Page 21 of Luck of the Draw

Men were very predictable. Even ones that were scrumptious.

Skye dropped her chin in the most demure manner she could muster. “Are you sure you want me to do that?”

Brennan picked up her hand, and all her life experiences made her fully expect him to press it against his obvious erection, because that was the kind of vulgar shit that men did. But apparently this really was different, and instead, he lifted it to his mouth and kissed it.

“Absolutely.” He paused as he drew back his face and studied her eyes. “Are you uncomfortable?”

“No,” she insisted, eyebrows raised high. “Not at all. I just don’t want you to feel like you have to let me invade your space or anything.”

“I don’t.” He dipped his face to kiss her cheek and tugged her away from the wall with his arm still wrapped around her waist. “I want you to be my guest. I want to show you a good time while you’re visiting. That is, if you’ll let me.” He guided her back onto the sidewalk, dragging her suitcase for her like the gentleman he insisted that he was, and they stepped back into the cacophony of activity that flooded Chartres even on a weekday night. “My place is way better than most of the hotels in the Quarter. Especially the ones you’d get at the last minute like this.”

They passed a souvenir shop with racks of glittering beads flanking the front doors, and a squealing, giggling bachelorette party trotted by, nearly wedging them onto the street.

“The Quarter,” Skye prompted him, remembering she was supposed to keep up appearances of being an ignorant out-of-towner. “Is that what you guys call it?”

“Yup.” They hooked a corner onto St. Louis, and he pointed at the street signs. “Want to guess how that word is pronounced?”

“Which one?” she asked him. He was so adorable. Locals loved to challenge tourists with the French street names.

He raised his arm to point at the sign for Chartres. “That one.”

“Oh my.” She forced a carefree laugh. “Maybe Chart-Ress?”

“Chart-errr,” he said with a throaty growl against the side of her neck as he held her waist tighter.

She laughed again; this time not forced because this was kind of fun. It did feel like an actual date, even though on their respective ends it was all merely pretense for getting what each of them ultimately needed. For him, it was a good fuck. For her, it was a free place to crash until she could hide with her phone and figure out where she was going and how to get there.

They meandered through the Quarter until Brennan guided her to hang a left on Royal.

“My place is just over here,” he said as they strolled past a few of the antique shops.

“So, you live in the French Quarter?” He must have been loaded if that was the case. Houses in the Quarter were ridiculously expensive. Although everything was ridiculously expensive when you had no money.

Skye skimmed her gaze over their surroundings. She loved Royal Street. Sometimes she would sneak off to Royal and simply walk up and down the sidewalk, looking at the ancient, glittering items in store windows. It was an escape. She imagined being someone who had such a comfortable life that they entered these beautiful shops to buy old things for a safe, lovely home. Skye would never be able to afford such indulgences, but if she kept her nose to the grindstone, she could eventually eke out something that felt safe.

Out of all the secret desires Skye ever had in her life, safety was the most prominent, but also the most elusive. But that was going to change.

“Sure do. It’s that one.” Brennan pointed at a rose-colored building with a white door, green shutters, and two balconies that featured the signature wrought iron lace railing that was synonymous with the architecture of New Orleans.

Skye had seen the house he was pointing at about a million times. It was one of the most historic homes in New Orleans and probably the most famous of all the iconic buildings in the French Quarter.

She couldn’t hide her shock. “That’s where you live?”

“Yeah, it’s been in my family for eons. My grandfather left it to me when he passed about ten years ago.”

She also couldn’t keep her jaw from hanging open. “I’ve seen that house on about a dozen postcards.”

“Yeah, people love to take pictures of it.” Brennan draped his arm around her shoulders and brushed the side of her neck with his thumb. “Which is why I’m really paranoid about keeping the front drapes shut. I’d hate to have my naked ass show up on a tourism advertisement.”

Skye allowed him to pull her close to his side, still relishing in the novel feeling of safety. “I don’t know. I imagine if that happened New Orleans might get an influx of visitors like never before.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, and then I’d really be the black sheep of the family.”

Skye glanced at his face as they strolled up the block toward the house. “You don’t strike me as much of a black sheep.”

“Oh, honey.” He pressed a quick, sweet kiss to her temple, and it made her smile. “I am.” He lifted his hand off her shoulder for a second to wag his index finger in the air. “Get your shit together, Brennan,” he said in a high-pitched voice. “Although neither of my parents would probably ever sayshit. At least not to me. Regardless. I am their single greatest disappointment.”

“What?” She turned her head to squint at him for a second. “How so?”

---