Chapter 6 #4
Her head reared back as she blinked in surprise. “I didn’t realize that was a priority on your list.”
“It is,” Jamal assured her, holding her gaze for several long, heated moments.
She finally broke the connection, returning her attention to the crates of mismatched fixtures.
Jamal bit back a curse. For some reason, she didn’t fully trust him.
But they didn’t know each other well enough for her to have formed a genuine opinion of him, negative or positive.
Someone else had put that distrustful look in her eye—some boneheaded jackass who probably didn’t deserve to be within the same airspace as Phylicia, let alone close enough to break her heart.
That also meant he would have to pay for the jackass’s mistakes. As Jamal stared at her across a hodgepodge of brass knobs, he had no doubts that she would be well worth the effort.
They scored several articles to use in the restoration at Belle Maison. When they returned to the truck, Jamal popped the seat forward so he could store their finds in the truck’s cab.
“Is that an instrument?” Phylicia asked, pointing to the case he kept behind the seat.
“A saxophone,” Jamal answered.
Her eyes glittered with surprised humor. “I guess I shouldn’t be shocked, although I wouldn’t have pegged you for the woodwind section,” she said. “Percussion, maybe.”
“Is that a dig at my work with a hammer?”
“You do make more noise than the entire drum section of the Gauthier High School Marching Band.”
Jamal shook his head. “You just love giving me a hard time, don’t you?”
“It is a lot more fun than I ever imagined.” She laughed as she slid onto the seat.
“So why doesn’t it surprise you that I play the saxophone?” he asked as he backed out of the parking lot.
“Uh, let’s see. Could it be because your entire Spotify collection seems to be filled with jazz?” she said.
“Not true. I’ve got some Tupac, a leftover from my rebellious days.”
She barked out a laugh. “I’m not sure which one surprises me more, that you listened to Tupac or that you had a rebellious phase.”
“I was the quintessential hell-raiser,” he said. The look she slid his way told him that she didn’t believe that for a minute. “Okay, so I wanted to be a hell-raiser. I just never got around to it.”
That coaxed another musical peal of laughter from her. He would never get tired of hearing that sound.
“If you want to listen to something other than jazz, just let me know. You can send me your playlists.”
“No, no,” she said. “I love jazz.”
“Really?” Jamal asked. “Now I’m the one who’s surprised.”
“Why’s that? Were you expecting me to have Tupac’s greatest hits?”
It was his turn to laugh. “No, I just didn’t peg you as a jazz lover, either.”
After a brief pause, she asked, “Have you been to any of the jazz clubs in New Orleans?”
He shrugged. “A few months ago Wynton Marsalis had an exclusive performance at one of the clubs downtown. They only sold fifty tickets, so I was lucky to even get in. But I haven’t checked out any others. I’ve been too busy, first with the renovations on my house, and now with Belle Maison.”
“You live an hour away from the birthplace of jazz and have only been to one club?” She tsked. “That is unacceptable, Mr. Johnson.”
“I know,” he said with a healthy amount of shame in his voice, causing her to chuckle.
After another pause, she said, “Maybe we should go sometime.”
Jamal did a double take. “Did you just ask me out? Like on a date?”
“Don’t make a big deal out of it,” she said.
“The hell I won’t. You just asked me out on a date!”
“Yes, I asked you out on a date,” Phylicia said with a sigh. She stared at him for several long moments, then, in a voice that held more uncertainty than he’d ever heard from her, she asked, “Should I take it back?”
“Fuck no,” he said.
Her lips curled at the edges, and Jamal’s mind instantly conjured that kiss he’d stolen in her workshop. He recalled the taste as if it had just happened.
“Good,” Phylicia said. Then she turned her eyes back to the road ahead.
Jamal knew he should pay more attention to the road, too, since he was the one driving, but his eyes continued to stray to her profile. Gorgeous didn’t do her justice. With those high cheekbones and elegant neck, she was so past gorgeous. She was stunning. Striking. Sexy.
And she’d just asked him out.
“So, what kind of date will this be?” he asked. “Are you doing this just because you want me to experience more jazz music, or is this a date date, as in we sit and share a meal that doesn’t come on a disposable plate?”
After a slight pause, she said, “I was hoping it could be a date date.”
Jamal lost a bit of the air from his lungs.
“I know I’m the one who asked for the hands-off rule,” Phylicia continued.
“But when we were at Mya’s for the game on Sunday, she said something that got me thinking.
We are both two single adults, in a town that doesn’t have many single adults our age.
What’s wrong with the two of us going out for a night on the town? ”
“Not a damn thing,” Jamal said with a smile he couldn’t hold back if he tried. “So, when will this date happen?”
“When are you available?”
“Right now,” he answered without hesitation.
Her head flew back, her sharp laugh reverberating around the truck cab. “I doubt there are any clubs open right now.”
“Tonight, then?”
“You want to go to a jazz club on a Wednesday night? Wouldn’t Friday or Saturday be the more traditional date nights?”
“To hell with tradition,” Jamal said. “Don’t make me wait until the weekend, Phylicia.”
She twisted a bit in her seat, turning toward him. “Okay,” she said. “I guess it isn’t unheard of to go out in the middle of the week. The clubs should be less crowded.”
“So will the restaurants.”
“We really don’t have to go out to dinner,” she said.
“If I’m taking you out on a date date, I’m buying you dinner. That’s non-negotiable.”
She rolled her eyes. “Will you insist on opening the car door for me and pulling out my chair, too?”
“I can do that,” he said. “I had the finer points of being a gentleman drilled into me at a very early age.” He slid a sly smile her way. “It wasn’t until high school that I learned when it’s okay not to be a gentleman.”
A decidedly wicked smile drew across her lips. “Hmm…maybe I’ll get to see both sides to you tonight.”
His stomach pulled tight, and the breath that was on its way out of his lungs stalled. Jamal was pretty sure he wouldn’t notice if a nuclear bomb erupted right in front of him, and if it wasn’t for fear of running them off the road, his tongue would be in her mouth right now.
Hopefully, he would get the chance to experience that tonight.
He pulled into the driveway of Belle Maison and Phylicia hopped out. She walked around to the bed of the truck, but Jamal stopped her before she could grab any of the items they’d picked up from the salvage yard.
“I’ve got this,” he said. “Why don’t you go home and get ready?”
“Is this your polite way of saying that I’ll need extra time to get prettied up before you take me anywhere?”
“You don’t have to do a damn thing to yourself, Phylicia. It’s impossible for you to get any more beautiful.”
Her smile turned even more wicked. And playful. And kissable.
She tilted her head to the side, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “If you’re trying to flatter your way into my pants, it just might work.” She started for her truck, calling over her shoulder, “I’ll see you tonight.”