by K. A. Ware
We both stared at our hands in silence. I wanted to say something to make the moment last. The feelings he stirred up made me both terrified and exhilarated, but all that slipped out was the one thing that shouldn’t have.
“I’m married.”
He didn’t miss a beat. “Where’s your husband, Addie?”
I answered honestly, “In bed with a stripper.”
“And where are you?”
“Half-naked in your apartment.”
“Then your argument is null and void. Plus, I’ve never swung from a pole in my life.”
I let out a hearty laugh, and as silence filled the room again, I blurted out, “Roland never held my hair.”
Lifting my chin, he captured my face and held it between his two huge palms. “Roland never deserved you.”
Our lips hovered inches away from each other, Zep’s eyes searching mine as the door swung open and bounced against the door stopper.
“I hope you don’t mind, but we knocked and no one answered,” Pope announced balancing a bag in one hand and coffee in the other. Savannah bounded behind him with fresh clothes and a shit-eating grin. “I brought beignets. Who’s hungry?”
Butterflies swirled in my stomach. Zep’s face tightened in frustration, but I felt nothing but relief. My sister had always had shitty timing, but in this instance, it couldn’t have been more perfect. Some mistakes weren’t meant to be repeated.
I’d have to answer to Savannah’s raised eyebrow later, but until then, I’d just been…saved by the Pope.
Chapter 3
Natural Progression
Savannah
New Orleans, Louisiana
Well that’s not suspicious at all.
I eyed the sworn mortal enemies sitting at a rickety dining room table in their underwear, looking decidedly guilty. “It’s nice to see that you guys didn’t tear each other to shreds, but I’m not sure the same can be said for your clothes. In fact, most of them seem to be missing. Care to explain?”
Maneuvering around Pope who looked about as uncomfortable as Addie, I took a seat at the table across from them, propped my chin in my hand and waited. My eyes darted from one half naked enemy to the other, just waiting for one of them to crack.
Addie was the first to break. "My clothes are in the wash. If you remember, my lunch made a reappearance last night."
I nodded solemnly. "Ah yes, the case of the mysterious chili cheese fries. But that doesn't explain why Zep here is in his underwear."
Zep laughed, the sound so deep it reverberated through the room. "You're lucky I put anything on," he quipped with a mouthful of bacon. "I sleep naked." At that, Addie's cheeks flushed scarlet, and she became suddenly very interested in the scuffed Formica tabletop.
Curiouser and curiouser.
"Thank you for sparing us," I said dryly, opening up the bag I'd brought in. The delicious smell of fried dough and sugar hit me immediately, and apparently, it hit Addie at the same time because she gagged and slapped her hand over her mouth before bolting from the table and down the hall.
"Shit, not again," Zep muttered, moving to stand at the same time I did.
We both halted, not sure what to do next.
"I'll just—" I started.
Just as he said, "I can—"
We were at a standstill, Addie hadn't had a chance to fill me in on what, if anything, had gone on between the two of them the previous night. There was a definite shift in their attitudes toward each other in the last twenty-four hours. Zep and I stared at each other, unsure of how to navigate this new territory. That is, until we heard the unmistakable sounds of dry heaving filtering down the hall.
"You should probably go," Zep said, squeezing the back of his neck uncomfortably. "I think I've gotten my fill of puke duty to last me for a lifetime."
I smiled lamely at him, standing to give Pope's arm a reassuring squeeze before setting off toward the parlor of puke. Pope had managed well with my particular brand of crazy thus far, and I prayed a sister who couldn't hold her liquor wouldn't be the thing that sent him packing.
I winced as I approached the bathroom door to the sounds of heaving. Knocking lightly, I called out. "Ads?"
No response.
"Addie? You okay?"
Still nothing.
Taking a deep breath and holding it for fear of throwing up myself, I pushed the door open. Addie was leaning against the wall next to the toilet, hair a wild nest atop her head.
