Page 12 of Fearless Encounter
“Last night, I got into a bit of a dangerous situation and Gabriel helped me.”
“What kind of danger?”
Quickly, Brooke gave him the highlights, skipping the part about staying the night at Gabriel’s house.
“When were you going to tell me about that?”
“I didn’t want to worry you. It’s under control,” Brooke said, with more conviction than she felt. “That’s why Gabriel is here to pick me up. He might have more information.”
The sous chef called to Jasper, diverting his attention. Brooke expelled a breath, then went back to her station. She needed to finish and leave with Gabriel. It was hard to concentrate with him in the dining room, and she was on edge about any more questions. It was one thing explaining the relationship to Lisle, but she wasn’t in the habit of sharing such things with her boss.
After dessert preparations were complete, Brooke began cleaning up. Lisle came over and whispered, “I saw you talking to Jasper. Did you tell him?”
“How could I avoid it with Gabriel sitting in the dining room?”
Lisle grinned. “I wish I’d heard you explaining that.”
“I only told him about the incident at the parade, and that Gabriel is a PI, so he’s helping me,” Brooke said. “He doesn’t know everything that I told you.”
Lisle put her hand up. “I’m not saying anything.” The gleam in her eye said it all.
Brooke shook her head. “You’re incorrigible. Anyway, I’m finished. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
She returned to the dining room and sat at the table with Gabriel. “I’m free to go. I hope that wasn’t too long.”
“With all this food, I was enjoying myself,” Gabriel said. “I don’t dine at upscale restaurants often. But I like the European charm. This is a historic building, a good spot for a restaurant in the French Quarter.”
Brooke liked it too. It was classy. The deep green walls were painted with a shiny patina glaze and decorated with weathered paintings of the city. Renovations had been handled with care to preserve the uneven floors and authentic architecture. “I’ve always liked this place. My parents brought me here when I was younger. I didn’t dream I’d ever work here.”
“Are you hungry?” Gabriel said.
“Starved,” Brooke said. “But let’s go someplace else. I feel on display with my friends in the kitchen.”
He chuckled. “Sure, where would you like to go?”
“How about Irene’s?” she said. “We can walk from here, and we won’t need reservations. Do you like Italian?”
“I swear I must be part Italian with all the spaghetti and lasagna I eat.”
Brooke laughed. “This place is popular with locals, so it can’t miss.”
*****
They strolled along the cobbled sidewalk, weaving through people. Evenings in the French Quarter were bustling, but they didn’t have to take Bourbon Street, which was like a nonstop party. Irene’s was in a quieter area. The short walk was a row of bars, shops, and restaurants, lit up to attract customers.The buildings were old but well cared for, and the upper-story balconies were decorated with hanging plants and vines.
“I’ve never grown tired of this city,” Brooke said. “I was born and raised here. Some people long to move away, but I haven’t. It’s my city. Its culture and history are in my blood.”
“I know the feeling,” Gabriel said. “It’s unique, a world of its own.”
Irene’s was packed, but there were two open stools at the bar where they could wait. Gabriel looked up at the wall of shelves displaying every type of liquor imaginable. “What would you like?”
Brooke scanned the drink menu. “I’ll have a mint julep. They know how to make them here—not too strong.”
The bartender swooped by, and Gabriel ordered the cocktail. “And I’ll have a beer—the Abita Amber will be fine.”
The noise level was high, making it difficult to hear each other, but it was fun. Brooke chatted with Gabriel about the city, the food, even different cocktails she’d tried. He talked about his favorite beers and restaurants, while appearing interested in everything she shared. It felt like a date. For a while, Brooke enjoyed the evening and put aside unwelcome thoughts.
Gabriel was easy to be with and looked tantalizing in his jeans and casual t-shirt. The sleeves hit his biceps in a way that displayed his strength, and the jeans fit his muscled thighs. Sipping her cocktail and talking, Brooke tried not to ogle him.