Description
In the Jimmy Rogers Chronicles, the final scene of book 1 (Can’t Stop It) and the opening scene in book 2 (It’s Impossible) are about the first time Aaron Rizzer, a/k/a Professor Remember, saw Belle Marie Belizaire. He was standing in his first Remembers, in deep thought about a discussion he had years ago with Linda, when his Trigger, his GM said:
“Boss!” The word snapped me back to the present. I blinked and turned to see Trigger, my General Manager, standing a few feet away, his hands shoved into the pockets of his denim apron.
Trigger was tall and wiry, with sharp features and a perpetual scowl that made him seem older than his thirty-something years.
He’d started as a young bartender and had now been with me for about a decade. He ran the day-to-day operations at Remember’s with precision, though not always with tact.
I straightened. “What do you need?”
Trigger tipped his head toward the front of the café. “New hostess is here. Figured you’d want to meet her.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t that why I pay you?”
He shrugged, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Suit yourself. But I think you’ll want to meet this one.” He nodded toward the café entrance again.
There was something in his tone, just shy of insolence, that made me narrow my eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Before he could answer, movement near the café entrance drew my attention. A young woman was standing there, her posture relaxed but poised, one hand resting lightly on the strap of her bag. She was wearing a hunter green dress that fit her athletic frame perfectly, modest yet effortlessly elegant.
Her skin, a radiant shade of brown with undertones of red and gold, seemed to catch the morning light in a way that made her glow. Her cropped Afro Pixie framed her face, accentuating high cheekbones and dark, expressive eyes.
One look and I thought, Wow, she’s beautiful, no, no that doesn’t cover it, she’s stunningly beautiful. No still not there, she’s gorgeous… That’s it.
I quickly pushed the thought aside, masking it with a cordial but detached smile. New hires were routine, part of the churn of running a place like this. I stepped forward and extended a hand.
“You must be the new hostess,” I said, keeping my tone polite but distracted. “Aaron Rizzer. Welcome to Remember’s.”
“I’m Belle, Belle Belizaire,” she said, her voice smooth and measured, definitely Southern melodic, and it felt so familiar to me, yet I’ve never met her before, right?
The touch of her hand was warm, firm and seemed so comfortable in mine. It made me look at her left hand gently holding on to the strap of her shoulder bag. My God, her hands are so beautiful, I thought, how do I stop my stare?
The look in her eyes made me realize I’ve held on way too long. I refocused, pulled my hand back and glanced toward Trigger,
