“Well, shit. Can’t let that happen. She need a place to stay?”

“Yeah.” I remembered Charlie’s offer from the other day. “But I think I have an idea.”

“Charlie?” How Con knew that’s what I was thinking, I had no clue.

I nodded. “She was in here the other day and offered up her old place, but Eden was staying at the Sonesta until today.”

“Why’d she bail on that?”

“Money, I guess.”

Con’s eyebrows drew together in confusion. “She sure doesn’t look like she’s hurtin’ for cash.”

“I guess looks are deceiving in this situation. I don’t know what the real deal is, and she won’t tell me shit.”

“Then maybe you need to do your own digging.”

Heels clicked down the hallway, and Vanessa stuck her head through the doorway before I could decide how to respond to that.

“You guys want me to go pick up something for lunch while you sit back here and brood?”

Con reached out and snagged her hand to pull her closer. “I thought we were grabbing something.”

“That was before I realized Eden hasn’t had jambalaya, étouffée, or oysters yet. Someone needs to help that girl get a true taste of New Orleans before she leaves.”

“She ain’t leavin’.” The words were out of my mouth before I even thought about speaking them.

Vanessa’s appraising gaze landed on me. “I’m pretty sure that’s not up to you.” She shifted to look at Con. “He sounds like just as much of a barbarian as you do.”

Con laughed and lifted her hand to his mouth to press a kiss to it. “You like it when I’m a barbarian.”

“True, but I also like showing off my city to people who will appreciate it.”

“Fine, but watch yourselves. The city’s still lousy with tourists.”

Van pressed a kiss to his cheek. “You’re starting to sound like a grumpy old man. We’ll be back in an hour or so. Is that enough time to go over the books?”

Con nodded. “Yeah. Have fun, princess.”

She kissed him again and waved at me. “See ya, Bish.”

Van closed the door behind her, leaving Con and me in the office.

“When’s your next appointment?” he asked.

“Two thirty.” I glanced at the clock. “Should be here any minute.”

“Then I guess you better get to it.”

I pushed off the couch and stood. “Yes, sir.” I gave him a mock salute and he punched me in the arm when I neared the door.

“Don’t fucking salute me, you asshole.”

I laughed, but my brain was firmly fixed on Eden. Maybe Vanessa would get her story out of her, and then I’d have some kind of clue what I was dealing with.

EVEN THOUGH I’D MET THEM last night, seeing the blond couple come into the tattoo shop still flipped all my accepted stereotypes on their head. Vanessa was wearing a skirt and blouse and heels, and Con was wearing ripped jeans and a T-shirt with a chain hanging from his front pocket to his back. Both of his arms were covered in even more tattoos than Bishop had. Objectively, Con and Vanessa looked like the oddest couple I could imagine putting together, but the way his arm wrapped around her waist and how his eyes softened when he looked down at her told me there was nothing odd about them.

What did people think when they saw Bishop and me together? Except we’re not actually together.

Con hadn’t spared me much more than a chin jerk before striding in the direction of the room Bishop had retreated to, but Vanessa stopped in front of me.

“Hey! Eden, right? What are you doing here?”

“I’m . . . waiting for Bishop, I guess.”

Curiosity lit her blue eyes. “There are a lot of girls who wait for Bishop on any given day, but from what I saw last night, you seem to be different.”

I thought of the girl who’d been flirting with him before I’d literally thrown myself at him. “I’d like to think I’m different. But . . . it’s not like that.”

She smiled. “Oh, I know how that goes. Trust me.”

With Vanessa’s easy response, I felt this strange and instant kinship with her. I could only imagine what it had been like when she and the tattooed blond giant had gotten together. The entire time I’d been in New Orleans, I’d had this feeling that by some strange design, the universe was dropping people into my life at the exact moment I needed them. Bishop, Delilah, Fabienne, Yve. Maybe today was Vanessa’s day.

She dived right into a series of questions, asking me what I’d seen and eaten. When she discovered that I hadn’t gotten a full New Orleans experience, she vowed that she would change it for me before striding off down the hall to follow Con.

When Vanessa returned, she adjusted her purse—Prada, if I wasn’t mistaken—and smiled again. “I know we just met last night, and I promise I’m not psycho, but I really would love to take you out for lunch.”

I had to go with my gut. “I’d like that.” I looked at my suitcase beside my chair. “What do I do with this?”

She reached for the handle and pulled it behind the counter. “No worries. It’ll be here when you get back.”

As we walked to the front door of the shop, I heard the creaky door open behind us. I whipped my head around to see Bishop standing in the back hallway, his arms crossed over his chest. He said nothing, just watched me leave.

Was he thinking of the way he’d kissed the hell out of me? Because I was. The unreadable expression on his face gave me absolutely no clue. As I pulled the door shut behind me, his gaze stayed locked on mine through the glass until I turned away.

Vanessa must have noticed because once outside on the sidewalk, she said, “Bishop is intense. If it’s not like that between you two, you’ll have to learn to ignore it.”

I choked out a laugh. “He’s pretty impossible to ignore.”

She tilted her head and looked back through the window. “From the way he’s still looking at you, I would say definitely impossible.”

It took everything I had to keep walking rather than turn around again to see what she was talking about.

“So,” she continued, “you’ve intrigued the stoic Bishop. It’s a feat many have tried to accomplish and failed.”