Chapter Twenty-Four
Georgie
I sounded ridiculous even to my own ears, but I needed to know.
He straightened up and flashed me a huge smile. "Yes, we are."
I felt as if someone had taken a huge weight off my chest. My shoulders seemed lighter too.
"Sorry for sounding so..."
"Georgie, tell me what's on your mind. Tell me what you're afraid of."
"I don't know. I'm not sure if I'm afraid of something per se," I replied slowly. But yet another knot in my chest unfurled. It was easy to talk to him. No need to keep my guard up.
"If you're ever ready, just tell me."
And he wasn't pressuring me to open up either.
"You said this isn't your MO”—I waved my hand between us—“that you never brought a date to any event. I surmised that means you just don't date."
Julian cleared his throat. "That's a very correct assessment."
Shit. My stomach constricted again.
"But that doesn't mean things can't change," he continued.
Having his blue eyes trained on me was truly unnerving. I wasn't used to having such open conversations with a man, let alone one where we held eye contact the entire time.
"How so?"
"Most people resist change. Not me. I've always been open to reconsidering my ideas and beliefs."
He reached both hands over the table, putting them palm up, and I knew what he meant. I sat on the edge of the chair and put my hands in his.
"I met you and decided some of my beliefs needed to be reconsidered."
"I can't believe you'd just openly say that."
He squeezed my hands, then let go because it was a bit awkward talking like this over the table. I immediately missed his touch.
"Why not? I like calling things like they are."
I went back to eating my remaining mussels. Funny, they tasted even better after our conversation. I hadn't realized I was carrying this fear around.
"Anything else on your mind?" Julian asked between gulping mussels down.
Ah, that was a very efficient way of eating. But I preferred to savor each one slowly. Besides, if I ate them with a fork, I could scoop up all that cheesy goodness.
"I don't know. I don't think so. Do you have anything you want to talk about?"
"No, I just want to enjoy you. That's it. That's my plan. Away from any party and anyone watching us."
Warmth filled my limbs. "It's a nice change. Okay, last mussel." I rubbed my palms together, glancing down at it.
Julian smiled. He'd already eaten all of his.
"If you want, we can order more," he offered.
"No, it's fine. I want to be able to enjoy the jambalaya. And you were right, that cheese sort of does fill your stomach quickly. It's one of the best things I've ever eaten."
"I can have them bring these to you every day at the store if you want."
My eyes bulged, and then I laughed.
"I mean it."
"You would...?" My words faded. "That's very generous of you.”
That was an understatement. Wow! He wanted to have this brought to me just because I enjoyed them?
I focused on the mussel, scooping up every last bit of the filling and then chewing slowly, closing my eyes while enjoying its flavor. I took in a deep breath and swallowed before opening them again. Julian was still looking at me intently.
"Fucking hell, woman. The way you savor things is giving me ideas."
I winked at him. "Keep them all for later."
Oliver practically burst through the door the second I put down the empty shell. He was holding a huge tray with two big plates. Was there a camera in here? How else could he tell when we were done? Maybe he spied on our conversation from the door... Nah, that wasn't possible.
He put down the tray and moved with excellent dexterity, immediately taking away the empty plates and placing the jambalaya in front of us. I drew in a deep breath. It smelled absolutely amazing.
"Thank you, Oliver," Julian said, and I realized that the man was standing still, looking at me expectantly.
He reluctantly took up the tray and nodded at us before leaving.
"What was that?" I asked Julian.
"He was waiting for your verdict."
I started to laugh. "But he's not the chef, is he?"
"No, but he's been with us for a very long time. He's very attached to the restaurant."
That spoke volumes about the way the family treated everyone working in their establishments. If people had so much loyalty, it meant they truly loved what they did.
"Just a word of warning: whatever you think, tell Oliver it's the best you've ever had." He winked. "But you can tell me the truth. Always."
