“Oh?” Charmaine said.
“I have got to tell you, I used to think that Luc was the best thing since sliced bread, and he is, of course, but, ooh la la, that Rusty is drop-dead, fan-me-with-a-feather, hot-damn gorgeous,” Sylvie pronounced, pretending to fan her flaming face.
That was a lot coming from a woman who used to be clinically shy. In fact, she’d been treated for chronic shyness by some psychologist at one point. Shyness therapy, of all things.
“Really, Charmaine, when he walks into a room, every feminine heart flutters… even the married ones,” Rachel added, “but don’t tell Remy I said that.” She fanned her face, too.
“We heard about your born-again virginity, and we want the scoop. All the delicious details,” Sylvie demanded. “How’s it going?”
“Let’s just say that when you’re almost thirty virginity isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.”
“Oooh, I don’t know about that. Anticipation and all that good stuff,” Rachel remarked.
“Mais oui, there is much to be said for anticipation.” Charmaine had only taken two sips from her drink, and Sylvie was lifting the pitcher to pour her more. What did these ladies think she had to reveal? “However, I’m discovering that I’m the horny one in this picture. And horny isn’t much fun unless there’s an end in sight, if you know what I mean.”
“That’s all? That’s all you’re going to tell us? I’m disappointed,” Rachel said. “I expected to get some graphic details here.”
“Well, there is one thing to be said for born-again virginity,” Charmaine began hesitantly. She took an extra long time to lick the salt off her lips. Sylvie and Rachel leaned forward with interest. “Sex without consummation.”
“Huh?” Sylvie and Rachel both said.
“You would be amazed at the number of inventive ways there are to have sex—and we’re talking mind-blowing, orgasmic, I-need-a-cigarette sex—without losing one’s virginity.”
Sylvie and Rachel’s mouths both dropped open.
“Holy catfish!” Sylvie finally said.
“Do tell,” Rachel said.
There was a whole pitcher of margaritas imbibed by the three of them by the time Charmaine finished, amidst much giggling, outright laughing, and a few sighs.
In the end, Charmaine said, “So, what do you think?”
“I think there are going to be two Cajun rogues attacked by their wives tonight,” Sylvie said.
“And she doesn’t mean Rusty,” Rachel added.
On the other hand, Charmaine thought.
Chapter 15
We are fam-i-ly… and fam-i-ly… and fam-i-ly…
By early afternoon, Raoul was sitting in the great room of the ranch house, sharing long necks with Luc, René and Remy, the drone of football play-by-play in the background. Every man’s vision of a great Thanksgiving.
Linc, Cain, and Clarence were at the other end of the room, legs propped up on hassocks, watching the NFL game on TV, also sipping at cold long necks. They were all being denied lunch to build up big appetites for the main meal, except for Cajun hot nuts and some chips and dip.
Linc and Clarence looked like old fools—if you ask me… which nobody did—in touristy type cowboy shirts and hair combed back with so much hair goop they would probably melt in a good sunlight. But it was kind of touching that they were trying to please Charmaine by fitting in with her dude ranch idea. Hell, they were probably trying to impress him, too, thinking he would fall right in with Charmaine’s cockamamie ideas. Yeah, right!
The women were out in the backyard preparing for the late-afternoon feast. They’d shooed all the guys away, probably so they could rake their men over the coals. Raoul wondered idly if Charmaine considered him her man. Okay, not so idly.
Jimmy and Tee-John were horseback riding. The three little girls were taking a nap on Charmaine’s bed following an hour of hard horseback riding on the slowest nag on the ranch, which had mostly involved Raoul leading the horse around a small circle in the paddock and the girls squealing with delight. Actually, they got as much pleasure from chasing chickens and going out to look at some cows.
Too bad big girls aren’t as easy to please as little ones. Not that I have any particular big girl in mind.