PROLOGUE

You Got Served

Adelaide

New Orleans, Louisiana

Pulling the pencil out of my hair, I let out a grunt and stabbed two weeks’ worth of purchase orders with the sharpened tip. “Bam Bam, what the hell? Do you realize how much our liability insurance is going to skyrocket?”

Across our spacious new office, Savannah glanced up from her pathetically hidden game of computer Solitaire while Zep stood silently at the file cabinet with a raised eyebrow. Sighing, I shook my head at both and rolled my eyes toward the ceiling.

“I know, Ads,” he mumbled as I heard his monster truck growl to life on the other end of the line. “I’m sorry. I know I done bad. But, hey, you can take it out of my paycheck or whatever you need to do. I’ll make it right.”

“I’m not going to dock your pay, Bam. You’re family. Just come in on your down time and do some maintenance shit. I’ll eat the cost and take it out on your ass when I work it into early retirement.”

“You got it, Cuz.” He offered a low laugh, a sound I’d missed hearing from my thick-headed cousin. The laugh told me he understood my somewhat veiled forgiveness of his negligence and my need to not get overly sappy about it.

At least someone in my family got me.

Ending the call, I threw my phone across my desk and leaned back while running my fingers through my hair. Savannah discreetly cleared her throat, and I must’ve worn the stoned glaze of a serial killer because she chose her words carefully as Zep continued to stare at me.

“Everything all right with Bam?”

I snorted, shaking my head as if that said it all. When they both remained silent, I blurted it all out in a rush of verbal vomit. “Bam apparently thought maritime and vehicular laws were mutually exclusive.”

“Meaning?” Zep asked, leaning one arm onto the filing cabinet, an amused smile playing on his lips.

“Did y’all know texting while driving a boat is not only illegal, it tends to distract you away from larger boats crossing right in front of you at the dock?”

Savannah slapped her hand over her mouth. “No!”

“Yep,” I grimaced, re-enacting the play-by-play given to me by the cops with wild hand gestures. “Clipped the ass end of a competitor’s boat while texting some Hooters waitress. I swear, I love the boy, but he’s going to shut us down before we even get up and running.”

Savannah just laughed as computer generated music coming from her laptop alerted everyone that she’d won her forty-eighth game of Solitaire for the day. “This surprises you?”

“No, but there’s just so much work to be done and constantly putting out Bam’s fires keeps setting us back.”

“It’s Friday, Ads.” Savannah held up her phone and wrinkled her nose as if the statement meant anything to me. “Let your hair down and live a little.”

Friday was Friday just as Monday was Monday. I worked seven days a week while my sister left at five o’clock on the dot every weekday to spend the night at Pope’s house.

The first few nights I thought the arrangement couldn’t have been more perfect. Sav paid half the rent, and I got the whole house to myself. However, in the two weeks we’d lived in New Orleans, loneliness had crept into my secluded existence and smacked me across the face. With a jolt, I’d realized it was the first time I’d truly been alone in my life. I’d gone from high school, to college, to being a married woman living at Sugarbirch. My sister’s booming social life made me understand that sometimes nothing screamed louder than silence.

A low chuckle from across the room broke my introspection. Glancing up from the spreadsheet I was working on, I caught Zep standing against the wall with his arms crossed over a tightly stretched black t-shirt. He attempted to hide an amused expression at my sister and failed miserably.

I shot her a look. “It’s still four-thirty-seven, Sav. Just like it was ten seconds ago when you looked at the clock. You have somewhere important to be tonight?”

Spreadsheets. Stay focused on the spreadsheets. Numbers. Calculations. Projections.

Tight jeans. Broad chest. A hot as sin beard that wasn’t too bushy as to look unkempt, or too patchy as to look like he tried too hard. No, Zep’s beard was just right. I’d remembered him clean shaven in high school, but somehow the grown-up version, complete with his facial hair, tattoo sleeves, and well-defined muscles from hard manual labor turned a high school infatuation into something way more X-rated.

When the hell did I go from hating Zep LeBlanc to obsessing over him?

“Don’t you agree, Ads?”

Tearing guilty eyes away from the curve of Zep’s bicep, I began furiously typing in a lame attempt to seem busy. “Sure.”

“Great!” she beamed, packing her shit up and powering down her laptop.

“Wait, what the hell are you doing? It’s not five o’clock yet.”

“I just asked you if you agreed with Zep.”

Oh shit. What the hell did I agree to now? “Agreed with Zep about what?”

“Bolting,” she announced while throwing her huge boho purse over her shoulder and winking. “Zep suggested I go home and get ready for tonight. We’ve gotten a lot done today and Pope’s taking me to dinner on the water. I want to look classy for him.”

Ignoring the snickers coming from the lump against the wall, I lifted an eyebrow and motioned to her darkened screen. “Of course. You need to freshen up after your hard day of card dealing. Maybe Monday you can give yourself a well-deserved break and mix it up with some Candy Crush?”

“Bite me,” she retorted, blowing me a kiss as she shoved her chair under her desk.

Just as she reached the door, the reality of the situation she was leaving me in smacked me clean across the cheeks. “And just how the hell am I supposed to get home if you take Daddy’s truck? We don’t have the van anymore, remember?”

Not even stopping to turn my way, Savannah waved a hand in Zep’s general vicinity as the door closed behind her. “He said he’d take you home. Damn, Ads, you’re out of it today. Maybe you’re the one who needs to get laid.”

You could’ve heard a pin drop. A fucking pin. It drew deathly quiet as Savannah’s mouth bomb detonated and twisted both our faces as if she’d just fanned a deadly fart in the room and barricaded the door.

People talk about elephants in the room. This one wasn’t just in the room; he’d shit all over it and tap-danced in his own poo. I needed to diffuse the situation before the fucker sat on my chest and squeezed the life out of me.

Returning to my spreadsheet, I motioned to Zep while punching random keys and spewing out of my mouth whatever entered my brain. “You know, you should go too. I’m sure you have weekend plans as well. No need to hang around here, Zep. I can call Uber.”

Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap.

My fingers flew so fast across the keyboard I wasn’t sure if they actually hit the buttons. I pulled in deep breaths, waiting to hear the door open and slam again, only to catch the scent of sea salt and spice behind me, grinding everything but my libido to a screeching halt.

His unique scent infiltrated my senses, and a heavy hand landed on my shoulder as he glanced at my screen and grinned. “I’m no accountant, but I’m pretty sure numbers go in those boxes instead of ‘WTFs.”

“What?” Horrified, I narrowed a stare at the screen, where, sure enough, every slot for number calculations had been filled with repetitive questions to myself and my sanity.

What. The. Fuck, indeed.

Groaning, I rolled my chair away from him and slammed the laptop closed. “Long week, Zep. Keep your jokes to yourself.”

He held his hands up in surrender. “Hey, no jokes. It’s been a WTF week for me too.”

I rolled that bit of information around in my head and tucked it away for later as I reached for my purse. “So, knock off early.”

Instead of leaving, he perched his ass right on the corner of my desk. An irrational part of me wanted to grab it while the other part wanted to lodge my foot in it for taunting me. And thus, was the push and pull of the past two weeks in the four walls of my own personal hell.

“What are your plans for the weekend, Adelaide?” The way he drawled my name tightened in my belly as he inched closer.

Unable to take it anymore, I grabbed the invoices and power walked across the room to the file cabinet, attempting to shove papers in random folders, while I laughed nervously. “Oh, you know, nothing exciting. I’ll probably pour a glass of wine and spend most of it in a bubble bath.”

Ping.

That was the sound of the pin dropping again as I realized I’d just informed Zephirin LeBlanc that I’d be drunk and naked for the next forty-eight hours.

Out of the corner of my eye, I watched Zep’s throat work hard on a swallow as if he were doing his best to force the image out of his head.

“What about you?” I asked, slamming the file cabinet closed, desperate to change the subject. “Big plans with Miss Gereaux?”

Please say no. Please say no.

My stomach flipped again and my heart ached in anticipation of his answer. The rational side of me knew I should make small talk—force myself just to chatter away nonchalantly and act like a normal person having a close working relationship with her first boyfriend. Like it didn’t bother me. Only it did. So, I painted on a smile and tried not to look too eager to rip apart his personal life with a magnifying glass.

Rubbing his forehead with the pad of his thumb, he blew out his cheeks then released them. “Addie, Josie and I only went out on a few dates. She’s nice enough but she’s not my girlfriend if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“I wasn’t.”

“Right.” He cocked his head to the side and studied me. “Are you jealous?”

I shrugged, forcing a blank expression. “Curious.”

More like fucking obsessed, but he didn’t need to know that.

“She’s not my type, Addie.” Squinting his eyes, he leaned back on his palms.

“I thought giant jugs were every man’s type?”

“I’m not into blondes.”

Dazed, I pressed on. “What are you into, Zep?” That may have come across as a bit intrusive, or maybe I just looked desperate. Either way, my head demanded an answer that I wasn’t sure it was ready to hear.

Opening his mouth, he chuckled softly and shook his head as if thinking better of furthering the conversation. “Never mind. Look, it’s almost five o’clock. You’ve worked your ass off for two weeks straight getting things up and running. Let me take you home so you can leave work at work and try to de-stress?”

My mind swirled with thoughts of bathtubs and Zep, and a flush worked its way up my neck. “It’s no big deal. I already said I could call Uber.”

“That’s stupid. I’m right here.” He rolled his eyes and pushed off the desk as he barreled toward me, his eyes a little wild. “Besides, I don’t trust Uber. Being alone and fucking gorgeous doesn’t bode well for you.”

I froze with my fingers around my purse. There tended to be a little thing called final straws, and for some reason, I grasped at them like they were the Holy Grail. A wave of nervousness swept through me as I glanced up at him through heavy lashes. “You think I’m pretty?”

My own husband never even told me I was pretty.

No, Addie…” He sighed, his breath fanning my hair around my neck. “I said you’re fucking gorgeous. You always were. I don’t know how, but time has made you even sexier than you were back then.”

The proper lady I’d been groomed to be the last ten years should’ve been appalled at the way a thin layer of sweat broke out all over my body at the deep rumbles in his voice or the way his eyes seemed to burn through every fiber of clothing I wore. But all I wanted was to hear more—to know I wasn’t the undesirable ice cube Roland had tossed aside without a second thought.

“Zep, don’t…” Deep down, I wasn’t a liar, but those two words weren’t just of the little white variety. I didn’t want him to stop, and that was exactly why he had to.

He nodded, and I thought I’d effectively doused the flame smoldering in the tiny space between us. I thought it until his hand gripped my hip and pulled me toward him with an undeniable assuredness.

“Here’s the deal, Addie. I’ll play whatever game you want me to around Savannah and our crew, but this is just you and me here. It’s no bullshit time. I won’t pretend that I don’t replay our one night together over in my head like a fucking home movie. I won’t pretend I don’t know first-hand how soft your skin is, or how there’s a spot on your ribcage that makes you squirm.” He moved closer, his free hand gripping my other hip. “And I sure as hell can’t pretend I don’t hear you scream my name in my head over, and over, and over…”

Sliding a rough hand up from my hip to the back of my head, he wrapped my hair around his fingers and pulled slightly backward. His eyes darkened and the upward tilt of his mouth had me focused on his lips. His words echoed in my head, breathing life into a fractured memory it seemed neither of us had forgotten.