I had a hunch that he wasn't simply talking about the jambalaya. And I also instinctively felt that he meant it, that whatever I told him would not be met with judgment or disdain, and that was so refreshing.
I immediately dug my fork into the jambalaya and held it up, making a whole show out of smelling it. I closed my eyes again, breathing in a few times. I was doing it for Julian's sake mostly, but also because having my eyes closed allowed me to take in aromas in a different way. Then I shoved the forkful into my mouth. My eyes flew open.
I chewed it quickly and didn't even manage to swallow before saying, "This is fantastic."
"But is it the best?" he teased.
"Hmm. I still have to think about it." But something interesting was happening. The more I ate, the more I liked it. "This is addictive."
Julian watched me with a playful smile.
"Why do you look like you know something I don't?"
"It's a common reaction. I think you feel the flavors more intensely after a few mouthfuls. There was a huge debate going on in the family for years about which restaurant served the best jambalaya."
"Oh, because Isabeau and Celine were the chefs at LeBlanc & Broussard."
"Bingo," Julian said.
"And they agreed that this one was the best?"
He burst out laughing. "No chance in hell of that. Isabeau is still convinced hers is the best in New Orleans."
"What’s your opinion?"
"I'll only say it if you promise not to tell a soul."
His voice was playful. God, I liked this side of him.
"I promise. And Isabeau sounds like a hoot."
"I think she's hands down the most stubborn person in the family. This is my favorite."
"So, you lie to your grandmother to her face?" I asked with a grin.
"Not at all. Isabeau always assumes everyone prefers her jambalaya. She doesn't even ask."
Oh, I hoped to be that self-confident one day.
"You were right about not ordering anything else. I'm already full and haven't even finished."
"I told you. It's huge."
"I need a break, though," I said after a few more forkfuls.
"Sure. We're not in a hurry."
"Aren't we?" I said in a very sassy tone. "It seemed different back at the store."
His eyes flashed. "Georgie, don't remind me. Fuck, the way you tasted..." He drew in a deep breath, looking at the table as if it was suddenly ten times more interesting. That I could heat him up that quickly made me happy. It showed me how much Julian was into me. "You know, we've talked about me, but not about you."
"What do you mean?"
"Before Kyle, were you in other long-term relationships?"
"I wouldn't quite call Kyle long term. It was just a few months, but they certainly made a lasting impression. Before that, I mostly dated. My last long-term relationship ended when I took over the store from Mom."
"How come?"
"Because I was working a lot. I'd stupidly assumed that since I'd already been working there for years, it would be more of the same. But being in charge of everything takes up a lot more time. My then-boyfriend didn't really like that."
"What a fucking imbecile. Of course it takes a lot of work to manage a business. I'm sorry for that."
"It is what it is," I said honestly. "It was a few years ago, so I'm not really hanging on to that. Was it difficult for you in the beginning, when you first took over the bar businesses?"
He nodded. "Some aspects. Like you, I'd assume that because I'd been in the business world forever, it couldn't be that hard. I’d interned for a long time, but I learned the ropes quickly, and I wouldn't trade it for anything else."
I resumed eating my jambalaya as I was listening to Julian. He was almost done with his plate. How did he eat so fast? I thought I ate quickly, but he bested me.
Suddenly, I was very eager for us to finish our dinner. It was lovely up here, but I wanted to move to the next part of the evening.
"Why are you eating so fast?" Julian asked as he lazily took his last forkful.
"Well, you’re already done, and I didn’t want to hold us up."
I realized how weird that sounded, but judging by Julian's smirk, he understood exactly what I meant.
"I see. You're in a hurry to go somewhere. Where exactly?"
I glared at him. "Julian, you know. Don't make me say it out loud."
"Why not?"
"Because I might burst into flames."
His smirk was more pronounced. "Fine, then I won't. I take it you're not in the mood for dessert?"
"I can't believe I'm saying this, but I'm too full, and I still want to be able to... you know. Take advantage of you. You wouldn’t let me at the store, if I remember correctly."
