She tried again. “What I meant to say is, I don’t know if Gage told you, but I operate a photography company. We’re largely social-media based, but I do most of my work out of N’Orleans.”
“Do you?” The curiosity in his voice had her turning around to face him. He rubbed the back of his neck with one hand. “Yeah,” he said gruffly, dark eyes moving to the wall behind her, “the photos are shit; you can say it.” His laugh was short and low. “We can set up a time or what not. Anything’s got to be better than what I have up now.”
“They’re not awful . . .”
“Yeah, they are.” Another laugh. “Anyway, if you’re based locally, you should join EOCC—sorry, it’s Entrepreneurs of the Crescent City. I got roped into it a few years back, and hell if I know why I still go”—the way his dark eyes darted to the front windows hinted that yeah, maybe he knew exactly why he still went—“but without fail, the first Tuesday of every month, my ass is there and eating some of the shittiest food you’ll ever taste.”
Lizzie tucked a hand against her mouth to stifle a laugh. “Just so you know, you’re really selling it, Owen.”
His mouth tugged upward. “Trust me, you don’t want to hear me when I’m really trying to push my case.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “Pathetic.”
“I’m sure you’re fine.” Why did she get the feeling that he was talking about a woman? Wanting to push, but not wanting to press her luck, Lizzie gave him a noncommittal wave of her hand, brushing aside his worries. “I’m always up for crappy food, especially in the mix of other businesses. It’s a bonding experience.”
The more she thought about this EOCC thing, the more excited she grew. It was the perfect step to gather her brand and own it, just as Gage had told her to do. The calendar spread was one thing—and she appreciated Gage trying to help her take the reins—but joining a group like EOCC?
She almost wanted to throw an arm around Owen for a hug.
Followed by a quick two-step around Inked.
For years, she’d spent her life online. Dating. Working. Interacting with other people.
But finally she was shedding that lifestyle, and it felt damn good to know that she could be just as successful in her own city as she could as a nameless identity over the internet.
“I’m looking forward to—”
The rest of her sentence was cut off by the front door flinging open and Gage storming through like a gust of dark storm clouds. “I swear to God,” he ground out, his eyes on his twin, “my ass was pinched at least three times on the way back here.”
“The little old ladies again?” Owen said.
Gage shuddered. “You’d think that they’d be the respectable ones coming into town, but no. There they are pushin’ the damn walker along the sidewalk, and I become a casualty of walking down the damn street.”
Lizzie couldn’t hold in her laugh. It slipped out like a firecracker bursting, loud and heavy and not the least bit delicate.
Gage whipped around at the sound, and she didn’t miss the way his lips lifted in a half-smile. “Find that funny, do you now?”
“Hilarious,” she told him. “What can I say? Those little old ladies have good taste.”
“You’re damn right they do.”
“Lizzie,” Owen groaned, “don’t boost the guy’s ego anymore. It’s big enough.” He pointed a finger at his brother. “Don’t say it.”
Throwing a wink in her direction, Gage put his hands up, all innocent-like. “Say what? I wouldn’t dare dream of disputin’ that—it is big.”
Lizzie could testify to that statement. Gage Harvey certainly wasn’t lacking in the dick department; the man was perfectly proportioned all the way around. Even so, she couldn’t help but enjoy the brothers’ back and forth.
For some reason, she’d gotten the sense that perhaps they weren’t that close, and it was nice to know that wasn’t the case. For however much hell she gave Danny, she couldn’t imagine her life without him. He’d been an ally on her side since they’d been kids, and she figured Owen and Gage, being twins, were even closer.
Probably came with the territory of sharing the same womb for nine months.
“Have you been waitin’ long?” Gage asked her, driving her pulse faster with each step he took in her direction.
If he caught the wide-eyed look she sent Owen, he didn’t say anything. “No, just a few minutes.” She swallowed an ill-timed giggle. “I actually wanted to ask you a question. Okay, it’s two questions.”
His expression tensed, and Lizzie threw up a hand. “Nothing bad, I promise.”
