by Meghan March
My inner list-lover surged to life at her tempting offer. “I’d love that.”
“Then come with me and prepare to be wowed. We’ll eat pralines until we’re sick, and see if you can get Bishop all stirred up again.” She winked at me, and I immediately regretted my hasty acceptance.
“Maybe that’s not such a good idea.”
Delilah’s dark eyes shined with mischief. “I think it’s the best idea I’ve had in forever. Come on. I won’t take no for an answer.”
And that’s how I ended up allowing myself to be dragged back to Voodoo Ink within a half hour of deciding I wasn’t going to walk past the tattoo shop ever again—no matter how badly I wanted to.
“Dirty Dog is my absolute favorite for clothes. Some of their vintage stuff is a little pricey, but not overpriced, you know what I mean? It’s just good stuff. For eats, you have to check out the Cookery and Desire. I could literally give you a list as long as your arm. If you want to get out of the Quarter, it gets even longer.”
My anxiety rose with every step we took toward the shop, but Delilah’s cheerful monologue about awesome restaurants and shops helped drown it out, even if I didn’t think I’d recall the name of a single place. Before too long, we stood in front of the door I remembered all too well. When she yanked it open, I wasn’t ready.
My gaze scanned the vicinity for any kind of delay I could grasp.
The sign on the building next door read YOUR FAVORITE HOLE with a giant donut as the O in hole.
Coffee. They liked caffeine.
“Do you want me to grab some coffee from next door to go with those pralines?”
Delilah paused with her hand on the door as the chimes tinkled. “I sure wouldn’t turn it down.”
Grateful for the momentary reprieve to get my thoughts in order, I stepped away from the door of Voodoo like someone had put some kind of spell across the entrance specifically designed to keep me out.
As soon as I walked into Your Favorite Hole, I realized my mistake in running away from the inevitable.
Because there he was. Standing in line one person ahead of me. He was unmistakable with that mane of brown-and-gold hair wrapped up in a man bun. At five foot six, I considered myself average height, but he had to have at least eight or ten inches on me.
I wonder what else is eight or ten inches. Where the thought came from, I had no idea, but I silenced it . . . although not before dropping my gaze to the worn jeans that cupped his ass below the hem of his black Voodoo Ink T-shirt. The memory of yesterday’s bulge stepped onto the center stage of my brain.
Bishop turned around, coffee cup in one hand and a brown paper bag in the other.
First the single-take. Then the double-take. Followed by the fleeting look of surprise.
“Eden.”
A stupid thrill ran through me when he said my name. I shouldn’t be impressed that he hasn’t forgotten it in twelve hours. And yet, I kind of was.
“Uh, hi?” I waved awkwardly, my wristlet dangling from my waving hand.
Wow. Smooth, E.
He backed away from the counter and came toward me. The woman in front of me in line turned and dragged her gaze from the thick black soles of his boots up to the top of his man-bunned head, all but salivating at the sight.
“How was the room?” he asked.
“Good. Fine. Great. Really nice. Thank you. I appreciate it. Really.”
He stayed silent after my word vomit.
The woman in front of me paid for her coffee and donuts and moved toward the counter, where the barista would undoubtedly set up the drinks.
“Ma’am, what can I get for ya?” the woman behind the cash register asked, providing the interruption I needed.
Bishop’s attention stayed on me and his feet remained planted on the floor. I opened my mouth to order before realizing I had no idea what kind of coffee I should order for Delilah.
Chancing another glance up at Bishop, I found him still watching me. “Do you know what Delilah drinks?”
His brows knitted together. “You’re coming to the shop?”
“Oh, hon, that’s all you had to say,” the cashier said. “We’ll whip her order right up. You want anything else?”
I turned from Bishop to the cashier. “Two of whatever Delilah gets is fine.”
“No problem.”
The heat from Bishop’s stare dissipated, and I glanced over my shoulder.
He was gone.
No good to see you again. No stay the hell away from the shop. Nothing.
The cashier read the confusion on my face when I faced the counter again. “Ah, don’t worry about Bishop making a quick exit. He don’t talk to many people, no matter how much they might want to talk to him.”
Her description echoed what I’d gathered yesterday.
“Do you know him well?” I asked as I handed over a twenty.
“As well as anyone, I guess. He comes in twice a day like clockwork, getting his caffeine fix and ignoring the ladies.” She jerked her head toward the woman waiting by the barista, whose eyes were fixed on the door Bishop had just exited. “And don’t forget those two.” She nodded toward the comfy seating area in the corner where two other women sat, their expressions disappointed and wistful all at the same time.
“They come in here at least three times a week to stare. He’s like our own little attraction drawing in customers ’round here, because they sure as hell don’t come for the donuts.”
I believed it. They didn’t exactly look like they ate a lot of donuts, given the way their knit blouses clung to their thin frames. Actually, I kind of wanted to buy a few donuts and drop them in front of the two women and walk away slowly.
Once the image evaporated from my mind, I turned my attention back to the cashier, whose name tag read FABIENNE. “This place is amazing. I can’t imagine you need an attraction to get people to come in here.” The wall of donuts behind her tempted the crap out of me, even though I’d already had beignets and planned to devour pralines.