We both breathed heavily, our lips close enough to touch but holding back, waiting for a green light from the other that it was all right to break every rule we’d made for ourselves. Desperate to do something with my mouth other than attacking him, I bit my lip, almost drawing blood. It was a move that didn’t go unnoticed.

“Addie,” he groaned as if in pain. His other hand slid up the side of my jaw while his thumb feathered across my cheek bone. I closed my eyes in anticipation. I was tired of fighting. I was tired of wanting. I was just fucking tired.

Just as his lips opened, so did the front door.

“Adelaide Bordeaux?”

I’d never seen two people move so fast in my life. One minute Zep was about to devour me, the next it was like I’d accidentally activated some bubonic force field that kept him eight feet away at all times.

I cringed at hearing my married name. “Who are you?”

A man, slightly on the thin side, in a plain pair of khaki pants and boring white button-up shirt, tapped a manila envelope in his hands. “Adelaide Dubois Bordeaux?”

Okay, now he had my attention. “Yes?”

Nodding curtly, he shoved the envelope in my hand and stuffed his hands in his pockets. “You’ve been served. Have a nice weekend.”

Before I could ask him anything, he’d backed out of the office and slammed the door. With a shaking hand, I tore open the envelope and flipped through the documents. A mixture of hatred and shock rushed through my veins as the paper crumbled in my fingers.

“Addie?” Zep asked cautiously. “What the hell is that?”

Outrage burned me to the core. “Divorce papers,” I announced in a flat voice because if I allowed any emotion to invade my speech, I just might have started destroying shit.

“What?” He snatched the papers out of my hand, scanning them with the same shocked expression.

Defiance pounded my chest and rose in my throat. “You know what? This is something that should have happened a long time ago; only I should’ve been the one serving, not him. Never him.”

As the final chapter in my life with Roland lay crumpled in Zep’s hands, I blinked away the tears and swallowed my anger, forcing it into something more productive. Something I’d recently found tended to dull the senses and ability to feel.

Vodka.

“Zep, do you really have plans for tonight?”

Apparently confused, Zep placed the papers on my desk and held my stare as if trying to figure me out.

Good luck, buddy.

“I was going to have dinner with some friends. Why?”

I shook my head vehemently. “Cancel it. We’re going out.”

“What?”

“Yep, we’re going to get good and drunk tonight and celebrate the biggest fuck-up of Roland Bordeaux’s life. I’m a free woman, Zephirin. We’re going to get shitfaced and both of us are finding Mr. and Miss Right Now.”

Shock registered on his face, and his brows pulled together in hesitation. “I don’t know about—”

“It’s decided then,” I announced, giving zero fucks about any opposition to my declaration. “Get your shit, LeBlanc. First round is on me. We can toast to me being douche-free.”

Turning off the lights in the office, I grabbed my purse, keys, and phone and stormed out, assuming Zep would catch up to me at some point. My mind drifted as I smacked the side of his truck, waiting for him to unlock it.

In the span of a few hours, my life had taken a complete one-eighty turn, tilted sideways and reversed, only to be blindsided into a full spin out. With everything in a complete upheaval, there was no way in hell I could pursue anything other than friendship with the man who’d dominated my thoughts for the past few weeks. More than anything, I needed one constant that wouldn’t change; one man who wouldn’t turn his back on me or disappoint me with some stripper barely out of adolescence. I’d made the decision for us. The closest Zep and I would ever get again would be a platonic handshake between business partners.

However, whether he liked it or not, Zep LeBlanc was my wingman for the night, and with any luck, we’d both find some nameless bar fly to screw each other off our minds once and for all.

What could go wrong?

CHAPTER ONE

Wake-Up Call

Adelaide

New Orleans, Louisiana

Rolling over, I squinted against the sharp ray of sunlight that escaped through a break in the blinds. I groaned, pulling the pillow from underneath my head and throwing it against the window, effectively bathing the room in darkness again. With an exaggerated yawn, I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and ran a hand through my matted hair.

Pulling the alarm clock from my nightstand, I held it close to my face and groaned louder as my eyes adjusted to the red glare. “Fuck!”

10:45 A.M.? How the hell did I sleep the whole morning away? Where the hell was Savannah? For that matter, how the hell did I even get home? Damn it, my head hurt.

All I remembered was leading a conga line to Dancing Queen, slamming lemon drop shots out of what looked like a snorkel, and a limbo contest, which I was pretty sure I won if the ache in my lower back was any indication.

Hopefully, I didn’t do anything to embarrass DuBlanc Fishery last night.

Yawning, I stretched again, and a strange scratching brushed against my ass. I stopped cold. Where were my pajamas? I always slept in pajamas.

I’d just shifted again when I heard it. Soft snoring. Stealing a side-eyed glance, I took in the well-defined tattooed form of a man’s back.

Oh God. Oh fuck. Think, Addie, think.

Limbo. Dancing Queen. Who held onto my hips? Who held the snorkel while I shot vodka? I closed my eyes and fought to remember.

“Deep breath, Snow White, close your eyes and shoot that motherfucker!”

No! There was no way I was that stupid, even drunk. It was like ripping off a Band-Aid. I just needed to look. I was sure we were both wearing underwear. Grabbing the top of the blanket, I counted down from three. Once I hit one, I lifted the blanket and took in two very naked bodies.

So naked. Extremely naked. Naked, naked.

Okay. So, we were naked. So, I slept with some random man. One night stands happened, right? I just needed to rip off the other Band-Aid and ask his name. Then I could kick him out before Sav got home.

Pushing myself onto shaking elbows, I peered over his inked shoulder, quickly closing my eyes. Counting to three again, I forced them open and fought back nausea as I took in the trimmed dark beard, wild onyx hair, and familiar dark lashes that fanned out over what I knew to be pale, icy blue eyes.

I’m fine. I’m fine. I’m fine.

But I wasn’t fine. Fine had a new meaning.

Absolutely fucked.

***

Fifteen minutes wasn’t too long to sit in your own driveway, contemplating how a bottle of vodka had just ruined your life, was it? 

I’d been in impossible situations where a positive outcome seemed as likely as a choir of angels flying out of my ass, but this wasn’t just impossible. This was the worst thing that could’ve happened. Babs’ famous cure-all for everything emotional hadn’t only failed me; Vodka had bitchslapped me into the next decade.

I didn’t simply limbo my way to a purple beaded necklace with green plastic trophies hanging off it. No, I limbo’ed my way to being flat on my back underneath him.

Well, from the memories coming back in broken pieces, I’d been on top most of the night.

Bile gathered at the base of my tongue, and I slapped my hand over my mouth, willing the vomit to stay down. Resting my head against the seat’s headrest, I closed my eyes and attempted to scratch the images out of my head with a mental Sharpie. Every time I came close to blacking out his face, karma focused on him even clearer as if to say, “Behold, bitch, the end of life as you know it.”

Pressing the heels of both palms to my eyes, I made a last-ditch effort to rationalize what I’d done wasn’t such a big deal. I’d been upset. We were adults. Alcohol had been involved. Everyone knew when combined, all three were the trifecta of unholy stupidity. And unholy stupidity caused me to act like an unhinged slutty toddler.

That’s me, the Pied Piper of the Hoochie Playgroup, leading them down the path of debauchery with a snorkel and a limbo stick. 

Besides, only a child would sneak out of her own house with mismatched clothes and hide out at Starbucks, waiting for the biggest mistake she’d ever made to get the hell out and go home. Avoidance wasn’t chickenshit; it was smart offense.

When a linebacker three times your size headed straight for you on the field, you didn’t bang pots and pans together to call attention to yourself. No, you ran like hell in the other direction.

And besides, I really liked chai lattes.

Now, here I sat, wondering how to set fire to my sheets from outside the house. I needed to get rid of all evidence before Sav got home, then scrub my skin raw in the shower. It never happened if there wasn’t any trace of it, right?

Can one bleach one’s own vagina?

A sharp rapping on the window pulled a scream from my throat as I reached for my pepper spray.

“Relax, crazy girl, it’s me,” Savannah called through the window, motioning with her finger for me to roll it down. Once I hit the button, she crossed her arms over her chest and sucked a breath in through her teeth. “Ads? Why have you been sitting in our driveway for twenty minutes?”

Deny. Demand. Deflect.

“Have you been spying on me, Sav? Don’t you have anything more useful to do with your time?”

A slow grin pulled across her face. “Nope.”

“Fine,” I threw the door open and stomped toward the house. “If you must know, I went to the office to meet with a client.”

She met me at the door with her index finger crooked over her mouth. “Mmmhmmm, I see. This early on a Saturday?”

“Yep.” Rushing through the foyer, I eyed the stairs and prayed I could still run faster than my sister. I’d reached the third step before she decided to turn into an amateur detective.

“I see. And is this new client important? I mean, I assume if you met with them on a Saturday, they must be worth the time.”

“Yes, Savannah. They were important. No reason to go into the office for mediocre accounts.” I managed two more steps before she bumped into the back of me and grabbed the base of my shirt.

“I see. Well, did you explain to this big client why your bright pink shirt is on backward and halfway tucked into your yellow shorts? Or were you going for the drive of shame Marshmallow Peep look?”

“Can you say anything other than, “I see?’” I clasped my fingers around the banister and glared at her over my shoulder. Refusing to back down, she scratched her chin and cocked her head. Dubois women were notoriously stubborn and equated giving in, to admitting defeat. I arched an eyebrow, and Savannah arched one back. I narrowed my eyes, and my sister winked at me.

I’d had enough. “Why don’t you say what it is you’re dying to say before you blink that contact lens across the room?”

“Now, I’m not one to gossip, Ads…”

“You? Never.”

“But I’ve been back from Pope’s for over an hour. Your bed looks like a family of raccoons have been foraging for food in the sheets.” Sing-songing the last few words, she grinned and darted around me, taking the stairs three at a time. “And I’m betting the big, hot raccoon left something behind.”

“Savannah!” Panicked, I chased her up the stairs and fell in behind her as she threw open the door to my room, exposing what could only be described as a sex-tastrophe. Abandoning my reserved and calm demeanor, I stumbled against the wall and surveyed my own personal hell.

Four condom wrappers. I covered my eyes and peeked through my fingers, but they still mocked me.  Four? What the hell had I become, the Energizer Whore?

“Ads, who did you bring home last night?”

And there it was, the question I knew she’d inevitably ask. The logical, adult thing to do would be to come clean to my sister and utilize her evil brain for the pure purpose of getting me the hell out of this mess.

But logic waved bye-bye to me when I shot Smirnoff out of a purple rimmed snorkel. Once that happened, the spiral of disgrace started to spin, taking out everything and everyone in its path. My head pounded, my back hurt, and God help me, my vagina felt like it’d been beaten with the limbo stick. Logic had left the state of Louisiana.

“His name is Jim,” I blurted out without half a thought in my head.

Peering underneath the bed, Savannah bent down and tugged a piece of material until it dislodged and wrapped around her hand. Whistling low, she held it by the sleeve and twirled it around her finger. “Jim seems to have wandered off without his shirt. Tell me, Adds, what’s Jim’s last name?”

“Le”—stopping myself, I wiped a line of sweat that beaded across my forehead and glanced around the room frantically, finally landing a passing glance on Babs’ antique rocker—“LeChair.”

