New Beginnings in New Orleans || Marcel Gerard

Chapter 1: Home Sweet Home

~Hiiiii love bugs. So I've been secretly writing this book for a little over a month now. And I'm obsessed with it. It's all I can work on, everything else is coming up with writers block (for people reading any of my other ongoing books. I promise I'll get to them soon. But in the meantime I wanted to give you something else to read since I have a few chapters ready to slowly release) I hope you enjoy this. It's a slow start, but I promise this is just the beginning. It'll heat up real quick.

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Chapter One

I huffed, out of breath, opening the front door to the little restaurant my younger sister told me to meet her at. "Come on, come on," I ushered my seven year old son in.

"Auntie Cami!" He squealed seconds later. I looked to see her a couple feet away at a table for two, facing the door. My son, Zachariah took off towards her, opening his arms up for a hug.

"Zach!" She grinned, closing her textbook and turning in her seat to embrace her nephew.

I walked over to them, my sister standing up while Zach took the free chair at the table. "Hey, big sis," Camille grinned at me.

"Hey," I smiled back, happy and excited. I haven't seen her in nearly 8 months. "How you been?" I asked her. Not that we haven't been playing catch up over the phone lately before I decided to move back to our home town, New Orleans.

"Same as last time we talked," she chuckled and I rolled my eyes. "Hi, cutie pie," she finally greeted the baby on my hip. My 18 month daughter, Cheyenne, who was getting heavy.

"Take her," I pleaded. Camille laughed, taking her niece into her arms. "I need a drink," I stated, eyeing the small bar to the left. This was a tiny hole in the wall. I wasn't sure if it was supposed to be a café or a dive bar.

I approached the bar, looking over the bottles on the shelves. "Patrón and lemonade, please," I ordered. The bartender nodded at me before preparing me a tall glass. I then turned around to look around the place. Behind me was two tables in the window of the building. One was unoccupied while the other was taken by two very attractive men.

On the left was leather jacket cladded, white gentleman with slightly curly brown hair, sideburns and a beard coming in. "Hello, love," he greeted me suddenly, turning in his chair to face me. Beautiful blue eyes and British? Hot, hot hot! "Klaus. And you are?" He asked.

"Available," I blurted. "I mean, Gemma."

He chuckled softly, looking at his friend in amusement. However, he went ignored. The man in his company was too busy staring off at something. Curious, I followed his gaze. It led to my sister. I smirked knowingly then. "This is Marcel," Klaus introduced him anyways.

That was enough to make Marcel look over at me, now noting my existence. His brown eyes like chocolate matched his skin. And they drank me in slowly. So I did the same, biting my lip. Why did he have to be so sexy? My sister would be lucky to have him. He had a buzz cut shaved head and a five o'clock shadow on his angular face. He clearly had a muscular physique, I could make out under his tight navy, slightly acid wash t-shirt. "Hi there," he said simply, giving me a charming smile.

A shiver went down my spine. His voice was low and slow, like velvet. Seductive as hell. "Nice to meet you," I replied.

He glanced back at my sister before chuckling, "Cute kids."

"That obvious they're mine and not hers?" I asked playfully.

"Not obvious at all. You look great," Klaus smirked.

I blushed softly. "Your drink, ma'am," the bartender spoke up from behind me. I spun around immediately to pay him. "Eleven dollars," he told me and I nodded, digging into my crossbody purse for my wallet.