"Oh Ads, honey here." I tore off a couple squares of toilet paper and handed them to her to clean off her face. She groaned something unintelligible but took it. She didn't look like she was going to be ready to get up anytime soon, so I took a seat on the edge of the tub.
I guess we're having this conversation in the bathroom of her sworn enemy's apartment.
"I’d ask you how you're feeling, but I think that answer is pretty obvious. Why don't we start with you telling me why you and Zep looked like two teenagers caught at make out point when we walked in?"
Addie groaned again, the sound even more pathetic than the last. "I don't really remember much of last night other than staring at the toilet bowl. He actually keeps a pretty clean place for a single guy. There's not even a ring around the bowl."
I stared at her, bewildered.
"What? Is there something on my face?" She began frantically wiping her mouth with the hem of the jersey she wore.
"No, stop that. It's just... I'm pretty sure you just gave Zephirin LeBlanc a compliment and you didn't burst into flames."
"Being surprised he isn't the troll-like slob I thought he was isn't a compliment. It's a statement of fact," she argued, although it lacked her normal fire and brimstone hatred.
"Sure, Ads. Whatever you say. So, I take it you're not going to be up for another night of debauchery any time soon? It’s Fat Tuesday. Last night was just a precursor to the real party tonight."
"Ugh, no. I can't even think of alcohol without wanting to vomit. How are you so damn chipper?"
I laughed, but it was hollow. There was still so much about me that my sister didn't know. For all intents and purposes, we'd been relative strangers for the better part of the last decade. "First of all, I didn't drink as much as you did. Secondly, I was clearly the only one of us that inherited Babs's tolerance for liquor, and lastly, I burned it all off having wild monkey sex with Pope last night." I wiggled my eyebrows at her suggestively as if my words weren't enough to get the point across.
"Fantastic. My little sister not only avoided praying to the porcelain Gods all night, but also by the looks of your smile had three, maybe four orgasms? Did I get that right?"
I shrugged. "It was five, but who's counting?"
That coaxed a small but genuine laugh out of her.
"So, you and Pope, huh? Lucky you ran into him last night."
I shot her a slightly guilty look. "Not exactly a coincidence.” I hadn't divulged to Addie that I'd kept in contact with Pope since he drove us home from Shreveport and we'd spent the night in the Viking Mobile. In fact, there hadn't been a day since we met that we hadn't talked or texted. And I certainly hadn't told her that I knew he was going to be working the Quarter the night before.
"Spill it," she demanded, getting to her feet.
I shrugged again, not knowing what to say. "We've kept in contact. He’d mentioned that he was going to be patrolling last night and that's kind of where the idea for our impromptu road trip came from."
"You could've just come up to see him instead of dragging me along with you under false pretenses."
"Hey, it wasn't like that. I really did want to break you out of your rut. And admit it, before you puked all over Zep and yourself, you were having fun."
She moved to the sink, grabbed the toothpaste and, began finger brushing her teeth. “Maybe a little,” she admitted around a mouthful of foam.
Once she was sufficiently cleaned up we emerged from the dungeon of vomit. Pope and Zep were sitting at the kitchen table inhaling the
beignets we’d brought. Thankfully, Zep had found pants in our absence, although the idea of a shirt still evaded him.
I glared at their powdered sugar covered hands and faces. “Hey, you vultures! Did you at least save one for me?”
Pope was lifting up a paper plate with a fat beignet on it before I’d even finished my mini-rant. While I knew I should’ve appreciated his thoughtfulness, it kind of annoyed me that I didn’t get my dose of righteous indignation in.
Taking a seat at the table, the three of us finished our breakfast in silence while Addie made herself at home on the couch. She was covered with a giant Saint’s blanket with what looked like one of Zep’s sweatshirts rolled up like a pillow under her messy head. I would’ve asked her if she wanted one of the deliciously delectable pastries, but from her reaction earlier, I thought it best not to mention food.
Once we were done, Pope stood and cleared his throat. "So, would you mind if I stole your sister for the day?"