“Le—Chair?” Repeating the word again phonetically, she sauntered up to me and held the black graphic t-shirt up to my face. “Never heard of it.”

“God, Savannah, are you that uncultured? It’s French. It’s pronounced La—Share.”

“I think you’re full of shit.”

“I think you’re—full of shit.” Fidgeting, I willed the t-shirt away from my sight.

She dipped her chin, continuing to stare at me with accusing eyes. “Nice comeback.”

I hated myself for giving her the satisfaction of a reaction, but I had enough shit to deal with without my sister playing a losing game of “Who’s Been in Addie’s Bed.”

Holding her by the wrists, I backed her toward the door. “This conversation is over.”

The moment she reached the threshold, she dug in her heels and grasped the doorframe. “Hey, I’m all for Party-Addie, but maybe you need to calm down on the drinking if you’re gonna do weird-ass bedroom stuff like this.” With a shit-eating grin, she leaned down and picked up the purple snorkel and yelled through the top with a muffled voice. “My sister is a super freak!”

I couldn’t resist the chance to screw with her. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Savvy. I had a lot to drink last night. I’m not really sure where that thing’s been.”

Savannah’s eyes widened, and she blinked a few times before ripping the snorkel from her mouth and hurling it across the room. “That’s fucking disgusting, Addie,” she mumbled while scrubbing her tongue with her palm. “You need therapy.”

Remembering the whole reason for my impromptu outing in the first place, I snorted. “I need something. After you’d left yesterday, a courier came by.”

“Proposal on the new boats?”

“Petition for divorce,” I answered matter-of-factly. “Roland served me.”

“He what?” Savannah’s eyes flared with a shiny glare reserved only for her deep-rooted hatred for all things Roland. “Fucking Shit Stain! I’ll kill him!” Pacing the hallway, she clenched her fists by her side and tightened her shoulders. “No, killing him is too easy. I’ll blow his dick off with Pope’s gun and feed tiny dick sandwiches to the whole country club.”

It wasn’t as if I hadn’t already entertained Savannah’s threat. Roland would be icing down his balls with frozen bags of peas for weeks if I let Bam-Bam loose on him. However, in the end, what happened to us was the only foreseeable ending. Roland and I were over. Even if he dumped the jailbait stripper and begged for my forgiveness, I wasn’t the same woman who ran crying from Sugarbirch. It took ten years, but I’d finally outgrown Roland Christopher Bordeaux III and the life he’d planned for me.

“No, no one is making Roland eat his own dick, Sav.” Sighing, I sat down on the disheveled bed and gripped the edge of the mattress. “This isn’t a bad thing. Roland and I should get divorced. I just wish I’d been the one to file for it.” I shrugged and chewed the inside of my cheek. “This just feels like settling for a new life when it’s what I wanted all along. Even in a divorce, Roland is still calling the shots.” My eyes blurred as I glanced up at my sister. “When do I get to call the shots, Sav? I mean look at this room. I can’t even call the shots and stop myself from sleeping with…”

“Jim LeChair,” she finished for me as she grabbed my hand.

Staring at my ugly yellow shorts, I bent my head, and a tear fell onto my bare thigh. “Jim was a mistake, Sav. A huge mistake, and I don’t know how I’m going to face him now.”

Slowly, she sank next to me. “Maybe Jim feels just like you. Maybe he just wants to know after last night you can still be…” Kicking the purple tube across the room, she patted my hand, “snorkel buddies.”

As the plastic tube hit the wall and bounced back, I frowned. The way I handled the entire situation was the old Addie. It was the Addie that didn’t deal with her problems and just smiled, pretending they didn’t exist.

Where did that get me?

“I’ll talk to John,” I said, attempting to hide the wobble in my voice.

“Jim.”

“Yeah,” I nodded. “Him too.”

***

Monday morning, I sat in the truck another twenty minutes before stepping foot in the office. Savannah had already slammed the door and rolled her eyes at my immobility, but I didn’t have space in my jumbled head to worry about what she thought. Every few minutes, she’d peek through the blinds of the front window and shake her head.

What? You’ve never seen a grown woman hide out in her truck at nine a.m.?

After a rather involved pep talk that included repeated “You can do this” and a few “You’re both adults,” I walked through the front door of DuBlanc Fishery like a woman marching to her execution. Only I hadn’t caused war, incited a riot, or even planned treason. No, my guilt stemmed around being horny, drunk, and stupid.

Crossing from the safety of outside to the unpredictability of indoors, I stood with my briefcase in hand and a death grip on my purse. As her laptop chimed and lit up with a recently downloaded game, Savannah grinned and dangled her fingers in a half-hearted wave.

“Hola, sis. Did you run out of gas?”

“I was on my phone on a conference call,” I lied.

Concentrating on her game, she reached in her purse and held my cell phone above her head. “This phone?”

Stomping across the room, I swiped it out of her hand and glared at her. “You’re a dick.”

“Was your conference call with Jim?”

“Who’s Jim?” From behind me, a deep baritone voice slid across my raw nerve endings and spiked my temperature.

Stiffening, I refused to look at him as I made my way to my desk. “No one.”

“He’s Addie’s sex-crazed boy-toy.” Savannah managed a grin before taking a long swig of her Diet Coke.

Slicing a heated look across the room, I swear if my arms were long enough, I’d have strangled her. “Will you shut up?”

“Actually, I’d like to hear more about this Jim.” A sudden lack of sufficient air forced my eyes to travel up strong jean clad legs and settle on the broad chest coated with a red t-shirt that seemed to hug him. A familiar, unwelcome feeling settled over me and seeped through my skin to sink hard and low in the pit of my stomach. Memories of my face pressed against that chest as I collapsed on top of him flashed through my head.

“Stop it!”

Zep’s eyebrows pinched together, his expression hard. “I didn’t do anything.”

“No, I wasn’t talking to you.” Shit, this wasn’t going anywhere like I’d planned.

Amusement played on his lips. “Oh?” Leaning down, he placed both hands flat on my desk and shifted forward. “Were you talking to “Jim?”

“Who?” The minute sea salt and spice hit my nose; more flashes blazed through my mind of my legs wrapped around his waist. I shook my head to force the memories out, but they just kept coming, each one more explicit than the last.

“We’re going to talk about this whether you like it or not, Snow White.”

Bristling at his tone and force, I threw a file I’d picked up back on my desk and jumped to my feet. “We have nothing to say. You want to talk? Talk to Savannah. She loves to talk…never shuts up.”

Storming into the kitchenette, I slammed coffee mugs and spoons around like they were doing hard time in prison. After pouring a hot cup of coffee, I wrapped my fingers around it, praying for warmth to counteract the ice in my veins.

The kitchenette door slammed, and I smelled him before I heard him

“You want to freeze me out, Adelaide, fine. You stand there with your back turned and pretend it didn’t happen, but don’t you fucking dare make up some bullshit story about some other guy named Joe.”

“Jim.”

“What-the-fuck-ever. I know you, Adelaide Dubois, and you’re not going to bed-hop no matter how mad at yourself you are. It’s not your style.”

“How the hell would you know what my style is, Zep? I haven’t talked to you in thirteen years,” I retorted, curling my hand around the spoon.

“You talked plenty Friday night. Actually,” he growled, wrapping his arms around my shoulders and prying the spoon out of my hand, “you moaned more than talked. And it wasn’t so much a variety of words as it was my name. Just as I remembered it.” Pressing his lips against the outer shell of my ear, he dug his nose in my hair. “Only this time, it didn’t end, Addie. You screamed it over, and over until I thought the neighbors would call the cops.”

Jerking my hands to my ears, I tried to cover them. “Enough! Please stop it!” I couldn’t hear the truth. In my own little make-believe world, Jim LeChair was a nameless, faceless man who I’d never have to see again.

But Zep was having no part of my fantasy. Tearing my hands from my face, he placed them palms down on the counter, covered with his own. “That’s not what you said Friday night. In fact, I think your exact words were, ‘Oh, Zep, don’t stop…’”

I snapped back to reality with his taunt, and whipped around, shoving him in the center of his chest. “What the hell do you want from me?”

My pathetic shove did nothing but cause him to readjust his footing as he pinned me against the counter, his hand weaving through my hair. “I want you to admit to yourself that you did exactly what you wanted to do. You asked me to touch you. You wanted me to touch you. I want you to admit that you woke up and didn’t panic because you’d slept with some random guy, Addie. You freaked out because you realized you slept with me, and then you fucking bolted like you always do.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Come on, Adelaide. It’s your MO. Thirteen years ago, shit got dicey, and you couldn’t handle staying around and working through a bump in the road, so you split. You ran off to Shreveport and married the first douchebag who offered you anything.”

“I didn’t run! I went to—”

“Then you woke up, and the same feelings came back, and you didn’t know how to handle them.” Zep’s calm and controlled demeanor vanished as I watched Saturday morning replay on his face. He blew out a hard breath, and his jaw ticked before he pressed harder against me. “How long did it take you to get dressed and peel out of the driveway once you realized it was me next to you, huh? Fifteen seconds? Maybe thirty? Do you know how much that fucking sucked to wake up and have you gone again?”

“Zep…”

“I know that bastard hurt you, and I’m sorry you went through what you did, Addie, but it’s no reason to put me through this kind of bullshit twice. In thirteen fucking years, you’ve never left my mind. Have you ever wondered why everyone from our class is either married with kids or divorced except for me?”

Unable to speak, I simply shook my head.

“It wasn’t from lack of trying, trust me. No one measured up. We’d get to the part where she’d give me the marriage or hit the road ultimatum. Something inside me could never make that commitment. I was a dumbass, you know. I knew you were married…had been for years, but shit, Addie, you can’t settle for what’s acceptable when you had perfect.”

What? What the hell was this? Zephirin LeBlanc never married because of me? All this time, he waited for me?

Drowning in information overload, I gripped the counter behind me, and glanced up. “I’m not perfect, Zep.”

“No, you’re not,” he admitted, releasing his hold on me. “You’re really mixed up, Addie.” A hint of sadness crossed his face as he rubbed his hand across his jaw. “I’m not Jim, or Joe, or your dirty little secret.” Backing away, he cursed low under his breath and reached for the doorknob.

“Where are you going?” Even to my own ears, my voice sounded desperate.

He paused at the door, one hand on the knob. “Back to work.”

Strange panic filled me, and the words spilled out before I could stop them. “Maybe we could talk about this at lunch?”

A resigned smile lifted one corner of his mouth. “No thanks. I have a date.” Opening the door to the office, he slammed it behind him.

CHAPTER TWO

A Picture Tells a Thousand Words

Savannah

New Orleans, Louisiana

Morning, Beautiful.

I’d tried and failed to curb the sickly sweet, head over heels, hearts in my eyes, hopelessly devoted smile that seemed permanently plastered across my face as I stared at the text Pope had sent me that morning.

At least sixty times, I’d picked up my phone and stared at the little text bubble. Also, in the four hours since the chime that I’d painstakingly selected for him sounded, it had nearly cost the life of my beloved pig.

Since my perpetually neurotic sister insisted on dragging me to work with her at the butt crack of dawn, I’d been trying to find something appropriate to wear to work without opening my eyes. Grabbing the first shirt I’d found, I had one arm through the neck hole and the other through the sleeve when I’d cursed and jerked it off, throwing it blindly onto the laundry pile on my floor. Pope’s distinct text tone sounded over Kevin Junior Bacon Cheeseburger’s snoring, and I spun in the direction of the noise. However, even though I was still half-asleep, I couldn’t see anything through the fabric stretched to near suffocation over my face.

