Every kiss threatened to bypass her good sense and go straight to that place where lust ruled. Every night she joined him in the library and they had a drink and talked. She’d managed to make it to Darois House in time for dinner most of the week, but dinner always involved Cricket and often Louis or one or more of Rene’s relatives who showed up to complain or cajole. It was only in the library that they found some privacy. He would pour her a drink and somehow he would end up with her feet on his lap and she would sigh as those strong hands of his worked out the tension that came from wearing heels most of the day. She would start out telling him he didn’t have to do it and then she would sigh and practically purr. At some point she would sit on his lap and he would kiss her and she would eventually have to find the strength to go to her own room.

She was getting sick of going to her own room.

“Sylvie?”

She shook herself out of her thoughts and forced her attention back on the present. “Sorry. I zoned out. What were you saying?”

“I was asking how it was going with Rene.” Hallie turned on her mat, not joining the crowd of women leaving the space. She looked ready for a nice long talk. On Wednesdays, Hallie dropped her baby off with her mom and took the morning for errands, which usually ended with brunch and gossip. “But now I can see it’s not going well. You’ve got that longing look on your face you get when you’re on a diet but you can smell funnel cakes.”

“That’s specific,” Sylvie shot back. Though she did love funnel cakes.

“Oh, it works with corn dogs, too,” Sera added. “Any of the carnival foods. You always decide to go on a diet right before festival season. It’s a masochistic tendency of yours.”

It was the only way she could stay in her clothes. Festival season was a misnomer. There was always a party going on in Papillon, and the party always included the most delicious food. It was hard to keep her figure when someone was always offering her shrimp and grits or bread pudding. Food was love in her town, and there was a lot of love to go around. “It’s a protective measure I take that usually lasts until I make it to the deep-fried Oreos booth. I curse whoever came up with that bit of heaven.”

“Somehow I don’t think it’s deep-fried snack food you’re abstaining from now,” Hallie said. “Are things not going well with Rene?”