river. From the rear of the boat, a massive paddlewheel turned a lazy rotation and filled the air with the lullaby of churning water. Ryan absorbed the sensations, musing that perhaps he’d been a riverboat captain in a previous life, because he felt like he belonged there.
There were a few other couples milling about, so Ryan dragged an oversize white rocking chair to a more secluded spot near the side deck rail. He sat down and Joy settled on his lap, nestling against him until he could feel her breath stirring at the base of his throat. He wrapped her in a loose embrace, and for the next several minutes, he rocked in silence, simply enjoying the breeze on his face and the scents of salty air mingling with Joy’s perfume.
Life didn’t get any better than this.
“Happy three-month anniversary,” she murmured against his shirt.
“You, too.”
“This is the perfect way to celebrate.” She squeezed him in a sleepy hug. “Thank you.”
When he returned the hug, his body practically vibrated with an emotion so strong it bordered on painful. This girl owned him. He’d never imagined he could fall so quickly—or so hard—but Joy had captivated every part of his body and mind.
“You set the bar pretty high,” she said. “I don’t know how I’m going to top this for our four-month.”
“You can always come to me for your first tattoo.”
“Oh, I don’t know.” She lifted her head and delivered a mock solemn look. “A girl’s first time is a big responsibility. Sure you can handle that?”
He pretended to think it over. “Yeah, I’m man enough for the job.” Then he kissed the tip of her nose. “I’ll even be gentle.”
“Will you respect me in the morning?”
“You bet,” he said. “But I should warn you—I’ll ruin you for all other tattoo artists.”
A slow smile spread across Joy’s lips, and something warm flashed behind her eyes. It looked a lot like love. “Yes, I imagine you will.”
• • •
Three meal courses and two cups of coffee later, they crossed the bow ramp into the dock parking lot and set off at an easy stroll toward Joy’s apartment in the French Quarter. A typical Saturday night, the sidewalks were teeming with a mixture of street performers, hustlers, and partiers, each one as important to the social ecosystem as the others. Ryan chuckled to himself when he noticed a group of tourists gawk in horror at a dominatrix leading her boyfriend on a leash.
New Orleans wasn’t everyone’s cup of tea, but he wouldn’t trade it for anything.
He squeezed Joy’s hand and asked, “Hey, what’s your schedule look like this week? There’s a new band playing Wednesday at the coffee house, and I want to check it out.”
“Sounds fun. I don’t have anyth—” She cut off and came to an abrupt halt on the sidewalk, then dropped his hand like it was on fire.
Ryan glanced at his palm and back to her. “What’s wrong?”
She swore under her breath while staring straight ahead, apparently too shocked to answer him. When Ryan followed her gaze, he discovered a thirtysomething man feeding a parking meter. In his khaki slacks and short-sleeved polo, he looked like the kind of guy Joy would have dated at one time.
“Ex-boyfriend?” Ryan asked.
“No, worse.” She pushed down her hair to cover the multitude of piercings on the left side of her face and tugged the neckline of her dress to conceal more cleavage. “My dad’s campaign manager.”
Ryan didn’t see the problem, but judging by the way Joy glanced behind them as if to make a run for it, she must not like the guy.
“Don’t look over here,” she chanted. But the man had spotted them. With a smile and a wave, he headed their way. Joy formed a saccharine grin and told Ryan, “Stay here, okay?”
He shrugged. “Sure.”
She strode ahead a few yards to meet the man while Ryan stayed behind, still confused by her reaction. He tried not to be nosey, but he couldn’t help watching the pair from
There were a few other couples milling about, so Ryan dragged an oversize white rocking chair to a more secluded spot near the side deck rail. He sat down and Joy settled on his lap, nestling against him until he could feel her breath stirring at the base of his throat. He wrapped her in a loose embrace, and for the next several minutes, he rocked in silence, simply enjoying the breeze on his face and the scents of salty air mingling with Joy’s perfume.
Life didn’t get any better than this.
“Happy three-month anniversary,” she murmured against his shirt.
“You, too.”
“This is the perfect way to celebrate.” She squeezed him in a sleepy hug. “Thank you.”
When he returned the hug, his body practically vibrated with an emotion so strong it bordered on painful. This girl owned him. He’d never imagined he could fall so quickly—or so hard—but Joy had captivated every part of his body and mind.
“You set the bar pretty high,” she said. “I don’t know how I’m going to top this for our four-month.”
“You can always come to me for your first tattoo.”
“Oh, I don’t know.” She lifted her head and delivered a mock solemn look. “A girl’s first time is a big responsibility. Sure you can handle that?”
He pretended to think it over. “Yeah, I’m man enough for the job.” Then he kissed the tip of her nose. “I’ll even be gentle.”
“Will you respect me in the morning?”
“You bet,” he said. “But I should warn you—I’ll ruin you for all other tattoo artists.”
A slow smile spread across Joy’s lips, and something warm flashed behind her eyes. It looked a lot like love. “Yes, I imagine you will.”
• • •
Three meal courses and two cups of coffee later, they crossed the bow ramp into the dock parking lot and set off at an easy stroll toward Joy’s apartment in the French Quarter. A typical Saturday night, the sidewalks were teeming with a mixture of street performers, hustlers, and partiers, each one as important to the social ecosystem as the others. Ryan chuckled to himself when he noticed a group of tourists gawk in horror at a dominatrix leading her boyfriend on a leash.
New Orleans wasn’t everyone’s cup of tea, but he wouldn’t trade it for anything.
He squeezed Joy’s hand and asked, “Hey, what’s your schedule look like this week? There’s a new band playing Wednesday at the coffee house, and I want to check it out.”
“Sounds fun. I don’t have anyth—” She cut off and came to an abrupt halt on the sidewalk, then dropped his hand like it was on fire.
Ryan glanced at his palm and back to her. “What’s wrong?”
She swore under her breath while staring straight ahead, apparently too shocked to answer him. When Ryan followed her gaze, he discovered a thirtysomething man feeding a parking meter. In his khaki slacks and short-sleeved polo, he looked like the kind of guy Joy would have dated at one time.
“Ex-boyfriend?” Ryan asked.
“No, worse.” She pushed down her hair to cover the multitude of piercings on the left side of her face and tugged the neckline of her dress to conceal more cleavage. “My dad’s campaign manager.”
Ryan didn’t see the problem, but judging by the way Joy glanced behind them as if to make a run for it, she must not like the guy.
“Don’t look over here,” she chanted. But the man had spotted them. With a smile and a wave, he headed their way. Joy formed a saccharine grin and told Ryan, “Stay here, okay?”
He shrugged. “Sure.”
She strode ahead a few yards to meet the man while Ryan stayed behind, still confused by her reaction. He tried not to be nosey, but he couldn’t help watching the pair from
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