Chapter 15: Chapter Fifteen

“I suggest we eat first, and then we can walk Bourbon Street,” Ryder said as he stopped in front of Pat O’s Courtyard Restaurant.

“Sounds like a plan to me.”

Since they’d left the hotel, Madison hadn’t stopped looking around. The wonder and amazement in her eyes had him smiling, and no matter how hard he tried not to stare at her, he couldn’t stop himself.

He remembered how awestruck he’d been during his first trip to New Orleans, and specifically, Bourbon Street. And even though this was only his third time visiting, it felt like the first time all over again. There was a vibrancy to this city, a living pulse that brought the streets and everyone in them to life. In fact, he’d liked it here so much his first visit, he’d almost considered attending college around here, but Tanner had talked him out of it.

They were quickly seated, and Ryder ordered two Hurricanes—one for each of them. He wasn’t normally a fruity-drink type of guy, but this particular one was legendary around here, and he couldn’t visit and not have one. Besides, he wanted to watch Madison experience her first real taste of New Orleans.

The waitress arrived and set two tall glasses of red liquid in front of them, the familiar Pat O’Brien’s logo starting at him. “Can I get y’all some food? An appetizer to start off with, maybe?”

That was one of the many things he admired about this place—fast service. “Do you want an appetizer?” he asked Madison, who had her face buried behind her menu.

“Uh, no. Unless you want one,” she said without looking up at him.

“No, thanks.” He smiled at the waitress, then returned his attention to Madison. She finally glanced up. “Ladies first.”

Smiling, she shook her head. “I think I’ll have the roasted chicken.”

The waitress nodded. “Would you like to add a side salad to that?”

“Um, sure, thanks.” Madison handed the menu to the waitress.

“And for you?”

“I’ll have the Red Jambalaya with a side salad, please.” He handed over his menu, too. “And please, keep these coming.” He motioned to the Hurricanes.

“You got it.” With a flirty wink, the waitress walked away.

“That happens a lot, doesn’t it?” Madison smirked.

“What?”

“Women flirting with you.” She laughed and tossed her hair over her shoulder. “Every single place we’ve stopped today, if there was a woman, she either smiled at you or winked. Hell, the woman at the gas station…her face was so damn red from blushing I was afraid she’d blow up.”

Ryder laughed. “I think you’re exaggerating.”

“And I think you’re in denial.” She pulled her glass closer and fiddled with the straw. “So, this is a Hurricane, huh?”

He nodded. “Try it. I’m sure you’ll really like it.”

She licked her lips, then took the straw into her mouth. He shifted in his chair, cursing how seductive she was without even trying. God, the way her lips puckered around that stupid straw, the way her eyelashes fluttered with satisfaction as she swallowed the fruity concoction. And then she sighed, the sound bordering on a full-fledged moan. Fucking Christ. He shifted in his chair again, trying to fight off the start of an erection.

“Good?” He cleared his throat.

“This is the best thing I’ve ever tasted.” She took another, longer drink. “I could seriously drink these all day every day.”

“I doubt that. Two or three and you’ll be feeling it tomorrow. Trust me.” He took a drink of his own, savoring the sweet flavor. Two years ago, he and his brothers went to Mardi Gras, and they harassed the shit out of him for walking around with a Hurricane. He didn’t care, though. It was cheaper and more effective at getting him drunk than any brand of beer or hard liquor.

“Don’t be a know-it-all.” She scrunched up her face, then chuckled.

“A know-it-all?” He raised a brow and waited for her to explain.

“Yeah, you told me not to wear these shoes. Told me I’d be hungover tomorrow. For not really knowing me, you seem to know an awful lot about my well-being.”

Grinning, he nodded. “All right, tell me about yourself, then.”

Before she could answer, their waitress returned with another Hurricane for Madison and salads for both of them. “Can I get y’all anything else?”

“A glass of ice water, please,” Madison said.

“What’s wrong? I thought you liked the Hurricane,” he teased. “You were practically orgasming over the taste.”

Her face turned bright red. “You have no idea what I sound or look like when I orgasm.”

“Not yet.” But he hoped to find out.

“Try not ever.”

“We’ll see about that.”

Her eyes widened. “And for the record, I do like the Hurricane, but I can’t drink alcohol while I’m eating. It never tastes right. So, I opted for water. Got a problem with that?”

He held up his hands in a show of surrender. “No problem. Please don’t tase me.” Laughing, he poured the small cup of dressing over his salad then took a bite.

“Keep it up, and I just might.”

“Sounds like foreplay to me.” He shrugged, smirking.

