No Time like Mardi Gras. Kimberly Lang

Tuesday and all the decadent fun it could bring her.

      She could have today, by God.

      The noise level had been increasing steadily, and now music floated over the top of the roar. It kept her from having to respond.

      Colin pushed to his feet. “Here it comes.” He extended a hand to help her up. She was still justifying everything to herself as Colin hauled her up and stationed himself behind her as the crowd pushed forward toward the street and the barricades.

      His chest was broad and hard against her back, and one hand came to rest easily and naturally on her hip as he leaned forward to tell her something. He was wearing shorts, like she was, and she could feel the hair on his legs tickling her calves and thighs. She totally missed whatever it was he was trying to say.

      “What?”

      “Don’t reach down if anything hits the ground. You’ll get your hands stomped.”

      What the hell were they throwing off these floats? Diamonds? She twisted around to look at him. “Over cheap plastic beads?”

      “Yep.”

      “Seriously?”

      Colin laughed, patting her hip as he did. It left a nice residual tingle. “Oh, honey, you have no idea. Look, there’s Rex.”

      Jamie strained up on tiptoe, craning her neck to see. Wow. She’d heard these parades were amazing, and she’d expected something really cool, but this.... A massive gilded throne, ornate costumes with feathers and men on horseback in matching courtier outfits with satin pantaloons...just wow.

      She jumped up and down to get a better view, accidentally bumping against Colin’s chin in the process.

      “Can you not see?” he asked. She shook her head and tried to use his shoulder as a boost when she jumped this time. A second later, she felt hands on her legs and the whisper of hair against her thighs. She jumped for real this time.

      Colin was crouched behind her. “Come on. Climb up.”

      He didn’t wait for an answer, and she felt the broad base of his shoulders pressing against the backs of her thighs as Colin’s head dipped between her knees. Then she was up over the crowd—with an amazing view of the parade—with Colin holding her as though she weighed nothing at all. He shrugged to get her settled, and she quickly wrapped her legs behind his back to anchor herself.

      “Better?” he shouted up.

      She was still reeling from the fact his head was now between her thighs and a rather personal bit of her anatomy was now pressed against the nape of his neck. Funny how she’d never noticed the inappropriateness of this position until just now. “Yeah,” she answered, but it sounded a little weak even to her own ears. “Are you sure I’m not too heavy?”

      “Oh, please. I can barely tell you’re up there.”

      “Now what do I do?”

      Colin tilted his head way back, nearly sending her toppling over before she corrected by leaning forward, and grinned at her again. “Catch whatever comes your way. And no matter what you’ve seen on TV, don’t flash the riders for beads,” he cautioned. “You’ll get us both arrested.”

      “Flash them—?” she began, but she was cut off when something hit her right in the face.

      She caught it reflexively and a strand of green-and-gold beads dangled from her fingers.

      “Good job,” Colin said, patting her knee. “Now put them on.” She looped them over her head as a shower of beads began to rain down from the floats.

      Colin caught a few, but for the most part, he kept his arms locked around her legs to keep her stable as she quickly got the hang of it. Occasionally, she’d loop a set over his head until he began to look a bit like a cheap Technicolor Mr. T.

      There were marching bands, more elaborate costumes, ornate floats—just an ongoing stream of tacky, over-the-top opulence. And Jamie loved every minute of it. She’d had no idea she was such a sucker for a parade, and the crowd’s enthusiasm was contagious. This was so much better than sitting at the Lucky Gator listening to a crappy band play, and she finally understood the allure of the street party.

      This was simply freakin’ awesome.

      Colin kept pointing out details and providing backstory, acting as her own private Mardi Gras guide and tutor. When a float broke down, bringing the parade to a halt, Colin got her a beer from a street vendor and then danced with her to a high school marching band’s rendition of “Louie, Louie” before putting her back on his shoulders for the last few floats. She was sad to see the final one go by.

      As the crowd began to pull back a little, Colin set her on her feet for the last time.

      Rising up onto her tiptoes again, she kissed his cheek, surprising them both. “That was so much fun. Thank you.”

      “My pleasure. Want me to walk you back to the bar?”

      Jamie fished her phone out of her pocket. No message from Kelsey, so she was probably still there listening to David’s band mangle another classic, and she didn’t really want to go back now, anyway.

      Colin must have picked up on her mood. “Or we could head a couple of blocks up the street and watch the next one?”

      A happy glow settled in her stomach. “I think I’d like that. A lot, actually.”

      To her surprise, he seemed genuinely pleased with her answer. He held out his hand. “Then let’s go.”

      This time, she didn’t think twice about taking it.

      Let the good times roll.

      TWO

      They ate muffulettas bought from a food cart near Woldenberg Park as the sun went down. Jamie didn’t really care for the olives, but she wasn’t complaining. About anything.

      Today hadn’t been what she’d expected—who could have expected this?—and if anyone had tried to tell her she’d have one of the best days of her life at a street party with a guy she barely knew, she’d have laughed in their face.

      Colin wadded up the wrapper from his sandwich and tossed it into an already overflowing garbage can. New Orleans was a beautiful place, but it was definitely worse for wear today, with garbage littering the streets and a pervasive odor of stale beer, sweat and something else she didn’t even want to try to identify. She could relate, though. Like the city, she wasn’t exactly fresh as a daisy now either, but she was still thrumming with energy and excitement and the desire for a good time.

      She might just come to love New Orleans.

      That might not be a good thing.

      “Your nose is turning pink,” Colin said.

      Jamie wrinkled it experimentally and felt the tightness. “Great. I’m going to have a clown nose.”

      “Cutest clown ever.” He reached out a finger and touched it gently, his eyebrows drawing together in concern. “Does it hurt?”

      The proximity, the gentle touch, the concern in his voice...Jamie’s throat felt tight and that tingly anticipation slid up through her stomach again. “No. Not yet,” she managed to get out.

      He nodded and traced a finger along her cheekbone. “You’re a little pink here, too.”

      Colin was killing her. There’d been flirting all day, the friendly, teasing kind that danced along the line but never went over it, leaving her wondering if it was just his personality or genuinely directed at her. She’d scraped the rust off her own flirting skills and given it her best, but the results were unsatisfying—in multiple ways. She had no idea if she was having any effect on him at all, and if not, was it from lack of interest on his part or lack of skill on hers?

      She’d been touching him for hours—even once wrapping her