Highland Pull (Highland Destiny 2) Read Online Free
Author: Laura Harner, L.E. Harner
inexpert flash of his Druid senses, he caught a pure light spilling from her, like the glow of a street lamp pressing back the shadows of the night. This was a woman he would love to get to know. Her eyes had appeared hazel in the dim light, and her expression had been full of laughter when she’d caught him staring. Her legs were bare and her short shorts hugged her perfect ass as she walked away. Had she looked back, she would have caught his rueful smile. She was not for the likes of him, not now.
Chapter Three
Gabhran spent the next few days taking care of the tedious tasks required when buying a house or moving. Alfred stopped by each day to take him on short trips to run his errands. Since he’d bought the house furnished, his household needs were few. Since his clothes were suited to the cool climes of Scotland, not subtropical New Orleans, his wardrobe needed work. His style was definitely not the slogan-laden clothing readily available in the French Quarter, so now that his household errands were completed, he’d arranged to hire Alfred’s services for the entire day. First for the shopping and then he wanted a tour.
Alfred took his job as guide seriously, and after some quick stops on Canal Street for menswear, the cab driver began the tour in earnest. The remnants of the damage from Hurricane Katrina surprised him. He’d watched in stunned disbelief, along with the rest of the world, as the fearful power of Mother Nature was unleashed upon the Gulf Coast. Although the central business district and French Quarter were restored and busy, there were miles of neighborhoods, entire communities, that were virtual ghost towns.
They visited the west bank of the Mississippi, drove around Algiers, and Alfred took him into the large Mardi Gras warehouse. The building doubled as a tourist attraction, and hundreds of visitors a year flocked to see the floats, beads, doubloons, and other lagniappe thrown during the massive parades. The walls were hung with dozens of pictures of past parades and Gav couldna help but notice the bare breasts in many of the photos. Alfred laughingly explained the mystery.
During Mardi Gras, the parades have giant floats and the krewe members riding on them indiscriminately toss beads, cups, doubloons, and other trinkets into the crowd. Cries of, “Throw me something, mister,” fill the air as thousands of parade-goers fight to get something thrown from the float.
Every float keeps a limited supply of special beads to throw to particular people, like their family, friends, or beautiful women. Since most of the krewes are all-male, young women willing to show their bare breasts have a distinct advantage over the rest of the crowd when it comes to getting the special treats tossed their way.
Gabhran stood there awhile and dubiously eyed the boxes of Moon Pies and beads, then asked seriously, “There are lasses showing me their breasts when I walk down the streets. Should I purchase some of these beads then to throw?”
Alfred laughed until tears ran down his face. “I suspect they want you to give them something a little more personal as a memento of their trip to the Big Easy.”
They stopped at a small grocery store in a neighborhood few tourists ever saw. The front of the store was a local gathering spot for old men and cab drivers, and Alfred was greeted by name . It was easy to guess from the looks he was getting that the men were curious. It had not escaped Gav’s notice that his was the only Caucasian face.
Alfred told him to sit, and went into the store. In the silence, every gaze fell on Gabhran. He eyed the only empty chair warily, unsure it would hold his weight. He hooked it with his foot, flipped it around then straddled the seat. He draped his arms along the wooden back and looked around.
He was being tested, but he wasn’t sure of the purpose of the game. Looking from the chessboard set up on the table to the wiry old man with rheumy eyes seated on the other side ,
Chapter Three
Gabhran spent the next few days taking care of the tedious tasks required when buying a house or moving. Alfred stopped by each day to take him on short trips to run his errands. Since he’d bought the house furnished, his household needs were few. Since his clothes were suited to the cool climes of Scotland, not subtropical New Orleans, his wardrobe needed work. His style was definitely not the slogan-laden clothing readily available in the French Quarter, so now that his household errands were completed, he’d arranged to hire Alfred’s services for the entire day. First for the shopping and then he wanted a tour.
Alfred took his job as guide seriously, and after some quick stops on Canal Street for menswear, the cab driver began the tour in earnest. The remnants of the damage from Hurricane Katrina surprised him. He’d watched in stunned disbelief, along with the rest of the world, as the fearful power of Mother Nature was unleashed upon the Gulf Coast. Although the central business district and French Quarter were restored and busy, there were miles of neighborhoods, entire communities, that were virtual ghost towns.
They visited the west bank of the Mississippi, drove around Algiers, and Alfred took him into the large Mardi Gras warehouse. The building doubled as a tourist attraction, and hundreds of visitors a year flocked to see the floats, beads, doubloons, and other lagniappe thrown during the massive parades. The walls were hung with dozens of pictures of past parades and Gav couldna help but notice the bare breasts in many of the photos. Alfred laughingly explained the mystery.
During Mardi Gras, the parades have giant floats and the krewe members riding on them indiscriminately toss beads, cups, doubloons, and other trinkets into the crowd. Cries of, “Throw me something, mister,” fill the air as thousands of parade-goers fight to get something thrown from the float.
Every float keeps a limited supply of special beads to throw to particular people, like their family, friends, or beautiful women. Since most of the krewes are all-male, young women willing to show their bare breasts have a distinct advantage over the rest of the crowd when it comes to getting the special treats tossed their way.
Gabhran stood there awhile and dubiously eyed the boxes of Moon Pies and beads, then asked seriously, “There are lasses showing me their breasts when I walk down the streets. Should I purchase some of these beads then to throw?”
Alfred laughed until tears ran down his face. “I suspect they want you to give them something a little more personal as a memento of their trip to the Big Easy.”
They stopped at a small grocery store in a neighborhood few tourists ever saw. The front of the store was a local gathering spot for old men and cab drivers, and Alfred was greeted by name . It was easy to guess from the looks he was getting that the men were curious. It had not escaped Gav’s notice that his was the only Caucasian face.
Alfred told him to sit, and went into the store. In the silence, every gaze fell on Gabhran. He eyed the only empty chair warily, unsure it would hold his weight. He hooked it with his foot, flipped it around then straddled the seat. He draped his arms along the wooden back and looked around.
He was being tested, but he wasn’t sure of the purpose of the game. Looking from the chessboard set up on the table to the wiry old man with rheumy eyes seated on the other side ,
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