If I work up the courage to go into Voodoo.
Fabienne smiled back at me. “It ain’t Starbucks, but we do all right. You want a donut to go with that order?”
“I’ve got some pralines waiting for me, but I’ll definitely take a rain check.”
The barista set two cups on the end of the counter. “Delilah’s order is ready.”
I moved toward the end of the counter and thanked her.
“Make sure to come back and try one.”
“I will, definitely.”
I refused to acknowledge that my promise meant that I’d be so close to Voodoo.
I collected the coffee and decided that regardless of what or who was next door, I would be back.
THE DOOR CHIMED, AND I jerked my head around to see if she’d actually come back.
Who the hell else would walk into a tattoo shop wearing a pink sweater?
Play it fucking cool, man. Lock this shit down.
I didn’t react to women like this. Certainly not ones who were as innocent and naive as Eden. I needed to treat her like any other customer. Except she wasn’t even a customer, so I didn’t know what to do with her. Dragging her into the back to find out if her lips were as sweet as the cupcake she made me think of when I saw her wasn’t an option.
Delilah strolled out of the employee break room and met Eden as she crossed the black-and-white-checkered floor of the shop.
“Caffeine. Lifeblood of the gods. Thank you. I’ll repay you with all the pralines you can eat before you puke. But you have to clean up your own puke. Shop rule.”
Eden’s brows went up. “I’ll try not to puke.” She held out a cup to Delilah. “I asked for your order, and the woman at the counter said this was it.”
“Four-shot skinny latte with a dash of cinnamon. The only thing that keeps me going some days.”
“I got the same, so it’s good to know you don’t drink black-tar coffee or something.” Eden sounded hesitant, like she had no idea why she was
here.
That made two of us.
Delilah dropped the open box of pralines in her hand on the counter, and I pretended I wasn’t watching as Eden studied them and pulled out a candy.
Now I’m a fucking creeper. What am I going to do? Watch her eat it?
“Hey, Bish, you want one?” Delilah called to me. “Might sweeten you up a little.”
I sucked back a too-big mouthful of coffee, burning my tongue.
“I’m good.” Almost as an afterthought, I tacked on, “Thanks.”
Delilah’s eye roll was almost audible.
“Don’t mind him; he’s just cranky. Bish is still recovering from the girl who committed the cardinal sin after he dropped you at the hotel last night—she touched his beard and she grabbed his ass.”
People who talked about you like you weren’t there were fucking fabulous. But Delilah was the only family I had, so she got a pass.
“Oh wow. That’s pretty . . . forward.” Eden’s surprised gaze finally landed on me, and I held it for several long moments before it dropped to the floor.
“It gets way worse, and sad to say, he gets the brunt of it.” Delilah glanced back toward my station. “I don’t know what it is about a guy with tats and a beard that makes them think they should just grab on to whatever they want.”
“That’s enough, D. I can hear every word.”
She turned around with a smirk. “Obviously. Why else would I talk about you?”
Eden’s gaze darted back and forth between us like she didn’t know what to make of this kind of banter.
“Because you’re a pain in my ass.”
“And you love me anyway. Get out here and say hi to Eden. You know you want to.”
Eden’s face flamed red, but Delilah didn’t seem to notice she was embarrassing the hell out of the girl.
“It’s okay. I don’t mean to bother either of you. I was just . . .”
I rose from my stool and came out into the main area of the shop as Eden’s words trailed off.
“You were just doing what?” I asked.
“Exploring. And trying new things.” Her dark eyes met mine after a beat of hesitation, and I could think of a dozen new things I’d like her to try.
Why did corrupting her innocence seem like the best idea I’d had in years? I should feel like a piece of shit for even considering touching her, but something about her called to my most basic instincts.
Protect. Defend. Claim.
I hadn’t felt that fucking primal in years—and I needed to lock that shit down. My life was simple, and this girl had complicated written all over her.
“She’s about to try her very first praline,” Delilah said. “You sure you don’t want one, Bish?”
“I’m good. Have at ’em.”
Eden, looking grateful for the interruption, lifted it to her lips. When she bit into the praline, a quiet moan escaped her mouth and echoed in my balls.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. She shouldn’t be bringing out this kind of response in me, and I needed to get it under control before I did something I wouldn’t be able to take back.
I turned my attention away and walked behind the counter to check the appointment book, even though I knew exactly what was on the schedule for the day.
“Oh my God, these are delicious,” Eden whispered after she swallowed.
“Best in the city, in my opinion. So, what really brings you to New Orleans if you aren’t here for the craziness of Mardi Gras?”
It was a question I wanted to ask too.
“I always wanted to come here?” Eden’s reply sounded a hell of a lot more like a question, but before she could say more, the door swung open and chimed again.
I swung my focus to the entrance, ready to glare at whoever came inside, but I couldn’t.
“Charlie! It’s been way too long, stranger! Where have you been hiding, girl?” Delilah’s excitement sent her voice into the next octave.
The women hugged, and Charlie smiled over Delilah’s shoulder at me. “Hey, Bishop. How’s it going?”
