Midnight Bayou

The man sitting at her bar, watching her out of storm-gray eyes, looked to be full of them.
    She liked his eyes. She was used to men looking at her with desire, but there’d been more in his. A kind of breathless shock that was both flattering and sweet.
    And it was appealing to have a man who looked like he could handle anything you tossed at him fumble when you smiled at him.
    Though he’d barely touched his beer, she worked her way back to him, tapped a finger to the bottle. “Ready for another?”
    “No, thanks. Can you take a break? Can I buy you a drink, coffee, a car, a dog?”
    “What’s in there?”
    He glanced at the little gift bag he’d set on the bar. “It’s just a present for someone I’m meeting.”
    “You buy gifts for lots of women, Declan?”
    “She’s not a woman. I mean, not my woman. I don’t actually have one—it’s just . . . I used to be better at this.”
    “Better at what?”
    “At hitting on women.”
    She laughed—the low, throaty sound of his fantasies.
    “Can you take a break? We’ll kick somebody away from a table and you can give me another chance.”
    “You’re not doing so bad with the first one. I own the place, so I don’t get breaks.”
    “This is your place?”
    “That’s right.” She turned as one of the waitresses came to the bar with a tray.
    “Wait. Wait.” He reached for her hand again. “I don’t know your name. What’s your name?”
    “Angelina,” she said softly. “But they call me Lena, ’cause I ain’t no angel. Cher .” She trailed a finger down his cheek, then stepped away to fill orders.
    Declan took a deep, long swallow of beer to wash back the saliva that had pooled in his mouth.
    He was trying to work out another approach when Remy slapped him on the back. “We’re going to need us a table, son.”
    “View’s better from here.”
    Remy followed the direction of Declan’s gaze. “One of the best the city offers. You meet my cousin Lena?”
    “Cousin?”
    “Fourth cousins, I’m thinking. Might be fifth. Angelina Simone, one of New Orleans’s jewels. And here’s another. Effie Renault. Effie darling, this is my good friend Declan Fitzgerald.”
    “Hello, Declan.” She wiggled between him and Remy and kissed Declan’s cheek. “I’m so happy to meet you.”
    She had a cloud of blond hair around a pretty, heart-shaped face, and eyes of clear summer blue. Her lips had a deep, Kewpie doll curve and were a rosy pink.
    She looked like she should be leading cheers at the local high school.
    “You’re too pretty to waste yourself on this guy,” Declan told her. “Why don’t you run away with me instead?”
    “When do we leave?”
    With a chuckle, Declan slid off the stool and returned her kiss. “Nice job, Remy.”
    “Best work I ever did.” Remy pressed his lips to Effie’s hair. “Sit on down there, darling. Place is packed. Bar might be the best we do. You want wine?”
    “The house white’ll be fine.”
    “Get you a refill there, Declan?”
    “I’ll get it. I’m buying.”
    “If that’s the case, get my girl here the good chardonnay. I’ll have what you’re having.”
    “Look what the cat dragged.” Lena sent Remy a grin. “Hey, Effie. What’s everybody drinking tonight?”
    “A glass of chardonnay for the lady. And two more Coronas,” Declan told her. “Then maybe you can call nine-one-one. My heart stops every time I look at you.”
    “Your friend’s got himself a smooth way once he gets rolling, Remy.” Lena took a bottle of wine from the cooler.
    “Those Harvard girls were putty in his hands.”
    “We southern girls are too used to the heat to melt easy.” She poured wine, topped the beers with lime wedges.
    “I do know you.” It bounced back in his memory. “I saw you, this morning, playing with your dog. Big black dog, near the pond.”
    “Rufus.” It gave her a little jolt to realize he’d watched her. “He’s my grandmama’s dog. That’s her house back the bayou. I go out sometimes and stay with her if she’s feeling poorly. Or just lonely.”
    “Come by the Hall next time you’re out. I’ll give you the tour.”
    “Just might. I’ve never been inside.” She set a fresh bowl of pretzels on the bar. “Y’all want something from the kitchen?”
    “We’ll think about that,” Remy said.
    “Just let us know.” She swung around and through the back door.
    “You gonna want to mop that drool off your chin, Dec.” Remy squeezed Declan’s shoulder.