“Oh, yeah, she’s something,” he said grimly as he walked over to Wild Bill Charmaine. She was holding a smoking pistol in one hand as she regarded the humongous snake at her feet—a water moccasin of about six feet, not counting its head, which Charmaine had blown off. The reptile must have come up out of the bayou, though it was the first poisonous snake he’d seen this close to the house.
I can’t believe this. I’m seeing it, but I still don’t believe it. “Have you lost your freakin’ mind, Charmaine? Why didn’t you call me when you saw the snake?”
“Why?” She blinked at him with genuine puzzlement. “Do you think I need a big ol’ man to take care of little ol’ me? Do you think I can’t handle the job myself?” She looked pointedly at her weapon and the dead snake.
I feel like taking her by the neck and shaking some sense into her. Or taking her by the neck and kissing her to make sure she’s still alive. But first, I’ve got to get my heart rate down below supersonic. “Where’d you get the gun?”
“I always carry a pistol in my purse.”
Just great! “Why? So, you can shoot one of the Sopranos when they show up?”
“Hell, no. Although it’s a thought. Oh, stop glowering at me. I’m a single female living alone on a remote bayou. My half brothers taught me how to protect myself when I was a teenager.”
But not from a father’s fists. “Well, you almost gave me a heart attack,” he grumbled.
“Didja think we shot a cow?” Tante Lulu cackled, having come up beside him.
Well, come to mention it… “No, I didn’t think you shot a cow,” he lied.
“Whooee, thass a big one.” Tante Lulu stared with gruesome fascination at the snake, which was still twitching in its headless death throes. She had a broom in one hand and a plastic trash bag in the other. Within minutes, the snake was off to the trash barrel, and he and Charmaine were left alone.
“You scared me, sweetheart. That’s why I yelled at you. I thought you might have been hurt,” he said softly, stepping toward her.
“Was that an apology?” She put a hand on one hitched hip. “Well, no need to worry about me. Us brain-dead bimbos get along just fine.” She unhitched her hip and took a step backward when she belatedly noticed his advance.
Not afraid of a venomous reptile, but she’s afraid of me.
He took two steps forward then, staring at her lips, which were red and parted.
She backed up three steps and hit the trunk of an ancient live oak tree dripping Spanish moss.
“Be more careful in the future, honey. No more shooting. I wouldn’t want anything to happen to you.” He leaned down slightly and closed his eyes briefly as he inhaled the floral scent of her hair.
“Why? Don’t act as if you care. Do you care?” She sounded breathy and excited.
Please, God, let her be excited.
Uh, I don’t think that’s the kind of thing you should ask God for, St. Jude said.
“Do I care? Mais oui, chère.” He burrowed his fingers in her hair to hold her face in place, then rubbed his lips back and forth across hers. He moaned his appreciation of the sheer, exquisite pleasure. Then, oh God above, then he kissed her with all the yearning that seemed to overflow in him all the time. And, oh God above, she kissed him back with equal yearning. When he drew back, he gasped out, “Why is it… why is it that every time I kiss you, it feels like coming home?”
“Don’t try to sweet-talk me,” she said and grabbed his head, pulling him back for another kiss… a kiss that about sucked all the oxygen out of his lungs and every blood vessel in his overheated body.
“Nobody in the world kisses like you, darlin’. Nobody. Let’s go to my bedroom. Let’s forget the whole friggin’ born-again crap. Let’s make love till the cows come home, and the chickens and the hogs and the goats and the birds. Let’s forget the past and make some new memories. I… need… you… so… much.” With each choked-out word, Raoul showered her face and neck with kisses. His hands roamed over her body wildly.