Doing my best impression of a catfighting their way out of a paper bag, I tried desperately to disentangle myself from the tentacles of polyester holding me captive. I took a few stumbling steps, but before I could clear the three feet to my bed and the milk crate I used for a nightstand, my foot collided with something solid. White, hot pain radiated from my baby toe all the way up my leg and wrenched an unladylike cry from my throat followed by a string of nonsensical curses that would make Babs proud.

Swearing and battling with the python grip of my blouse, I blindly hopped around on one foot. Due to my lack of housekeeping skills, I landed on a rogue item of clothing, causing my foot to slip on the hardwood floor. My body pitched forward, and my entire life of poor decisions flashed before my eyes as I fell helplessly into the darkness to what was certainly my death. Instead of careening into the abyss, I landed awkwardly on my bed, my elbow sinking into a blanket covered lump.

As soon as I landed, a squeal of epic proportions pierced the air. I quickly rolled over as I realized I’d inadvertently body slammed Kevin. Because my shirt still blindfolded me, I failed to see the bed had ended, and I crashed to the floor, gracefully catching myself with my face.

Once I caught my breath and managed to wrestle off the article of clothing, I tentatively sat up. As soon as my head cleared the bed, the smell and taste of rotten ass smacked me in the face like a bitch with a bad attitude. I peeked over the mess of blankets to see that, yes, I had indeed scared the literal shit out of my pet pig.

The slam of the office door pulled me out of my reminiscence just in time to see Zep clomp his way into view. Addie was away, meeting with a new distributor, and I wasn’t sure he’d even noticed me sunk low in my desk chair. I’d had about enough of his brooding ass. He and Addie had been banging around each other all week, and not in the fun way.

Addie had failed miserably at convincing me that she’d had a wild one night stand with some random she’d met at the bar. Yeah, right. Even if I hadn’t noticed Zep’s truck barreling out of the neighborhood that fateful morning, I would’ve known the minute I saw them in the same room together that they’d bumped uglies. The satisfaction and regret painted all over their faces said it all. Addie’s twitchy panic gave her the ‘Uh oh, I accidentally tripped and fell on the dick of the man I’ve been in love with for the better part of two decades’ look.

I was done walking on eggshells. Kicking my booted feet off the desk, I rolled over to the filing cabinet where Zep was angrily sifting through files.

"What the fuck, dude?"

Startled, he spun around to face me. "Shit, Sav, I didn't know anyone was here."

Yeah, genius. Why would anyone be in the office at noon on a Thursday?

I crossed my arms and arched a brow. "You want to explain why you've been acting like a fucking cave man all week?"

"I don't want to talk about it." Zep grunted and turned back to the cabinet.

I scoffed at his lame attempt to end the conversation.

No dice, bro.

"That was a rhetorical question."

He looked over his shoulder at me, and his brows slammed together in confusion. "Do you even know what rhetorical means?"

I waved off his insult. I was making a point, and he wasn't going to distract me. "You fucked my sister."

Zep’s body froze, and he slowly turned all the way around until we faced off. I couldn’t tell if it was anger or incredulity shining in his eyes. "She told you?"

Easy as taking candy from a baby.

"No but you just did and let me guess, she didn't fall at your feet and worship you, did she? So now you're being a little Mitch because you got your feelers hurt. Am I right?"

A flush crept up his cheeks from his beard, and I had to stifle a laugh. Zephrin LaBlanc was actually blushing. If I didn't already have an agenda, I'd have stopped to rag on him endlessly for that one.

Seeming to pull himself together, he straightened his shoulders and pinned me with a look. “What the hell is a Mitch?"

“A man bitch,” I stated succinctly.

Zep rolled his eyes. "Classy, Sav. My feelers are intact, thank you for your concern. I'm just pissed that she can't figure out what she fucking wants.

“Ugh,” I groaned and slouched down in my desk chair. “Yes, because you've been so open and honest with your feelings. Seriously, you two are fucking killing me!”

"I’m not having this conversation with you."

"Fine, just listen then. My sister is scared. Her heart was pulverized over the last ten years so be gentle with her. Do all of us a favor and lay it all out. Tell her how you really feel, none of this tip-toeing shit. It’ll save us from having to buy new office furniture," I said, staring at the brand-new filing cabinet he'd been beating to shit since they’d done the deed.

"Don't you have your own relationship to worry about?"

"Pope and I are great, thanks for asking. But we're not talking about me. We’re talking about you and my sister and your epically fucked up relationship.”

Zep pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath. “I know you mean well, Savannah, but do me a favor and stay the hell out of it.”

“She’s my sister.”

“And we’re both fucking adults. I’m serious, Sav. Mind your own business.” Slamming the drawer, he stalked out of the office.

“What do you think, Kevin? Should we stay out of it?”

Kevin gave an almost inaudible snort from his nest of blankets under my desk.

“Yeah, I didn’t think so. It’s for their own good, really.”

***

“Y’ello?”

I breathed a sigh of relief hearing Babs’ crackly voice coming through the line. “I need your help.”

The desperation in my voice must’ve been evident because, after a brief pause, Babs asked, “You need help hide body? I call Bam-Bam. He strong.”

“What? God, no.”

“Bam-Bam keep good secrets. Cold water with soap for blood,” she continued.

I knew my grandmother was as ride or die as you get, but it was a little unsettling knowing she may have had experience covering up a murder.

“Gators eat everything,” she added.

“Babs, I didn’t kill anyone!”

“Then why you call?”

“Because I’m trying to make gumbo, and I think I fucked it up.”

Babs’ smokers laugh echoed in my ears. “So, you trying to kill someone?”

“My cooking isn’t that bad.” Kevin responded with a loud snort and a nudge to the back of my leg. “Oh, shut the fuck up, you asshole.”

“Say again?”

Shit.

“Not you, the pig. For real, Babs, I need your help.”

“Why you try to cook? Addie not there?”

“I’m trying to surprise Pope,” I admitted, feeling yet another failure coming on. Pushing away from the counter, I buried my hands in my hair. After a week of text messages and opposite work schedules, I’d been dying to get some alone time with Pope. I’d thought that moving to New Orleans would mean I’d get to see my boyfriend any time I wanted. What I hadn’t factored in was the fact that he was a beat cop in one of the most popular tourist destinations in the country. Since he just got the transfer to NOLA-PD, he was stuck working the most undesirable shifts.

“You want to surprise him use sex, not poison.”

“Well, you’ve been a wealth of help, thanks so much.”

Babs sighed, “All right, you make old lady guilty. I help. I get more vodka first.”

I looked at the explosion of crap littering the kitchen island as I listened to the sounds of Babs hunting the house for one of her hidden bottles of vodka. Unlike every other female in my family, my culinary skills were less than stellar. My history in the kitchen was limited to canned soups and frozen pizza.

My relationship with Pope was in a delicate place. Officially, we'd only been an item for a few months, but our relationship felt more real than anything I'd ever experienced. The only problem seemed to be time. There wasn't enough of it, and while I was eager to move our relationship forward, Pope seemed to be at ease with taking it day by day. Normally, his behavior wouldn't bother me, but I couldn't help the feeling that he held back. When we were together, we'd spend hours lying awake at night talking about everything under the stars while simultaneously not talking about anything of real consequence.

I craved more. I was starved for any morsel of information he'd let slip, but after almost three months, I still only knew the basics about his family and his life before I came barreling into it. Even though I knew he'd grown up in New Orleans, and his family still lived in the city, somewhere he'd artfully avoided going into detail about them every time I'd tried to bring it up.

The overly neurotic part of my brain that I’d inherited from the Dubois gene pool had lain dormant most of my life. However, with Pope’s secrecy, it reared its ugly head and whispered evil things into my subconscious. What if Pope didn't take me seriously? What if somehow, due to the way we met, my over the top personality, and crazy ass family, he thought we were just having a fling? What if he was embarrassed by me? A litany of 'what if's' bombarded my thoughts and only grew louder the longer we were apart.

While I realized it was unhealthy, I found myself wanting to prove to Pope that I was in his league. He needed to know I'd shed my wanderlust ways and wanted something real.

"Ah, okay I ready," Babs said finally. I heard the creak of her old rocking chair over the line as she settled into her spot on the front porch.

Always the front porch.

It seemed fitting. The front porch of my grandparent’s house was the pinnacle of every major event in the lives of the Dubois women, after all.

"Okay, how the fuck am I supposed to cook gator sausage?"

Babs laughed so hard she started hacking up a lung. She didn't stop laughing the entire time she walked me through cooking a Louisiana staple that, in her words, 'should be natural like wrestling a gator.'

An hour, three band aids, one burn, and a few tears later, I had a giant pot of something that resembled vomit bubbling on the stove. At least it didn't smell like vomit. In fact, Babs had done me right because it actually smelled good. I checked the clock and noted that Pope would be home in less than a half an hour. With the cornbread in the oven, and the gumbo simmering away, I set to work cleaning up the disaster I’d made of his kitchen.

My housekeeping skills were about as honed as my cooking. Mama’s ‘clean as you go’ advice echoed in my ears as I hastily wiped down the counters.

Whatever the fuck that meant.

There were so many steps to the recipe Babs had given me,; I didn’t remember half of what I’d done to get it all in the same damn pot, let alone managed to clean anything in between. Lost in my head and not paying attention, I swiped a huge pile of vegetable scraps onto the floor instead of into my hand.

“Motherfucker! Kevin!” I called out, looking for my living garbage disposal.

Nothing.

“Kevin, food!” I hollered, louder this time.

More nothing.

What the fuck?

Abandoning my station in the wreckage of my culinary expertise, I searched the house, hoping Kevin hadn’t decided to take a shit in a pair of Pope’s shoes. I followed the sounds of his snorts down the hallway and into the bedroom. Dropping to my knees, I peeked under the bed.

Nada.

“Kevin! Where are you?” I could hear him, but I couldn’t see him, which was by far more terrifying. After coming up empty in the bathroom, I found him nestled in a pile of dirty clothes in the closet, gnawing on something I couldn’t immediately identify.

“What the fuck, Kev?”

It took me a minute, but I eventually wrestled a picture out of his mouth.

"I swear, one of these days you're going to eat the wrong thing and fucking explode like a damn pork bomb."

I wiped the slobber from the picture and tried to smooth out the wrinkles but stopped short when I saw the image. It was Pope, dressed in a tux, standing in a garden with a beautiful girl in a white dress. I froze.

As I examined the photo closer, it was obvious it was old. Pope's face was fuller, his features less chiseled, but he had the same build and looked to be around twenty years old. It was a professional photo, like the kind of picture you'd have taken at a wedding.

A really expensive wedding, not like the backyard cookout receptions we had where I came from.

He had a whole life before you that he won't tell you about.

My stomach soured at the thought, and the 'what if's' came flooding back full force.

What if I'd given my heart to a man who wasn't who I thought he was?

***

No amount of logic or reason could stop my mind from not just jumping, but catapulting to conclusions. Like some bizarre case of Bodysnatchers, my hippie bohemian personality had been hijacked and replaced with that of a reality star who was constantly trying to catch her boyfriend in a lie. Instead of thinking of fun date ideas I daydreamed about whether Pope told me the names of his childhood pet and first-grade teacher so I could break into his email account.

