Lenora Worth - Sweetheart Reunion

“No, you won’t,” Brenna said. “You’ll print it out and put it in that scrapbook you’ve been working on for years.”

“And how do you know about my scrapbook?”

“I have ways.”

“You are so sneaky. No wonder you’re good at your job.”

“And what does that mean?”

“Nothing,” Alma said. “Just that your imagination makes you suspect things and I guess that is a bit creative when you’re dealing with art. You can spot a fake.”

“Exactly,” Brenna said. “Julien tries to be a fake, pretending to be a bad boy and all that, but he’s still in love with you. That’s why he pretends to leave a trail of broken hearts behind him. But he’s the one with the broken heart. And now I have the picture to prove it. You know what they say about a picture?”

“Well, this one isn’t speaking a thousand words,” Alma replied. “More like, this picture is purely, truly fake.” She swallowed, then closed her eyes to the memory of Julien’s kiss. It had not felt as if he were faking at all. No, that kiss had been all too real. “He only did that to embarrass me and get me all riled up.”

“Okay, keep telling yourself that,” Brenna said. “I think you are riled up, but in a good way.”

“And what about you?” Alma asked, anxious to get off the subject of that kiss and the way it had made her feel. “When are you going to have that big Baton Rouge wedding you keep dreaming about?”

Her sister went silent. And that wasn’t like Brenna.

“Bree?”

“Not a good subject right now.” Alma heard a sigh. “Keep the picture, Alma. You’ll regret it if you delete it. I gotta go. Hope to see you in a few weeks.”

The connection ended and Alma was left standing there, staring at a picture of Julien LeBlanc kissing her.

“I should delete it,” she said, mumbling and muttering as she went around locking doors and preparing to go to bed.

But she didn’t.

She got in her grandmother’s old brass bed laced with mosquito netting and stared at the picture for a long time.

Then she turned out the lights and tried to go to sleep.

But the face of a dark-haired charmer kept popping into her mind. And the memory of that kiss kept her tossing and turning well into the wee hours.

Why did Julien want to be back in her life?

* * *

Julien wasn’t the first one in the door at the Fleur Bakery and Café the next morning. He waited until almost lunchtime, not wanting to appear anxious.

Except that he couldn’t wait to see Alma again. She’d kissed him back last night, and for the first time in a long time he had real hope in his heart. Since the night she’d walked out of his life, Julien had longed for a way to win Alma back. But pride and her aloof nature had held him back.

Then Sunday after church, he’d watched his maman with his cousin’s new baby. Watched and seen the tears forming in his sweet mother’s eyes. She missed her husband. Julien’s daddy had died from a heart attack just last fall. They all missed him. When his mother Virginia had glanced up and caught him staring at her and the child, she’d said something that had stayed with Julien.

“Don’t squander time with your pride, Julien. You don’t have to look so sad. You could have a baby yourself if you stop being so mule-headed. Alma would make a good mother.”

His mama sure had a way with words. But her pointed suggestion had stayed with Julien and then he’d spotted Alma the very next day there in her café, with that early morning sweetness all around her. He’d seen the same sadness he felt there in her pretty eyes. She’d looked as if she wanted something more. Something she couldn’t quite find.

That’s how he felt now.

He wanted her to smile again. Preferably, at him. And the fact that she’d kissed him back rather than slapping him flat gave him enough hope to hang on like a bass on a nylon string.

Time to let her reel him in.

Enough with the revelations and the signs. He planned to ask Alma out on a real date. If he could get up the courage. Maybe a poem. He’d quote her some pretty lines then ask her to go to up to New Orleans for a nice evening. Alma deserved a nice evening, didn’t she?

After a few of his fishing buddies converged on the restaurant, Julien made his way to his favorite table then searched for Alma. Where was she?

Another waitress came and took his order, her own soft smile full of interest. Mollie, her name tag stated. But instead of flirting in his usual way, Julien only had an interest in the chief cook and bottle washer around here. Alma. It wasn’t like her to take time away from the café.

Maybe she was hiding out. He’d thought about not showing up today himself. She had not been happy with him after that kiss.

He grinned, remembering how she’d turned and pranced back into the restaurant, all fire and glory, while everyone who’d witnessed the event had clapped and whooped.

Alma wasn’t into clapping and whooping.

Julien had walked home, whistling a happy tune.

Until reality set in and he realized he’d kissed Alma in public. And while she’d acted like she liked it, she’d also acted like she just maybe might kill him. Later. She probably thought he’d done it on purpose, just to show her. On purpose, to send her a message that Julien LeBlanc still had it.

Whatever “it” was. Lately, it hadn’t been working for him. So he’d reached out to the one woman who could always make him smile even when his heart carried a big frown. So he’d kissed that woman in a moment of pure, spontaneous need.

What if she poisoned his food?

“You look like a nutria caught in a trap,” Tebow said as he slid into the booth across from Julien. “What’s on your mind, bro?”

The cute waitress dropped Julien’s plate of eggs and grits in front of him then took Tebow’s order. “Bon appetit,” she said, winking at Julien.

Julien glanced over at his friend. “Here, take a bite of these eggs.”

Tebow shrugged and dug right in. “They’re good.”

Julien watched his friend for any sign of distress then pulled his plate back.

“Hey!”

“Get your own,” he told Tebow, still looking around for Alma.

When the girl named Mollie returned to give Julien a refill on his coffee, he asked her, “Where’s Alma today?”

Looking surprised, the waitress held the glass coffeepot close. “She had a meeting about the festival. She’ll be in later.”

Tebow shot the waitress a big smile then aimed his baby-blue gaze at the nametag on the girl’s T-shirt. “Thank you, Pretty Mollie.”

Mollie gave him a look that told him to drop dead then whirled and headed away.

“I think you just broke her heart,” he said to Julien. “And I think she just broke my heart in return.”

“What?” Julien asked between bites. He needed to hurry.

“Never mind.” Tebow stared longingly at the food. “I’ll just sit here and watch you eat while I starve to death from lack of love and a meal.”

“Where’s the festival committee meeting?” Julien asked.

Tebow shrugged. “You’re asking me?”

“Yes, you. You mama is always on that committee.”

“And they always meet at the family center at the church,” Tebow said, giving Julien a strange look. “I’m worried about you, bro.”

Julien shoved the rest of his grits into his mouth, swallowed and then took a long swig of coffee. “I have to go.”

Slapping a ten on the table, he was up and out the door before Tebow could ask why and what for.

Julien had come to a decision after that kiss last night. He was tired of waiting around for Alma to forgive him. He’d just have to show her he could change—he had changed—instead of hoping she’d see it with her own eyes.