and good looks flow throughout the Langston family tree, but as far as I’m concerned, Micah can plant his seed somewhere else.”