Boudreaux 01 Easy Love (7 page)

The Boudreaux men are prime examples of the male species.

“I don’t think we’re supposed to fully understand each other,” I reply, and lick sauce off my finger.
 

“How are you?” Van asks, as she nibbles on a piece of bread. She barely took any food. I eye her plate and then stare her in the eye, but she shakes her head and narrows her eyes at me.

“I’m fine,” I reply.

“No, really,” Dec says, his usually smiling face sober now.
 

“No, really,” I insist. “I’m fine.”

“When was the divorce final?” Van asks.

“Sixty-four days ago,” I reply before I can catch myself, then wince when they both turn surprised gazes on me, and share a glance with each other.

“You’re counting the days and you’re
fine
?” Dec asks.

“Heck, yes, I’m counting the days. That divorce was hard won.” I stuff more chicken and pasta in my mouth and point at both of them with my fork. “You know that.”

“You should have let me deck him,” Declan insists. He lowers his fork to his plate, his eyes hot with temper as he glances at me. “Only a lowlife son of a bitch does what he did to you.”

“It might have been satisfying to watch you hit him.” I lick my fork clean as I think of my strong friend kicking my ex-husband’s ass. “Do you still do that Krave Magnus stuff?”

“Krav Maga,” he corrects me with a laugh. “And you should do it too. It’s great self defense.”

“I’ll just add that to my list of things to do.” I tilt my head as I watch Van push her pasta around her plate, lost in thought. “I’m thinking about becoming a lesbian and joining a nudist colony.”

“Now, that, I’d like to see,” Declan declares with a roguish grin, but then follows my gaze and swears under his breath. “She’s not listening.”

“Not even a little bit,” I agree. “Earth to Van.”

“Huh?” She jerks her gaze up and takes another long sip of her wine, then refills her glass.
 

“Now it’s your turn to talk.”

“We haven’t finished with you,” she says, but I just grin at her.
 

“Yes, we have. Dec and I just discussed me turning lesbo and joining a nudist colony.”

“I’m all for it,” Declan agrees, earning a glare from his twin sister.

“How bad are things, Van? And don’t deny it. You look like poop, and you deflect when asked. I’m the master of those tactics.”

She glances nervously at her brother and then back at me. “You don’t need to worry—”

“Spill it, Van.” Dec’s voice is calm, his posture relaxed, but every muscle in his body is on high alert.

He’s ready to kick butt.

And so am I, for that matter.

“Things just aren’t going very well,” Savannah murmurs softly.
 

“Is he hurting you?” Declan asks.

“He’s…ignoring me.” She sets her plate aside and pulls her knees up into her chest, hugging her legs tight. “Unless he can’t find something, he just pretty much does his own thing.”

“Who else is he doing?” I ask, and set my own finished dinner aside, then just raise a brow when Van stares at me and chews her bottom lip.

“I don’t know.”

“I’m going to grab Eli and Beau, and we’re going to—”

“Nothing,” Van insists, laying her hand on Dec’s shoulder. “You’re going to do
nothing
.”

“Fuck that, Vanny,” he says and stares at her as if she’s lost her mind. “He’s fucking around on you and you want us to ignore it?”

“I don’t have proof.” She shrugs and smiles sadly. “It’s just a hunch.”

“Promise me,” Dec says and pulls her close to hug her, “that you’ll call me, day or night, if you need me.”

“I will.”

“If you find proof—” I begin.

“I’ll kick his ass myself,” she finishes. She pulls out of Declan’s embrace and begins cleaning up.
 

“See, this is exactly why I’m not ever getting married,” Dec says. “I’d kill myself before I’d hurt a woman, and that seems to be all marriage is good for. Pain.”

“Mom and Dad were married for more than thirty-five years,” Van reminds him.

“Mine have been married for thirty-five,” I add. “They’re not all bad.”

“Still, I’ll stick to the way things have always been.”

“Why are all my brothers man-whores?” Van asks me, as if Dec’s not sitting right next to her.

“Because they’re all hot and sexy and have women falling at their feet?”

“You think I’m hot and sexy?” Dec asks with a charming smile. “Aww, dawlin’. That’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever said.”

“Are you falling at Eli’s feet?” Van asks, surprising me. Declan sobers and they both stare at me with matching hazel eyes.
 

“Heck no,” I insist. “I don’t fall at any man’s feet.”

“Atta girl.” Van salutes me with her wine and drains the glass.
 

“Oh, by the way, Mama has given us instructions to bring you to dinner on Sunday.” Declan grins. “I’ll pick you up on my way over.”

“I don’t want to intrude on your family dinner.”
 

“She might kill us if we don’t bring you,” Van assures me.

“Or not feed us, which would be worse,” Declan adds. “You’re coming.”

“Thank you,” I reply and grin at my friends. “It’s good to see you guys.”

“It’s you we’re happy to see, dawlin’,” Declan replies with a wink. “Did you bring dessert, Vanny?”

“Of course.”

“Stop holdin’ out on me.”

***

I sleep late the next morning. My biggest vice is sleeping late on the weekends. I despise the alarm clock. I open my eyes slowly and stretch in the soft king sized bed, then lie on my back and stare out the French doors at the bright blue sky.

As I begin to ponder what might be on today’s agenda, my doorbell rings.

I glance at the clock and scowl. It’s nine in the freaking morning on a Saturday. Who in the world could be ringing my bell?

I climb out of bed and don’t even bother to throw a robe over my tank and pink frilly panties. Whoever is stupid enough to show up at my place at this hour is just going to have to take me the way they get me.

It’s most likely Savannah anyway. She always was a morning person.

I hate that.