“Just what every guy wants to hear,” Owen called out from the tables behind the bar. “For future reference, baby, don’t lead off with that.”
Her mistake.
But it really wasn’t bad. “Do you want to grab an early dinner maybe?”
“Oh, Jesus,” Gage muttered, slipping his hand over her jaw to angle her face for a kiss to her forehead, “trying to fatten me up before you slit my throat, are you?”
Her nose wrinkled. “That’s disgusting.”
“I have a morbid sense of humor.”
“No,” she drew out, pursing her lips, “I never would have guessed.”
“She’s a spitfire,” Owen said.
“Yeah, she is.” Gage’s dark eyes dropped to her mouth, and she could easily read the lust swirling there. The man was insatiable, it seemed, when it came to her. “All right, let’s do early dinner. We’ll grab some po’boys and head up to sit along the river.”
Against her will, her heart flipped over in her chest, and that same damn litany she’d been hearing started up again: him, him, him.
“So romantic,” she teased, a touch breathlessly.
His mouth stamped down over hers in a kiss that stole her breath. “Keep it between us, princess.”
“And me,” Owen griped. “Get out of here before I throw up. Y’all are sickening.”
Sickening, maybe, but so happy.
And for a girl who had a track record of dating douchebags, it felt good to be with a guy who really seemed to care about her. Even if they weren’t dating. And even if all they’d ever be was friends-with-benefits.
22
By the time they grabbed their po’boys—fried oyster for her and fried shrimp for him—and made their way up to the riverfront, the sun had already begun to set.
It felt . . . Gage stared down at Lizzie’s chocolate-brown hair, feeling a measure of panic settle in his stomach. Well, it was beginning to feel a lot like a date.
Like they were dating.
A relationship.
Couple-hood.
Fuck.
“Gage,” she said now, fussing with her sandwich bag, her purse, and the oversized jean jacket she’d thrown over one arm, “can you hold this a sec?”
She didn’t give him the chance to tell her no. A bright blue bag with a crazy number of straps was shoved against his chest as she set the sandwich bag on the bench and slipped into her jacket. “Blue’s a good color on you,” she teased, lips lifting in a soft smile. “Let me know if I should buy you one of your own.”
“I’m good.”
“In so many ways, too.” She threw her head back and laughed at her own innuendo, and no matter how much he knew distance was necessary, Gage couldn’t stop himself from setting a hand to her waist and claiming her lips for a kiss.
Her palms immediately came to rest on his chest, her mouth eagerly parting under his. What he’d intended to be a casual brush of the lips deepened. His tongue sought entry into her mouth, and she gave it without hesitation. Parting her lips, releasing a small moan when he tugged her closer. The damn purse kept him from dragging her flush against him.
As if sensing his frustration, she chuckled against his mouth and pulled back to murmur, “Poor Officer Harvey. That purse is like a modern-day chastity belt.”
She smelled like flowers. Sunshine.
Do you hear yourself, man?
Stepping back, he set h
er purse on the bench and sat down to the right of it. She took the spot to the left. A modern-day barrier wall was more like it. If she noticed his strained expression, she didn’t bring it up. With a little hum of happiness, she broke into her po’boy and took a massive bite off the end.
Her gaze soaked up the Mississippi River before them. The grassy levee, the ferry shepherding people from the French Quarter to Algiers, directly across from them. From where they sat, he could make out the church steeple of St. Mary’s, as well as Algiers City Hall. New Orleans’s Central Business District arched into the sky to their right, sunlight glancing off the windows.
“Have you ever taken one of those river cruises?” she asked without preamble, indicating with her sandwich to the historical steamboats which sat nearby in the water.
“Nah.” Unwrapping the wax paper from around his po’boy, he added, “Seems like something you do with family.”
Shit. Not what he’d intended to say at all. It practically begged her to ask a question, to poke around some, and those doors were locked tight. He opened his mouth, prepared to cover his ass, when she tromped right over his silence.
