Page 87 of Bourbon Kingdom
“You didn’t have to work anything off,” he smiled while squeezing my hand.
Charming, just too fucking charming. I could feel myself slowly slip into the Jett Colby world he was sucking me into. Not good, it was only the first ten minutes of our date and I was already losing it. Time to start thinking about my game plan for how to win the bet we made so I could get my hands on his perfect little car. All I had to do was act inappropriate in front of the right people, and I was good as golden.
Music from the brass band filled the air as festivalgoers walked about with their hands full of gumbo bowls. The smell of the spicy and favorable dish hit me hard as we walked deeper into the festivities. My stomach growled at me, practically begging me to feed it. I patted my stomach and secretly told it to be patient; good things were coming its way shortly.
“Over here,” Jett directed, leading me to a tented-off area where people milled around giant cooking vessels.
The cook-off.
Best date ever! Shoving my face full of food and having no shame while doing so was one of the best date ideas I could ever conjure up. The man knew me all too well.
“Jett Colby,” a deep voice spoke out as we passed through a tent opening.
The mayor walked up to us while holding out his hand to Jett. The mayor of New Orleans, what a perfect subject for Mission Embarrass Jett. It was almost too easy.
“Mayor Rupert, what a pleasure to see you. Are you judging the contest today as well?”
“That I am,” the mayor said, as he patted his stomach. “And, may I ask who this lovely lady is who seems to be attached to you?”
“How rude of me,” Jett said in an apologetic voice. “Mayor Rupert, this is Goldie, my girlfriend.”
Girlfriend? How easily he’d forgotten about our relationship status, but I’d let it slide, because the damn title sounded so good to me. Bested again by the conceited man.
“Goldie, I’m very delighted to meet you,” Mayor Rupert said, while taking my hand in his.
“It’s a pleasure,” I responded, as I looked up at Jett, gearing up for my embarrassing moment.
“Will you be judging the contest as well?” the mayor asked me.
“I will be. Gumbo is my all-time favorite dish, so I can’t wait to sit back, shove my face full, and belch out the winner, am I right?” I asked, as I nudged the mayor in the stomach, showing less class than expected, even from me.
The mayor chuckled and Jett just smiled, not affected one bit. Hmm, this was going to be harder than I thought.
“I’m right there with you,” the mayor said. “Gumbo is a New Orleans staple. I’m always fascinated to see how different chefs try to reinvent the classic dish.”
“Me too. I eat gumbo like a son of a bitch eating out a lady for the first time. Although, seafood gumbo isn’t my favorite, I prefer chicken sausage. Any sausage really, isn’t that right, Jett?”
The mayor pulled on his ear a bit to make sure he was hearing me correctly, as Jett stood there with a stoic smile and his eyes beaming with pride, as if I was the most majestic woman he had ever met.
Mother fucker.
Clearing his throat and pulling on his collar, the mayor totally fake laughed at me and said, “What an interesting description.”
“Given the fact that you have a gorgeous blonde who sleeps next to you, I would guarantee you prefer seafood gumbo over the old saw-seege,” I said, while wiggling my eyebrows, embarrassing the mayor more than anything.
A small trickle of sweat from the awkward moment I’d put myself in started to gather at the base of my back, and I ignored the fact that my plan was backfiring tremendously, and I was the one who was about to be embarrassed in a few seconds.
Jett, on the other hand, was just smiling widely, proud as could be. Bastard!
“Um, yes, I do appreciate seafood,” the mayor said uncomfortably, his face bright red. Oh, Jesus, this was not going the way I wanted. “It’s a shame this is a vegan gumbo cook off.”
“A what?” I practically shouted as I looked up at Jett. “A vegan cook off?”
Jett snapped his finger and said, “Oh, did I not tell you? Yes, it’s a vegan cook off, but don’t worry, sweetheart, I packed an extra pair of clothes for you in the trunk.” Sweetheart? What was he up to? He looked up at the mayor and put his arm around my shoulder as he said, “You see, my girlfriend has a bit of an . . . irritable bowel, so if she eats too many soy products her bowel flares up and she has a bit of a sharting problem. You know, a shit and fart out together, but it’s okay, I’ve got back-up underwear in the car at all times. It’s like her own personal diaper bag. Isn’t that right, Goldie?” Jett asked, tugging on my shoulder and smiling down at me.
My mouth hung open, to say I was mortified was an understatement. Point Jett.
The mayor nervously laughed and then turned in the other direction without a word, leaving Jett and me alone.
