by Jiffy Kate
I smile and fall into step beside him, loving the way his arm brushes mine.
I might’ve missed him a little today.
Maybe.
Just a little.
“How was your day?” he asks when I stay silent.
The sigh that escapes is unavoidable. Today was another roller-coaster day. It felt better being back in my element, but I still have Phillip’s words messing with my mind and all the crap with Theo and the will. “It was fine…definitely a Monday.”
Shep’s hand reaches for mine and he pulls me to a stop in the middle of Jackson Square.
“Doesn’t sound fine,” he says, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear.
The gesture is so familiar and comforting. So real and normal. I can’t help but lean into it. I also can’t remember the last time someone asked me how my day was or comforted me. Sure, I hang with my girls, but we’re all busy women—one of us is pregnant, one of us runs a busy hotel, one of us is in law school…and I was a one-woman show until Paige came along. It doesn’t leave a lot of time to ask about the mundane.
“Better now,” I tell him.
“Want to talk about it?”
Glancing around to the people milling about around us, I think for a second about blowing it off, but I don’t want to. I want him to know. He’s one of the smartest business people I know and I’d like his input. “Remember that stuff I told you about someone trying to take the shop from me?”
Shep’s jaw tenses and he squints his eyes before saying, “yes.”
“Well, it’s my Uncle Teddy’s son, who I knew nothing about. A few weeks ago, I got a letter from a Theodore Duval, which was my uncle’s name, so imagine my surprise when I realized there was another one and he wants to stake a claim on Neutral Grounds.” I bite my lip to keep my frustration at bay. “Anyway, Jules stopped by today to let me know his friend, a law professor, did some digging and found out Theo, my uncle’s son, has filed a will contest. Now, I have to find as much proof as I can that Uncle Teddy intended on the shop going to my mama…and me. It’s not going as smoothly as I hoped.”
I can tell he’s thinking hard about the information I just gave him before speaking. “I want his name, everything you know about him,” he begins, wheels turning. “I’ll—”
“No,” I tell him, bringing him to a halt. “This is my problem. I’ll fix it…and if I don’t, then that’ll be on me.”
“You’re so stubborn.”
I shrug, unapologetic. “I like to think of it as self-reliant.”
He smirks. “That too.”
“We should go,” I say, rolling my eyes and turning to continue our walk, but Shep stops me, his hand slipping down my arm until his hand is holding mine.
“If you need help…anything…I’m here for you and I want to help. Let me help.”
Internally, I cringe, because it would be so easy to let him step in and help, but this is my shop. I’ve kept it afloat all these years. I’ve brought it into the twenty-first century. Me. If I let Shep step in, then it’ll be like it’s partly his and no longer mine. It would change things.
“Thank you,” I tell him. “I mean it.” And I do. It’s nice of him to offer. “I might need—”
I was getting ready to say advice…but he kisses me—lips firmly taking mine, tongue sweeping across, wetting my skin until I open, allowing him to deepen it. I let him steal my breath for a few moments, until someone whistles bringing us out of the haze.
“We should…” I trail off.
“Head to my place,” Shep suggests…suggestively, and I laugh. “Maverick and Carys won’t even notice we’re missing. They’ll be all I love you…no, I love you…blah, blah, blah.”
Now, we’re both laughing, me at Shepard’s impersonation of Maverick and Carys.
He brushes my lips with the pad of his thumb and the laughter gets swallowed down.
“Let’s go, Mrs. Rhys-Jones.”
Hand-in-hand, we walk the short distance to the Blue Bayou, slipping in the side entrance to the courtyard. Of course, it’s lit up in the typical white twinkle lights and cafe lighting. Since Maverick came to stay for good, he’s made great improvements. This place is straight out of a fairytale and it draws business. They’ve hosted a slew of weddings and parties. Now, it seems as though it’ll be the backdrop for my best friend getting her happily ever after.