“Yeah? You’re into that kind of thing, huh?”

This time, his eyes widened. “No. I’ve been tased before. It’s not fun.”

She froze with her fork halfway to her mouth. “You have?”

He nodded. “My brothers are assholes.” He laughed.

They fell silent, more interested in their food than anything else at the moment. Although, he hadn’t missed the fact that she completely avoided talking about herself. He’d never met anyone so closed off before. What had happened to make her this way? The need to know burrowed its way into his mind, and he knew it would bug him until he found out. Hopefully, this trip would give him the time and patience he needed to unlock her secrets.

She finished her salad and set the empty plate near the edge of the table just as the waitress returned with their entrees and another drink for Ryder. “Just holler if y’all need anything more.”

“Thank you.” Ryder inhaled deeply, letting the spicy scent of his Jambalaya settle over him. He put a spoonful into his mouth, chewing slowly. New Orleans really did have some of the best and most flavorful food. It was a good thing Tanner had talked him out of living here—he’d probably spend more time eating and drinking than studying.

“This is a great place,” Madison said as she dabbed her mouth with a napkin. “What else is there to see around here?”

“Just about anything you can imagine. Lots of little shops. And bars. Several more restaurants.” He took a drink. “And, um…” He cleared his throat. “A few…”

“A few what?” She stared at him intently.

“A few adult themed clubs.”

She tilted her head in confusion, and then her eyes widened with understanding. “Oh. I don’t want to go to those.”

He laughed. “Good, because I wasn’t planning to take you to them.”

They fell silent again and finished their meals rather quickly. He’d have to be sure to make more frequent stops during their drive tomorrow. He’d been so determined to get to New Orleans tonight, he’d driven longer than he’d originally anticipated. But he hated being this hungry, so he’d make a point to stop more often for food. Or maybe he’d buy a bunch of snack foods to keep in the car.

“How’s the food?” the waitress asked.

“Oh, my God, it’s delicious,” Madison said, her face bright.

Ryder smiled and shook his head. She was on her third Hurricane. Not that he was complaining. In fact, he hoped the liquor would loosen her up a little bit so she’d be willing to talk about herself. Despite having spent more than ten hours in the car together, he still knew next to nothing about her.

The waitress laughed. “That’s what we like to hear. Can I get y’all another drink?”

“No, thank you, but could we have two of these glasses boxed up?” He motioned to the half dozen empty Hurricane glasses on the table.

“You betcha.” The waitress winked, grabbed two of the glasses, and disappeared into the crowd.

“Oh, and the check, too, please,” Ryder called after her, hoping she heard him. By the time they got out of here, Bourbon Street would be packed shoulder-to-shoulder. Crowds weren’t exactly his favorite thing, but he could handle them…if he had a good reason to do so. And the woman sitting across from him was a perfect reason.

Madison finished the last bite of chicken left on her plate, then pushed it away. “I am so stuffed. But damn that was good.”

“Told ya you’d like it here.” He winked, and he thought she blushed, but it was hard to tell with how rosy her face was from the drinks. Either way, she was sexier than he’d ever seen her before.

She rolled her eyes. “There you go again, being a know-it-all.”

The waitress returned, set the check on the table, and gathered their plates. “I’ll be right back for that.”

Without bothering to look at the bill, Ryder pulled out his credit card and tucked it into the black bifold.

“What do I owe?” Madison asked as she reached into her front pocket.

“Nothing.”

She sighed with frustration. “Please don’t do that. You’ve paid for everything all day. The least I can do is pay for my own dinner.”

He shook his head. “I don’t want your money.”

This wasn’t a date—he knew that—but he still didn’t feel right about making her pay for her own food. His mother would smack him upside the head if he even entertained the idea.

“Good, because I’m not giving you my money. I’m giving it to the restaurant.” She stuck her tongue out at him.

He chuckled. “Very funny.”

“I’m serious, Ryder. I’m not letting you pay for my food. Just tell me how much I owe.”

“I’m serious, too, Madison. Please let me do this, okay? If you want, you can buy lunch tomorrow or something. Deal?”

The waitress passed by, and he held out the check and his credit card, his gaze never wavering from Madison’s. She’d narrowed her eyes and was now scowling at him. What was with her and money? Every time it came up, she’d get defensive and somewhat self-righteous. He didn’t understand why.

She hesitated for a long moment, the two of them in a silent stare-off across the table. Finally, she sighed and nodded. “Fine, but promise me you won’t make this a habit? Because I really don’t want your money, either.”