“Oh, hey, Pope! So, I wanted to surprise you with dinner, and I brought Kevin with me because you know he goes with me everywhere…" No, that's stupid. "Hey, Pope, how was your day? Mine was good. I wanted to surprise you with dinner, but I noticed that Kevin had wondered off, so I went to find him, and he had this. I was just curious what it was…" Ugh, too crazy. I took a deep breath, shook my hands, and continued pacing. I felt like an MMA fighter preparing to enter the Octagon.

“You can do this Savvy. Just don't act like a lunatic. Suppress all of that inner Dubois crazy and just pack it on down. You're capable of acting like a decent, rational human being. You found a picture, just a piece of paper with an image printed on it, not a body. You have no idea where or when it’s from; there's no reason to jump to conclusions. Casually bring it up, slip it into the conversation. Maybe I should wait till after dinner? But what if he thinks that I sat on it and then waited for an opportunity to catch him in an ‘I gotcha’ moment? Shit, what am I going to do?” I groaned in frustration and buried my hands in my wild hair. “Maybe I should just ignore it and see if he'll just tell me in time. No, I can't do that, it’ll drive me nuts, don’t you think, Kevin? Annnnd now I'm talking to a fucking pig. Oh my God!” I covered my face with my hands, the stress and anxiety becoming too much. “I'm really losing my shit.”

“Why are you losing your shit?” Pope’s deep baritone came from behind me. I spun around, my heart racing like a crack head on speed.

Oh, God. Oh God. Oh, God. Oh, God!

How much had he heard? Shit, did he hear me talking to Kevin like he was a fucking person? I tried not to do that in front of people. It took crazy cat lady to a whole new level.

We were standing there in the middle of the living room staring at one another and not saying anything. The cogs in my brain had just seized, and the lights behind my eyes had gone out. Nope, no one was home. I tried desperately to will an explanation to come, but no such luck. Instead, my mouth started moving without permission from my temporarily frozen mind.

“I wasn't snooping,” I blurted out. “I was not snooping. It's just that Kevin was missing and I had to look for him and then I found him in your closet. I thought he'd shit in your shoes, but he didn't, and he had this picture in his mouth. He was slobbering all over it, so I had to wrestle it out of his mouth. Then there was slobber all over it, so I had to wipe it off. I looked at it to see if it was damaged and then I saw this.” I took a breath and wished that the floor would open and swallow me whole.

After having this conversation in my head and out loud at least a dozen times I had blurted it out like a fucking psycho. Now Pope would think I was just as insane as the rest of my damn family, the exact thing I wanted to avoid. I wouldn’t be surprised if he looked for a little mini- Pope voodoo doll in my bag. I’d just raised the psycho girlfriend meter to 'might have a shrine in her closet with a lock of your pubes and nail clippings that she prays to every night.'

I didn't want to be one of those crazy girlfriends that cyber stalked her boyfriend and searched his apartment while he was gone. That wasn't who I was. I was carefree. I was a 'go with the flow' kind of girl. I didn't spend hours trying to decode my boyfriend’s pin number on his phone so that I could search through his messages, emails, and social media. I was the 'live and let live' type; the girlfriend who was just one of the guys, but for some reason, Pope made me act like a goddamn mental patient.

“Babe, what are you talking about?” Pope asked taking a step closer.

I kept my lips pressed firmly together, not willing to risk blurting out another tirade of nonsense. I shoved the picture at him. A look of concern painted his features as he took the picture, not breaking eye contact. He looked down, and his eyebrows shot straight up when he recognized what I’d seen. Panic flashed in his eyes when he looked back up to me.

“Oh, God, it's not what you think,” he started. I remained silent, still not trusting my mouth to behave. When I didn't say anything, he continued. “This was from when I was in high school. It was just a party. Like a social thing for this girl I went to school with, it really wasn't a big deal.”

“Oh,” I said, my voice quiet. “I wasn't sure.”

“Yeah, nothing to worry about. I don't have some secret wife somewhere. It was just like a prom thing, no big deal.”

No big deal.

My anxiety levels and blood pressure were through the roof, but it was no big deal. If it was so inconsequential, why had he kept it?

“Of course,” I said instead, feigning an ease that I didn't feel. “Like I said, Kevin got into some of your shit, and I was just curious.”

“Right. So, not that I'm not happy to see you, but did we have plans tonight?”

I put on a smile. “No, we didn't have plans, but I thought I'd surprise you. I made dinner.”

Pope looked taken aback. “You made dinner for me?”

“Yeah, I used to Babs’ recipe. I had to call her and have her walk me through it, but I think it turned out okay.”

His answering smile was the mega-watt one. Dimples were full-on display and blue eyes danced with his white teeth shining like a fucking toothpaste commercial. “That’s fantastic; I'm starved.” He placed a kiss on my forehead before moving down the hall to drop off his bag.

The entire conversation lasted all of five minutes, but I couldn't help but wish I had a rewind button. I wasn't exactly sure what we'd resolved. My nose tingled and my eyes pricked with unshed tears. With a deep breath, I willed the tears away. I wasn't going to turn into a weepy mess.

Pope said there was nothing to the picture, and he hadn’t given me a reason not to trust him. I had to have faith that in time, Pope would feel comfortable enough to open up to me about his past. We were still in the early stages of our relationship; I couldn't expect him to bare his soul to me without getting to know me first.

Could I?

The awkwardness extended to dinner. The gumbo was surprisingly good. The cornbread burnt on the edges, but it remained edible. I was rather impressed that I hadn’t completely fucked up the meal. I searched desperately to find a safety topic to talk about, finding myself drifting into a daydream as Pope recounted one of his calls from his shift. He seemed into the story, but I couldn’t bring myself to feign interest. I cleared the table as soon as we finish eating, desperate to get away from the painful conversation.

I felt Pope’s arms snake around my waist as I loaded the dishwasher. He nuzzled his nose into my neck and kissed me be just below the ear.

“What's the matter?” he murmured. “You seem tense.”

“I'm fine,” I said quietly, gathering the silverware from the sink. I was anything but fine. I had become one of those women that I hated. One that wouldn't tell her partner what she was thinking or feeling, just expecting them to guess.

“Are you still on the thing about the picture? Because I told you it was nothing.”

It was the absolute wrong thing to say.

Turning around slowly, I took a step back from him. “Am I on the picture thing?” I repeated his words deliberately, trying to get my brain to wrap around what he’d just said and how he’d said it. It was if all my worry and stress was somehow inconsequential just because he said so. Because he told me it was no big deal meant I was supposed to accept it.

I don't think so.

“I told you it was nothing, why can't you just trust me and drop it?”

That did it. That flipped my bitch switch so fast my head was spinning.

“Why can't I just trust you? How about because I don't even know you, Pope. You refuse to tell me about your family or introduce me to your friends. I know nothing about your past except that you always wanted to be a police officer. You've kept me completely closed out when I've done nothing but open all my closets, floorboards, and attics to show you every skeleton I have. What am I supposed to think when I find a picture of my boyfriend, who has avoided telling me anything about his past, with a woman in a wedding dress?”

Pope scrubbed a hand down his face. “It wasn’t a wedding dress!”

“That’s not the point!” I winced at the shrill tone of my voice. I hated fighting.

“Where are you going?” Pope called out, following me into the living room.

I clipped in Kevin’s leash and got my jacket and messenger bag before turning to face him again. “I’m going home,” I said with a calm that I didn’t feel.

“So that’s it? You're just going to leave? Don’t you think we should talk this out?”

I sighed and avoided looking him in the eyes. It was too painful. “No, I don’t. I think if I stay one or both of us will end up saying something we regret.”

“Wait, are you breaking up with me?”

I felt his words like a physical pain. “Of course not. I’m just going home. We can talk in a few days when we’ve both had a chance to cool down.”

“You seem pretty cool now…”

This fucker wants to die.

“Trust me, I’m not,” I growled, bending to scoop Kevin from the couch. Pope trailed me to the front door and leaned in for an awkward hug. I allowed it but quickly maneuvered out of his grasp and down the walkway to my truck.

I made the mistake of looking back at Pope standing in the doorway, his usually expressive face completely blank. A little piece of my heart broke, seeing him like that. I drove off, the evening not at all ending as I'd hoped. I felt like I'd taken two steps forward just to end up right back where I started; driving down the highway alone, with just my pig for company.

***

Wildflowers.

Not just one little bundle. No, Pope would never half-ass something like that. I’d counted seven giant mason jars filled to capacity with bouquets of bright wildflowers placed neatly on my desk.

They weren't roses or lilies; they were a riot of color and chaos. Just like me.

He'd listened.

I moved to my desk and picked up the card propped against the makeshift center vase. Even those were perfectly me.

My hands shook a little as I opened the card, slightly afraid of what was inside.

Savannah,

I've thought of a million ways to tell you I'm sorry over the past two days, but none of them seemed sufficient. I've never been what you'd call an open book. It just wasn't the way I was brought up, but of course, you wouldn't know that because I never told you. I understand now that I hurt you and bruised your trust by withholding that part of me, and I'm sorry. I promise to let you in. It will take time, but we'll get there if you can just be patient with me.

Quentin

My heart skipped a beat as I trailed my fingers over the letters of his real name. He'd told me he went by his last name, Pope, the first time we'd met and that's all I'd ever called him. Seeing his first name scrawled across the bottom of the card did something to my insides.

I had to give it to him, Quentin Pope knew how to do apologies. How could I say no?

The front door to the office banged open, and Bam-Bam strolled in. He took one look at my desk and let out a long whistle.

"Oooo-Eee! Someone messed up bad. What'd the little donut eater do?"

I rolled my eyes. "Nothing, we had a little fight, no big deal."

Bam-Bam fell into Addie's empty desk chair with a huff.

"I ain't buyin' what you're sellin', little one. When a woman says things like fine, whatever, or no big deal," he said, ticking each one off on his fingers, "you better believe the opposite is true. Now tell your favorite cousin what's really goin' on."

How was it that my big, backwoods bred, lug of a cousin knew all that, but Pope was clueless?

I shrugged. "He hasn't exactly been forthcoming with his past."

"What's that supposed to mean? He's a cop ain't he? Can't be anything too bad. Unless of course, you ain't talkin' 'bout spendin' a night in jail. He steppin' out on you?" He squeezed his hands into fists, making his knuckles crack and his point clear. Cop or not, if Pope did me dirty, Bam-Bam had every intention of doling out his own justice.

"No, nothing like that,” I rushed to assure him before he started to Hulk out. “He won't talk to me about his family or friends or his childhood. We've been together for months, and he's never even introduced me to anyone in his life. It’s like he's keeping me separate from his real life."

Bam-Bam squinted at me and leaned so far back in the desk chair I thought it might break in half. Just when I thought he wasn't going to respond, he cleared his throat.

"Sounds to me like it might not be you he's hidin'. Not everyone's life growin' up was roses and cupcakes, little one."

I closed my eyes, realizing of course, that he was right.

"Chew on that 'fore you go sellin' him up river, yeah?"

I nodded and gave him a half smile. "When did you get so smart?"

He shook his head and stood up. "I ain't no scholar. I just know people. Met a lot of different kinds over the years. You never know someone's story until they give it to you. Some of 'em just take a little longer to tell, that's all."