Julian growled. "Georgie, if I'd done everything I wanted to you at the store, we would've spent the whole night there."
"That doesn't sound half bad."
"The only comfortable piece of furniture you have in there is that armchair."
I gasped. "No, we're not going to defile that." But he did have a point.
“We can go if you’re finished. Want more wine?”
“No, I’m done. But don’t we need to pay?"
He shook his head. "All taken care of. Tip included."
I smiled. "Okay, then we're ready to go, I guess. Do you think anyone will know why we're in such a hurry?"
"Nah," Julian said, then leaned over quickly, kissing my cheek. "Leave it to me."
"I fully trust you."
We walked to the first floor with quick steps.
Oliver immediately noticed us. "Leaving so soon? You didn't even have dessert."
"No. Georgie here is in the mood for Café Du Monde." I barely hid a gasp. Oliver seemed downright affronted, but Julian continued with "Nothing can beat those beignets. You know that."
Oliver cocked a brow but didn't reply. I had a feeling it was only because Julian was a LeBlanc.
"Oliver, the jambalaya truly was the best I’ve ever had." It was an attempt to salvage this poor man’s evening, and I succeeded.
He flashed a huge smile. "Thank you. I’ll pass the compliments to the chef. Let me get your coat."
He stepped into a side room for a few moments, returning with my coat. Julian helped me put it on right away.
"See you around, Oliver," Julian said as he took my hand and led me out of The Apothecary. The restaurant was completely full now.
Once we were outside, I told him, "I'm never trusting you again. Why did you tell the poor man we're having beignets?"
"I know Oliver. If we told him that we ate too much, he would insist on us having at least a small dessert. Next thing you know, he'd bring us a selection of everything. It's happened to me several times. I learned not to fall for his tricks."
I giggled. "Oliver sounds a lot like my nana. She never understood when people told her that they were too full. She seemed to take it as a big compliment, so she just piled on more."
The street was a bit more crowded than when we came to the restaurant.
"So, about that stroll...," he said, eyes glinting.
It had seemed like a good idea while he walked me to the bus station. I couldn't for the life of me figure out why I even thought I’d want to now , but oh well.
"Yes, of course. What direction do you have in mind?"
He tilted his head, looking at me playfully. "At the end of it, I was going to invite you for a nightcap at my house."
"Is that so? So you could—how did I phrase it before?—take advantage of me?"
"That might be my plan, yes." His blue eyes seemed to pop even more against the dark, the only light coming from the windows and the occasional lamppost.
"Where is your house?"
"Right at the very edge of the French Quarter, three blocks away from the bar. I didn't want to be too close to the hustle and bustle."
I nodded. "That makes sense."
"So, my suggestion is to stroll toward my place and explore what's on the way."
I threw my head back, laughing. "I see. As opposed to what? Doing a sprint toward your house?"
He chuckled. "That is the only other remaining option."
"I'm totally on board. Besides, in all of these years, I haven't even explored the quieter part of the French Quarter."
“Then we have a deal.”
He stepped closer, and we walked arm in arm down the street.
"You want to stop by the bar too?" I asked him. "You always go on Saturday evenings, right?”
"Nah, this night is for us. I want you all for me."
I grinned. “Okay.”
We strolled down the cobblestone street at a lazy pace... right until Julian straightened up and groaned. I didn't realize why until he reached out his hand.
"Robert, good evening."
I immediately tensed too. I felt as if we'd been caught doing something wrong, which was ridiculous.
"Hey! I can't believe I'm running into you two," Robert said. "How's it going?"
Julian immediately interlaced our fingers, bringing the back of my hand to his mouth and kissing it.
Was this for Robert's benefit? Or was this a way of reassuring me? "We're good. It’s date night."
"It's good that you youngsters call this a date even after being together for some time."
My muscles went on lockdown even more. Shit, we should probably have talked about this. I didn't know how to react. I mean, we were dating now, but were we still faking the relationship part? If that even made sense to anyone but me.
