Chapter 30

Maverick

Stepping out of the airport in Kenner, Louisiana, I groan as the heat and humidity hit me like a Mack truck.

“Holy fuck.” Shep lets out a disgusted huff. “This has got to be what hell feels like. Are you sure you want to come here?”

I slap his back and start walking toward the Uber by the curb. “Come on. You’ll get used to it.”

“And I thought Dallas was hot.”

Laughing, I toss my bag into the trunk and then slip into the back seat. Shep does the same, and a few minutes later we’re on our way. My heart starts beating faster with every mile and I start second-guessing my choices.

I should’ve called.

I should’ve come last night when I finished reading her note.

I should check my mail more often.

I should’ve never left.

“Dude, you’ve got to stop,” Shep demands. “You’ve been worrying and fretting like some grandma for the last five hours. You either want to do this or you don’t. I’ve never seen you like this before. Snap out of it.”

I want to do this.

I want to see Carys.

I want to hold her and feel her skin.

I want to breathe her in.

“Okay,” I tell him, too distracted to argue or offer a rebuttal. Also, he’s right. “Thanks for coming with me.”

“Don’t thank me,” he huffs, watching the scenery as we ride along. “I was ready to get the heck out of Dodge, so this was just a good excuse for a weekend getaway. Plus, I figure we can make this a business trip, so, tax deduction.”

That’s Shep. Always planning, always scheming. But he’s a damn good businessman and I’m happy he’s agreed to be my partner in this new venture. It’ll be good to get him to New Orleans and help him loosen up a little.

“You know, I might need you to come here from time to time.”

“Fine by me.” He pauses, looking over at me thoughtfully. “You’re not planning on coming back, are you?”

I give my head one firm shake. “Nope, not if she’ll let me stay. I mean, no offense, but the only real thing I have keeping me in Dallas is my house and it’s a seller’s market right now. So, I’m following my gut on this one.”

And my gut is telling me to listen to my heart. And my heart is saying Carys. New Orleans. Freedom. Do what makes you happy.

Shep sighs. “I don’t blame you, man.” Turning, he looks out his window. “If this thing works out and we can make some money. I might consider it myself.”

“Yeah, right. You’d leave Dallas and your country club and your fancy gated community?” I laugh, shaking my head. “No fucking way.”

He gives me his easy smile, but I see a smidge of sincerity there.

“I guess anything’s possible,” I tell him, realizing that if I can take a spur of the moment trip and end up in a hotel off the beaten path and find the woman of my dreams...dreams I hadn’t even allowed myself to have yet, I guess Shepherd Rhys-Jones could move to New Orleans...one of these days.

Fifteen minutes later, our driver lets us out in front of the familiar building, but I stop in my tracks as I collect my bag from the trunk. Sure, it’s the same hotel, but there’s a fresh coat of blue paint on the front doors and a brand spanking new sign that hangs sideways, getting the attention of people coming from every direction.

Welcome to the Blue Bayou

And in smaller print: where everyone always wants to come back

Smiling, I immediately feel the stress and tension release from my shoulders. And the humidity doesn’t feel oppressive any longer. It feels welcoming, as does the jazz music filling the night air.

“Come on,” I say, slapping Shep on the shoulder. I don’t miss the way he scrutinizes the place, taking in the exterior and the surrounding buildings, all different colors. When we walk inside, the place is vacant. Not one person, but there’s a tented note on the desk.

Welcome. Come to the courtyard. The party is waiting.

“This is my kind of place,” Shep muses, picking up a small glass of something pinky orange from a tray and downing it in one drink.

I take one for myself and sniff before doing the same.

We both shrug and take another, sipping on these.

“Let’s leave our bags here,” I tell him, motioning around the counter, feeling completely at home, even though I don’t know if I’m welcome here anymore.

That thought brings back a small knot in my stomach and I pull up short, turning toward the door and then back to the front desk.

“Maybe this was a bad idea,” I think out loud. “What if she didn’t write that note thinking I’d show up? What if she just wanted me to know? Or—”

“Do you know what you sound like right now?” Shep asks, one hand on his hip while he holds his fruity drink in the other. “A fucking girl,” he replies without waiting for my response. “And not a smart one, either. A stupid one. Who’s overthinking everything, when you should just shut the fuck up and walk out there, find your woman, and tell her how you feel.” He pauses his tirade for a moment, just long enough to take a drink and then continues. “And then you need to get laid.”

“A-fucking-men,” a familiar voice chimes in from somewhere behind Shep. I step around to see Jules walking up to us, taking in me and then going for Shep. “Speaking of getting laid.”

I’m glad I wasn’t taking a drink, because if I had, it would now be all over the now shiny floors of the lobby.

And the floors are super shiny.

Nicely done, Carys.

I take a second to look around the entire space, noticing each detail.

“Nice,” I mutter to no one but myself.

“I know, right?” Jules adds, still a bit standoffish, but also more welcoming than I thought he might be. We’ve spoken a couple of times on the phone, so it’s not like he’s completely surprised to see me here. “Who’d you bring with you?”

“Oh,” I say, trying not to laugh when I take in Shep’s raised eyebrows as he keeps watch on Jules. “This is Shep. Shep, Jules.”

Jules offers Shep his hand and Shep takes it, expecting a shake, but instead, Jules takes it to his lips and kisses it. “The pleasure is all mine.”

This is fucking fantastic.

Seriously, I couldn’t have planned our reception better if I tried.

“Okay,” Jules says matter-of-factly, when he drops Shep’s hand and turns back to me. “To get the full effect of the evening, in my personal opinion.” His hand goes to his chest. “You really should enter from the side. It’s much more dramatic.”

Without another word, he whirls around us and motions for us to follow him back out the front door, so we do. Shep gives me a wide eye stare as if to ask, “What the fuck?” But I just laugh, shaking my head. I should’ve known he and Jules would hit it off. Shep is exactly his type.

Too bad Shep has a serious thing for busty brunettes.

If it weren’t for that tiny little tidbit, this could be a match made in heaven.

I’m still chuckling to myself when Jules leads us into the side entrance of the courtyard and everything comes into view. And by everything I mean Carys.

Her blonde hair.

Her pale blue dress.

Her creamy skin.

Her.

I feel like my chest is going to explode.

She’s standing next to a table, talking to a guy. His large frame leans in to say something and when his hand lands on her arm, everything inside me tenses—my jaw, my expression...my fist. I don’t like it. I don’t like the way he’s making her laugh. I don’t like the way her big blue eyes look as she talks to him animatedly. I don’t like any of it. Because I want that.

Before I get to make my move, they’re walking...heading into the Bayou and I pause, wondering if I’m too late.

Who is he?

What is he to her?

“Stop,” Jules demands, and I turn to see him and Shep making the same expression of exasperation. “He’s a guest...or...well, a friend of guest of a...oh, who the fuck cares. He’s not with her. She’s not with him. She’s waiting for you, jackass.”

Shep’s now the one chuckling and I glare at him.

Wait.

“Yeah,” he continues. “Don’t look so surprised. And be glad you showed up because if you hadn’t, I would’ve driven to Dallas and beat your ass.”

My heartbeat picks up and then evens out as the tightness in my chest begins to fade with Jules’ words of encouragement. Well, tough love, but let’s face it, sometimes we all need a little.

She’s waiting for me.

“Now, drink up and wipe that pained look off your face before she gets back. I’m gonna need you to bring your A-game and make this good.”

Watching Jules walk off, I take a deep breath and let it out.

Make it good. I can do that.