Amelia looked up in surprise. “Why was it naughty? It’s like saying congratulations on getting all the toys you want.”
“Time to go, girls,” Lucy said, hastily gathering their things. “We’ll have a chat in the car.”
She glanced back at me. “I’m glad he has a sense of humor.”
My cousin ushered the girls out the door, their chatter trailing behind her. Once the house was silent again, I leaned against the counter, replaying the morning’s chaos in my head. Luke’s laughter, the girls’ relentless honesty, and his disarming way of rolling with it all showed that maybe he wasn’t entirely impossible.
But there wasn’t time to dwell on that now. I was about to drop Luke right into the beating heart of New Orleans. Something so vivid, so alive, it might crack his polished Hollywood shell and force him to see what was right in front of him.
That is, if he could handle it.
14
LUKE
The music hitlike a tidal wave as soon as we turned the corner. Brass instruments wailed, drums thumped, and the unmistakable hum of a crowd in sync with the beat filled the air.
I hesitated, glancing around at the revelers. People of all ages were moving to the music, some with umbrellas spinning in the air, while others waved handkerchiefs in time with the music. They weren’t coordinated, but it was messy and alive and completely unselfconscious.
Anna walked next to me, her step light and confident, like she belonged here. She was completely at ease. I, on the other hand, felt like a cat dropped into a dog park.
“What is this?” I dodged a kid with a balloon who nearly barreled into me.
She turned to me, a knowing smile tugging at her lips. “It’s a second-line parade.”
“A second... what?” I scanned the scene like it might somehow explain itself.
Anna stopped and turned to face me, raising her voice slightly to be heard over the music. “It’s a New Orleans thing. The brass band up front is the first line, and everyone who joins in behind them is the second line. It’s a celebration of life. You don’t need a reason to join. You follow the music and let go.”
The heat of her proximity made my pulse quicken. I frowned, trying to focus. “Let go of what?”
She laughed, and the sound was low and intimate despite the chaos around us. “Whatever’s holding you back.”
The crowd thickened as we moved closer to the band, and I instinctively glanced over my shoulder. Hal and Tom weren’t far, keeping their distance but clearly on high alert. They were dressed to blend in and tried to remain inconspicuous as they scanned the crowd for threats.
Anna pressed closer as someone jostled past us, her shoulder against mine, her hip bumping my thigh. She handed me a handkerchief. Her fingers grazed my palm as I took it, and our eyes locked for a beat longer than necessary. “Here. You wave this while you dance.”
I glanced around, my hand tightening on the handkerchief she’d handed me. “I’m not exactly known for my rhythm. And I’m worried someone might recognize me. I mean, this crowd…”
“No one’s looking at you,” she interrupted, stepping close until I could feel the heat radiating from her body. “Here, no one’s concerned with anyone else. They’re too busy living in the moment.”
I scanned the mass of people dancing, laughing, and cheering around us. A man spun an umbrella in time with the music, kids darted between his legs, waving tiny handkerchiefs, and an older woman twirled with surprising energy. None of them even peeked in my direction.
“You’re serious?”
“Completely.” Anna stepped closer still, close enough that her chest nearly brushed mine when she breathed. “You’re just another face in the crowd here: no cameras, no headlines, no expectations. Just let go. I promise, no one’s judging you.”
I let her words sink in, looking around again. She was right. No one cared who I was or what I was doing. They were all too wrapped up in the music, the energy, the moment.
“Wave the handkerchief,” Anna added with a playful nudge. “Move your feet.”
I huffed a laugh, the tension easing just slightly. “Fine.” I raised the handkerchief tentatively, then swung it in time with the music. It felt ridiculous at first, like I was a kid at a birthday party, but Anna’s cheers were oddly encouraging. Slowly, I started to loosen up, moving my feet and trying to match the rhythm of the brass band.
Anna shot me a glance. “See? Not so bad.”
I grumbled something under my breath but couldn’t stop the faint smile tugging at my lips. She was right. No one was watching, and I felt like I didn’t have to perform. I could just be.
The band surged forward, and the crowd pressed along with it, sweeping us into the flow. I followed Anna, trying not to bump into anyone, still gripping the handkerchief.