“He’s cranky as usual,” Delilah said. “Tell me, what’s new? This place isn’t the same without you around. I know you’re up in Simon’s fancy-schmancy place doing all that noble charity stuff, but we miss you down here.”
Charlie was the shopgirl before I started here. I’d only met her a few times when she’d come in for touch-ups on her tats. Full sleeves graced her arms, and her back was fairly covered. She was notorious in her own right, the daughter of the man who committed the biggest fraud to ever hit the investment world.
I wondered if Eden would recognize her. Most people didn’t, given that she’d made a one-hundred-eighty-degree change from the days she spent as a society princess.
“We’ve been so crazy busy. Between Simon taking over the CEO position from his dad, and me running the nonprofit, I swear, we barely get to sleep anymore. But I had to get down here to say hi and see if you could squeeze me in for a quick touch-up.”
“Anything for you, girl. Anytime.”
Charlie turned to Eden and held out a hand. “Sorry to be rude. I’m Charlie Duchesne. I used to work here.”
“Best damn shopgirl we’ve ever had. And we haven’t found a new one who would stick since. Sad state of affairs.” Delilah motioned to Eden. “This is our new friend Eden, who up and decided to come to New Orleans on Mardi Gras but didn’t know what she was getting into. I’m just waiting for the real story.”
Eden stiffened, and my guess was that she didn’t appreciate being put on the spot.
“Umm . . . there’s really no story.”
Charlie sized her up. “You sure? Because that’s what people usually say who have the best stories.”
“I really just always wanted to come here. That’s basically it.”
“How long are you staying?” This question came from Delilah.
Eden shrugged. “I don’t know. I haven’t decided.”
“Where are you staying?” Charlie asked.
“A hotel, for the moment.”
Eden’s answers were vague enough to raise more than one question in my mind, but for some reason, I didn’t like seeing how uncomfortable the interrogation made her.
“What do you need touched up?” I asked Charlie, trying to change the subject. “I can take care of it right now, if you want.”
All three female heads swung in my direction.
Charlie smiled. “Only if it’s not too much trouble.” She held up her arm and flipped it over. “When this healed, some of the line work flaked. Considering it’s my tattoo for Simon, I want it to be perfect.” She glanced at Delilah. “And I wanted a reason to come hang out. I miss this place.”
Delilah studied her. “Are you sure everything’s okay uptown?”
Charlie nodded. “I’m just feeling nostalgic, and I had some free time on my hands.”
“Come on. We can get you fixed up.” As I headed back to my station and Charlie followed, I could feel Eden’s attention on me.
It only took ten minutes to fix the lines on Charlie’s eternity tat, and by the time we finished, she was ready to spill.
She dropped into one of the waiting-room chairs and pulled her knees up in front of her. She looked all of twenty years old. “We’re talking about trying to have a baby, and I’m kinda freaking out.”
Delilah’s eyes widened. “Wow. That’s a big one.”
Eden, who’d been talking about pralines and places to eat in the Quarter with Delilah while I worked, released a breath. “That is big.”
Charlie tucked her hair behind her ears. “I love Simon more than I knew I could ever love another human being, and I want to have a family with him. It’s always seemed so far off in the future, you know? But now it’s getting real. It shouldn’t scare me, but it does.”
“Change is hard. Especially that kind of permanent change.” Delilah’s voice was soft.
“Yeah, and I know it’s going to be the kind of change that flips our entire life on its head, and
I’m trying to figure out if I’m ready for that. I like our life. It’s good. It’s amazing. What if this screws everything up?”
“What does Simon say about it?” Delilah asked.
Charlie shook her head. “I haven’t told him any of this. I don’t know how. I don’t want him to think I’m not excited for a family, but I’m . . . I’m just worried.”
“You’ve gotta talk to him about it. He’s a man; he can’t read your mind.”
Again, all three female heads in the room swiveled around to face me. Even I was surprised to hear myself offer up the words.
Delilah offered a small smile to Charlie. “He’s right. You have to tell Simon what you’re thinking. That’s the only way you’re going to be able to figure out if right now is the time to do this.”
“I know. But he wants it so much, and I feel like there’s something wrong with me because I need to really think about it.”
“There’s nothing wrong with that. It’s going to affect you both, so you both have to be ready.”
Charlie inhaled and released a deep breath before uncurling herself from the chair and standing. “Okay. I’m going to talk to him today.”
“Everything’s going to be fine. That man loves you like crazy.” Delilah hugged her tight. “Now, don’t be a stranger.”
Charlie hugged her back. “You know I won’t be.” Then she looked at Eden. “If you need a place to stay for longer than a couple days, let Delilah or Bishop know. My old landlady is crazy as hell, in the best way possible, but she’s got a place she keeps empty most of the time. It was exactly what I needed when I was new in town and trying to find my way. Something tells me you might need the same thing.”
THE WAY CHARLIE LOOKED AT me, studying my features, made my heart hammer.
I recognized her. She’d been on the front page of every newspaper in New York for a couple of months while the FBI was trying to track her down. But she hadn’t looked like this then—no tattoos and purple-and-red hair had made the front page. She was the privileged daughter of the biggest investment swindler to hit New York since Bernie Madoff.