Dishing Up Love

My whole body goes warm thanks to the heat in his eyes, and something in me believes him. In this moment, I truly believe he’ll never let me go.

But a little voice in the back of my mind warns me, Don’t get your hopes up. He’s saying that without knowing the whole truth.

Yet, I can’t help but think this is different. Curtis is different. This feeling between us—different. Could this man possibly accept me, just me—broken, imperfect, Woman Card rejected… me?

I have no time to ponder it further before he wraps his arms around me and stands, allowing my smaller frame to slide down his deliciously rigid front until my feet are planted on the floor. I breathe in his scent when he leans into me to reach behind me and grab our drinks, and when he hands me mine, I smile up at him, feeling more drunk from his kiss than the alcohol we’ve consumed.

“We’ll continue this later, little one,” he purrs, and the promise in his eyes sends an excited shiver of anticipation through my every nerve ending. He takes hold of my free hand and guides me through the packed hotel bar until we make it out onto the sidewalk with the rest of our group.

Chapter 10

Curtis

“IS THERE ANY voodoo on this tour?” a woman asks while we’re walking to the next stop.

“Actually, no. There is a specific voodoo tour you can choose to take, because there is just too much information and too many places to see that pertain to it. But it’s guided by an actual practicing voodoo priestess if you’re interested. Also, if you sign up when we return to our home base, you get fifty percent off a second tour. I highly recommend that one and also the cemetery tour, because it is now the only way you’re allowed into St. Louis Cemetery #1, which is where Marie Laveau’s tomb is.”

Erin nudges me with her elbow, and when my eyes meet hers, she winks up at me. “It may be where her tomb is, but it’s not where her body iiisss,” she sing-songs, making me grin.

“Why, Erin. Are you referring to a certain discovery your best friend made with her now husband slash baby-daddy?” I put my hand to my chest as if I’m clutching my pearls.

Her jaw drops. “You know? But… it’s totally classified. Only the people who were at their ceremony in Paris know exactly what they found. And we all had to sign non-disclosure agreements.”

“I was there, sugar,” I tell her, and her head jerks back in surprise.

“How the hell…? I certainly would’ve noticed you. At least, I think I would’ve. Well, that was actually before I watched your show, since it wasn’t until after that when Emmy joined No Trespassing,” she ponders aloud.

“Did you like the food?” I ask nonchalantly.

“Oh my God. Yes! It was seriously delicious. I was a little nervous, since it was traditional French dishes, not the creole and Cajun yumminess we have here, but for real, I ate all of mine and most of Emmy’s, since she wasn’t hungry. She gets a nervous belly,” she explains enthusiastically.

“Good to know. I catered that dinner. As well as Dean and Emmy’s wedding reception,” I tell her, and she slaps my arm.

“Shut. Up. Are you serious? We were in the same place twice and never met.” She pouts, and I chuckle. This second drink and that world-shattering kiss must be loosening her up a bit if she’s not hiding the fact that she’s disappointed we could’ve known each other this whole time.

“Everything in its own time. I guess we weren’t meant to meet until today,” I tell her, taking a sip of my drink.

We listen as Ronnie gives in to the woman who clearly really, really wanted to hear a story about voodoo as we continue walking.

“Voodoo is likely the most misunderstood and misrepresented religion there is. It came to New Orleans from the slave trade from Africa and also from ten thousand refugees sent here from Haiti. Since France owned us and they also owned Haiti, when the Haitian refugees got here, there was a large number of free people of color. There are three types of voodoo here in New Orleans. There is African voodoo, there is Haitian voodoo, and there is what is known as New Orleans and plantation voodoo. The last one is a combination of both Haitian and African voodoo mixed with Catholicism.”

“Catholicism? Those don’t seem like they’d mix very well,” the woman inserts, and Ronnie nods.

“Misunderstood and misrepresented, remember? New Orleans was the most Catholic place in the United States. At the docks when everyone would be getting off the boats, there would be priests there to convert everyone coming into the city to Catholicism. It’s the only religion people were allowed to openly practice at the time. Voodoo has just one all-powerful being, one creator. It is a monotheistic religion. But much like Catholics and their saints, voodoo people have their ancestral spirits. For the people whose religion was voodoo, in order for them to practice, they had a genius idea to disguise their spirits as the Catholic saints.