Addie moved the arm she’d flung over her face to look at him. "Do what you will with her. I'm going to lay here and mooch off Zep for the rest of the day and try to remember what it feels like to be human."
Zep spoke up then, his voice laced heavily with sarcasm. "Sure, Addie you can stay here, I didn't have any plans."
Addie groaned as she stretched an arm out for the remote on the coffee table, doing her best to activate her Go-Go-Gadget arm without moving the rest of her body. "See, it all worked out. You two go have fun, I'm going to see what's on Zep's DVR."
"Don't you dare delete my shows!" Zep hollered at her from the kitchen.
She rolled her eyes and waved dismissively in the direction of his protests. "I'll text you if I end up accidentally murdering him. You're a cop, Pope. You know how to get rid of a body don't you?"
Pope gave me a side-eyed glance but nodded, albeit reluctantly. "I'm sure I could come up with something."
Once again Zep called out, peeking his head out from around the corner. "I fucking heard that! Dude, whatever happened to bro code?"
"Have you seen her sister? Sorry, but you’re on your own with that one," Pope explained, motioning to Addie's still form sprawled out on the couch.
Zep mumbled something about traitors and wandered back into the kitchen, the sounds of dishes clanking together in the sink drowned out his grumblings. Addie had been right. Surveying the apartment, I noticed it was spotless. Some of his furniture was older, and he had the required bachelor style black leather couch and giant TV, but everything was immaculately clean. Maybe Zep and my sister had more in common than I’d originally thought.
“Okay then, we’re going to go,” I called out, not sure who I was talking to since Addie was flipping through channels and Zep was, from the sound of it, taking his frustration out on a frying pan.
“Have fun, text me later,” Addie said in way of goodbye without even looking away from the TV.
Way to make a girl feel needed.
I trailed Pope out of the apartment and heard my sisters voice ring out behind the closing door. "Oh, my God! You record The Bachelor?"
Zep’s deep growl echoed in response followed by a heavy thump. "Goddamn it, Addie! Give me the fucking remote!"
I couldn't contain my giggle at their antics. Either we were going to come back to a scene of carnage or the two of them in bed, I wasn’t sure which would be worse.
"Should I be worried?" Pope asked as we made our way to his Jeep.
I shook my head ruefully.
If he only knew.
"Nah, they've always been like this and they've yet to cause irreparable bodily damage."
Pope’s light brows dipped down over his crystal blue eyes in concern. "Somehow that doesn't make me feel better."
I couldn’t help but mess with him just a little bit, he seemed genuinely worried about their well-being. "There was the one time with a fire. They managed to put it out quickly, just a little smoke inhalation. Nothing to be too worried about."
"Right.” His voice sounded entirely unconvinced as he rounded the Jeep and opened my door. My stomach flipped a little at his chivalry. He’d done the same thing the night before and again that morning when we’d left his house. I was all for being a strong independent woman, but a small part of me was thrilled at the idea of this man taking care of me.
"So where are we going?" I asked when he climbed in beside me. I needed to steal his attention away from the impending atom bomb that was about to explode in Zep apartment. Knowing Snow White and not so Prince Charming, anything was possible.
Pope cranked the engine and shot me a blinding smile, one of his perfect dimples winking at me. "It's a surprise."
If he only knew the power just one of those dimples had over me, I'd be in serious trouble.
I blinked at him in confusion. "I've been with you all morning, when exactly did you have time to plan a surprise?"
"When you were in the shower."
The grin that took up residence on my face couldn’t be helped. "Before or after you jumped me?"
"Before, and for the record, I did not jump you. I was merely bringing you a fresh towel. You're the one that was lathering yourself up like you putting on a show. There's only so much I can take. I'm only a man."
"I'm going to take that as a compliment."
"You should." His voice was thick with the memories of the morning’s events.
My stomach did that little flip again when I remembered how he'd surprised me in the shower; the way his rough hands danced across my slick skin and the feel of his body pressed all along mine sent shivers down my spine. The man was a specimen. With the kind of solid frame only good genes could supply and corded muscle that would make grown women weep.
