“I’m sure it does not.” It totally does.
“So that’s also a yes.”
I chuckle again and realize that I have never enjoyed a date conversation this much. Even though it was about my parents.
I’ve also never told another date about my parents and their feelings about my hockey career.
That either says amazing things about Nora or really pathetic things about me.
Of course, it could be a little bit of both.
We spend the rest of the dinner chatting casually about my home country, my siblings, their very interesting husbands, and their husbands’ friends. Declan is friends with Rebel’s very own hometown billionaire, her cousin, Dane.
Nora tells me about how Dane inherited all of his father’s businesses—a little over half the town of Rebel—but that he doesn’t want any of them. But he also can’t get rid of them because no one in town can afford to buy them and he has just enough of a heart to not sell them to anyone outside of Rebel.
When it’s time for dessert, Nora first tries to tell me she’s too full for any, then agrees to a scoop of gelato. I, of course, have Enzo bring one of everything.
She laughingly protests, but does take a bite or two of each thing before Enzo boxes them up for us to take back to Rebel with us.
“Will Bruce think you’ve been cheating on him and his café?” I asked as I re-pocket my wallet and grab the to-go bag, then pull out Nora’s chair and help her to her feet.
“Maybe. But then I’ll have him try the tiramisu, and he’ll forget all about it.”
I’m grinning again—or still? Have I stopped?—as I escort her to the door.
“Do you want to walk around for a little bit?” she asks. “I haven’t been down to the quarter at night in a long time. I love to just walk and people-watch.”
“Of course. I am up for anything.” Mostly prolonging my time with Nora.
We start down the sidewalk toward the French Quarter since we are right on the edge. She slips her hand into mine, seemingly naturally, and my chest expands.
Damn. What is it about this woman?
We walk for about three blocks without speaking.
This area is mostly businesses that are closed at this time of night. It seems all of the businesses in the quarter have apartments above them, so lights are glowing in many of the windows and a few people are out on balconies, but it’s clear that most of the music and noise is coming from a few blocks away.
We start past the French Market. It’s closed for the evening, but the multi-block outdoor market, which sells everything from local produce to fresh-baked goods to handmade jewelry to antiques, will be open tomorrow morning at nine.
“You know, we were actually hoping that youwoulddo some interviews about the Revelers,” Nora says.
I look down at her. “What kind of interviews?”
“You’re a big name in hockey. You were hurt and left the team you’ve played for for your whole career, and you took off for Cara for a few months. Surely people—fans and the sports media—are wondering what you’re up to.”
Ah, she’s thinking I’ll do interviews with the hockey world. “And you think they’ll want to know about the Revelers and bonkers hockey?” I ask lightly.
That’s why you’re in Rebel. You’re there to play hockey. You’re important to her because you’re a hockey star. You can’t be butt hurt because she wants you for hockey. Everyone wants you for hockey.
“I don’t know.” She looks up at me. “Do you? I guess, I’dhopedthey would? It’s definitely a story that a star hockey player is now playing a new kind of hockey in small-town Louisiana.”
“And that would draw attention to this new league,” I say.
“Right.”
I don’t think she’s aware of it, but she starts walking with a little bounce.
“If people are intrigued, maybe they come to Rebel for a game. Then we can hook them with our crawfish boil and the beads and the Zambonis decorated like Mardi Gras floats and the fan involvement. And maybe they decide to stay over Friday night and see more of the town on Saturday.”
