“Are you serious?” he asked, looking at the jacket like it might bite him.
“Very serious.” I held up the next item: a floppy straw hat with a giant, fake sunflower pinned to the brim. “This screams ‘Bourbon Street tourist.’”
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“Oh, we’re just getting started.” I yanked out a pair of giant, glittery flamingo-shaped sunglasses. “These are non-negotiable.”
Before he could protest, I threw a feather boa over his shoulder and layered him with at least fifty strands of brightly colored Mardi Gras beads. By the time I was done, the beads almost entirely obscured his face, and the hat dipped low enough to hide his eyes.
I stepped back to admire my handiwork, biting the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing. “Perfect. No one will recognize you.”
“I look like I belong in a parade,” he grumbled, adjusting the boa.
“That’s the point.” I stifled a giggle. “Now, you can walk right past everyone in the bar, and they’ll think you’re just another overzealous tourist who lost their group. Trust me, you’ll blend right in.”
He sighed, glancing down at himself. “This is ridiculous.”
“This is New Orleans,” I shot back. “Are you ready to escape or what?”
He groaned but nodded. “Fine. Let’s get this over with.”
I peeked out the door, making sure the coast was clear. The crowd was still rowdy, but most people were preoccupied with their drinks and each other. I motioned for him to follow, and we weaved our way past the crowd and out the front door.
As he stepped into the street, he turned back to me, the feather boa swaying with every movement. “You have a cruel sense of humor.” His voice dripped with reluctant gratitude.
I smirked. “You’re welcome. Get in your getaway car before someone spots you.”
He muttered something under his breath, adjusted the floppy hat, and strode toward a sleek black SUV that was idling on the street. The ridiculous outfit didn’t quite diminish his natural air of confidence, though the beads clinking around his neck made it hard to take him seriously.
The car door opened, and he climbed in without a backward glance. The SUV pulled away smoothly, leaving only the faint echo of the engine behind.
For a moment, I stood there, leaning against the doorframe and shaking my head.
4
LUKE
I sankinto the plush leather seat of my SUV and pulled off the absurdly oversized feather boa.
From the front seat, Hal, one of my bodyguards, turned halfway around, trying—and failing—to hide his smirk. “So, uh… interesting look you’ve got going on there, boss. New character research?”
Tom, the driver, snorted. “Yeah, what is your next role exactly, Mardi Gras king or a guy who lost a bet?”
I sighed, glaring at the back of Tom’s head. “Very funny. You two done?”
Hal grinned. “You’re the one who walked out looking like a parade float, mate.”
I leaned my head back, groaning. “Blame the waitress. She was the one who came up with the disguise.”
Tom shot me a glance in the rearview mirror. “Maybe you should hire her as your stylist.”
Tom and Hal were the best at what they did: keeping me safe. Even if I didn’t always make it easy.
I’d been in New Orleans for days, and I was going stir crazy. Tonight, I’d snuck out in the hopes of seeing Mrs.?Brodie, which led to that near-meltdown with the bar crowd. But at least they didn’t give me lectures. Even if they liked to joke at my expense.
I ignored them, staring out the window as we turned onto a quieter street. Topher’s mansion was only a few blocks away. The idea of finally peeling off this ridiculous outfit and retreating into solitude should have been comforting, but I couldn’t shake the thought of her, Anna.
She wasn’t like anyone I’d met before. Most people either fawned over me or tiptoed around me. But Anna? She didn’t care. She talked back, rolled her eyes, and seemed completely unimpressed with the idea of me.