"Thank you, I needed to hear that."

"I suppose you did. Glad I could help," he said, coming over to ruffle my hair.

As he moved to leave, I caught his arm. "Hey, what'd you come in for?"

He looked confused for a second before cracking a goofy grin. "Oh yeah, I almost forgot. I broke an anchor. I came her to let Ads know we needed another."

"You broke an anchor? How the hell did you manage that?"

He chuckled. "Just pulled too hard, I guess."

If anyone else had said it, I'd have called bullshit. But I'd seen my cousin rip a tree clean out of the ground because it was in his way. It was a small tree, but he still did it without breaking a sweat. He was like a Hillbilly Hercules.

"She made me do inventory in the warehouse last week. I'm pretty sure there's one in there. I'll make sure she knows we need to order a new backup."

"Thanks, 'cuz, you're the best. I don't care what they say about you."

"Yeah, yeah. Now get back to work. And no more breaking shit! You've reached your quota for the month!"

"You got it, boss," he called over his shoulder with a wave.

I flipped my phone over in my hand while I stared at the flowers. Bam Bam was right, I should try to see things from his perspective. I took a picture of the flowers and typed out a quick message.

Me: Thank you for the flowers, they’re beautiful. I’m sorry for overreacting.

Pope: You didn’t overreact. I’m sorry for not being more upfront.

Me: I guess we both kinda suck at this, huh?

Pope: We'll figure it out eventually.

Me: I hope so

Pope: Listen, my parter is having a BBQ at his house Monday around 5, would you want to come?

Me: Your partner?????

Pope: Jesus, the fellow officer that I ride around with day in and day out. The person I've told you countless stories about?

Me: Oh right. Yeah I'd love to.

Pope: Okay I'll text you the address. I would come pick you up, but I'll have to leave straight from the precinct.

Me: That's fine, I can take the truck.

Pope: Sounds like a plan.  I've gotta go, shift starts soon.

Me: Okay have a good night

Pope: You too, babe

I sighed. Like legitimately sighed out loud like a fucking Disney princess. It was the closest thing to a swoon as you could get. I was going to meet Pope’s friends. He was letting me in.

What the fuck was I going to wear?

CHAPTER THREE

Duck Number Twenty-Seven

Adelaide

New Orleans, Louisiana

Pushing my glasses from the tip of my nose back on my face, I glared at my sister from across the office. “Savannah, I’ve been pretty nice up until now, but enough is enough. Anymore online shopping on company time, and I’m putting a block on your internet access.”

It had been week since Zep cornered me in the kitchenette, and all I’d gotten from him was radio silence and slammed filing cabinets. We’d barely spoken a handful of words to each other as he breezed in and out of the office in between meetings with clients, outings on the boat—oh yes, and dates with her.

Josie Gereaux. Bayou real estate guru to the stars. Plastic Princess.

Bitch.

I had no right to judge him or be mad at him for moving on with his life. I’d treated him like sorority girl’s drunken conquest and skipped out while he slept. My head knew that. My stubborn Dubois pride, however, refused to see it that way and maintained he should’ve given us a cooling off period before he manwhored all over the place again.

Savannah threw her pencil at me, clearing impressive distance between our desks. “I have to find the perfect outfit to wear to this barbeque.”

“It’s just a cookout, Savannah. Not a cotillion.”

I recognized the look on her face immediately. When my sister focused on something, a freight train could drive through the office and pulverize everything while she sat oblivious to it all. When Savannah managed to do actual work, she was a machine. Unstoppable. If only she put as much effort into business activities as she did diabolical ones.

Resigned to the fact that any real progress wouldn’t get done until Savannah’s crazy got taken down a couple of notches, I sighed and walked over to the shit-hole that passed as her desk.

“That one,” I said pointing at a picture of a paisley monstrosity that was exactly the kind of nightmare my sister would wear. “Now can we get back to work?”

“What if his friends don’t like me? What if I don’t like them? Oh God, what if they’re republican?”

I closed my eyes and silently counted backwards from ten. Savannah’s superpower had always been relationship sabotage. Maybe it was ingrained in her psyche, but maybe it intentional, whether she wanted to admit it or not. Whenever life became too coated in hearts and flowers for Savvy, she immediately went into defensive mode, preparing for the bottom to drop out from under her.

Refusing to feed her crazy, I slammed the laptop closed, clipping her finger before she had a chance to pull it back. “I love you, but your crazy is showing, tuck that shit back in, yeah?”

“What the fuck, Ads?” Savannah stuck her uninjured middle finger up at me, then stuck it in her mouth and sucked.

She looked like a child, and the outfit she’d dressed herself in didn’t help dispel the image. From the feet up, she screamed executive. Black pumps melted into tailored black dress pants. That’s where the polished professional ended, and my ‘gypsy tramps and thieves’ sister began. Tucked into her black pants was a red graphic t-shirt that boasted the phrase, “ride or die.” She was a walking contradiction and drew stares wherever she deemed worthy of her presence.

“Man, you’re bitchy. You need to get laid. Oh wait,” she said, grinning smugly. “You did.”

I quickly redirected her before she could continue. “Focus!”

She gave a disdainful laugh and eyed me curiously. “When did you get so sanctimonious, Snorkel Queen? How is Jim LeChair?”

Ouch.

Tightening my lips, I stared at her without blinking. “This isn’t about me.”

“Oh, it most certainly is, big sister. You don’t get to stand there and judge my lunatic girlfriend ways when you insist on sticking to that ridiculous story.”

As I bristled at her accusation, alarm twisted in my stomach. “It’s not a—”

She stuck her chin out defiantly. “Do you honestly think no one has noticed you two eyeing each other up like you’re both on the buffet at Sizzler?”

Brushing past her, I grabbed a pile of purchase orders and stomped to the copier, pushing random buttons like I was launching a nuclear launch code. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Knowing she’d hit a nerve, and she was no longer the focus of conversation, my loving baby sister tore out of her chair, draped herself across the copier, and went in for the kill. “Bitch, please. If the sexual tension were any thicker when you two are in the room, I could stick a straw in it and slurp it like a milkshake.”

Slowly rolling my eyes to the side, I tilted my chin and snorted. “Do you hear yourself when you speak, or does shit just randomly pop in your head and fly out of your mouth?”

She grinned. “Don’t deflect. We’re discussing you.”

“I could say the same thing to you.”

For all our differences, Savannah and I were the same at our basest female instincts. When threatened, my sister avoided confrontation, relying instead on covert operations to confirm that the good in her life was a lie.

Me? Protective force shields prevented me from ever getting to the point of confrontation. The good in my life had proven to be a lie and had been ripped away from me twice already.

As kids, my mom forced Savannah and me into ballet classes. We weren’t good, and both hated it. For the first few months I plie'ed when I should’ve pirouetted, stepping on everyone’s feet and messing up the combinations. However, being a perfectionist, I practiced hours on end until I knew the steps in my sleep. By the end of the year, I’d become the best in our class. Prize student. Committed and faithful. Convinced my hard work would pay off, I’d tried out for the solo in our end-of-the-year recital.

It was time to shine. I’d finally be the beautiful swan.

And where did it get me? Back of the line as ugly duck number twenty-seven while Wendy Jarvis pranced to the front of the stage with the grace of a pregnant rhino.

Wendy Jarvis, Roland Christopher Bordeaux III, and Zep LeBlanc all taught me that no matter how hard I worked, in the end, the deck was always stacked against me. It was better not to risk being stuck in the back of the line as duck number twenty-seven again than to put myself out there and have my heart crushed for the third time.

“Enough,” Savannah said, passing a finger back and forth between us. “This stops right now. I’ve got enough upheaval in my life without adding a stupid fight with my sister. Truce?”

A genuine smile played on my lips. “Truce. Just promise me you won’t self sabotage, okay?”

“Deal,” she agreed, giving me a curt nod. Staring at me in silence, she tilted her chin and grinned. “When you give Jim the same fair shot.”

“Whose side are you on?”

“Mine,” she said, grabbing her keys and heading toward the door. “If you and Jim don’t make up and start fucking the mad out of each other, I’m quitting and working at Sizzler.”

***

Taking an extended lunch, Savannah returned with takeout for the entire office and a shopping bag from Victoria’s Secret. When I just raised an eyebrow at her, she raised an eyebrow and dug in with gusto, flinging at least fifteen pairs of underwear in the air.

As it rained lacey thongs, I leaned back in my chair and flipped my pen between my fingers. “Hitting the sales?”

A rare pause of silence passed in Savannah’s presence as she twirled a red G-string around her index finger. “Staking my claim,” she replied.

I waited for her to say more, my lips pressed into a tight line.

This ought to be good.

Rolling her eyes, she pulled the crotch back on the thong and flung it like a sling-shot between my eyes. “It’s simple, Ads. Men can’t resist a thong.”

“Sav…” Groaning, I scrubbed my hands down my face. “You know using sex to get what you want is the wrong thing to do, right?”

She looked at me like I’d asked her to skin a baby with a spoon. “I’ve already gotten what I want.”

“Bad idea.” Turning his pen upside down, Zep, pushed a zebra striped boy shorts off his desk.

“Excuse me?” Jerking her head around, Savannah glared at him.

“I said it’s a bad idea,” he repeated, glancing at me out of the corner of his eye. “Men don’t like to be played like that, Sav. That’ll backfire, trust me.”

Our gazes bounced back and forth between heat and distrust. I flinched at Zep’s double meaning, swearing that a flicker of satisfaction crossed his face. Shaking his head, he kicked the boy shorts across the room and returned his attention to the proposal he’d been working on for the last hour.

Watching the corded muscles in his neck tighten as he ran his hand through his disheveled inky mess of hair, I fought the urge to hurdle over my desk, knock him backward. His damn throat was going to be the death of me.

Not long after Savannah had left for lunch, the door opened with unusual force, bouncing hard against the door stop. Meeting Zep’s pale, ice blue eyes, we’d stared at each other for a moment in silence, neither of us sure what to say. Holding my eye, he raised the water bottle he’d been holding and pressed it against his mouth. With a smirk, he turned it up and drank half of it, making a huge production out of it. Fire shot through every crevice of my body as I watched his muscles work the liquid down his throat.

Water had never been sexier.

In fact, ever since we’d slept together, Zep had never been sexier. His hair, his walk, fuck, even his clothes were sexy. Stealing another glance at him, I memorized his army green t-shirt plastered with the yellow DuBlanc logo and dark colored jeans. His beard seemed heavier than before, and he’d foregone his usual haircut. The sides were cut short, but the front of his inky hair fell well below his nose.

And he was all Josie Gereaux’s.

Fuck.

As if summoned by some unholy telepathy, Zep’s phone rang. After glancing at the caller ID, his brows drew together and he seemed to count the rings as he held the phone in his hand.

Five and it went to voice mail. I’d been avoiding Roland’s calls for two weeks now.

On the fourth ring, he answered with a half-smile that tilted the corner of his mouth. “Hey, what’s up? I’m at work, and”—stealing a quick glance my way, he lowered his voice—“I can’t talk right now.”

Maybe I stopped breathing. I wasn’t sure, but I knew that I counted ten full seconds where I held my breath, waiting for him to start talking again.

“No, no plans that I know of.”

Damn.

