“Yeah, but don’t get cocky,” she warns. “And don’t forget the point of the experiment.”
I frown, having totally forgotten the point of the experiment. “What was that again? I got distracted thinking about your panties.”
She makes a left onto a narrow road, gravel crunching under the tires. “Your nerves. Don’t you feel better? You’re excited now, right?”
I cock my head, considering the question as the trees thicken overhead, forming a canopy that filters the light into shifting patches. Spanish moss drapes from the branches like something out of a postcard.
It’s quiet out here. Peaceful in a way New Orleans rarely is.
I’mfeeling pretty peaceful, too, with an undercurrent of positive expectation.
“Right?” Charlotte prods again.
I sigh, forced to confess, “Yes. I feel better. Much better.”
“See!” she crows. “I’m always right.”
I study her profile—the elegant line of her nose, her big, shit-eating grin, the way her eyes dance as she studies the road ahead—suddenly possessed by the certainty that I’m falling in love. She’s just…the cutest, and this isn’t just lust.
This is something more.
“You might want to saythatout loud, too,” she says. “That I’m always right. You’ll probably feel even better if you do.”
“You’re always right,” I say without missing a beat. “Except when you wouldn’t give me your number. That was wrong, but I’m willing to forgive and forget.”
She glances over, and for a second, something flickers between us. Heat. Awareness. Longing. The same things I saw in her eyes on Saturday before she let me pull her into my lap.
Then she swallows and turns back to the road.
Her voice is all business again as she says, “You might want to check your hair.Ithink it looks great a little messy, but I know you sporty guys can be fussy about your front poof.”
I arch a brow. “My front poof?”
She motions vaguely toward where I use sea salt spray to form my hair into waves in the front. “There, in the front. Where it poofs. You might end up on camera, so make sure your poof is poofing the way you like.”
“Why might I end up on camera?” I frown as she pulls into a gravel lot in front of a large barn.
Maybe a dozen other trucks and cars fill the center of the space. But there, over at the edge of the lot, sits a giant news van, right next to a smaller van with “New Orleans Alive!” written on the side. There’s also a sedan that might belong to a rep from the local paper. I can’t read the print on its bumper sticker from this far away, but I’m pretty sure I recognize the logo.
I nod as I catch up, “Okay. I see what you’re up to.”
She cuts the engine, turning to face me with a mischievous grin. “Yeah? You’ve figured it out?”
“Whipping up some positive press for the bad boy at a barn. Probably with something wholesome involving hay.” I shake my head, torn between wanting to tell her she’s brilliant and the urge to strangle her a little. “But press is not always ‘good’, exciting. Especially not for me. The article the paper ran about the incident on Bourbon wasn’t flattering.”
“The reporter was just being impartial,” she counters.
“The reporter thought I was a dumb jock with anger management issues.”
“But you’re asmartjock with anger management issues, and we’re going to prove it,” she teases, giving my arm a reassuring squeeze. “Relax. You’ll be perfect. This is easy breezy stuff.” She reaches for her seatbelt. “We’re here to help set up for tomorrow’s Harvest Princess Charity Ball. All proceeds go to support kids fleeing domestic violence.” She leans into the back seat, grabbing a black garbage bag from the floor behind me. “We’re going to be dressing scarecrows in princess ball gowns and matching accessories.”
I blink. “Princess gowns?”
“Yes. And accessories. For the outdoor photo area and around the dance floor. We’ll start by steaming the dresses with my portable steamer, but we don’t want to snag or smudge the fabric, so a pair of kid gloves will be required. Don’t worry, I brought you an extra-large pair and an apron to hold your pins and clips. The apron is also very large and very pink. You’re going to look super cute and super silly and, most importantly, utterly harmless.”
I grin.
She grins.