“Promise,” he said, even though he didn’t mean it. He had more than enough money, and he didn’t have any issues helping someone out if they needed it—and he had a gut feeling she needed it.

“Here are your glasses.” The waitress set a plastic bag on the table. “And your receipt.” She handed him the bifold. “Just sign the top copy, and y’all have a great night. Thanks for coming in.” With a cheeky smile, she turned on her heel and walked away.

“Wait, we get to keep these glasses?” Madison’s eyebrows rose in disbelief.

“Yup.” Ryder added a generous tip to the total and signed his name. He tucked his credit card back in his wallet, then stood. “Ready?”

“Aw, my first souvenir of this trip.” Madison stood and took the bag. “Thanks for dinner, by the way.”

“You’re welcome.” He hesitantly put his hand on the small of her back, and when she didn’t move away from his touch or shove his hand away, he pressed a little firmer, leading her through the restaurant and out to Bourbon Street.

“Holy shit.” Madison stopped abruptly. “This is crazy.”

Ryder laughed. “It’s always like this. It’s worse on the weekends.”

She looped her arm through his. “All right, Mr. Tour Guide, which way?”

She was willingly touching him? Yup. She was drunk. “Oh, I’ve been upgraded from know-it-all, huh?” He leaned closer, loving the way she clung to his arm.

“Not really. A tour guide is usually a know-it-all, so I guess they’re synonymous.”

“Of course they are.” He put his hand over hers and tugged her toward the left. “Let’s go this way first.”

They spent the next three hours walking down Bourbon Street, stopping in every gift store, novelty shop, and bar along the way. Madison had looped back around to Pat O’Brien’s and bought another Hurricane that she’d refilled twice. By his count, she was on drink number six. With each step, his energy decreased. Between being up too early and driving all day and having a handful of drinks, he was surprised he’d managed to stay upright this long. He had no idea how the hell Madison was still walking and talking. All he wanted to do was go back to the hotel and fall into a deep, coma-like sleep.

“Oh, we have to go in here.” Madison grabbed his hand and dragged him inside a small shop that sold voodoo related goods.

“You can’t be serious.” He laughed, following her into the store.

“Why not? This stuff is so cool.” She walked around, sipping her Hurricane from a plastic cup, stopping to look at every display. “Wait! Are these voodoo dolls? Like, real ones?”

He leaned against the pole that held a fire extinguisher and crossed his arms. “I suppose if you believe in this type of stuff, then yeah, it’s real.”

She snatched one from the wall. “I’m totally buying this.”

“I take it you believe.” He wasn’t too surprised by that, although he didn’t know why. He didn’t know her at all. Then again, he knew enough to know she wasn’t the type of woman to do as he, or anyone else, expected.

Shrugging, she said, “Maybe?” Then she giggled. “If this works, then yeah, I’m a total believer. If not, then I guess it was just something fun to do.”

He raised a brow in surprise. “If it works?” He straightened. “Who do you plan to use that on?”

“There are a few people I’d like to get even with.” She gave a devilish smile.

“I hope I’m not one of those people.” Sadly, he was only half kidding when he said that.

She walked her fingers up his chest, grinning. “As long as you don’t piss me off, you don’t have anything to worry about, stud.” Then she stepped past him, giggling, and walked toward the cash register.

Stud? Shaking his head, he followed and waited for her to pay for her purchase.

Once they were back outside, she yawned. “Oh, my gawd!” Madison groaned, a hint of a whine to her tone. She used one hand to brace herself against the outside of the building and used the other to remove her shoes. With a moan of satisfaction, she momentarily closed her eyes. “Ah, yeah, that’s so much better.”

Ryder stared at her with a mixture of amusement and disbelief. “You are not going to walk back to the hotel barefoot, are you?”

“I can’t wear these shoes a second longer. My feet hurt so bad.” She pouted.

He moved closer, his gaze searching hers. Her eyes were bright but a bit droopy; her cheeks were flushed a sexy shade of pink; and her lips were plump and red from all the Hurricanes she’d consumed. “Told ya so,” he whispered.

“Shut up.” She playfully shoved at his chest. “It’s not that far to the hotel. I’ll just wash my feet when I get back there,” she said. “It’s no big deal.”

“You realize that people piss on these streets, right?”

Her eyes widened, and her mouth parted on a gasp. “No.” She stared at him. “You’re fucking with me. Aren’t you?”

“No. I’m dead serious.”

She scrunched up her face. “Ew. That is so gross.”

He laughed. “You need to put your shoes back on.”

“I can’t,” she whined. “You don’t understand. My heel is one layer of skin away from bleeding, and my toes have blisters. Hell, my blisters have blisters.”