“Yeah, I can see that. Tourists, family, couples.” Her perpetual smile dimmed ever so slightly. “I’ve never done one either. Always looked like fun, though.”
His hands itched to smooth away the frown from between her brows, but that’d lead her on, right? Encourage the idea that they were anything more than casual sex. He felt like the worst kind of dick. Striving for nonchalance, he said, “If you want a boat ride, princess, you’re better off sailing on the lake. Wide open space, blue for as far as you can see.”
She turned her head to study him. “Have you been sailing before?”
Gage laughed. “Never, but it seems like something I’d enjoy. Sometimes I get tired of the grit of the city.”
“Seems like you might be in the wrong profession, then.” Her eyes sparkled as she tacked on, “I can’t imagine your job is all rainbows and unicorns.”
Only in his dreams. “No,” he said with a slow shake of his head, “it’s not. Furthest thing from it.”
“I know.” She bumped his shoulders with hers. “Big brother is on the job, remember?”
“Oh, I remember.”
She took another bite of her po’boy, and he did the same. “You know, he warned me about you.”
“Seems fitting, since he casually told me the other day that he’d slice off my dick if I hurt you.”
“Slice?”
“Yeah, slice. Told me he could go for a quick shot with his .22, but where’s the fun in making it all end quickly?” Gage shifted his body, uncomfortably remembering that joy of a conversation with Nathan Danvers two days ago. “Your brother has issues, in case you didn’t know.”
Her laughter was like music to his ears, husky and throaty and so many shades of sexy. “Tell me something I don’t know. In case you’re wondering, it doesn’t run in the family.” She leaned in as though imparting a big, bad secret. “I’m totally sane.”
Gage barked out laughter. “Lies.”
“What?” She pointed her po’boy at his chest. “Take that back.”
“Nuh-uh, princess, no can do.” He bit into his sandwich, chewing slowly, determined to ignore the warmth spreading in his chest. She was damned infectious. Her humor, that smile, the way she fidgeted with excitement. “Make another wish.”
Her eyes narrowed. “I’ve already hit three, if you recall. Don’t be a tease, Gage.”
“Not being a tease.” Except that he sure enjoyed messing with her every chance he got. Mimicking her earlier pose, he leaned in, silently encouraging her to do the same. Which she did, admittedly with a theatrical sigh. “Now, you might have hit three wishes, but there is something you can rub to earn yourself another.” He purposely dropped his gaze to his crotch. “What d’you say, Lizzie? Want another wish?”
Her plump lips parted. “You . . . you . . .”
“All you have to do is say the word, and I’ll make it happen for you.” He waggled his brows, thoroughly enjoying the way her cheeks crested with red. Any moment she’d throw her hands up in the air, or maybe launch her po’boy at his face, and man, he almost couldn’t wait for it.
This repertoire with her, it was more dangerous to him than anything else. From the moment that she’d strolled into Inked on Bourbon, he’d felt completely at ease around her. Yeah, he was tense—lust tended to do that to a guy—but even the lust couldn’t deny everything else: Lizzie Danvers was quickly becoming his best friend.
And for a guy like him, who’d spent his entire adult life keeping everyone, even his brother, on the surface level, he was close to falling down the rabbit hole of no return.
He’d been here before. Maybe not quite like this. He and Michelle had been practically kids when everything had gone to shit. But fourteen years didn’t dilute the memory of how he was when he fell hard for a woman, just as it didn’t dilute the memory of being left behind.
The heat of his body cooled, and he wrapped the rest of his po’boy up, prepared to throw it into the black waste bin a few feet away. He turned to Lizzie, noting the blush that still reddened her smooth skin. “You all set with your food? I’ll toss out whatever you don’t want.”
“I’ll do it.”
He arched a brow. “Do what?”
She visibly swallowed. “Rub your genie lamp.”
“My genie lamp?” Laughter erupted from him, and tears sprung to his eyes. Jesus, she was amazing. “C’mon,” he said, gesturing for her crumpled up wax paper, “give me that and I’ll throw it out. We can walk along the river. Ask me your questions. Whatever you’re feelin’ like.”