I discretely shifted in my seat trying to elevate the growing ache between my legs. I was excited to see what he'd planned for the day, but I was half tempted to tell him to forget it and take me back to his house where we could spend the entire day in bed. Foreplay had always been a serious requirement for me., but somehow, someway, all Quentin Pope had to do was kiss me and I was putty in his hands.
Every. Damn. Time.
As we drove through the streets of New Orleans it occurred to me that being with Pope was easy, too easy. I felt like I was waiting for the other shoe to drop or for him to reveal some terrible flaw Like he was going to suddenly announce that he was an ax murderer or that he collected porcelain dolls, but from what I could tell the man was perfect. He was thoughtful, kind, passionate, and better yet, he seemed to genuinely enjoy my crazy antics.
I couldn't help but think about what Madame Laroux had said and wonder if the great love she’d talked about was, in fact, the man sitting next to me. I didn’t want to put too much stock in the advice of a woman who charged twenty dollars for the secrets of the universe, but I found myself hoping that the man she’d described to me was Pope. From what I could tell, he was everything I'd ever wanted in a man, but if I believed Madame Laroux, that also meant that something in my past was going to come back to bite me in the ass, possibly screwing everything up.
"What's going in in that head of yours?" Pope’s question jerking me out of my thoughts.
"Hmm?"
He reached over and squeezed my thigh, a comforting gesture that spoke of something much more familiar than our budding relationship should’ve been. "I can see your wheels spinning, Savannah. What's on your mind?"
Since I couldn’t exactly tell him what I’d really been thinking about, in true Savvy fashion I blurted out the first thing that came to mind. "Just trying to figure out if you have some weird porcelain doll fetish."
He barked out a laugh. "Not that I'm aware of, but I'll keep you posted if I feel the urge to start a collection." He shook his head with a grin. "Where do you come up with this stuff?"
"My brain is a fascinating place. I'm thinking about donating it to science after I die. I think there's a lot they could learn from me."
"I'm sure there is Miss Savannah Dubois, I'm sure there is."
"Not for long, we're just getting on the street car and taking it down to the Garden District."
I felt my eyes bug out. "Where all the celebrities live?”
A hesitant expression passed over his face and he rubbed at his chin before responding. "Yeah, you had said that you loved old architecture so I figured you’d like to see some of New Orleans oldest and most beautiful homes. But if you’re not into it we can do something else.” He had tacked on the last part in a rush. Seeing him nervous and unsure of himself was a relief. At least I wasn’t the only one out of their element.
“No, it sounds fantastic,” I said hurriedly, realizing I’d left him hanging
“Good, the history of the Crescent City is incredible, and something tells me that you’re going to be interested in the imaginative stories that go along with it.”
"Are you talking about the ghosts and vampires? Because I know Anne Rice’s house is in the Garden District. Her inspiration had to come from somewhere."
He chuckled. "Are you telling me that you believe in vampires?"
"I'm not telling you I don't," I teased.
Pushing open the door, he turned to me. "All right, let's go and see if we can find Lestat for you."
We spent the day walking the Garden District looking at old homes and searching for celebrities. I could’ve sworn I saw John Goodman, but by the time I’d gotten Pope’s attention he’d disappeared. We didn't need a tour guide because Pope seemed to know everything there was to know about every landmark we came across. When I’d asked him how he managed to sound like a professional tour guide he’d just said that he grown up in New Orleans. After a bit of expert prying I got him to divulge that he had moved to Shreveport right after graduating the police academy five years ago and had been trying to make his way back ever since.
It didn’t seem like a subject he was too keen on diving into so I let it drop. In all the conversations we'd had over the past couple months, Pope had rarely mentioned his family. I knew he had two sisters, his parents were still together, and they all lived in New Orleans, which was the biggest reason for the move. He confided that his parents never wanted him to be a cop, but they’d come around to the idea eventually and were proud of him. A little fact that I sensed was a bigger deal to him then he’d let on.