His Forever Girl

“Have fun, you two,” Ron called holding up his bar towel and giving it a wave.

And so Tess walked out of Two-Legged Pete’s with a good-looking man and the expectation for good food, good wine...and maybe something more.

Or maybe she wanted it to be more than what it was.

Either way, it was better than watching The Bachelor.

CHAPTER TWO

GRAHAM NAQUIN POPPED the trunk of the Chevy Malibu and placed his briefcase inside, slamming the lid with finality.

So...he’d picked up a random chick in a bar.

Outside his current comfort zone in a huge way. In fact, it was something he’d vowed not to do for a while. His focus was on getting his crap together.

In the past couple of months, he’d abandoned the impulsive, carefree Graham, electing to play everything safe. Hadn’t worked all that well for him so far, but he liked thinking he was a man who considered every decision thoroughly before moving forward. But tonight he hadn’t even tried to apply the brakes. Nope. He’d tossed out that white lie about Sadie Hawkins and backed it up with re-extending the offer for dinner.

He almost felt like himself again...like lady luck winked at him and dealt him a winning hand. Like things were going his way finally.

Smiling at Tess, trying like hell to convince himself an impulsive dinner date was a good idea, he waved an arm in the direction of the French Quarter. “Lead on.”

In the damp air, Tess’s beach-streaked hair had curled around cheeks scattered with freckles. Her eyes were the color of wet moss, and not much about her implied overt sexiness. More like friendly puppy or kid sister.

Okay. Not exactly friendly puppy. Or sister.

Tess also had full lips and a stubborn chin. Her perfectly-proportioned breasts were nicely outlined in her sweater and her caboose was tight. She wore those weird brown boots all the teenagers wore and jeans that looked comfy and trendy at the same time. She smelled like apples—sort of fresh and fruity. She had an all-American vibe, but there lay a promise in the sway of her hips, a hint of mystery in her smile. Tess reminded him of that one Christmas he’d found a forgotten present beneath the tree.

She’d sucked him in, stretched him outside his intentions...and damned if he wasn’t intrigued by the connection between them. It felt like something he’d never felt before. Or maybe he was on a high from nailing his interview.

“Wish I were dressed nicer so we could go somewhere swanky,” she said as they fell in step on the deserted sidewalk.

“I see how you roll,” he said, laughing when her eyes widened.

“No, I’ll totally pay for my own dinner. It’s just you’re dressed nice and if it’s been a while since you’ve been to New Orleans...”

“I come to New Orleans often enough...just not since November. Besides, New Orleans is a city where even the cheap eats are good.” Graham looked back toward the edge of the Marigny District, spotting the huge warehouse he’d toured that afternoon in the distance. Something warm and right settled in his gut at the thought of returning to his first love. The sound of tugboats blowing their horns on the Mississippi echoed the certainty in his soul.

“So a job interview brings you to the Big Easy?” Tess asked. The puddles along the worn streets tossed back reflections of the buildings. Occasionally someone rode by on a bike or a cab passed as the rhythm of the city reestablished itself after the early spring rain. The squeal of brakes, the rev of engines and the occasional shout of laughter accompanied the music spilling into the streets. The earthy smell of New Orleans which had once been like bacon and eggs to him filled his nose.

“Yeah, I worked for NASA for six years, but with all the federal cuts, my project was canned. Since I have to relocate, I wanted to come home. Something called me.”

“That’s almost romantic,” she said.

“Except it was an actual phone call,” he said, with a wry smile. No one had ever accused him of being romantic.

Her laughter tightened something within him. He glanced at her profile. Her nose tilted up, button cute. He liked that. Cute. Like he could drop kisses on it all night. Then and there, he revised his earlier impression. There was something sexy about Tess.

“Did you get the job?”

“Not yet, but I have a good shot because I have experience in the field. Years ago I started a company doing what this guy does, plus I got my MBA on top of my engineering degree. But who knows? Felt like the interview went well and the guy’s pressed to find someone soon.”

“Good for you,” she said, tossing him a smile. “Where do you live now?”

“Houston.”

“So you’ll be transferring here?”

He nodded. “I have some job leads in Houston, but my family lives here. Well, my brother lives on the Northshore, but that’s essentially here. You originally a New Orleans’s girl?”

“Born and raised. Can’t you hear the accent?”

Each region of the Crescent City had its own dialect. “Not from the Westbank or New Orleans East. Uptown?”

“Close enough. My parents still live in Old Metairie.”

“I went to Jesuit. You?”

“Country Day.” Whoa, swanky, yet Tess didn’t give off that vibe.

“Class of ’93.”

Tess whipped her head around. Obviously the woman excelled in math. “Then why did you tell Angela you took me to Sadie Hawkins in ’97?”

He laughed. “Because you didn’t look old enough to have gone in 1993.”

“So you thought you looked young enough for 1997?” She laughed again. Her laugh was low and raspy. Another thing he liked about her.

“Touchе,” he conceded as they turned on Decatur Street, skirting the edge of the eclectic, high-rent neighborhood. “So where shall we eat?”

“You have a favorite?”

“I have lots of favorites.” And he did. Galatoire’s. Dickie Brennan’s. Elizabeth’s. Irene’s. GW Fins. And on and on and on. “Somewhere with a good po’boy? Haven’t had good Nawlins bread in forever.”

“Central Grocery is closed but we can try Maspero.”

“Let’s go for it.”

She turned her head again and he wondered if she thought he’d meant on some level other than dinner. Maybe he did mean it that way. Things had been so stressful lately with being out of work, depleting his savings and dealing with Monique’s demands he’d pulled out of the dating scene months ago. He hadn’t been to dinner with a woman in a while...not counting his brother’s girlfriend the night before.

What would it hurt?

Tess had nice curves, a good sense of humor and kept baseball stats. Not to mention she’d agreed to go to dinner with a stranger. Many would think her actions dangerous, and maybe to an extent they were, but something about her spontaneity and her self-assurance struck admiration in him. He liked a woman who knew what she wanted, who didn’t shrink from the fray, but waded in bold and in control of herself.

She reminded him of his ex-girlfriend Monique in that way—decisive and thoroughly modern. But that’s where the comparison ended. Tess had a sweetness and honesty Monique lacked. He patted his breast pocket where he usually put his phone. Thinking of Monique reminded him of their daughter—he needed to call Emily before nine o’clock.

As they got closer to Maspero which sat across from Jackson Brewery, almost on the corner of infamous Jackson Square, the crowds thickened. Tourism reigned supreme in New Orleans. Here and there tourists gawked at street performers while others swigged beers in foam cups and eyed the open storefronts selling offensive T-shirts and Mardi Gras beads.

When they arrived at the restaurant, they found a short line. Graham gave the hostess his name and then motioned to the bar with a raise of his eyebrows.