Page 48 of You've Got a Place Here, Too
“I can never be too sure with you,” he replies.
I take my plate and sit at the table that has been set up for committee members. Of course, Kendrick sits in the chair next to mine. As if my nerves aren’t already at a level ten. I try to ignore his nearness as one of the catering representatives explains each dish, but I’m aware of his every breath.
After we’re given the rundown of the menu, another member of the catering team comes by with a tray of freshly made beignets and pralines.
“So, there will be someone making the beignets fresh at the extravaganza?” I ask as I bite into one of the pillowy-soft French doughnuts.
“Made-to-order beignets is a boss move,” Tabitha said.
I look over at her and nod. “I agree.”
I catch Kendrick’s expression out of the corner of my eye. His lips tilt up in a grin that sets off a bunch of flutters in my stomach. Before I can figure out what he’s doing, he reaches over and brushes his thumb against the corner of my mouth.
My breath catches in my throat.
“You have a little powdered sugar there,” he murmurs. Thesoftly spoken words reverberate along my skin. Our gazes lock, and the effect it has on me is something I can’t describe.
“Thank—” I have to take a breath before I can finish. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” he returns, his voice still soft.
I try to look away, but it’s not happening. It’s as if the connection between my eyes and my brain has snapped.
“Earth to Jordyn.”
I jump to attention at the sound of Tabitha’s voice.
“I’m sorry. What?”
“She asked if there are any other dishes you had in mind for the extravaganza?” Tabitha says, pointing at the caterer.
I shake my head. “No. No, I think this covers it. There’s a good variety of the traditional Cajun and Creole dishes that attendees will expect.”
“So, you’re okay with traditional foods, but not with the tradition of the Mardi Gras Indians?” Tabitha asks. “Make it make sense.”
“What!” the caterer shrieks. “No Mardi Gras Indians? Why even have the party?”
I try very hard not to roll my eyes.
“Face it, Jordyn. You’re outnumbered,” Kendrick says.
“The caterer doesn’t get a vote,” I whisper to him.
“Why are you being so hardheaded?” he returns. “Dr.C told you that your ideas were dull.”
“She did not say dull.”
She’d said dry, but what was the point in getting into a battle over semantics with him?
“Stop being so stubborn, Jordyn.”
“Stop being so bossy, Kendrick.”
He shakes his head, but I notice the amusement lifting one corner of his mouth.
We finish up with the catering meeting and I leave the building. I need to do a bit more research on Mardi Gras traditions in the library. I know if I search deep enough, I can find something that will add that spark to the extravaganza that Dr. Cornwall believes is missing.
“Jordyn!”
