Page 30 of The Flirt

I was sure of it.

Chapter Eight

Scarlett

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"Oh, why didn't I bring my makeup bag with me?" I muttered to myself as I checked my appearance in the mirror. The employee bathroom was small, and the light was dubious, but I still preferred to use this restroom rather than the one reserved for patrons. This room was cozy and looked slightly different from the rest of the restaurant, which had been modernized. There were light cracks in the walls that were off-white, almost yellow in color. The sink was old-fashioned, made out of brass, perhaps, or copper. The mirror on the wall had a matching metal edge.

My hair was a complete mess, as usual. I was wearing this morning's clothes, which were nothing to write home about. Then again, I hadn't counted on having company on my tour, and least of all such sexy company.

Shit, maybe I should cancel tonight.

I started to laugh at myself in the mirror. Oh, Scarlett, this isn't a date. Chad was simply overprotective. Just like Joel and apparently everyone else in the restaurant. I’d been lectured by at least five people to keep my wallet somewhere that I could feel it or see it all times, which sounded highly impractical, but I was going to do my best.

I applied the lipstick I always carried with me. It was bright red and possibly a bit too much for tonight, but what the heck? Life was too short not to wear lipstick.

I ran a hand through my hair, which I was starting to realize was the way to go in the Big Easy. The humidity messed up my usual styling, but if I ran my hand through it, it simply parted naturally and stayed there.

Be cool as a cucumber, Scarlett. You’re going on a haunted tour, and a certain sexy man who keeps looking at your lips like he wants to devour them is joining you. No big deal, right?

It was actually a huge deal, but I wasn't going to overthink it.

I was ecstatic when I left the bathroom and ventured out through the employee exit. To my astonishment, Chad was already there.

"Uh, hi," I stammered. Goodness. Under the light of the lamppost, he looked even sexier than usual—with a hint of danger, somehow.

His eyes twinkled. "I scared you, yet you want to go a haunted tour?"

"You didn't scare me," I said playfully, though I didn't elaborate. What could I say? “I need a proper heads-up to brace myself for your holy hotness”?

He looked me up and down and then back up before resting his eyes on my face. Wait, no, they were on my mouth again. Probably. It wasn't always easy to tell. I parted my lips to draw in a deep breath, and his eyes widened a little bit. Yep, I was right. They'd been on my lips. I was going to blush if I wasn't careful.

"Where's the first stop?" he asked.

"Hotel Monteleone," I said.

"Of course.”

I chuckled. "That's actually on the—"

"I know. On the other end of Royal. We should get going. After you."

I bit the inside of my cheek and asked, "Since I've been warned repeatedly not to go on Bourbon at night... what if we both go? Now that I have my own personal bodyguard and everything?"

He laughed softly. Yes, I was aware that he was my boss and that I was being extra sassy. But out here, out of the restaurant, it was easy to pretend that I didn't work for him.

"Why not? Better to explore it with me than alone."

I smiled as we walked side by side toward the infamous street. When we turned the corner, I was about to remark that it seemed a lot like Royal, but then I noticed subtle differences. For one, there were more people hanging out with their drinks, and there just seemed to be more people in general.

"This way!" He pointed to the right. "And stay close to me."

"Are you afraid someone might steal me away?"

"Fuck yes."

My breath caught. Our gazes clashed. What exactly did he mean? I was teasing him, of course, but he didn't seem to be joking.

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