Page 10 of Cognac Secrets
She laughed then and said dryly, “Sometimes, but this is honestly how I always look.”
“You look good,” I said, and I think she turned her head to hide her blush.
“So, where are we going?” I asked when she was silent too long and pointedly looking anywhere but at me. She turned back to me swiftly and again with those wide doe eyes, innocence and no little fear radiating from them.
“I was following you,” she said.
I laughed, and told her, “I was following your lead. Let’s get you closer to home, huh? I’d feel bad leaving you on your own at this time of dark.”
She smiled then, and it was like she was tickled pink but didn’t want to let on.
“Thank you,” she said.
“Technically this is me thankingyou,” I told her as she started walking beside me once more. “You didn’t have to stay like you did.”
She smiled faintly. “I know,” she said softly. “But it was the right, kind thing to do.”
“Yes, it was.” I nodded. “Is that important to you? Always doing the kind thing?”
She actually thought about the question and shook her head. “Not always,” she said. “I think it’s important to always try to be kind, but sometimes kindness isn’t always the answer.”
“That’s a very… realistic approach,” I told her.
“I am nothing if not realistic about things,” she said with a slight self-deprecating laugh.
“Me too,” I said. “I like that, though.”
“Like what?” she asked. “That I try to be realistic?”
“That you seem to be realistic yet you still choose to be kind,” I said. “That’s kind of a feat in this city.”
“Okay, fair point, but I don’t think it’sjustNew Orleans,” she said a little reservedly, her sparkle diminishing. “I think that’s just kind of the state of the country if not the whole world right now.”
I found myself nodding slowly and sighing. I said, “You’re not wrong about that.”
She was remarkably easy to talk to as we walked, and I could appreciate the fact that even with the brisk pace we kept, she was keeping up, wasn’t out of breath, and was pacing me and carrying on with the conversation just fine.
I liked that. I liked that a lot, actually.
We found ourselves taking a meandering walk through The Quarter, along down by the river, skating around Jackson Square and the cathedral, weaving along night-darkened and fairly empty streets as the sky lightened first with false dawn, and then with dawn itself.
She eventually stopped in front of one of the closed shops along the Rue Decatur, the smell of incense cloying and earthy, thick on the air even through the shops closed and tightly locked doors.
“This is me,” she said softly and pulled out a ring of keys from the hip pocket of her low-rise vintage jeans. It was simple, just a ring with several keys folded flat against each other.
“You live in or above the shop?” I asked and she snorted and laughed, shaking her head.
“No, I work here. I’m opening today.”
I blinked, and I fully admit to the stupid fucking look on my face. “You work today and you let me keep you out all night?” I asked.
She laughed and keyed her way into the front of the shop.
“Wouldn’t be the first time I stayed out all night and worked all day,” she said with a wink over her shoulder. “Probably won’t be the last, either.”
She opened the door and slipped halfway inside, giving me a warm smile.
“Besides, I don’t need much sleep most of the time anyway.”