Everyone is here—Shaw, Avery, Mary, George, Jules…everyone except Carys. We say our hellos, getting our hugs in just before Maverick gets everyone’s attention.
“Thanks for coming,” he says with a wide, sure smile. No nerves in sight. “Carys is up checking on a false alarm in room 304.” The slight blush on his cheeks makes me fight back a giggle. I know what happened in 304. That was his room when he stayed at the Blue Bayou. Carys spilled the tea. Jules made her give us all the details over wine one night.
Just before the back door opens, Maverick cuts the lights, leaving nothing but the walking path lit by candles. When Carys walks into the courtyard, she doesn’t even know we’re all standing in the shadows. All she sees is Maverick, on bended knee.
Even if the place was lit up like Fort Knox, I still don’t think she’d see us, because she only has eyes for him. The love the two of them share is so vivid…I’ve never doubted how Maverick feels for my best friend. Well, maybe the first time he came into the shop and asked about her, but he proved himself quickly.
“Carys Matthews,” Maverick begins as Carys’s hands go to cover her mouth. “I knew I wanted to marry you shortly after I met you. I remember thinking back then that I knew I’d love you in three weeks, three months, or three years…or thirty…for the rest of my life. When I moved here to be a part of yours, I didn’t see any reason to rush things. We might’ve fallen in love fast, but we have the rest of our lives to cultivate it. But recently, I’ve been thinking…what the hell are we waiting for? I know I love you and you’re it for me…forever and always. I want you in every way.”
He pauses, pulling a small box from his back pocket and opening it, showing Carys what’s inside. A choked sob leaves her as she drops down on her knees in front of him. “Marry me,” he pleads. “Be mine in every way possible. And let me spend the rest of our lives proving how much I love you.”
She throws her arms around him and cries. “Yes, yes…three weeks…three months…three hundred years,” she chuckles. “Yes.”
“How about two weeks?” Maverick asks as he leans back to slide the ring on her finger.
“Two weeks for what?”
“To marry me,” he says, standing and helping her to her feet. “Right here, in our favorite place, surrounded by our family and friends.” When he flips a switch and the courtyard is once again bathed in light, Carys looks around, realizing we all had a front-row seat to the best proposal I’ve ever witnessed.
It’s only then I realize I’m crying. Wiping the tears from my cheeks, I look beside me to see Shep watching me. He doesn’t say anything, just gives me a soft smile, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear.
“Oh, my God,” Carys exclaims, turning back to Maverick. “Yes!”
We all swarm them, doling out the congratulations and examining the perfect ring. “I’m so happy for you,” I tell her, when I finally get my chance with the soon-to-be bride.
Who would’ve thought I’d be the first one to get married out of me, Carys, and Avery?
Sure as hell wasn’t me.
“Will you be my matron of honor?”
“Absolutely.”
Chapter 19
Shep
I’ve spent the better part of my day thinking about CeCe, which is crazy, because I have plenty of work sitting in front of me to keep me busy—contractors to touch base with, property owners to send proposals to, profit and loss reports to look over. This little venture Maverick and I started over two years ago has turned out better than either of us could have dreamed.
Who knew doing work we actually cared about—and still made money on—could b
e so rewarding?
And now that I’m permanently here in New Orleans, it’s full steam ahead.
Yeah, I said it. Permanently. I haven’t made it public knowledge, but I’ve already put my house in Dallas on the market and have had a few serious inquiries. I have no doubt it will sell fast. If I can swing it long distance, I won’t even go back. I’ll hire a company to move the rest of my belongings here and I’ll put them in storage until I decide what to do with them.
For now, I’m happy in this townhouse.
I’d be even happier if CeCe would agree to move in with me. But I know how stubborn she is and if I push her on this, she’ll definitely push back.
And that thought has my dick growing hard.
What is this woman doing to me?
She’s making me think about love and making things permanent, all while effectively ruining me for any other woman…ever. A year with her will never be enough. I’m not sure a lifetime will be, but it’s a good place to start.
