Chapter 27
Chapter twenty-seven
Izzy
"Where are you taking me this time?" I giggle as Maverick pulls my arm and drags me eagerly behind him down the bustling sidewalk of New Orleans.
You could say this has become our thing over the past few weeks. He texts me, saying he needs to see me with promising sexual innuendos, only to plan an elaborate date that blows me away.
He’s blown me away, too. Whether I wanted to or not, I’ve gotten to know Maverick. And, whether I wanted to or not, I like him. A lot. With each date, I discover a little more. With each date, I’m left wanting to know more.
And it scares the shit out of me.
Almost like it did with Jett.
"You'll see," he says with a chuckle, dragging my thoughts back to him. It’s one of the things I’ve discovered—his power to make me focus on him. Not necessarily silencing my thoughts and memories, but muting them. Making them bearable.
Maverick grips my hand tighter, takes a sharp left turn, and we come to meet the most beautiful set of French wooden doors. I've never taken the time to appreciate a damn door, but this entryway is unlike any I've ever seen, and it demands appreciation.
The sound of music pours out of the building, but it's muffled and nothing I recognize.
"Mav, what is this place?" I ask, my voice soft, still in awe at the sight before me.
He steps forward, throwing a smile and a wink over his shoulder as he reaches for the handle to swing one of the grand doors open. As he does, I'm met with the most breathtaking sight.
Rustic iron sconces on the wall in the shape of lanterns light the room, along with fairy lights strung throughout. The low, romantic lighting sets the entire vibe, and I'm here for it. The art on the walls and vibrant pops of color immediately grab my attention.
"Wow..." I whisper breathlessly, pushing past Maverick and the hostess and making my way further into the building, entranced by the beauty around me. It's like Louisiana threw up in here, and it's fascinating.
Large cypress trees stand firm on the far right side, with the restaurant’s bar attached to them.
Tables lay spread throughout, with people dining, each one secluded from the other, giving every group their own experience.
It's all beautiful, but the murals painted on the walls entrance me the most and pull me in.
Not many people know this about me, but I've always been captivated by art, specifically paintings. I used to dabble in it in high school. It was a good outlet for me. I was pretty decent at it, even considering art school, but... life. Life happened.
"These are stunning," I say softly to no one in particular.
On the wall before me is a giant, colorful mural of all aspects of Louisiana, from the swamps and the cane fields to the vibrant city life.
It's all here. While the contrasts announce joy, some of the aspects of the paintings scream pain.
I look it over and soak it in, trying to add each element to my memory bank.
Maverick's whisper comes out from behind me just as he places a hand on my shoulder. "These were painted by some of the homeless here in the city. The restaurant hired them to display their talents."
"Really?" I spin to face him briefly before turning back to the wall, placing one hand over my mouth and the other over my chest. "That's beautiful. This takes talent. It deserves to be displayed."
"I agree, and I knew you'd appreciate it the same way I do."
"How did you know?" I turn to face him again, giving him my full attention this time.
"You have art everywhere in your house. Some of them were your paintings. You’re really talented.”
My eyes widen. No one has ever noticed that before. “But, you’ve only been to my house once, for like two minutes. I only let you in because I was running late.”
“It was easy to see,” he says, tucking my hair behind my ear. “You’re easy to see, Izzy."
A knot forms in my throat at his words. You’re easy to see, Izzy. Maverick sees me? Men never truly see me… I don’t let them. Not since him. Not since I fell in love with—
"Excuse me, your table is ready. Right this way," the hostess calls out from behind Maverick, looking me over like I'm a psycho. Okay, maybe she has a good reason. I did just storm past her to stare at a wall.
Ah, fuck it. It was worth it.
After we’re seated at our table, I'm still looking around in awe. It's then that the music I heard previously becomes clearer—jazz music. True, authentic New Orleans Jazz. I look over to my right to see that the middle of the room has cleared, and there are couples dancing.
I've been to a lot of beautiful, neat places in the city. None are like this.
Before I can speak, Maverick orders our drinks and stands, reaching out for my hand.
He leans in closer, whispering directly into my ear, "If my memory serves me well, and I believe it does, you're quite the dancer. I'd like to see those moves again, Beautiful."
"Oh, I bet you would, Hotshot," I sass back, reaching for his hand, quite literally rising to the challenge.
