Total pages in book: 15
Estimated words: 13683 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 68(@200wpm)___ 55(@250wpm)___ 46(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 13683 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 68(@200wpm)___ 55(@250wpm)___ 46(@300wpm)
I hate that she’s here by herself. It’s unsafe. When she stands up, my jaw drops. She’s all curves, molded into a tight knee-length black skirt and a tight white button-up blouse. I am so caught up in looking at her that I don’t realize she’s standing before me until she wraps her arms around my neck. I stand there stunned for a second before I wrap my arms around her. She smells like roses and lemons.
“It’s nice to meet you in person,” she says, her face buried in my neck. She’s on her tiptoes, and if that’s not the most adorable fucking thing I’ve ever seen.
“Nice to meet you too, ma chère.”
I hear her stomach grumble, and I chuckle.
“Have you eaten lunch?” I ask, reluctantly letting her go.
“Not yet. I was about to when you came in.”
“Let me take you out,” I say.
“That would be great. Let me get the keys and my purse.”
I have to stifle a groan as she leans over her desk and reaches into her bottom drawer. Her plump ass is begging to be in my big hands. She straightens, and I avert my gaze like a gentleman.
“What would you like for lunch?” I ask. Anything to keep from throwing her down on her desk and taking her like a savage.
“Oh, I’m easy… I mean anything is fine. Whatever you want.”
“Belle Nuit,” I blurt out. It’s one of the fancier restaurants in Baton Rouge, and it happens to be right down the street and open for lunch. She smiles.
“Have you ever eaten there?” she asks as we walk toward the door.
“No. Am I dressed okay for it?” I ask, looking down at my work clothes. They have seen better days, but I only had consults today, so they are relatively clean.
“Yes, of course. You’re in for a treat. That’s my dad’s restaurant.”
“Named after you?” I say as the name of the place dawns on me.
“Yep. He opened it right after I was born. He’s currently working in New Orleans on Annika, named after my mom. It’ll open soon. We can go somewhere else if you want.”
“No. It’s totally fine. I’ve always wanted to eat there.”
Outside, she locks the door and takes my hand as we cross the street. I look down at her tiny, hot-pinked tipped fingers nestled in my larger hand. It looks and feels so fucking right. I let her drag me down the sidewalk to the restaurant. I open the door for her, and we stand at the hostess stand.
“Belle!” a girl shouts, pulling Belle into a hug.
“Hey Camille.”
“Did you make a reservation? I didn’t see you on the books.”
“No. I was hoping you had a table. Camille, this is Kent. Kent, my cousin, Camille.”
“I do, but your Dad is here today. He’s on the warpath. You and your beau may want to go elsewhere.” I guess there is no time for pleasantries.
“Oh no. What happened?” she asks Camille before turning to me. I also notice that she doesn’t correct her about me being her beau. “It would have to be huge to take him away from Annika’s.”
“Oh, it was. Jacques quit this morning.”
“What? Jacques is the executive chef.” I love that she’s bringing me into the conversation.
“It gets worse,” Camille says, leading us to a half-circle booth in the corner of the room.
“He went to Chez Henri’s.”
“Oh, no. They’re rivals,” she says to me. All I can do is nod.
“Here’s your menu. I’ve got people at the door. Nice to meet you, Kent.”
“You too, Camille.”
“Bucky?” a male asks, coming up to our time.
“Paul! It’s so nice to see you again. I didn’t know you still worked here. I thought you were going to medical school.”
“I am, but I don’t have classes this summer. Your dad gave me my old job back. Who’s this?” the kid asks, looking butthurt.
“This is Kent, my…”
“Man,” I supply, extending my hand to him.
“Oh, wow. Really?” he asks, shaking my hand.
“Yes,” Belle says wistfully.
“He knows all about the vow?”
“Shut up, Paul. We’re ready to order.”
“He doesn’t know, Bucky?”
“I’ll have the steak, medium rare, loaded baked potato, and Cesar salad. A Coke would be fine.”
“I’ll have the same, except I want a house salad with blue cheese and a Diet Coke.”
“I have a question,” I tell her as soon as Paul leaves the table.
“About the vow?” she asks, looking down at her hands in her lap. I reach over and place my hand over both of hers.
“No. you don’t have to tell me anything about that if you don’t want to. Why does he call you Bucky?”
“Oh,” she says, giggling. “Paul is the sheriff of Pine Grove’s youngest son. We grew up together. My two front teeth were too big for my head for the longest time. I had buck teeth, and that boy never let me forget it.” She’s still laughing.