“I would never usually say this on a first date, or really ever, but among a minuscule section of the population, there are some people who know who I am.”
Imogen read between the lines. “That kid knew who you were because youarefamous.”
“Mmm …famousis a stretch. But some people like the art. Which is cool.”
“Your tattoos,” she clarified.
“And paintings. I do both. Canvas and human canvas.”
“Really?”
He nodded, then turned, and within a few minutes, they were cruising down Burgundy Street toward Toulouse.
“You are full of surprises, aren’t you?”
“Oh, and I did this TV show once for a season. People still get excited about that.”
“TV show? Wait … so you are famous.”
“Minuscule part of the population. I mean, how many people really watch something calledInktopia?”
“Wait. You were on that?”
He glanced over. “Bet you haven’t seen it though. Not even once.”
“No, but …” She almost said her boyfriend had watched it despite being more afraid of needles than she was.
“See. No big deal.”
But he was turning out to be a lot more than a bearded, tatted-up, T-shirt-and-baseball-cap-wearing guy she had thought was cute.
“The top hat is a nice touch.”
“You like it?” he asked with a grin.
“I’ve never known anyone who wore a top hat. Especially not just out to dinner.”
“Now you do. And it’s not just out to dinner. It’s dinner with a beautiful woman in the French Quarter. Seemed appropriate.”
He pulled it off with style. What would’ve made someone else look ridiculous made him look even more interesting and handsome.
The sides of his head were even fancy, with scrolling filigree tattoos of gold and blue and mint green. This man was mostdefinitelyone of a kind.
He turned again and then once more, and she was amazed at how deftly he handled the extra-long car.
“And here we are.”
“You’re going to let them valet this?”
“Frederico would never hurt this baby. He loves her too much.”
Imogen’s door swung open before she could reply.
He knows the valet by name too?
“Welcome to Brennan’s. Can I give you a hand, ma’am?”
“I got her, Freddy.”