“I’m serious,” she said, her blue eyes near slits with determination, “I’ll rub it.”
Gage scrubbed a hand over his face. Stop smiling, man, it’s weird. “I was kidding, Liz. You ready to get out of here?”
She launched up from her seat, moving toward him with sharp motions. Her hands came down on his thighs, nails digging in, her beautiful face mere inches away from his. And then . . . and then her palm cupped him, and damn him if she didn’t give a little circle.
Maybe he should have put up a fight, told her to stop because the dude two benches down was giving them the eye like he knew Gage was as hard as the damn stone his feet were planted on, but he didn’t.
Because he couldn’t.
Didn’t stop him from growling, “You lied, princess. You’re as certifiable as your brother.”
Her grin was pure self-satisfaction. “Hey, I didn’t threaten to slice off your dick.”
“No,” Gage grumbled, gripping the lip of the bench to keep from reaching for her, “you’re just ensuring my arrest for indecent exposure.”
“Indecent exposure,” she repeated, licking her lips like the temptress she was, “I like that. Perfect name for a photography series on the sexy side of N’Orleans. Thanks for that.”
“Lizzie.”
Blue eyes dipped down to his mouth. “Yes, Gage?”
“If you keep that rubbing up, I’m going to revoke your wish rights.”
“What?” She pouted dramatically, and he felt the absurd need to laugh. Again. “But how will I rub your genie lamp?”
“Good question.” He drew in a deep breath, seeking elusive control over the situation. “The genie wish has spoken for the day. You get whatever you want.”
“Brilliant!” Her mouth brushed his in a sudden kiss, and she dropped back onto the bench beside him, half-crushing her purse under her butt.
Leaving him with a hard-on the size of Louisiana.
As subtly as possible, Gage pressed the heel of his hand to his cock, seeking relief from the want. He couldn’t even be mad when she looked as pleased with herself as she did, even if it was at his expense.
“When’s your next few days off?”
She wanted to talk right now? A man could only do so much with the blood in his body, and right now, Gage’s was all south of the equator
. “Hell,” he muttered, “I don’t know. This weekend comin’ up? I think.”
“Oh, that’s perfect!”
Gage thought so, too. It was rare that his days off aligned with both the NOPD and Inked, not to mention his volunteering. But why did she find it perfect? “It is?” he said, a tad warily.
“Rubbing the genie lamp works.” She winked playfully at him. “I actually met with this guy today; you probably don’t know who he is. Robert Heston? Anyway, he’s this major photographer in N’Orleans, and he saw my photos on Instagram. He reached out and we met. Gage, he wants me to collab with him on a new series about abandoned structures in Louisiana!”
Her enthusiasm was addicting, and before he knew it, he’d stolen another kiss from her lips. A congratulatory kiss, he told himself, nothing more. So much for putting up boundaries. “That’s great, princess. You gonna take him up on it?”
“Heck ya.” She patted his thigh familiarly. “I told him I could get started this weekend. I mean, without worrying about ThatMakeupGirl, my schedule is pretty wide open at the moment. Would you”—she tucked her hair behind one ear—“would you want to come with me maybe? Have another adventure, although preferably without landing in the swamp this time?”
The adrenaline junkie in him shouted, hell yes. Exploring abandoned buildings? It was right up his ally. Hell, at least a few times per week he found himself at trap houses in the city along with S.O.D. Most of those properties had been usurped by vines and nature, thanks to disuse since Hurricane Katrina. Nowadays, junkies squatted in them. Guns were stored beneath the raised foundations. Drug transactions passed hands within the unhallowed walls.
He doubted that this abandoned location of hers would have any of the . . . additives of his job, but still, could be fun.
“Yeah,” he told her, waiting for that moment when her blue eyes lit with joy, “I’ll go.”
He waited.
And he waited.
When she bit her lower lip nervously, Gage’s sensor went haywire. “What else is there?”
Vote Then Read: Volume III Page 281