As the last notes of the jazz trio faded and the lounge began to fill with new faces, Rio leaned in close to Kylee again, his voice low and deliberate. “Come with me.”
Kylee blinked up at him. “Where?”
“Dinner. Just us.” His lips curled into that smirk again cocky, but somehow still charming. “I’ve had enough of sharing you.”
Before she could talk herself out of it, she found herself nodding. “Let me tell Kelly”
“Mason already knows,” he cut in smoothly. “They won’t miss us.”
With that, he took her hand, weaving her through the crowd and out into the warm, night-soaked streets of New Orleans. The sounds of Bourbon Street buzzed around them laughter, distant horns, the scent of fried food and something sweet in the air. But it all faded behind the beating of Kylee’s heart as Rio led her down a quieter side street, where the energy softened and the world felt like theirs alone.
They stopped outside a wrought-iron gate wrapped in ivy, the glow from inside warm and golden. A discreet host opened it without a word and led them through a courtyard to a secluded corner table tucked beneath a string of lights. The table wasalready waiting, candles flickering, wine poured, and the whole thing somehow already too perfect.
Kylee looked around, eyebrows raised. “Did you plan this?”
Rio grinned. “I always have a Plan B in case Plan A gets too crowded.”
She gave him a look. “So… seduction over seafood was the backup?”
“No,” he said, his eyes dancing. “This is the main event. I’ve just been patient.”
They sat across from each other, and the air between them stretched tight like a wire strung between two lit matches. She swirled the wine in her glass, her leg crossing slowly under the table. He watched every move she made, like she was the only thing worth looking at in the entire damn city.
“You’re quiet,” he said finally, leaning back and running a finger along the rim of his glass. “Regret coming?”
She met his gaze and for once, didn’t flinch. “No. I’m just trying not to forget any of it.”
He leaned in slightly. “Then let me give you something worth remembering.”
Kylee's breath caught. She could feel the electricity between them crackling like a storm building. But even now, she couldn’t tell if she wanted him to strike or if she was the one lighting the fuse.
Their food came, rich and indulgent blackened shrimp, buttery oysters, warm bread soaked in garlic and wine.
They talked about everything and nothing, and every time she laughed, Rio’s eyes softened just enough to make her feel like the most fascinating woman on the planet.
Between bites, he reached across the table, brushing her wrist with his fingers. “I know you said you're married,” he murmured, voice low. “But I can’t help thinking… if you weren’t you’d already be mine.”
Kylee didn’t answer right away. The candlelight danced between them, flickering across his jawline, shadowing the heat in his eyes. She swore she could feel his touch even when he wasn’t touching her.
Finally, she whispered, “Another life sounds awfully tempting.”
The night air was thick with humidity and jazz as they walked slowly back from the restaurant, the glow of street lamps casting long shadows across the cobblestone. Rio’s hand brushed lightly against Kylee’s as they moved, fingers almost grazing, the electricity between them undeniable.
“This is our last night together,” Rio said softly, voice low enough that it felt like a secret meant only for her. He stopped, turning to face her fully, his eyes burning with something fierce and tender all at once. “What if I could extend your trip? I have a break before my next tour stop. I’d love to spend that time with you.”
She bit her lip, hesitating. “I can't, I have to get back to Idaho, my kids go back to school, I have to get back to mom life.”
He stepped closer, his voice dropping another octave, almost a whisper. “That’s… sexy as hell, you know?
The way you care for them. I’ve never wanted children myself. But seeing you… it makes me think maybe I missed something.”
Her pulse raced at the admission, the raw honesty. She looked up, meeting his gaze dark, open, intense.
“Maybe,” she said softly, He brushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear, his fingers lingering against her cheek.
The world around them seemed to blur, leaving only the two of them standing on that warm New Orleans Street, caught in a moment stretched tight with possibility and all the things neither of them dared say aloud.
The SUV glided through the quiet New Orleans streets, headlights casting soft gold against the old brick and iron balconies. Inside the cabin, it was dim, cocooned in silence but for the hum of the tires against the road and the faint jazz drifting from the radio.
