got into his convertible and, after verifying that the road was clear, backed out.
All the way to his parents’ house, he denied that it was because of Jasmine that he had changed his plans.
* * *
“My, my, Micah. Talk about afternoon delight!”
The man had left her a twenty-dollar tip on a ten-dollar meal. She couldn’t decide whether he was a big spender or just trying to leave a big impression. He didn’t need to wave around his money. All he needed to make heads turn was to walk into a room.
Jasmine hurried to the front of the restaurant. She bumped one of the empty rattan dining chairs to the side with her hip and positioned herself at the window. The gold curtain rings that held red-checkered café curtains pressed against her cleavage as she peeked outside.
A local construction worker sitting the next table over cackled at her. She ignored him, though she could feel his eyes ogling her miniskirted behind. He’d finished two orders of buffalo chicken wings and a pitcher of beer, and she knew from experience that she’d get nothing from him but trouble.
“Just one last look. That’s all I need.”
She clicked her tongue against the back of her teeth.
Micah Langston was just the break she needed in the middle of a busy day.
Handsome, sexy and not planning to stick around.
His clean-shaven, medium brown tone skin was unlined and appeared as smooth as a baby. His nose was a little smaller than she liked, but still fit with his oval-shaped face that angled at his jaws.
He appeared to be in his late twenties, maybe early thirties. She didn’t see him pull out any reading glasses, and the piercing way he was looking at her made her think he could see just fine.
She wondered if the flecks of gray in his close-cut black hair were due to heredity, stress or age. She was twenty-three, so if they hooked up, they would be pretty close in age.
Those hazel eyes with specks of deep blue had sunk into hers, and she felt a little like when she slipped on her favorite fuzzy socks at night after a long day on her feet—warm, safe and a little thankful.
Micah had full lips that he knew to close when he munched on his food, unlike some of the customers that ate at Lucy’s. Some of the things she’d seen since arriving at her grandmother’s restaurant made her cringe even now. Just because it was cheap didn’t mean it was okay to leave one’s manners outside.
The black Audi proved he had terrific taste in cars, and the rental plates screamed just passing through.
Fine man, he was. Very fine.
She watched Micah slide his sunglasses over his nose, and check his rearview mirror, but not for his reflection.
A man that looked like him did not need to check his appearance, Jasmine thought. He was perfect.
She pressed the palm of her hand to the back of her neck. Her skin was hot, her secret gauge that indicated she was equally hot for a man, double verifying the exquisite pull in her loins that she felt when she first laid eyes on Micah.
He watched for cars, of which there were some crisscrossing the road, before pulling out onto Magnolia Avenue, heading west toward the beach.
She sighed and put one hand on her hip, watching until he disappeared.
“Get away from that window,” her grandmother said, picking up a set of rooster-shaped salt and pepper shakers from an empty booth. “Never let a man know you’re interested.”
Jasmine turned and plastered an innocent smile on her face. “I’m not interested and besides, he’s gone.”
“Excuse me, ma’am.”
She moved out of the way so Donnie, one of the busboys, could clear a table that was recently vacated. His arms stretched here and there removing every dish and piece of silverware into a square plastic tub.
As soon as he was done, Lucy slapped a wet rag down on the table and started to scrub.
“Great. A man like Micah Langston is no good for you.”
Jasmine spotted another patron in the corner gesturing for a check, and hurried over. After she’d run their credit card and provided the receipt, she joined Lucy back behind the bar.
“What do you mean that Micah is no good for me? I thought the Langstons were a little like royalty in this town.”
Lucy cocked a brow. “Just because Gregory is the mayor?”
Jasmine shrugged, placing a used beer glass on a tray under the bar.
Two years ago, Jasmine had graduated with honors from Tulane University with a degree in business administration, and a minor in accounting. Because of her strong internship history, she was lucky enough to land a job with a small advertising agency in the French Quarter as a junior account manager.
The pay was decent, the work interesting. She’d enjoyed helping the agency’s clients, who were mostly restaurants, shops and historical sites, with their marketing strategy in hopes of attracting increased numbers of tourists to their respective businesses.
Then one night she’d stayed until almost midnight to help finalize a new business pitch. Her boss put his hand on her thigh, and she gave him a right hook across his leering mouth, and she never went back. Broke her lease and used her rent money to fly one-way to California.
“The Langstons have been here for generations,” Lucy continued. “Micah is the only one who, after college, didn’t come back to stay.”
“He probably figured you were the best chef in town, so why stay here and get his butt beat?”
Lucy patted Jasmine’s cheek, and she relished the touch of her grandmother’s hand.
“You’re kind to flatter me, but I’m not the one who is on television, am I?”
“Did you ever want fame and fortune?”
Lucy shook her head. “No, I moved to Bay Point to brush shoulders with both from time to time.”
“The town used to be a weekend getaway for the stars, wasn’t it?”
Lucy wiped down the bar and smiled wistfully. “I’ve seen my fair share of Hollywood royalty during the almost fifty years this restaurant has been open.”
Lucy’s Bar and Grille was an institution in Bay Point. It was no Sardis, the famed New York City restaurant with hundreds of celebs and Broadway stars on the walls, both in atmosphere or price, but it was charming nonetheless. Several black-and-white or color autographed celebrity photos hung on the walls, alongside old porcelain, Cajun art and other antique treasures her grandmother had brought with her from her native Louisiana.
To most people in Bay Point, her grandmother’s restaurant was just a homespun place to eat, but Jasmine knew that it was Lucy’s life. And she also knew that as the town continued to grow, so would the competition to threaten its existence.
