Engaged off Bourbon Street – A short story
“F orget the cheesecake!” I yelled, clutching the flimsy limbs of the noble fir. I grimaced, unable to believe those words had actually flown out of my mouth. Not the cheesecake . But when a girl is suspended twenty feet in the air, on top of a wobbly ladder, she tends to get a little snappish.
Kane strode in from the kitchen, a pink ruffled apron strapped over his white button-down shirt and steel-gray dress pants. He waved a pink oven mitt that matched the apron. “What’s wrong?”
I choked out a bubble of laughter, making the ladder shift again. “Shit!” Adrenaline shot through my veins as I clung to our enormous Christmas tree, praying I didn’t end up splattered on the gleaming hardwood floor.
Kane ran toward me. With a flick of his wrist, the pink mitt flew over his shoulder. “Jesus, Jade.” He grabbed hold of the metal A-frame. “Get down from there before you break your neck.”
I shot him my best death glare. I was only up there because he’d ignored my last three requests to finish decorating the top three feet of the tree. But the worry clouding his expression melted my irritation, and I slowly moved one foot after the other down the steps, careful to not trip on the hem of my ankle-length skirt. “Someone had to finish decorating this thing. The guests will be here in an hour.”
His strong arms came around me, lifting me off before I reached the bottom rung. “Forget the tree,” he said in a low husky voice. “It won’t be much of an engagement party if my fiancée is splattered on the hardwood.”
A lock of dark hair fell over his gorgeous chocolate-brown eyes as he brushed his lips over mine. I closed my eyes, sinking into the kiss, his warm tongue sending electric shocks right down to my toes.
Yeah. Forget the tree. Kissing was much more fun. Good thing I’d remembered the mistletoe. If we positioned ourselves just right, we could go on like this all night. Except...
“Crap!” I yelped and pulled away. “The mistletoe! I forgot to hang it.”
Kane’s lips quirked. “I think we’re doing fine without it.”
“Let me down.” Laughing, I pumped a light fist on his shoulder. “I promised Pyper. She has a plan.”
“Huh?” Kane set me down on my feet. “What plan?”
“It has to do with Ian.” I ran toward the grand spiral staircase. “I’ll have to fill you in later.” Dammit. I’d totally forgotten. If I didn’t get the five bundles of mistletoe up in the next half hour, Pyper, my boss and Kane’s best friend, was going to kill me. It was all she’d talked about for the last week.
I skidded to a stop at the top of the stairs and peered down the hall. Now, which room had I left them in? The office? Or the library? Maybe the guest room? We were having our combined engagement-holiday party at Summer House, Kane’s family plantation house located in a tiny bayou town south of New Orleans. I was still settling in. This place was a far cry from my one-room apartment above Kane’s strip club on Bourbon Street.
Hmm. The mistletoe had to be in the guest room. The one decorated in lilac. That was where I’d dropped my latest round of holiday purchases. And also where I’d been doing all my Christmas wrapping. I opened the door and peeked in. Yikes. Just what I thought. Chaos. Okay, it had to be in there somewhere. I trudged through the remnants of leftover wrapping paper and discarded shopping bags, scanning the mess. We’d only been there three days. I wasn’t that much of a slob, was I?
After frantically searching each bag, I flopped into an upholstered chair and let out a huge sigh. Where was it? The wall clock read five thirty-five. Everyone would start arriving in twenty-five minutes. Time for a finding spell.
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, settling my nerves. Working magic while in a frenzy rarely went well. But as far as incantations went, this one was pretty mild. I opened my eyes and stared at