When he touched her shirt, she glanced down, wide-eyed, but all he did was gently rebutton the part of her collar that had come undone in the passion of their kiss.

She let her hands rest on his waist the way they wanted to. “Is that why you haven’t made me any southern food until now? Worried it’d make me all crazy like you?”

“Yup.” He ducked his head and kissed the end of her nose. “All crazy.” He stepped back enough so she could see his face, but not far enough she had to drop her hands. When their eyes met, his smile wavered a little. “It’s harder than I thought, you know? Smelling home. Not being there.”

“You miss it?” she whispered. Sometimes she missed home, and she still lived here. But it would never be the same as she remembered it from when she was young.

“All the time, baby girl.” He chuckled, the rumble deep in his chest only making it halfway to a real sound. “No way not to. That place is me. Sometimes I think I’m a fool for thinking I could leave.”

Her fingers tightened, and she consciously relaxed them, not wanting to hold him too tight. Instead, she smiled. “So New Orleans is all dirty jokes and crazy-good food and happy horses?”

He laughed, the corners of his eyes crinkling in a pleased way that made her feel better. “It has plenty of dirty jokes, Andie-girl, though not everybody’s are as good as mine. And most of the food is even better than what I can make. In New Orleans, food isn’t something you eat and forget. It’s the way you live. Your time, your air. Your memories.” He paused, his belt soft and flexible under her palms. The leather was as warm as his skin. “As for horses, nah. I pushed a shovel in the City Park stables for a while, but they have all the trainers they need. New Orleans isn’t a place for horses. Too many tourists. Too many houses. Too many everythings except dollars.” He grinned. “Besides, in that city, they prefer mules, and we know how mule people are.”

She gasped theatrically, widening her eyes. “Not mule people.”

“Well,” he hedged. “They got pretty good mules.” He dipped his head to take a tiny kiss, and it was so casual she wondered if this was their new normal. If kisses were like his touches, his smiles . . . if they were just part of what it was to be close to him. She wanted to be special to him, as stupid and selfish as it sounded even to think it. She wanted to know him more deeply than anyone else did, to make him smile the biggest. But she had no idea how to even start.

“LJ, what does your name mean?” she whispered, strangely afraid he wouldn’t tell her.