Standing, I release his hand and head toward the dance floor. I love to dance and never turn down the opportunity. Once I reach the dance floor, I turn to see Maverick slowly walking up to me. Not wasting a second, I begin to sway to the beat. If he thinks I need him to dance, he's sadly mistaken.
Looking over, the couples around me glance my way with smiles of approval on their faces.
My ego has now been fed. Officially feeling myself, I begin to dance all on my own.
Of course, I'm making a show of it. Maverick stands at the edge of the dance floor, mouth agape, watching on with his eyebrows raised and a smile plastered across his face, fascinated.
The song changes, and the crowd claps; I clap along with them as the laughter pours out of me. I feel free.
Feel. I’m feeling. It’s a stark contrast to the numbness I’ve grown accustomed to. The question is… why? What’s different? Is Maverick helping me to heal the parts of myself I’ve always deemed as broken, or am I finally healing those parts on my own?
It’s always been hard for me to trust men, yet with him… I shake my head, clearing the thought.
Just as I begin to dance again, a hand wraps around my waist, spinning me around.
Maverick stands before me. All sense of playfulness is gone from his face, stopping my movements instantly. Before I can ask if something is wrong, he leans in, taking my mouth with his in a feverish kiss that sends goose bumps spreading across my skin.
Instead of retreating, like my brain is screaming at me to do, I sink into him.
His arm around my waist grips me tighter to him, and a gasp escapes my lips.
I pull back, meeting Maverick's blue eyes. "Hi," I whisper, breathy.
"Do you have any idea how stunning you are?" he asks, a full smile spread across his beautiful features again.
"Of course I do." I flip my hair playfully. "After all, it is very hard work."
He chuckles softly as he begins to lead, and we dance together.
A few dances later, I'm convinced he did this merely to show off. The man knows his way around a dance floor, and it's honestly fucking impressive.
"I have so many questions," I say as we return to our table.
"Ask away."
"First, how do you know how to dance like that?"
"It is very hard work." He throws my previous statement back at me with a chuckle.
"Touche. Second question: How do you know about this place? It seems like such a hidden gem."
"I own it," he says casually.
"What?" My mouth falls open in shock.
"Well, partially. It's my parents' place.
One of them. They own several similar to this.
I'm a part-owner in all of them. Their goal has always been to create environments that represent our culture and its beauty while also providing an atmosphere that's fun and inviting.
They pride themselves on giving jobs to the homeless in our community, hence the artwork. "
My brows pinch together. "That doesn't make sense."
He snorts. "What doesn't make sense, exactly?"
"You have a glamorous life like this." I wave a hand around. "Why would someone like you want to work in the oilfields and move to Sugarland, of all places?"
"Simple. I was used to a fast-paced life; at the time, I needed a change.
But I can't lie. New Orleans is where my heart is.
I miss it. It's hard to admit it, but farm life isn't for me anymore.
Everyone thought I'd lost my mind when I decided to go blue collar, and they thought me crazier when I moved to Sugarland to be closer to work.
I was nineteen and headstrong and insisted it was what I wanted.
Turns out, life is too simple. I live for the complexities. "
He's such a weird creature—a city boy currently living on a farm. I can't help but chuckle at the thought.
"You know, I saw your house, but I haven’t gotten to see you in your element on your farm."
He throws out a laugh. “There’s not much of an element. I don’t even have any animals.”
“You could always get some.”
“What kind?”
“Hm,” I hum playfully. “Anything but horses and pigs.”
“Chickens it is.”
“Aw, I love baby chicks. They’re so tiny and cute. Once you buy some, can I come see them?”
His broad smile lights up the room. “If you want to see me again, you could just say that, you know." I chuckle."You wish."
"Yes, yes, I do." He throws me a not-so-subtle wink.
“I have a confession,” I say abruptly, and his features shift into one of curiosity.
“Oh yeah? I’ll take all the confessions you’re willing to give.”
“I don’t really date. This is all weird as fuck for me, to be honest. But, I do like spending time with you... I guess.”
“Well, I will say that isn’t a huge revelation. Your list of rules practically gave that away.” He snorts, and I can’t help but join in on his laughter.
When our laughter ebbs, Maverick reaches across the table and takes my hand, I let him take my hand.
His thumb brushing softly across my skin, he adds, “And I like spending time with you, too, Izzy.”
“I never should’ve told you that,” I say, rolling my eyes.
To be honest, I’m not sure where the need to tell him came from, but at this point, I’m rolling with it.
It feels different, but familiar all the same.