Page 52 of Rafael

Rafael drifted into a light sleep, remaining aware enough to come up fighting should a threat present itself.

He must have slept harder than he’d thought. A soft sound dragged him out of REM sleep to fully awake in a split second. He sat up in the bed and reached for the gun on the nightstand. His gaze swept through what he could see in the room outside the bedroom door.

The colorful swirl of a skirt flitted by.

Rafael left the bed and crept toward the door. As he reached it, Gisele appeared in front of him, a coffee mug filled to the brim cradled in one hand.

She smiled, her face a little rosier than when she’d gone to sleep the night before, but dark smudges under her eyes gave testament to troubled sleep. “Good morning. Here.” She handed the coffee mug to him and pointed to the small table. “Sit. I’m making breakfast.”

“You don’t have to make my breakfast,” he said. “I should make yours.”

She shrugged. “You brought me breakfast yesterday when you delivered the éclair. If I cook your breakfast this morning, we can call it even. Either way, I’m having eggs.” She spun and returned to the kitchenette, making busy noises as she openedand closed drawers and doors in pursuit of a pan, spatula and cooking spray.

Rafael didn’t have a lot of kitchenware, which was okay, considering there wasn’t much room in the small space. What he had, he’d unpacked the day before and stowed in various cabinets.

His landlord, YaYa, had gifted him with a basket of basic staples to welcome him to the apartment. Otherwise, his refrigerator would have only contained one beer short of a sixpack and the taco soup he’d thrown together from cans of beans and the hamburger meat he’d picked up at Broussard’s Country Store.

Among the items YaYa had left in the gift basket was a carton of fresh farm eggs, a small package of custom ground, dry roast coffee, a small jar of homemade apple butter and a loaf of bread from the bakery. All items were from local sources, with their labels clearly displayed.

Rafael liked that she’d given him a taste of Bayou Mambaloa. Some of the items were from places he had yet to try. He’d felt more a part of the community than just an outsider holing up at the boarding house.

Now, with Gisele standing barefoot in the kitchen with her hair pulled back in a loose ponytail anchored at the base of herneck, he was even more thankful for the gift. It meant they didn’t have to go out to eat breakfast. He would have more “alone” time with this woman.

Since he’d been jilted, he’d avoided having a woman stay the night at his place. He’d go to the woman’s home and leave in the middle of the night. Staying gave the impression he would be around longer than a one-night stand. He hadn’t wanted to give any woman a reason to believe he’d stick around when he’d been upfront with them about no commitment.

But here he was, the morning after, watching the quirky Voodoo shop owner standing there in her flowy, colorful skirt, her bare feet peeking out from beneath the hem—and he liked it. In fact, he could get used to seeing her every morning.

His gut twisted into a tight knot.

After they’d made love last night, she’d walked out of his apartment. If the alarm hadn’t gone off when it had, she’d have gone home to her place.

Like he’d done to so many women in the past few years. Like he’d more or less warned Gisele he’d do to her.

His stomach roiled.

God, he was a bastard.

Gisele glanced up with a smile. “How do you like your eggs?”

“Over easy,” he responded automatically, though he wasn’t the least bit hungry. What he needed was to go for a run. Maybe that would help loosen the knot twisting inside.

Then again, he was afraid that if he went for arun, he’d keep running until he was too far to return. Only, he couldn’t leave Gisele alone. He was responsible for protecting her.

He could take Landry up on his offer to switch places. Rafael could go to the New Orleans job, and Landry would look after Gisele.

The thought of leaving someone else in charge of Gisele’s safety made that knot in his belly twist even tighter. If he went to New Orleans, he wouldn’t be able to concentrate on that job when he’d be thinking and worrying about Gisele. Besides, the New Orleans team would have left early that morning to be boots on the ground and ready when the client arrived with her entourage.

Rafael’s hands curled into fists. He couldn’t bail on this job. He had to be there for Gisele. She was his number one responsibility. Avoidance was not an option with her. He had to work through his own issues another time.

He ducked back into the bedroom and pulled on a T-shirt, jeans and boots. He checked the handgun he’d left lying on the nightstand.

Full magazine.

Check.

Safety on.

Check.

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