"That good?" Nadia asked.
"Better," Mara said, and couldn't keep the smile off her face. "We're spending the week together. Starting tomorrow."
There was cheering and someone whistled and Quinn pulled up something on her tablet that made Winter groan. "Called it. You owe me twenty bucks."
"Worth it," Winter said, grinning at Mara. "You look happy."
"I am." Mara sat down and told them about the kiss at the bar and the po'boys and the kiss outside his hotel. About the way it all felt so easy and right and like something that could actually work despite all the reasons it shouldn't.
"So what's the plan?" Kira asked.
"Play tour guide for a week. Show him the city. See where this goes." Mara pulled out her phone and saw another message from Logan. Just a photo of the view from his hotel window with the caption"Thinking about you."
She smiled and typed back."Same. Tomorrow. Eight AM. I'm taking you to the real New Orleans."
"Can't wait."
Mara looked around at her team. At the women who'd become family over the years. At the place she'd built that meant everything to her. And then she looked at her phone and thought about Logan and the week ahead and the possibility that maybe, just maybe, she could have both.
"I'm going to bed," she said. "Early morning tomorrow."
"Have fun," Nadia called after her. "And Mara? We're happy for you."
"Thanks." Mara headed to her room with her phone in her hand and that smile still on her face. She changed into sleep clothes and climbed into bed and for the first time in weeks, fell asleep immediately. No nightmares. No restless thoughts. Just the easy sleep of someone who'd found something worth holding onto.
And tomorrow she'd see if it could actually last.
SEVEN DAYS IN NEW ORLEANS
New Orleans, Louisiana Sunday Morning
Mara met Logan at Café Du Monde at nine in the morning. He was already there, sitting at an outside table watching tourists shuffle past in various states of hangover and caffeine deprivation. When he saw her, his whole face lit up in a way that made her stomach flip.
"Morning," he said, standing to pull her into a kiss that tasted like coffee and felt like coming home.
"Morning yourself." She sat down across from him. "Ready for the full New Orleans experience?"
"Born ready. What's first?"
"Beignets. The real ones. Not the tourist trap version but the actual best beignets in the city." She flagged down a server and ordered in French. Logan raised an eyebrow and she grinned. "What? I've lived here long enough to pick up the language."
"That was hot."
"Wait until you taste the beignets. That'll really impress you."
The beignets arrived and Logan took one bite, got powdered sugar all over his shirt, and declared them the best thing he'd ever eaten. Mara laughed and took a photo of him covered in white powder looking blissful.
"Delete that," he said, not meaning it.
"Never. This is going in my blackmail folder." She took another photo. "Besides, you're cute when you're messy."
"Cute. Every operator's dream description."
"Would you prefer ruggedly handsome?"
"I'd prefer you stop taking pictures and eat your beignets before I steal them."
They spent the morning wandering through the French Quarter. Mara showed him the hidden courtyards and the buildings with the best architecture and the spots where locals actually went instead of tourists. They stopped at a spice shop and Logan bought hot sauce he'd never use. They browsed a bookstore that smelled like old paper and possibilities. They found street musicians on every corner and Logan dropped bills in every hat.