Looking at my watch, I realize it’s after three o’clock and if I’m going to tackle some of this shit, I better get on it. Picking up the phone, I dial Mav’s number.
“Hey, man,” he says.
“Hey,” I reply, clicking around on my laptop until I find the information I’m looking for. “I just wanted to run some specs by you for that new property.”
He’s passed on a lot of his knowledge, but the actual remodeling and refurbishing part of our business is still his domain.
“Hit me with it.”
We spend about half an hour talking floor plans and square footage and how much we’ll need to put into this particular place before it’d be ready for resale. Once we come to a unified decision to make the purchase, I write down Maverick’s negotiations and send an email to Mr. Archer.
“One more thing,” I tell Maverick. “What do you know about this fucker who’s trying to contest CeCe’s uncle’s will?”
Maverick is quiet for a few seconds. “She told you about that?”
“Yeah, of course,” I tell him. “We are married.”
He chuckles and I want to punch him through the phone for his sarcastic tone.
“What?” I bark.
“Nothing,” he says. “Just didn’t expect you to take this so seriously.”
I stand from my chair and begin to pace my office. Maybe I need to just go over there and have this out with him…clear the fucking air. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
He exhales loudly. “Fuck, Shep, I don’t know…you’re you and this isn’t…you.”
“And exactly what am I?” I ask, getting more pissed off by the second.
“Oh, I don’t know,” Maverick says, sounding as exasperated as I feel. “You’re a fuck ‘em and leave ‘em kind of guy. You never bang the same chick twice because repeat performances lead to feelings and you don’t do fucking feelings. You’re words, not mine.” His volume rises until he’s practically yelling into the phone. “And now, you’re married,” he says, drawing it out and following it up with an incredulous laugh. “And I have to admit, you’re doing a pretty good job of playing the part…it’s very believable, but don’t you think that’s going to, I don’t know, confuse things down the road?”
Standing facing the window that looks out on the street below, I huff, “Confuse who, Mav? Because I’m definitely not confused…I know exactly what I’m doing.”
“Don’t hurt her,” he warns, but it’s completely unnecessary.
“I would never hurt CeCe. That’s the last thing in the world I’d ever want to do.”
“Good,” Maverick says after a few seconds of dead air. “Back to your question regarding the will contest. I only know what Jules has told us and it sounds like this long-lost cousin might have a leg to stand on. Jules is working with one of his law professors to find out anything and everything they can, but from what he says, it’ll more than likely go to court.”
“Who is this fucker?” I ask, my wheels turning. “Does he even know what he’s trying to claim? Running a business in the French Quarter isn’t for the faint of heart. It takes someone who knows the clientele. So, what does he want? The business or the building?”
Maverick sighs heavily. “Fuck if I know.”
“Might be a good thing to find out. Think you could get his contact information from Jules?”
“Shep,” he says hesitantly. “Don’t overstep.”
Plopping back down in my chair, I lean back. “You know CeCe isn’t going to ask for help, but I want to help her anyway…help me help her,” I plead, knowing he’ll cave.
“Fine. I’ll see what I can find out and I’ll give it to you tomorrow when we meet up at the St. Ann property.”
Any day I win a negotiation with Maverick is a good day. “Thanks, man. See you tomorrow.”
I spend the remainder of the day and evening making phone calls and sending emails. When I finally lift my head long enough to read the clock, I realize it’s nearly nine o’clock and my only thought is that I didn’t talk to CeCe once today. I thought about sending her a text message earlier, but I didn’t know what to say.
Maverick was right about one thing. I’ve never done relationships, so the fact that my first one is marriage means I skipped a few steps, like dating…or courting. Do people even do that anymore? Unlike most men my age, no one has ever told me or showed me how to treat a woman, except for Maverick. Watching him with Carys is the only real-life example I have of what a relationship should look like.
