Easy Nights (Boudreaux #6)

“Okay,” Gabby says, holding her hands up in surrender. “What are you doing after lunch?”

“I have a full day of pampering ahead,” I inform them proudly. “And I’m not going in to the office at all.”

“Atta girl,” Kate says with a wink. “You deserve a day off.”

“I also deserve a mimosa.” I grin and search for our waitress so I can flag her down. “In fact, we all deserve a mimosa.”

“Excellent plan,” Charly says. When we all have a drink in front of us, Charly raises her glass in a toast. “I know we’re only focusing on the good today, and every day, and I have to say this.”

We raise our glasses with her.

“You’re the most amazing person I know, Van. It’s been an honor to watch your journey these past couple of years. I couldn’t be more proud of you.”

“Here, here,” Kate says with a nod. “You’re one tough bitch, my friend.”

I giggle at that and clink my glass to the others. “I’ll take that compliment.”

“Hell, yes, you will,” Callie says before sipping her drink. “There are only great things for you ahead.”

“She’s right,” Mallory says with a knowing smile. I frown and she holds up her hands in surrender. “I’m not reading your future, silly. I can’t do that. I’m simply agreeing that you’ve already been through hell. It’s going to get much better going forward.”

“I’ll take that as well,” I reply with a nod. “Here’s to a good life.”

“A good life,” the others happily chime in.

***

I’m so damn full. I forget how I can sit with those women for hours, with never a lull in the conversation. We eat and drink and eat and drink and laugh.

So, I’m rushing directly from brunch to lunch with Ben.

I may not be hungry for food, but I wouldn’t cancel this date for anything in the world.

I walk into the restaurant we started coming to about a year ago and search the room for him. His back is to me, but I’d recognize him anywhere. He’s tall, with super broad shoulders and muscles for days.

For. Motherfucking. Days.

God bless him.

He glances over his shoulder and sees me walking toward him. A smile instantly spreads over his face as he stands and holds his arms open for a hug in greeting.

He’s so damn strong and warm, I could stand here in his arms forever. But the hug ends quickly and he holds my chair out for me.

“Hi,” he says with a grin.

“Hello there.” I glance up to find him studying me with narrowed eyes. “Do I have something on my face?”

“You’re flushed.” He rubs his lips with his fingertips. “Have you been drinking?”

“Yeah, I just came from brunch with the girls and we may have had a mimosa or four.” I giggle and set my menu aside. “I’m so full. I’m sorry, Ben, I can’t eat another bite, but you should eat.”

“I plan to,” he replies. “We could have rescheduled this.”

“No, it’s okay. I haven’t seen you in a while. How are you?”

“I’m good.” He nods as he sets his menu aside. The waitress arrives to take his order, and it’s a good thing I didn’t want anything because she never takes her eyes off of Ben.

The bitch.

She flushes and does a freaking curtsey after taking his order, then hurries away.

“You have a fan.”

“A what?” he asks, completely clueless.

“Nothing.” I shake my head and sip my water.

“How are you today?” he asks.

“I’m fantastic.” I grin as he narrows those blue eyes and studies me for a long moment. “I’m not lying.”

“I can see that,” he says at last, and his shoulders relax, as though he’s been carrying the weight of the world on them.

“I need your help, Ben.”

“Done.”

I cock a brow. “You don’t know what I need, exactly.”

“Doesn’t matter, it’s yours.”

I grin and lean over so I can pat his hand. “You’re very good to me, you know.”

“I know.” His smile is smug and happy. “What do you need, Vanny?”

“Well, I need you to stop calling me Vanny.”

“Not gonna happen.”

“And I need to know who you go to for your tattoos.”

He spits the sip of water he’s just taken and begins to cough, choking.

“Whoa, are you okay?”

“That’s the last thing I expected to come out of your pretty little mouth.”

Just the way he says pretty little mouth makes me break out in a sweat.

Why, for the love of all that’s holy, am I so damn hormonal around this man? It must be a chemical response. I was never good at science, but that has to be it.

“I’m serious,” I reply and will my lady parts to stand down. “I already have a design in mind, but I don’t know where to go.”

“Is this your first tattoo?” he asks.

“No,” I reply. “But I didn’t get mine here in New Orleans.”

He leans toward me, giving me his full attention. “Where did you get it?”

“In Tennessee.”

“No, I mean, where is it on your body?”

I bite my lip and shuffle the silverware around on the table. “That’s personal.”

“Look at me.”

I comply and almost melt into a puddle at the sweet smile he’s giving me.

“You can tell me.”

“So, tramp stamps were in when I was in college.”

“You have a tramp stamp?”

“No, I just said they were all the rage when I was in college.”

He blinks slowly, as if I’m not making any sense and he’s trying to keep up. “Okay.”

“But I thought it looked painful to tattoo the low back, and while I understand that no tattoo is a walk in the park, I didn’t want to do it in that spot. Also, I didn’t want my dad to ever see it, and sometimes I wear a bikini.”

“You do?” He frowns.

“Yeah.” I nod and brush it off like it’s not a big deal.

“So where is it, Van?”

I bite my lip again. “On the back of my neck.”

“And your dad never saw it?”

“No, I’ve always had longer hair, at least long enough to cover my neck, and I just made sure I didn’t wear ponytails when I was with him.”

“You’re a rebel,” he says with a smirk.

“A respectful rebel,” I reply. “Will you give me your guy’s number?”

“I’ll do better than that. I’ll take you.”

“No.”

I’m shaking my head vigorously.

“Why not?”

“I don’t want you to see me get this tattoo.”

“Why?”

“I just don’t.”

“Okay, I’ll text you his number.”

“Thank you.”

“What are you doing after this?”

“I’m going to get my hair cut.”

I’m so fucking excited!

He frowns again. “Why?”

“Because I’m a grown ass woman and I want to.”

“Whoa,” he says, sitting back and holding his hands up in surrender. “Do whatever you want with your hair.”

“That’s the plan. I know you like it better long.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You did when I was fifteen,” I murmur and smile at the memory. “But it’s okay. It’s my hair.”

He tilts his head to the side, watching me. “Did that asshole make you wear your hair long?”

I will not cry today.

“He made me do a lot of things.”

His eyes flare with anger and he pushes his plate away. “He deserved much more than what I gave him that day.”

After Lance tried to kill me, the coward ran. My brothers and the police were looking for him, but Ben found him first.