"I like to spoil my woman," Julian replied.
"I’ll see you two at the Landry party," Robert said.
"Of course you will."
"Good. I look forward to chatting with you." He shook Julian's hand again before bidding us goodbye.
Once he left, Julian glanced at me. "You okay?"
"That felt a bit bizarre."
"For me too. Not really sure why."
"We should talk about the Landry party now, don’t you think?" I bit the inside of my cheek.
"Don't fret over that, Georgie, okay? It'll all work out."
"You’re right.” I shook myself out of my thoughts. I didn’t have to think about any of that tonight. “Please, be my tour guide from here until we reach your home."
"Since we're in the neighborhood anyway , do you want beignets?"
"Usually, I don’t turn them down, but right now, I really am truly too full."
"All right, then. Let's avoid the corner of Decatur and Ursulines, then."
"Good plan."
As we walked, Julian kept pointing out several buildings where his family either had business or were points of interest for them. His house was on Marais Street near Governor Nicholls Street. I didn't remember the last time I'd been around here, though I'd probably passed it on the way to Esplanade Avenue a few times. It was relatively quiet. The houses were quaint, and one in particular looked as if it had been renovated recently. The coat of paint was near perfect.
He pointed at the very same building. “This is my home.” The facade was light blue, and the balcony railing was painted either dark blue or black. It had two stories, with three windows on each. It was exactly the kind of house I wanted to own one day.
Once inside, I was stunned by the mix of modern and traditional. The kitchen was ultramodern with marble countertops. The TV area looked like something out of a futuristic movie as well, with a sliding panel that could be pushed out of the way when no one was watching. The corridor paid tribute to the age of the house with a huge crystal chandelier and exposed brick walls with a staircase that led to the upper level. He took off his suit jacket, then helped me out of my coat, putting them on a rack by the entrance. We took off our shoes too.
“This place is absolutely stunning. Did you move in here recently?" I asked.
"No. I've been here ten years, but I renovated the facade last year."
"Do you have a courtyard as well?"
"A small one."
He led me to a door with an old-fashioned window on the other end of the living room, and we peeked outside. It was rather dark, but I could spot a bench in the courtyard. It was all paved with stones.
Julian came behind me and whispered in my ear, "Want us to take the nightcap outside?"
"Oh, I forgot about the nightcap." I turned around to face him. "No, let's keep the party here. What did you have in mind?"
"I've got an excellent rum I just scouted for the bars. Would you like a shot?"
My eyes bulged. "I didn't know you could drink rum in a shot."
"Most times you don't, but this one is exquisite."
I nodded. “Sure.”
We walked to the kitchen island, and he took a bottle out from under it, along with two shot glasses.
"You weren't joking about that nightcap," I teased.
"It was a spontaneous idea to lure you here."
He gave me the shot, and I sniffed it.
"I’ll chug it, but you can sip it if you prefer."
"Oh, that'll get me good and drunk."
I did take a sip, though, because I wasn't sure if I could drink it quickly. I was never a shot drinker. "Delicious."
"I told you."
"It's soft and aromatic."
Julian immediately downed his, and I followed suit. It didn't even really burn my throat, which was perfect. It allowed me to savor the flavors more.
"I feel my feet melting already," I said in earnest, walking up to him. "A great nightcap. But just so you know, it wasn't really necessary. You could've just lured me here with this." I fondled his right bicep. "Or this." I moved on to his left one. "Or this." I placed my palms over his pecs. "I really wouldn’t mind which. I would've fallen hook, line, and sinker anyway."
Julian laughed, but his eyes flashed and then darkened as his pupils dilated. He took our two empty shot glasses and put them on the counter, moving with so much precision that you'd think he was performing surgery.
He turned to me, and I practically saw the moment his control slipped completely away and instinct took over. A thrill coiled through me, and then Julian kissed me even hotter than at the store, and far deeper. And yet I couldn't get enough.