“Not if you plan to do shots like some silly frat boy.”
His fingers tightened on her wrist. “I didn’t do shots when I was sixteen, and at forty-six I don’t plan to begin now.”
A beat passed as a slight frown appeared between Tonya’s eyes. “I figured we were around the same age.”
“We are.”
“I’m four years older than you.”
Gage pressed his mouth to the nape of her neck. “That hardly makes you a cougar. What’s the adage about age is just a number.”
Tonya laughed softly. “You’re right about that.”
He sniffed under her ear. “What perfume are you wearing, because you always smell delicious?”
“Chance.”
“Who makes it?”
“Chanel.” Tonya pulled back, her eyes moving slowly over his face. “Why are you asking?”
“I’d like to buy a bottle for my mother because she loves perfume.”
Gage had told her a half truth. His mother did have a weakness for perfume, but she had worn the same scent for as long as he could remember. And when he asked her why she didn’t try a new fragrance, she said it was the first gift his father had given her for their first Valentine’s Day together; not only had she fallen in love with the perfume but also the man who had given it to her.
“How old was your mother when she married your father?”
“Nineteen. She met him her last year in high school when she and several of her girlfriends came down for Mardi Gras. Pop was passing by when he saw a group of men who’d had too much to drink trying to pick them up. He pretended to know them and offered to become their protector. Mom gave him her number, and they alternated calling each other Sunday nights. Meanwhile, Pop hadn’t told her he was a widower with a young son.”
Tonya was so engrossed in the story that she had forgotten to breathe until she felt constriction in her chest. “What happened when she found out?”
“She said she wanted to meet his boy. It was love at first sight between her and Eustace. He asked Desirée if she was going to be his mother, because she was the first woman Pop had introduced to him. My maternal grandparents tried to talk her out of marrying a man with a ready-made family, but it was too late. They were married on her nineteenth birthday, and I came along a year later. Mom moved back to Lafayette a couple years after Pop passed away to help her folks run the antique shop. Six months ago, she moved them into an assisted living facility because she didn’t trust them to be alone while she went to work after my grandmother forgot to turn off the stove. I drive up to see them once a month.”
Tonya smiled. “What a wonderful love story.”
Smiling, Gage ruffled her hair. “So, you’re a romantic.”
“I really wouldn’t call myself a romantic, but who doesn’t want to hear about a happily ever after? Should I assume if your father hadn’t died that he and your mother would still be together?”
“You’re probably right. Anyone who met my parents could see they were madly in love with each other.”
Stretching her arms above her head, Tonya struggled to sit up. “I’m sorry to be a party pooper, but I need to head home.”
Gage pushed into a sitting position and swung his legs over the sofa. “Don’t you want to wait until the rain stops?” He’d said the first thing that came to mind because he didn’t want Tonya to leave. Four hours had gone by much too quickly, and he discovered he was more relaxed with Tonya than any other woman he had known. Initially he thought it was because she was a chef, but that was only a small part of what made her who she was. Gage liked that she was intelligent, straightforward, and not afraid to speak her mind. He appreciated her accepting her natural femininity without attempting to change her appearance, and doubted whether she realized she was sexier than a woman half her age.
“Give me a few minutes, and I’ll take you home.”
* * *
Tonya huddled close to Gage’s side as he held an umbrella over both their heads. The rain had intensified, coming down in torrents. One of her pet peeves was wet feet. “I should’ve had you park closer.”
Gage’s free arm circled her waist. “I don’t mind getting a little wet.”
Tonya tapped the app on her phone to unlock the door, and then turned to face Gage. Going on tiptoe, she brushed a light kiss on his mouth. “Thank you for a wonderful afternoon.”
Attractive lines fanned out around his eyes when he smiled. “I should be the one thanking you. We have to cook together again. In the meantime, would you be willing to come to Jazzes to hear me play?”
“I’d love to.”