Picking up my phone, I think about calling him and asking for some advice, but then the screen lights up with a text from CeCe and my heart squeezes in my chest.
Like, literally stops and starts at the mere sight of her name.
How is that possible?
CeCe: I made enough spaghetti to feed an army. Did you eat?
Smirking at my phone, I quickly type my response.
Shep: I could eat.
Way to play it cool.
CeCe: Text me when you’re here and I’ll come down and let you in.
She doesn’t have to tell me twice. Rolling my chair back, I stand and shut my laptop. As I head to the front door, I grab my keys and flip off the lights. It’s nice living in a place where I don’t need my car. I enjoy walking the streets of New Orleans, especially at night. Plus, as an added bonus, my next-door neighbors happen to be Shaw and Avery.
The longer I’m here, the more I start feeling the sense of community Maverick raved about for so long. I didn’t get it until I moved here, but now, I understand what all the fuss was about.
A few lights are on next door, but I don’t see Shaw’s Jeep out front, so I assume he’s still at the bar. It’s crazy to think in a couple more months, they’ll have a baby.
Now, there’s something I’ve never even considered.
In the past, my only thought about the subject of children was I didn’t want any. Why would I? My parents made me feel like a possession, something resembling a status symbol—a pawn to advance them in the game of life.
I wonder how CeCe feels about kids.
It’s crazy, but thinking about having kids with her doesn’t sound so bad…or scary.
What’s also crazy is that I went into this thinking it would be temporary and now I’m thinking about making it more permanent than anything in my life has ever been.
Maverick’s reaction today on the phone got my hackles up, but I get it. All he has to go off is my track record and it’s not great. I’ve never been a good guy and definitely not marriage material. If anyone considered it, I can guarantee it was only for my money…or my family’s money. The Felicity Crawfords of the world are the only women interested in marrying someone like me.
Except for CeCe.
She’s different.
She volunteered before she even knew what I had to offer.
Sure, she was intoxicated, but I could tell her offer was genuine. That’s the kind of person she is—one willing to step in and help someone with no exp
ectations of getting anything for themselves in return.
Which is why I want to help her, even though she thinks she doesn’t need my help.
When I get to the dark, locked storefront, I pull out my phone and shoot her a message.
Shep: I’m here.
A few seconds later, the stairway light flips on and then CeCe is there, walking toward the door. Her dark hair is in a messy bun on top of her head and she’s wearing a pair of baggy sweats and a t-shirt that hangs off her shoulder.
When she opens the door, with a smile on her face, I wonder how I got so lucky…and how she got so beautiful. No one should be this appealing in sweats but fuck me if she’s not the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen.
“You gonna come in or should I just grab you a plate to go?” she asks, leaning on the door frame with a peculiar expression.
Running a hand through my hair, I chuckle, shaking my head and then take a step toward her. When I lean in, using the door to trap her, she inhales deeply. “I’m definitely coming…in, that is. You look beautiful.”
A breathy laugh escapes her as she maneuvers around me. Once we’re both inside, she shuts the door and locks it—two deadbolts. On our way up the stairs, she pauses to set the alarm and then glances at me over her shoulder. “Don’t judge my apartment, fancy pants.”
“What?” I ask. “I’d never.”
“Okay.” Her tone says she doesn’t believe me, but I’m telling the honest truth. I’d never judge CeCe, about anything. She could live in a cardboard box out back and I wouldn’t look at her any differently.
I might insist she lives with me, but I wouldn’t judge her.
Her sweet ass is swaying in my face, so I’m unable to form a coherent sentence in response.
When we top the stairs, CeCe stands back with an anxious look on her face. “This is it.”
It’s definitely small, but I can’t help the smile that works its way onto my face, because more than that…it’s her. It smells like her, mixed with the delicious aroma of spaghetti. It looks like her—simple and eclectic. Everything here feels like it holds significance, as if it earned its place, it means something.