The Beau & the Belle
Page 55

LAUREN: It wasn’t the most fetching ensemble. Besides, I put most of it back.
BEAU: Everything except my favorite LSU sweatshirt.
LAUREN: *My favorite LSU sweatshirt.
BEAU: Let’s put it on the ground between us and see which one of us it comes to.
LAUREN: Oops, too late. I just started a fire in the dryer. It’s gone.
BEAU: That’s fine, but you owe me something in return.
LAUREN: Like one of my sweatshirts?
BEAU: No thank you. I don’t think I could get it over my head. I want something else…
LAUREN: Well, well, well…is this where we start sexting? ;) I’ve never done it before, so you’ll have to walk me through it. Hold on, let me scroll through the emojis. I think people use the eggplant for this, right?
BEAU: I don’t know. Do eggplant emojis turn you on?
LAUREN: Not sure. Let’s find out. Send one, wait 10 minutes, and then send a nude. It’ll be textbook A and B testing. I did this once for a marketing class in college.
I’m stifling a laugh when Russ walks over with the two women.
“Andrea and Heidi, this is Beau.”
I stand and shake their hands. Russ adds two chairs to our table and then swoops in on Heidi immediately. Andrea sits down beside me and when our eyes meet, she smiles tightly.
“I feel like I should let you know I’m married. I only came over here for her,” she says, tilting her head to where Russ and Heidi have their heads together, whispering. Heidi giggles. Russ’s hand brushes her neck. They’re seconds away from making out right here on the table.
I nod. “I’m seeing someone too. Want a non-romantic drink? I think this is going to take a while.”
She relaxes now that she knows we’re simpatico. “Yeah, actually, that’d be great.”
My phone buzzes in my hand.
LAUREN: Wait, why’d you go radio silent? I was kidding! Kind of.
I smile and feel like a fool. It’s only been a few hours since I last saw her, but it feels like too long. I want her here.
BEAU: Come meet us at French 75. Your laundry can wait.
I excuse myself from the table and head to the bar to grab Andrea a drink. I also get a second bourbon for myself and a champagne for Lauren. There’s a long line and it takes me 20 minutes just to place my order. The bartender is new and forgets my bourbon the first time. He’s sweating, mumbling about how stupid he is for starting the job during Carnival season. I leave a hefty conciliatory tip before I carry the drinks back to our table.
Russ and Heidi aren’t there when I get back. Andrea tilts her head toward the bathrooms.
“Heidi went back a few minutes ago and then Russ followed her.”
I laugh and pass her the cocktail. “Real discreet. Looks like we both need new friends.”
She shrugs. “It’s been a while since she’s met anyone. I’m proud of her for getting back up on the horse.”
I pick up my bourbon for a toast, and I hear faint cries coming from the bathroom. “Literally, it seems. Well then, here’s to them.”
She clinks her glass with mine and then takes a small sip. I’m not quite sure what I’m supposed to do in this situation, so I ask her if she’s a local or if she’s in town visiting. Apparently, she and Heidi are here for work. Their conference ended today and they fly back to Oklahoma tomorrow. They’re in finance, and when I tell her about my company, she’s impressed.
“Wow. I’ve heard of Crescent Capital. I wonder if Heidi realizes who she’s hooking up with right now.”
I laugh and look up just as Lauren breezes through the front door. She’s wearing a dark blue dress and red lipstick. Her blonde waves are loose and springy. She smiles and waves at someone she recognizes and I lean forward instinctively. She’s the most beautiful person, so vibrant and vivacious. She catches my eye and her smile widens that much more.
I stand and she walks straight toward me, arching up onto her tiptoes and pressing a kiss to my lips.
“Sorry, I probably look crazy. I was anxious to get here and my hair is still wet from my shower.”
I have no idea what she’s talking about.
She steps back and turns toward Andrea. Her smile drops slightly.
“Oh, you have company.”
I open my mouth to explain, but Lauren leans over and extends her hand before I can. “Hi, I’m Lauren, Beau’s girlfriend.”
It’s a nice enough greeting, but her tone is clear and possessive. I want to kiss her until her lipstick is rubbed off.
Andrea flits her gaze back and forth between us. “Oh, um, nice to meet you.” She laughs awkwardly. “Just to be clear, I wasn’t flirting with him. I’m married.”
She holds up her ringed finger.
“Andrea’s friend is into Russ,” I explain. “They’re getting acquainted in the bathroom as we speak.”
Lauren sighs. “Seriously? Damn, now I just feel like a jerk. Can I get you a drink?”
“I already got her one, and that’s your champagne.”
“Oh thanks.” She takes the seat beside me and smiles weakly at Andrea. “Seriously, sorry.”
Andrea laughs. “Hey, I get it. Your boy’s a catch.”
Her phone rings and she excuses herself to answer it. “Oh god, it’s my boss, probably wondering where we are. I need to take this.”
When we’re alone, Lauren turns to me and I arch a brow. “You’re my girlfriend, huh?”
She rolls her eyes and takes a big gulp of champagne. “Oh, don’t get all weird on me. I already feel like an idiot for embarrassing myself like that.”
“My girlfriend.”
She covers her face with her hands. “Stop! Labels are so hard—would you prefer maybe-soon-to-be romantic interest? Let’s talk about something else, like the fact that I don’t smell like smoke anymore.”
I’m impressed. “You got here pretty fast, and you look beautiful. Did I tell you that when you walked up or was I just thinking it?”
“Oh, well. Thanks.” She blushes and looks away. “Like I said, my hair is still wet.”
“Do you like your new place?”
“Sure, yeah. It’s nice.”
She sips her champagne.
“Do you want to stay with me tonight?”
She sighs. “Wish I could, but I have plans.”
“With your washing machine?”
“His name’s Whirlpool, Dusty Whirlpool.”
I can’t help but laugh. “Dork.”
She draws her finger along the edge of her champagne glass. “Actually, I brought some essentials in case you asked me to come over.”
I peek inside her bag. She’s somehow managed to cram an entire suitcase’s worth of items inside. There are pajamas and a makeup bag, clothes for work in the morning—she’s filled it to the brim. When I pick it up, it’s at least 25 pounds.
I aim a teasing smile at her.
“Don’t make fun of me!” she says, yanking it out of my hand.
“You could have left out the pajamas.”
She laughs until her eyes lock with mine and then she fidgets on her seat, sipping some more of her champagne. “How much longer do you think we have to stay?”
I stare at her cherry red mouth as she speaks. “We don’t. Let’s go. I’ll text Russ and we can wave to Andrea on our way out.”
I’m already standing, dropping cash on the table to close out our tab.
She laughs. “I just got here! You won’t even let me stay five minutes? I still have all this champagne.”
Something in my expression must convey my impatience because she nods and reaches for her flute. “Right, yeah. I’ll just toss back the rest—problem solved. Let’s go. Grab my purse.”
“You mean your suitcase.”
THE FINAL WEEK of Carnival season is utter madness. It’s like everyone knows Ash Wednesday is right around the corner and they need to sin all of their sins while the sinning’s still good. The excitement in New Orleans ramps up to an all-time high. Every bar on Bourbon is open 24 hours. Beads litter the sidewalk. Hotels are at capacity, and the city is complete gridlock as streets get shut down for parades. There are hundreds of them, each hosted by a different New Orleans krewe. Usually, I have time to enjoy the festivities, but not this year.