I yank the door open and scrub my free hand over my face. “Seriously, Van, you just left here like six hours ago. Did you forget something?”

“Savannah was here until three this morning?”

I drop my hand and stare up in shock at a grinning Eli. His whiskey eyes are shining as he takes in my sleepy appearance, from the top of my ratted head, down my braless front, making my nipples pucker, thank you very much, to my pink tipped toes. On his way back up, his jaw drops when he sees my panties.

“Yes,” I squeak and cross my arms over my chest. “She and Declan came over for dinner and ended up staying. We always could talk for hours.”

“Did I wake you?” he asks, his voice low and intimate as he steps toward me. I move back, letting him inside, and close the door.

“No, I was just waking up.” I bite my lip. “Um, what are you doing here?”

“I need a favor.”
 

I feel my eyebrows climb into my hairline as I watch his eyes smile, but he purses his lips to keep the smile at bay. It’s…endearing.

“A favor?”

“Yes, dawlin’, a very important one.”

I tilt my head and feel my lips quirk into a half smile. “I’m listening.”

“I need an escort around the Quarter this mornin’.”

I prop my hands on my hips, and Eli’s eyes slowly sober, heat, and move from my eyes to my mouth and down to my breasts. He swears under his breath as I remember that I’m showing him way more than I should and recross my arms.

“You need an escort?”

He nods and catches my gaze in his again. “Yes, please.”

“I don’t know my way around,” I reply softly.

“I do.”

“So, why—”

“I’d like to show you around our neighborhood,
cher
,” he says softly. “What do you say?”

I chew my lip for a few seconds, and finally smile gratefully. I’ve been dying to walk around and explore the famous French Quarter. “I’d be happy to escort you.”

“You might want to choose a different outfit,” he says, as he gestures to my clothes. “I would hate to have to beat every man we walk past into the sidewalk for looking at you.”

I wave him off and turn to walk into my bedroom, but hear him mutter, “Although, you look amazing in anything you wear.”

This is not helping my nipples calm down. I close the door to the bedroom, lean back on it, and take a deep breath. This man is pure walking temptation. But he didn’t touch me. He smiled and invited me on a tour of the neighborhood. Sure, he checked out my chest, but I am braless, and my damn body reacts to him on a purely visceral level.

I can control myself for the day. No problem.
 

I nod and mentally pat myself on the back, then quickly tame my hair, brush my teeth, and pull on some denim capris and a blue sleeveless blouse. On my way out of the bedroom, I grab the green hat Eli bought me the other day, and slip my feet into a comfortable pair of Toms.

“Okay, I’m ready.”

Eli is standing at my window, his hands in the front pockets of jeans that mold to his bottom and thighs just perfectly. His black T-shirt is stretched over his broad shoulders, and his dark hair is still wet around the collar from his shower.

He turns and smiles when he sees me holding the hat.
 

“Good plan. It’s going to get hot today.”

“It’s hot every day,” I reply with a wry grin. He hands me my handbag and escorts me down to the sidewalk.

“This way.” He leads me to the right, his hand in its spot on the small of my back, and within two blocks, we’re at Jackson Square, in front of the St. Louis Cathedral where jazz musicians play enthusiastically on a variety of instruments, palm readers are just setting up their tables, and artists have set up their canvases on the iron fence surrounding the beautiful park that holds the large statue of President Jackson on his horse, giving the square it’s name.

“It’s beautiful down here,” I murmur, and smile at a man as he plays his saxophone.
 

“That it is,” Eli agrees, and leads me around the park toward a green building with a green and white awning and dozens of round tables with chairs under it. “We’ll start with breakfast.”

“There’s a long line,” I reply, and eye the line of people waiting patiently for a table.

“It moves fast,” he assures me, and leads me to the end of the line. “And it’s worth it.”

“Okay, tell me about Café du Monde,” I request, reading the sign on the awning.

“Best beignets in New Orleans,” he assures me. “This place has been here forever and hasn’t changed much.”

Before I know it, we move up the line and find a table near the sidewalk.
 

“The menu is on the napkin dispenser,” Eli informs me, and tilts it toward me. “But do you mind if I order for you?”

“I don’t mind.” I sit back and listen as Eli informs our server that we’ll each have an order of beignets and a frozen café au lait. I watch in fascination as horse-drawn carriages glide down the street before us, the drivers giving their passengers all kinds of information about Jackson Square, which is directly across the street from us. “Thank you for bringing me out today.”

Eli quirks a brow. “It’s
you
escorting
me
, remember?”

I grin and nod. “Right. Except you’re showing me around.”

“You’re new to town.” He shrugs as if it’s no big thing, but somehow I think it is a big deal. “And I haven’t wandered around in a long while.”

“Does it change much?”

“Not much,” he says with a smile, as the beignets and coffees are delivered. “My father used to bring all six of us here every Saturday morning for as long as I can remember. We came until he passed away.”

He stops talking and frowns, his eyes trained with determination on his beignets.
 

“I’m sorry for your loss,” I say softly. I know his dad passed away two years ago, and I remember the heartbreak of the entire family with the loss of the larger than life patriarch of the family. “Oh, my gosh,” I whisper, eyeing the square doughnuts covered in a heaping pile of powdered sugar. “This is just…”

“The best,” Eli finishes on a groan and eats one of the treats in two bites. He licks his lips, and my ninety-dollar black lace panties are soaking wet.

This man should come with a warning label.

“Are you going to eat them or continue to stare at me?” he asks with a laugh.

I shake my head, pulling myself out of the trance of watching Eli, and take a bite. “Oh, wow.”

“Right?”

“I need these every day.”

“I can arrange that.” His eyes are perfectly sober as he watches me.