“Hey now, hands off my date, Cajun,” said Cade, tugging her hand away and tucking a possessive arm around her.
“No offense, but you playin’ wit’ fire wit’ dis one.”
“I swear, I’m a puppy dog,” protested Cade.
But Embry knew perfectly well what Mick had meant. He knew what she was.
Satisfied that his warning had been received, the Wylk’s attention shifted to Cade. “Your usual?”
Cade nodded.
“How about you, cher? Wine? G and T? Amaretto sour?”
“Martini. Dirty.” Because her legs felt a little shaky, Embry slid onto a barstool.
Her mind buzzed with calculation. Was the mission compromised? Would she be reported? Surely not. This wolf had no idea what she was about, what she wanted Cade for. As far as he knew, she was just his date, nothing more. It wasn’t like she had a badge tattooed on her forehead that proclaimed her IED.
Mick passed Cade a beer and set the martini in front of her before folding his arms and leaning conversationally on the bar. “So where he pick you up, cher? You not from around here.”
“I was at the fight,” she replied, taking a careful sip and humming in approval.
“Front row,” said Cade cheerfully.
“She was what you was lookin’ at when Archer clocked you one?”
Cade rubbed at the knot on his head. “It was a moment.”
“You lucky he didn’t knock you da fuck out, da way you was all moony-eyed.”
“Hey, first, I object to the term moony-eyed. Second, I tied Archer’s ass up in a bow during that second round. Forgive the coon ass, Embry. He thinks being my best friend obliges him to give me shit about women.”
Best friend. Great. She took another sip of the martini. “So how did you two meet? You’re not from New Orleans either, are you, Cade? I mean, your accent doesn’t match.”
There was the briefest moment of hesitation before he answered, “Memphis actually. Been in New Orleans for about ten years now. My first place wasn’t too far from here, and I came in one night after work. There were a couple of defensive linemen from Tulane who took offense when Mick cut ’em off.”
“Cade helped take out da trash,” said Mick picking up the narrative. “Not dat I couldn’a handled ’em myself.”
“Of course you could,” said Cade. “But whatever, I helped.”
“He has a beautiful left cross, him,” said Mick affecting wiping away a tear.
“True dat,” agreed Cade with a grin. “We bonded over a bottle of tequila after closing time. Been tight ever since.”
A door at the far end of the bar swung open and a trio of waitresses sashayed out carrying trays loaded up with baskets of hot wings. One of them, a buxom blonde in a babydoll T-shirt at least one size too small, flounced over and placed two baskets on the bar in front of them. She offered Cade a toothy grin, “Who’s the flavor of the week, Cade?”
Embry diverted the flare of temper to the glass in her hand and totally ruined her martini.
A petite woman with salt and pepper hair slipped between the waitress and the bar to set down a basket of fries. “Watch yo’ mouth. Just ’cause he don’t wanna warm yo’ bed, don’t mean he can’t look elsewhere. You got tables.”
With a huff, the blond sashayed away.
Satisfaction warred with embarrassment, and Embry fought to keep both off her face as the woman swung in her direction. The dark, sharp eyes studied her with interest for several moments before she turned to Cade, taking his face between her red-nail tipped fingers and planting a smacking kiss on his mouth. “Congrats on your win, cher.”
Smiling sheepishly, Cade enfolded the woman in a massive bear hug. “Thanks Jeanette.” He shifted her around until they were both facing Embry. “This is Embry Hollister. Embry, this is my New Orleans Maman, Jeanette Benoit.”
Best friend and his current mother figure. What is this, Embry wondered, a meet the family kind of date? It wasn’t at all what she’d had in mind. She’d never be able to slip him the antidote beneath their watchful eyes.
Embry forced her lips to curve and held her hand out to Jeanette. “Nice to meet you.”