“That sounds good, listen, why don’t I just give you a call when I leave here? Yeah, that’ll work. Huh? Oh, sure. Yeah, you too. Bye, Jo.”

Bingo.

As he hung up the phone, he turned his chin over his shoulder. “Did you get all that, Addie, or would you like me to send you a detailed report?”

Mortified at getting busted, I quickly became engrossed in my computer screen.

My dark computer screen.

Shit.

Reaching forward, Zep latched onto the edge and dragged his chair from his desk to mine. I stayed quiet, pressing my lips together and praying that he had some other purpose in rolling his happy ass over to me than ridiculing me for eavesdropping. Undeterred by my brush-off, he leaned closer, and the wheels on his chair pushed him into me, wedging his knees in between mine. We both glanced down at the same time, taking in the very suggestive pose of his hips shoved in between my splayed and open thighs.

If I weren’t so turned on, I would’ve laughed.

“Is there something you—”

“Why don’t you just ask me, Addie?”

I quickly shook off my lusty haze. “Ask you what?”

“You want to know if that was a girl on the phone and if I have a date. Admit it,” he said, craning his neck and caressing his dark beard.

Turning my attention back to the reports on my desk, I shrugged. “I don’t care what you do, Zep. It’s none of my business. You can do whatever or whoever you want.”

In the last few months, I’d gained a lot of ground in my new-found independence. My one night with Zep continued to haunt me for the past week and threatened the very foundation of what my ex-husband tried to destroy. I swore the night Roland served me with divorce papers that Zep and I would stay amicable but platonic friends. Too much vodka and feeling sorry for myself blew that all to hell.

And then I blew other things.

Zep and I would never have the friendship we promised each other that night, but I’d be damned if meaningless sex would ruin the business that Pappy spent his life building.

Okay, maybe it wasn’t so meaningless.

“Right,” he said with a wicked grin. “So, you’re perfectly fine, if I borrow this stapler?” Stretching across me, he all but straddled my leg to drag my shitty stapler that jammed every fourth staple off my desk when he had a brand-new one on his.

I swallowed hard. “Yes, perfectly fine.”

Standing, he moved behind my chair and chuckled low in his chest. “Oops. I forgot staples. You don’t mind, do you, Addie?”

Asshole. I’d been played by the best. He wouldn’t break me. “No, of course not.”

Reaching over my left shoulder, he lightly trailed his fingers over my open nape, letting the pads of his thumb and index finger trace my collarbone and hover above my breast before sliding down the front of my shirt and disappearing inside my desk drawer. Biting my lip, I tried to stifle the groan that managed to slip out. Although he was behind me, I felt his victorious grin.

Damn it.

As he pulled his hand out of my desk, he gripped the box of staples and lowered his mouth to my ear. “Thank you. You have no idea how much I need it.”

Flinching, I spin my head around, my mouth dropping open in the process. “Excuse me?”

“The staples, Snow White.” He winked, a smirk plastered across his face. “Why? What were you talking about?”

“I’m still here, in case you two were wondering.”

Within five seconds, my lusty trance shattered as I stared into the smug eyes of my sister as she dangled her fingers in a half-hearted wave.

Zep just laughed as he wheeled himself back over to his desk. “Thanks for the update, Sav.”

“No problem, Jim.”

Waking my computer from its perpetual sleep mode, shot her a ‘go to hell’ look. “If you two are done, how about we get some work done today for a change? Won’t that be nice?”

“Whatever you say, boss,” Zep said, giving me a salute.

***

“Mother of fuck!”

Ten minutes until five o’clock and I’d managed to cause a paper jam in eight different compartments of the copier. In the three hours since Zep had set my temperature into the stratosphere, I’d managed to destroy a total of four major electronic devices in the office.

A new personal best.

My heartbeat quickened as I remembered the way my skin flushed under his touch and the disappointment that sank low in my belly when his hand stopped at the top of my shirt. Logically I knew that’s as far as it could go. I mean, we were in a place of business, and besides, nothing could happen between us.

Right?

What was I saying? Of course, it couldn’t. These were my rules, and I had to live with them until I died alone as a cold, frigid old hag.

Until then, I’d take out my sexual frustrations on this fucking copier.

Jerking open every drawer that I could, I ripped out tiny pieces of paper and screamed as ink smeared up and down my arms. “Argh! Worthless piece of shit! You work fine for everyone else, but for me? No! For me, you’re a fucking dick!”

As I kicked the copier with my four-inch heel, the scent of sea salt and spice filled my nose, stopping me mid-kick. Off-balance and disoriented, my ankle rolled propelling me into a hard chest and tattooed arms. Inhaling deeply, I groaned, closing my eyes and letting my head fall against him.

“You can’t force it in, Addie. You have to line it up and make sure it’s going to fit before you shove it and get it stuck.”

Popping my eyes open, I stared at the wall in front of me without blinking. The innuendo circled my head, burrowed into my brain, and detonated like a tripped land mine.

 “Um, what?”

“When you put it in,” he repeated with a low growl, somehow making it so much worse yet hotter. “You have to prep it first. You know, warm it up and make sure it’s good and ready before you copy the shit out of that report.”

Denying to myself that I wanted him to bend me over the copier would be pointless. Denying it to him was imperative. Nodding, I stepped toward the machine and away from him. “I think I can handle it, thanks.”

But Zep was having none of my shit. “Can you?” Grasping my hips, he pulled me backward against his own, pressing a very prominent and impressive erection against my behind.

If I could’ve wept, I would have. Not because I didn’t want his body there, but because I did and knew it shouldn’t be. Because I wanted more and knew I couldn’t have it. Because karma was a cruel bitch named Josie Gereaux, who had a date with what was currently nestled between my ass cheeks.

“Zep, please…”

He groaned hotly in my ear. “Just admit it, Addie.”

I wanted to say yes. I wanted to admit it.

“No.”

“Admit what?”

Startled out of our own little world, we both looked up to see Bam-Bam standing in the doorway of the kitchenette, his dingy yellow DuBlanc overalls muddied and soiled as he inhaled a double cheeseburger.

Savannah spoke up. “Addie and Zep are—”

“Nothing, Bam. It’s fine. Just a paper jam.” Focusing on pushing myself off Zep, I wiped a line of beaded sweat off my brow.

“Oh, cool.” He laughed and wiped mustard from his mouth with the back of his hand, effectively smearing it across his chin.

Turning over my shoulder, I glared at my sister and pursed my mouth, slightly shaking my head to let her know she needed to shut the fuck up.

“Because from what it looked like when I walked in, you two were gettin’ it on in the office.”

I froze.

Savannah snorted.

Zep chuckled.

You could’ve heard a pin drop as we all waited for Bam-Bam to put two and two together. However, Bam-Bam was Bam-Bam, and in my cousin’s world, two and two equaled seven.

Math wasn’t Bam’s strong suit.

“So, it’s five o’clock, y’all!” Bam-Bam grinned, showing off his missing canine and clapped his hands together. Don’t know about you guys but it’s been a long ass day on the boat, and I’m ready for drinks. Who’s buyin’?”

Savannah shoved her chair under her desk and swung her huge purse over her shoulder. “No can do. I’m meeting Pope at his family’s barbecue tonight. Her eyes sparkled with anticipation. “I finally get to meet his family.”

Pulling out of Zep’s hold, I walked passed her and jerked her aside. Circling in front of her and threw my arms out. “You’re taking the truck? What the hell am I supposed to do, Sav? Hitchhike?”

A devious grin tugged at her mouth. “I’m sure Bam can take you home.”

Bam’s face fell as if Savannah told him she’d just kicked a litter of puppies. “Aw, man, Sav, I was gonna head downtown and hit up some ladies.”

“Oh, well. I guess that just leaves Zep.” Seemingly satisfied with herself, she shifted around me, the words rolling off her tongue as if plotting world domination were on her every day to-do list. “Zep, you don’t have plans, right? You can take Ads home, can’t you?”

Zep’s eyebrows shot up. “Well, actually—”

“Great,” she said, swinging the door open and throwing a hand over her shoulder. “Thanks, you’re the best.”

“I’m out too,” Bam-Bam announced, following Savannah to the still wide-opened door. Waving, he called out to Zep as he closed it behind him. “Sucks to be you, dude. You need to call ‘not it” sooner next time. If you and that hottie Josie want to meet up later, text me.”

And then there were two.

Or one.

Flinging the door open, I tore out of the front door like my ass was on fire. Stomping across the parking lot, I paced next to the back of his Silverado like a caged animal.

Zep made his way toward me at a leisurely pace, twirling his keyring on his index finger and nodding toward his truck. “Are you getting inside or do you plan on riding in the bed. Either way is fine with me.”

I had no idea what possessed me to ask the question. It wasn’t any of my business. It wasn’t my place to ask. However, once my mouth opened, the words fell out like verbal vomit. “Do you really have a date with Josie Gereaux tonight?”

His eyes locked with mine. “Did you really hook-up with a guy named Jim?”

Dipping my chin, I walked around to the back of the truck and swung my leg over the lift gate. “I’ll get in the back.”

CHAPTER FOUR

The Wild One

Savannah

New Orleans, Louisiana

I figured if I have to get the truck and sped out of the parking lot before Addie could come and call me out of the truck by my hair. Not a chance big sister. I dug around blindly in the glove box as I pealed out of the parking lot. Finding my favorite 70s mixed tape, I pushed it into the ancient cassette player and cranked the volume.

The sounds of Suzi Quattro's The Wild One crackled through the speakers as I headed down the highway. By the time I pulled up to the address Pope had given me, my neck ached from all the head banging and my voice was hoarse.

I took a minute to look myself over in the mirror. The wind had tousled my natural waves and flushed my cheeks. I adjusted the crochet vest that I’d been forced to hide behind the seat since Addie had threatened to burn it on sight if she ever caught me wearing it again, and slipped on a stack of bangles from my bottomless purse. A swipe of mascara and my favorite tinted lip balm, and my fresh from the beach boho look was complete.

God I’m good.

I typed out a quick message to Pope letting him know I'd arrived and took a moment to pull myself together. He'd said it was just a casual cookout with some buddies from the precinct, nothing formal and certainly nothing to be worried over.

Yeah fucking right.

Everyone knew that if the boyfriend’s friends didn't like you, it was like the kiss of death for the relationship. I'd never really had trouble with people liking me, but then again, I'd never really cared what other people thought. Somehow it seemed as though being with Pope was changing more than my maturity level, it was starting to change my outlook on life.

I wasn't sure if I liked it or not. What I was sure of, was that I was falling in love with him, so if that meant caring about what the people in his life thought about me, then I supposed it was okay.

For now at least.

Stepping out of the truck I headed for the walkway, I could hear music playing from the backyard and briefly wondered if I was supposed to go straight back to the party or knock at the front door first. I didn't have to think about it long, because as soon as I opened the front gate I spotted Pope coming around the side of the house.

He was dressed as he always was when he was off duty; blue jeans covered his strong thighs, his white t-shirt clung across his broad chest and strained at his biceps…

How could one man look so fucking edible?

A dimpled smile that I knew was reserved just for me, greeted me as he approached. "Hey, gorgeous.”

Instead of the peck on the lips I expected, he pulled me close to his body. The fresh scent of bar soap enveloped my senses and I tilted my chin up just in time to meet his waiting lips. He devoured my mouth, his tongue slipping against mine in a toe curling kiss that I'd never experienced with him outside of the bedroom.

