Before I know it, we move up the line and find a table near the sidewalk.

“The menu is on the napkin dispenser,” Eli informs me, and tilts it toward me. “But do you mind if I order for you?”

“I don’t mind.” I sit back and listen as Eli informs our server that we’ll each have an order of beignets and a frozen café au lait. I watch in fascination as horse-drawn carriages glide down the street before us, the drivers giving their passengers all kinds of information about Jackson Square, which is directly across the street from us. “Thank you for bringing me out today.”

Eli quirks a brow. “It’s you escorting me, remember?”

I grin and nod. “Right. Except you’re showing me around.”

“You’re new to town.” He shrugs as if it’s no big thing, but somehow I think it is a big deal. “And I haven’t wandered around in a long while.”

“Does it change much?”

“Not much,” he says with a smile, as the beignets and coffees are delivered. “My father used to bring all six of us here every Saturday morning for as long as I can remember. We came until he passed away.”

He stops talking and frowns, his eyes trained with determination on his beignets.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” I say softly. I know his dad passed away two years ago, and I remember the heartbreak of the entire family with the loss of the larger than life patriarch of the family. “Oh, my gosh,” I whisper, eyeing the square doughnuts covered in a heaping pile of powdered sugar. “This is just…”

“The best,” Eli finishes on a groan and eats one of the treats in two bites. He licks his lips, and my ninety-dollar black lace panties are soaking wet.

This man should come with a warning label.

“Are you going to eat them or continue to stare at me?” he asks with a laugh.

I shake my head, pulling myself out of the trance of watching Eli, and take a bite. “Oh, wow.”

“Right?”

“I need these every day.”

“I can arrange that.” His eyes are perfectly sober as he watches me.

“I’m kidding. I’d weigh four hundred pounds within a month.”

“No, you wouldn’t, and I’m not kidding. Say the word, and I’ll get them for you.”

I sit back in my seat and watch him as I chew the doughy goodness. What can I say to that? Instead of responding, I finish my beignets, then drink the delicious frozen coffee and wipe my mouth and brush the fallen powdered sugar off my shirt and pants.

“Ready for what comes next?” he asks and stands, holding his hand out for mine.

“Sure.” He leads me to the sidewalk, settles my hat on my head, and leads me up and down the streets, wandering through gift shops and antique stores, jewelry stores, and even novelty voodoo shops. I soak it all in, looking in every nook and cranny of every store, and Eli patiently waits for me, not saying much, letting me lead him where I want to go.

He’s protective while we’re walking from store to store, sure to keep his hand on the small of my back, but when I’m poking around, he gives me space to explore.

In an antique jewelry store, I find a silver and ivory cameo locket that I must have for my mother for Mother’s Day. When I pull my wallet out to pay, Eli beats me to it, handing the clerk his card.

“Eli, I’m buying this for my mom.”

“She’ll love it.”

“Yes, but you just bought it.”

He raises a brow and watches me with an amused tilt to his lips, as the clerk bags it up and hands it to me. “You’re not paying for anything when you’re with me, cher.”

Before I can respond, he turns and leads me out of the store, and we’re back to the palm readers and musicians before Jackson Square. A woman with deep mocha skin and a bight white smile waves at me, and I immediately sit at her table and pay her before Eli can blink, making him glare at me.

I stick my tongue out at him.

“Well, hello there, I’m Madame Sophia.” She grins and begins to rub hand sanitizer on her hands.

At least she’s a clean palm reader.

“Will I be reading both of your palms, then?”

“No,” Eli replies and shoves both his hands in his pockets. He always does that when he’s uncomfortable.

It’s kind of adorable.

“Scared?” I ask with a grin.

“Skeptical,” he replies, matching my grin and sending me off my axis.

“That’s okay, baby girl, he can just listen. Please give me the hand you’re most comfortable writing with.” I lay my right hand in hers, palm up, and settle in to be entertained.

“Ah,” she whispers and traces her finger around the outside of my palm. “You’re an emotional one, aren’t you, baby girl? You wear your heart on your sleeve.”

I bite my lip and glance up at Eli, who rolls his eyes. I know what he’s thinking: half the population does that.

“A smart one, you are. Oh, look at that! You’re a good liar.” She glances up at me, narrows her eyes, and then looks back down.

I lie for a living.

“Oh, baby girl.” She’s not looking at my palm anymore. Now she’s looking me in the eye, her chocolate brown eyes full of sympathy. “He didn’t deserve you, and you’re better off without him.”

I frown and glance at Eli, then back at Sophia. “I don’t think—”