“Did you just say dick divots?” Jett asked, as he parallel parked into a spot on St. Phillip Street.

Did I really say dick divots out loud? Was I talking out loud that entire time?

“Um, what are you talking about?” I asked, trying to pass it off.

He cut the engine and turned toward me, swinging his arm to the back of my seat, making him that much closer. “You were mumbling to yourself and the only thing I caught was at the end, you said dick divots.”

“Huh, imagine that,” I smiled, as I tried to get out of the car, but of course the infuriating man stopped me.

“Goldie, please explain to me what dick divots are.”

“You’re annoying, you know that? Can’t you ever let something go?”

“No,” he smiled brightly.

Huffing, I crossed my arms over my chest and said, “Dick divots are those little things that point to your dick, turning every honest woman into an idiot as they direct their gaze down a path past your waistline and straight to your…redwood. You know…the v-cut,” I said, while pointing to his side.

“Not sure what you’re referring to. Can you show me? Need me to lift my shirt?”

“No!” I practically yelped, not wanting to see one bit of Jett’s body. It was bad enough the man wore his sleeves rolled up and the top few buttons of his shirt undone, showing off his perfectly bare and tight chest.

Fuck, he was a walking god. All bronze-like with his designer clothes that were simple but looked so damn good on him, like he was a walking Ralph Lauren catalogue.

“Come on, Little One,” he winked, as he got out of the car and came to my side to open the door for me, always the gentleman.

Helping me out of the car, he grabbed my hand and shut the door, just as a man walked up to us for Jett to toss him the keys, once again the guardian of the car, just like our first ever date. Some things never changed.

The entire walk into the festival, Jett held onto my hand tightly, making my heart beat rapidly in my chest. It was just a little hand holding, but it was who the hand was attached to that had my tongue hanging out of my mouth like a cat in heat.

“Have you ever been to the festival before?” Jett asked, as he led us through the crowd with ease.

“No, surprisingly I’ve never been.”

“That is surprising, given your infatuation with the classic dish.” I gave him a sideways look which made him laugh. “Chef told me how much Gumbo you used to eat at the club; I made sure he cooked it once a week.”

“So, you’re the reason I had to work my ass off in the gym every week?”

“You didn’t have to work anything off,” he smiled while squeezing my hand.

Charming, just too fucking charming. I could feel myself slowly slip into the Jett Colby world he was sucking me into. Not good, it was only the first ten minutes of our date and I was already losing it. Time to start thinking about my game plan on how to win the bet we made so I could get my hands on his perfect little car. All I had to do was act inappropriate in front of the right people, and I was good as golden.

Music from the brass band filled the air, as festival-goers walked about with their hands full of gumbo bowls. The smell of the spicy and favorable dish hit me hard as we walked deeper into the festivities. My stomach growled at me, practically begging me to feed it. I patted my stomach and secretly told it to be patient; good things were coming its way shortly.

“Over here,” Jett directed, as he led me to a tented off area where people milled around giant cooking vessels.

The cook-off.

Best date ever! Shoving my face full of food and having no shame while doing so was one of the best date ideas I could ever conjure up. The man knew me all too well.

“Jett Colby,” a deep voice spoke out as we passed through a tent opening.

The mayor walked up to us while holding out his hand to Jett. The mayor of New Orleans, what a perfect subject for Mission Embarrass Jett. It was almost too easy.

“Mayor Rupert, what a pleasure to see you. Are you judging the contest today as well?”

“That I am,” the mayor said, as he patted his stomach. “And, may I ask who this lovely lady is who seems to be attached to you?”

“How rude of me,” Jett said in an apologetic voice. “Mayor Rupert, this is Goldie, my girlfriend.”

Girlfriend? How easily the man forgot about our relationship status, but I would let it slide because the damn title sounded so good to me. Bested again by the conceited man.

“Goldie, I’m very delighted to meet you,” Mayor Rupert said, while taking my hand in his.

“It’s a pleasure,” I responded, as I looked up at Jett, gearing up for my embarrassing moment.

“Will you be judging the contest as well?” the mayor asked me.

“I will be. Gumbo is my all-time favorite dish, so I can’t wait to sit back, shove my face full, and belch out the winner, am I right?” I asked, as I nudged the mayor in the stomach, showing less class than expected from me.

The mayor chuckled and Jett just smiled, not affected one bit. Hmm, this was going to be harder than I thought.

“I’m right there with you,” the mayor said. “Gumbo is a New Orleans staple. I’m always fascinated to see how different chefs try to reinvent the classic dish.”

“Me too. I eat gumbo like a son of a bitch eating out a lady for the first time. Although, seafood gumbo isn’t my favorite, I prefer chicken sausage. Any sausage really, isn’t that right, Jett?”

The mayor pulled on his ear a bit to make sure he was hearing me correctly, as Jett stood there with a stoic smile and his eyes beaming with pride, as if I was the most majestic woman he had ever met.

Mother fucker.

Clearing his throat and pulling on his collar, the mayor totally fake laughed at me and said, “What an interesting description.”

“Given the fact that you have a gorgeous blonde that sleeps next to you, I would guarantee you prefer seafood gumbo over the old saw-seege,” I said, while wiggling my eyebrows, embarrassing the mayor more than anything.

A small trickle of sweat from the awkward moment I put myself in started to gather at the base of my back, and I ignored the fact that my plan was backfiring tremendously, and I was the one who was about to be embarrassed in a few seconds.

Jett, on the other hand, was just smiling widely, proud as could be. Bastard!

“Um, yes, I do appreciate seafood,” the mayor said uncomfortably, his face bright red. Oh, Jesus, this was not going the way I wanted. “It’s a shame this is a vegan gumbo cook off.”

“A what?” I practically shouted as I looked up at Jett. “A vegan cook off?”

Jett snapped his finger and said, “Oh, did I not tell you? Yes, it’s a vegan cook off, but don’t worry, sweetheart, I packed an extra pair of clothes for you in the trunk.” Sweetheart? What was he up to? He looked up at the mayor and put his arm around my shoulder as he said, “You see, my girlfriend has a bit of an…irritable bowel, so if she eats too many soy products her bowel flares up and she has a bit of a sharting problem. You know, a shit and fart come out together, but it’s okay, I’ve got back-up underwear in the car at all the times. It’s like her own personal diaper bag. Isn’t that right, Goldie?” Jett asked, as he tugged on my shoulder and smiled down at me.

My mouth hung open as I tried to figure out what the hell to say. To say I was mortified was an understatement. Point Jett.

The mayor nervously laughed and then turned in the other direction without a word, leaving Jett and me alone.

“Oh, my God!” I shouted as I pushed Jett away. “I can’t believe you said that.”

Laughing a little too much for my liking, Jett held on to his stomach and tried to speak through the tears forming in his eyes. I’ve never seen him so loose before in my life, and even though it was at my expense, I still loved it. It was moments like this, when he dropped his control and had some fun, that I craved. Don’t get me wrong, I demanded the dominant man who could make me scream his name in seconds, but I also craved this real man, this man with feelings and emotions.