Love Letters in Fortune's Bay_A Fortune's Bay Novella by Maria Luis

Author:Maria Luis [Luis, Maria]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-04-22T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Ten

Dinner was beyond awkward.

Almost as awkward as all those comedy sketches Daisy had once poured her heart into. Not even her glass of merlot could temper the way her knee bobbed under the table or her gaze constantly jumped to Reese.

She stared.

He ate his food.

She wondered why in the world he’d fallen in love with her of all people and came to the conclusion that he had to be missing a screw or two up there.

He made small talk about his cousin, Gage, and Gage’s wife Lizzie. He mentioned Gage’s twin, Owen, and how he was a tattoo artist over in New Orleans.

She was a hot mess, torn between her heart and her head.

In the end, she let her tongue do the talking. Or maybe it was the wine.

“Say New Orleans again.”

Reese cringed, his hand faltering as he reached for his longneck beer bottle. “You’re adding a heck of a lot of e’s in there.”

She cocked her head. “What do you mean?”

The mouth of the beer bottle kissed his lips, and for a moment, Daisy let herself imagine what it would be like if this was a real date and not just an unfortunate circumstance of being stuck on an island and having nowhere else to go. Her toes curled in her flats, still damp from sprinting across the front lawn of the Victorian to where Reese had parked his truck.

He’d offered to come around and pick her up at the front door.

Daisy had wanted nothing more than to let the rain slick her fears away into the soil beneath her feet.

Reese set the bottle on the pristine, white tablecloth. “You gotta say it like it’s one word. Let it roll off your tongue.”

Ignoring the absurd urge to do one of her old warmups for a show—one that involved a lot of arm-thrusting in the air and a butt wiggle or two—Daisy tried again. “Neworleenz.”

With his lips, he made a bzzzt! sound, then followed it up with a clap of his hand on the table. Daisy jumped a little at that hand-to-table contact but smoothed away her skittishness with a sip of her favorite girl—merlot.

“Anytime a person says eenz, a Mardi Gras king loses his crown.”

Just like that, some of the tension in the air dissipated as they both laughed. She let her gaze roam his familiar face—the slightly crooked nose, the dark, beautiful eyes, the slight jut of his chin. When he smiled big, as he had often this last week, dimples creased his cheeks, threatening every woman in a fifty-foot radius of finding herself staring at Reese Harvey, tongue lolling out of her mouth.

Why do you have to be my boss?

It’d be so much easier if he wasn’t. If she didn’t have a track record of wanting men who paid her. If she didn’t want to know so very desperately how his lips might feel pressed against hers, those dimples of his on full display as he kissed her.

“Say it for me, then,” she finally told him,

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