“Don’t know.” Fonz shrugs, pulling his shirt over his head. His curly hair is always a mess, and his mustache looks like it just came in. It never needs trimming.
“You don’t remember anything?” I don’t remember anything, but I want to say I have an excuse. I was on drugs.
“Ahh…” He drops his head back, scrubbing his fingers over his eyes. “She was inMamma Mia?Or she was into it or something? You know, the movie?”
I shake my head. “Never heard of it.”
“She said it was something like her summer of freedom or her last summer.”
“What does that mean?”
“I don’t know.” He shrugs. “I just thought she was having agood time. She loved that movie, and oh yeah, she had a friend.”
“Who?” I lunge forward, grabbing his arm. “Who was her friend?”
“Dude.” He jerks out of my grip. “Chill. I think it was Sabrina or Stacy. She’s on the Cheer Krewe. Go over there and look her up. Hell, they’re probably practicing today.”
I’m out the door before he even finishes speaking.
CHAPTER 16
Melody
Knox Bradford’s handsome face, relaxed and sleeping, yet still devastatingly sexy is the first thing I see when I open my eyes.
His little girl had rolled onto her side facing him in the night, and his large hand now rests protectively on her back, holding her close,like a footballhe kept saying last night.
He probably wasn’t thinking like I was: A football is his most treasured possession.
I can’t help a quiet swoon and a quick picture as I gather my things and head out into the early morning, before the dawn.
When I arrive back at my place, my thoughts are miles away, somewhere dreamy and completely inappropriate for my position as a journalist.
I open the front door and do my best to sneak in without waking my bestie.
“Where have you been?” Lindsey steps around the corner, and I let out a little yelp.
“Lord, you nearly gave me a heart attack!” I hold my chest. “Don’t jump out like that.”
“I didn’t jump. I was working right here at my computer. Like I do every morning.”
“I got us breakfast!” I present a bag of beignets and two café au laits from Cafe du Monde I picked up on the way home, holding them out for her inspection.
Yes, I remembered seeing her text last night, and I figured she’d be on the couch waiting when I walked through the door. Don’t forget I grew up with this woman.
“You went all the way to the French Quarter?” Her eyes narrow, and she takes a coffee from me. “Awfully long way to go for breakfast.”
She takes a long sip, and a groan melts her suspicious face.
“Good stuff, huh?” I nod, waggling my eyebrows. “I’m going to take that as your funny way of sayingthank you.”
“I’m not saying thank you at all,” she argues. “This is clearly a cover. You didnotsleep in your bed last night.”
I make for the kitchen, but she runs around the sofa, stopping right in front of me, blocking my progress. I step to the left, and she does the same, back and forth until my shoulders drop.
“Would you quit? I have to pee!”
“Liar.” Her finger goes up, and she points, eyes dancing. “You’re just trying to cover. You were with him!”