Ryder turned so his back was to her, and then he bent his knees, lowering himself slightly. “C’mon,” he said over his shoulder. “Hop on.”

“Your back?”

He chuckled at the surprise in her tone. “Yeah. I’ll give you a piggyback ride to the hotel.”

She stared at him for a moment, then grinned. Shoving her shoes into the bag that held their Hurricane glasses and her voodoo doll, she hopped onto his back. She wrapped her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck. Within an instant, he knew he’d made a huge mistake. Having her cling to him, her breasts pressed tightly against his back, her feet resting much too close to his crotch, and her face near his neck would probably kill him faster than a knife to the heart. With a deep breath, he clutched her legs for added support and then headed toward their hotel.

“I can walk, y’know? You really don’t have to carry me.”

Her warm breath tickled his neck, and he attempted to move his head to the side, but it did no good. Each puff of her breath was like a branding iron to his senses. “You can’t walk barefoot.”

“Why not?” Her voice was light with amusement. She pumped a fist in the air and let out a loud whoop. “I’m barefoot on Bourbon Street, baby!”

Several passersby whooped in response, encouraging the rowdy behavior.

“See? People love it,” she said, her lips grazing his ear.

He sucked in a sharp breath, counted to five, then exhaled slowly. He picked up his pace, knowing they’d never make it back to the hotel if she kept that up. All he could think about was pinning her against one of these buildings and kissing her until she was as rattled as he was. But that would probably just frustrate him more so than he already was and, not to mention, he wasn’t going to force himself on her. She’d said no to him more than once, so any discomfort he felt was his fault. Not hers.

It didn’t take long to get back to the hotel, and once they were inside, she slid down his back and landed on her feet. He winced, expecting her to complain about her feet.

“Oh, yeah…” She drew out the words, her eyes fluttering closed. She wiggled her toes and sighed. “This tile feels incredible. So smooth and cool.”

He led her toward the elevator. “Did you have fun tonight?”

She nodded and stepped inside the elevator. “Mm-hmm.” She licked her rosy red lips, and his gaze lingered, his own lips tingling with the need to kiss her. “So much fun.” Yawning, she leaned against the wall. The elevator stopped, and she walked out. “Ow, ow, ow.” She bounced on the balls of her feet.

“What’s wrong?” He put his hand on her back, concern lacing his words.

“The carpet. It’s like sandpaper on my feet.” She half whined, half laughed. “It hurts so bad.”

He scooped her up into his arms, cradling her against his chest. She let out a surprised yelp, then laughed as she wrapped her arms around his neck, holding on to him tightly. “Better?” he asked.

She rested her head on his shoulder. “You’re my hero.”

Laughing, he shook his head and carried her down the hall.

“You could totally be my fake fiancé,” she said, her words slurred.

“What?” Had she really just said fake fiancé? Either he’d severely misheard her, or she was drunker than he thought.

“My cousin is marrying my ex, and my step-monster is pissed. She’s convinced I’ll never find anyone as great as Will, so I told her I was already engaged.” She buried her face against his neck and giggled uncontrollably. “But I don’t have a fiancé.” Her words were nearly incomprehensible thanks to her laughter. “But you”—she gasped for breath—“you’d make a great fiancé. Totally make my stepmother shit herself.”

Ryder couldn’t stop from smiling. He had no idea if any of that was true. “Madison, are you asking me to marry you?”

“No.” She laughed harder. “I’m asking you to pretend to marry me.”

He stopped at their door, fumbled with the keycard, entered, and then he laid her on the bed. But he didn’t walk away like he knew he should. Instead, he leaned over her, his heart racing. Her face was flushed, and her eyes were wide and vibrant. God, she was breathtaking. He lowered his head even more, his gaze darting between her eyes and her mouth. A few inches more and his lips would be on hers. He’d bet anything they were much softer than they looked.

“Ryder,” she whispered, reaching up and cradling the back of his neck. She licked her lips and closed her eyes.

Shit. She was giving him the green light. All he had to do was move, to press his mouth over hers, to slide his tongue between her lips. But he couldn’t make himself do that, no matter how badly he wanted to, because he knew this wasn’t what she wanted. Not really. With a trembling hand, he brushed a few strands of hair from her forehead, letting his finger trail down the side of her face. She let out a soft moan, and his cock twitched. He couldn’t believe what he was about to do.

He gently removed her hand from the back of his neck. “Go to sleep, Madison. You’re drunk.” He smiled sadly, then straightened. She never even opened her eyes. He slipped out of the room and quietly closed the door.