Hooked on You: An Annapolis Harbor Series Prequel by Lea Coll (10 best novels of all time .txt) 📕
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- Author: Lea Coll
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Gabe: Can you get coffee and beignets at ten?
I’d worked every night this week at the bar. Gabe had been polite, but he hadn’t mentioned breakfast again. The combination of his change in attitude the night he called an Uber and his insistence on taking me out for breakfast felt a little date-like and I wondered if he’d changed his mind.
Taylor: Of course. It’s a work meeting after all :).
I knew he worked late and hadn’t expected him to want to get together early. I started a pot of coffee before I jumped in the shower and spent time blow drying my hair. I popped an egg muffin I’d made earlier in the week into the microwave while I poured a cup of coffee and added creamer. It was so different than my life at home, where I’d get breakfast for Caleb and watch TV with him before I went to work. Here, I only had myself to think about.
I had hoped it would be a freeing experience, but instead I felt achingly alone at times. My weekly phone calls with my family deepened my guilt over leaving them, although they never said anything to make me feel that way.
I took my plate and mug outside where it was already muggy. I didn’t know if I’d ever get used to the heat here. In Maryland, I experienced all four seasons, while here, it would be varying degrees of warm all year round. Although I figured the locals might have a different definition of cold than I did.
Part of the reason I’d taken this position was the adventure being in New Orleans offered. I’d never gone away to school. I’d never lived outside of my parents’ home. The draw of working in a city far away from my responsibilities seemed too good to pass up. My parents reminded me all the time that Caleb was their responsibility, but what happened when they were too old to take care of him? What happened when they died? Caleb would be my responsibility and there was no getting around that. I didn’t mind, but at the same time I wanted to have this experience to remember when I moved back.
I checked my phone and stood, throwing my suit jacket over my arm. I grabbed my briefcase and made my way to the streetcar. I’d picked my neighborhood based on the quaint homes, shops, its proximity to Audubon Park, the zoo, and the St. Charles streetcar, which I could take each morning to my office in the business district. I loved the quiet ride down the tree-lined streets where I could admire the galleries in the Art District and the mansions of the Garden District until we reached Lafayette Square next to my office tower.
After about an hour at work, I checked my phone to see that Gabe had suggested meeting me in Lafayette Square so we could take the streetcar over to the French Quarter for beignets. I’d expected he would take me to a greasy spoon that only locals knew about not the biggest tourist spot in the city. Excited I was finally going to be visiting the French Quarter, I typed out a quick okay. I realized I was supposed to be meeting with him in the next few minutes so I closed down my computer, told my secretary I was meeting with a business manager for the outreach program, and took the elevator down.
With each floor the elevator cleared, my heart beat harder. Was I going to see the Gabe I saw on the street the other night when he was worried about my safety and called me an Uber, or the asshole Gabe who wanted nothing to do with me? I hoped for the former. I walked quickly over to the square, thankful I’d left my suit jacket in my office. It was way too hot for suits. Lafayette Square was only one city block in size but was a nice green spot. I spotted Gabe right away on the outskirts of the park leaning against a stone wall. My feet faltered when I realized his gaze slowly perused me from my nude peep-toed shoes, up my bare legs, to my skirt, my chest, and finally my face.
“Good morning,” I said, breathlessly, like I’d run to see him, which I hadn’t.
“Morning, princess.”I didn’t like it the first time he’d called me that in frustration, but I liked how it rolled off his tongue this morning—like a caress.
“Did you sleep well?” His voice was low and rumbly like he’d recently rolled out of bed.
A vision of him waking up in bed came to me, his hair rumpled, those abs on display. Did he sleep naked? My face heated at the thought. “I did. Thank you. Did you?”
“Yeah, what sleep I got.” He started walking toward the streetcar stop and I fell into step next to him.
“Your hours are rough.”
“I’m used to it. Have you seen much of the city?”
I laughed. “No. I got settled into my apartment and started working. I’m embarrassed to say I’ve lived here a few weeks but haven’t ventured out much.” When the streetcar stopped in front of us, I stepped on, taking a seat in the back.
“Where are you from?” He held onto a handle on the roof while I sat, his legs straddling my feet, keeping me encased by him and his scent—woodsy, a hint of liquor, and all man.
“Annapolis, Maryland. New Orleans reminds me of it a little. Not so much the culture and music, but the architecture and the history.”
As the streetcar stopped and started up again, he shifted closer to me, making it difficult to breathe. I had to look up at him to maintain eye contact as we spoke, which meant my face was level with his belt buckle. I licked my
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