Pope was fairly reserved in public, opting to leave passion for private moments. I wasn't sure if it was the fact that we hadn't seen each other since our fight, or if our argument had broke loose some dormant alpha tendencies, but I liked it. A lot. If this kiss was a preview to the make-up sex we were going to have later, I was ready to drag him back to his house, double time.

Once he’s sufficiently fucked my mouth, he pulled away slowly, easing back with a few soft kisses to my swollen lips.

"Hi," I whispered.

"Hi."

"What was that for?"

His eyes crinkled a little bit at the corners as he smiled widely at me. "I just miss you, is all. I feel like I haven't kissed you in weeks.” His thumbs stroked my cheeks as he spoke, his breath tickling my already tingling lips. “I don't want to go that long without seeing you again."

"Me either," I said softly tightening my grip around his waist to emphasize my point.

The time we’d spend apart was just as hard on me as it seemed to have been on him. I hadn't realized until he’d kissed me how much he'd come to mean to me in the past few months and just how much a few days without him could hurt.

He pulled away and took me by the hand, leading me back around the side of the house where he’d come from. “Now come on, I want to show you off.”

When the hedges opened up at the back of the house we were met with a party in full swing. Led Zeppelin was blasting from a boombox set up on the back porch and there were kids chasing each other with water guns around the backyard.

Pope led me first to a cooler where he twisted off the tops of two beers and offered me one. I gratefully accepted, feeling like I was going to need something to settle my nerves. Next he guided me with a hand at the small of my back towards the guy manning the barbecue who could’ve rivaled Bam Bam in size.

“Hey Gus!” Pope called out over the noise. “I want you to meet someone.”

When the mountain of a man turned around I noticed a long silver scar that bisected one cheek running from the corner of his eye all the way down to his jawline. The scar would've made the man look menacing had he not been grinning from ear to ear.

"So you must be the famous Savannah. This fucker won't shut the hell up about you."

Pope’s right fist shot out and Struck Gus in the shoulder. The blow would've knocked a normal man on his ass, but Gus didn’t even flinch.

I laughed, it was good to know that even though he hadn’t introduced me to his friends before, he’d at least talked about me.

“And you must be the infamous Gus.” Pope had told me about his partner Gus and how he’d been ecstatic to find out that he’d been assigned to work with his old buddy from the Academy when he transferred to the NOLAPD.

A gorgeous woman with braids piled high into a knot on top of her head joined out little trio. The woman's white sundress contrasted beautifully with her dark skin, and aside from the large baby belly that she sported, she looked as if she could’ve come straight from the runway. When she approached, Gus threw an arm around her. “Hey sweetness,” he said planting a kiss on her forehead.

“Savannah, I'd like you to meet my wife Gabriella. Gabriella, this is Savannah, Pope’s girlfriend.”

The woman beamed at me.

I guess there’s some truth in that pregnancy glow shit people talk about.

She reached out her thin arms and enveloped me in a somewhat awkward hug, considering her giant belly.

“Oh my goodness, it's so good to finally meet you! We had Pope over for dinner a few weeks ago and he couldn't shut the hell up about you.”

Gus snorted. “Yeah, I told him we needed physical proof that you weren’t a blow up doll.”

Pope gave him another little shove. “Can you believe I have to depend on this asshole to keep my ass safe out on the street?”

Gus pointed his barbeque tongs at Pope. “I did a pretty good job of saving your ass from that dude with the knife last week.”

Dude with a knife?

Gabriella must've recognized the look on my face, because she smacked Gus in the stomach and gave him a stern look.

Bile rose in my throat at the thought of Pope getting hurt. “Someone tried to kill you?”

The ‘oh shit’ look that crossed both Pope and Gus's faces would've been comical had I not been stunned. I’d never really taken the time to consider just how dangerous his job really was.

All the stories he told me were of funny drunks trying to pee in fountains and lost tourists. I guess I just assumed that he was always patrolling Bourbon Street and knocking around drunks. The only law enforcement I'd ever known was Sheriff Cooper, and he was either drunk or half-asleep most of the time.

“Hey,” Pope said, taking my face in his hands. “Gus is just being an asshole and making it sound worse than it really was. I promise, I wasn’t in any real danger, just a drunk guy with a pocket knife. He could barely stand, let alone successfully stab someone.”

“But—“ I started, but Pope cut me off.

“I know you, if I told you every little incident that happened while I was on beat; you’d drive yourself crazy. We handled the situation and no one got hurt, so I didn’t see a reason to make you worry.”

Wasn't sure how I felt about him not telling me that he’d almost gotten stabbed. Was not knowing really better than knowing?

“Well,” Gabriella said loudly, bursting our little bubble. “We're gonna leave you boys to man the meat. I’m going to take Savannah over to meet all the ladies.” Gabriella linked her arm with mine and guided me away from the men. “Oh and Pope? Make sure Gus doesn’t burn the steak this time.”

We both laughed at Gus’s protests as I let her steer me through the crowd. Once we were out of ear shot of the boys, she leaned in close and whispered in my ear. “Being one of us, being with a cop is not an easy task. We live the job just like they do, sometimes even more. You guys are going to have to sit down and discuss how you’re going to handle it at some point. You’ve got to figure out whether he tells you everything or nothing at all. Can't be half in, half out, that'll drive you crazy.

“What do you and Gus do?” She laughed and shook her head as if she were remembering something funny.

“At first, I didn't want him to tell me anything, but then he got called to a bar fight one night and took a glass bottle to the side of the face,” she said, indicating with a pink fingernail on her own cheek, the path of the scar on her husband’s face. “When I got the call come to the hospital I was terrified. I knew then that I needed to know everything otherwise every night I stay up and wait wondering. Some nights I still do but it's still better this way. Of course anything could happen on the job, but let me tell you, most of the time, your imagination is worse than the reality.”

“How long have you two been together?”

If possible, her smile got even bigger. “Going on fifteen years, married nine, been together since high school.”

“Is this your first baby?” I asked, and she blinked at me. Her face suddenly completely blank.

“What do you mean?” she asked, her tone sharp.

My heart seized.

Shit.

She let out a huge belly laugh. “I'm just fucking with you! This is our third actually; the other two are around here somewhere, probably setting something on fire.” She waved a hand dismissively in the general vicinity of the house.

Oh thank fuck.

“Girl you should've seen the look on your face, that shit never gets old. Come on, let me introduce you to the girls. We have a little wives and girlfriends club; it's kind of like a support system. If you ever feel like you’re cracking, give one of us a call, we’ll talk you through it. Most of us have been around a long time, we've seen it all.”

“Do you guys always go all out for a Monday night cookout?”

“Cops don’t have regular schedules, it’s difficult to find a day that works for everyone but we try to get together at least once a month.”

“That’s pretty cool.”

Gabriella squeezed my shoulder and ushered me forward towards the group of women hanging out around the fire pit. “We’re a family, you’ll learn soon enough.”

A giant German Shepherd came bounding over to where we stood. He looked friendly enough. He circled me, smelling the ground at my feet and ultimately sizing up the newest arrival.

"Oh who's this guy?" I squatted down and scratched behind his ears, instantly endearing him to me for life. Animals were easy, a little love and attention went a long way.

“That's Rufus, if he likes you, you're in.”

Done with the mini massage, Rufus nosed between my legs and started sniffing quite enthusiastically. I delicately tried to shove his giant head away from my crotch and stood up. It didn't deter him. Instead, he slammed his head between my knees in search of the clearly intoxicating scent of my cooch.

I took a step back and futilely tried to block the dogs’ pursuit

"Okay that's enough,” I ordered, but he just kept coming.

The women in the small circle that I hadn't even been introduced to yet, started to laugh.

"Oh my god! I swear I washed my vag today!" I announced, feeling the need to clarify that there was something wrong with the dog, not my lady bits.

The laughter around me escalated to full on cackling. Gabriella was no help; she was doubled over in hysterics. "You got a steak hiding in those shorts?” She asked through ragged breaths as she tried to regain her composure.

I tried in vain, again, to push Rufus away.

"Rufus, come!" A loud male voice commanded suddenly and I looked up to see Gus and Pope coming toward us to witness my humiliation.

Thankfully the dog retreated, trotting off to meet Gus.

"What the hell is wrong with your dog?" I asked pulling down my shorts that had ridden up in the struggle.

Gus looked concerned. "I don't know, he's been through years of specialized training, I've never seen him act like that when he wasn't on duty."

Huh? "On duty?"

"Yeah, he's a trained K-9 unit. Had to retire him last year because of a bum hip."

Oh fuckity fuck fuck.

I gulped. “Like a trained drug sniffing dog?”

“Exactly,” Gus said absently, scratching behind Rufus’ ears. “What's wrong with you bud?

Pope pinned me with a knowing look. “You have a joint in your pocket don't you?” he accused.

Maybe this was why Pope didn't want you to meet his friends? Not even fifteen minutes into the party you’re about to get arrested.

“Uhhhhhh maybe?”

The composure Gabriella had regained was immediately lost again as she bent forward holding her giant baby belly and laughing so hard I wasn't sure if she was breathing. Gus joined in his laugh louder than the music that was blaring and Pope just shook his head.

Way to make a first impression Savvy.

“Relax,” Pope said. “It's fine, but next time you go to a cop party probably don't want to bring contraband.”

“So you're not going to arrest me?”

He threw an arm around my shoulders and pulled me in close so only I could hear him. “No, but I might use my handcuffs on you later tonight.” A chill ran through my body. That I could handle.

“Oh you are so in,” Gabriela said, finally catching her breath. A chorus of female shouts and hoots came from behind her.

A redhead sitting in a lounge chair by the fire pit hollered and raised a fist in the air. “Hell yeah!”

“Oh she'll fit in just fine,” the blonde next to her said in agreement.

And just like that I was accepted into the fold. The boys went back to the grill and I was quickly pulled in to a conversation with the redhead, Charlie, about our most recent vintage purchases and our favorite eBay shops. By the time the food was passed around I was feeling comfortable, like I'd known these people for years. All my previous worries about Pope having some secret double life that I didn't know about quickly slipped away.

That was until a late arrival showed up.

The guy was about Pope’s age and was wearing a backwards baseball cap and cargo shorts. Everyone seemed to know him because they all laughed as he walked into the backyard and shouted at the top of his lungs, “I'm here fuckers! Let's get this party started!”

Pope leaned into my side and whispered into my ear. “That's Johnny, I went to college with him.”

“Is he a cop?” I was praying the answer was no. He seemed like the kind of guy I’d have dated before Pope, so basically a douchecanoe.

“Used to be, but he decided the private sector was more lucrative so now he does personal security.”

“That guy does personal security? For like rich people?”

Pope’s smile seemed forced, but he gave my thigh a reassuring squeeze. “Yeah, rich people and politicians, mostly.”

“Aren’t they the same thing?”

He chuckled at that. “I suppose they are most of the time.”

“I can’t picture frat boy over there protecting millionaire oil tycoons.”

“Try billionaire.”

I felt my eyes widen in shock. “Are you fucking serious?”

“He’s not always this…” he paused, searching for the word, “exuberant.”

“I see.” I took a long pull of my beer, sensing I was going to need it as I watched Johnny make his way over to us, giving high-fives and hugs along the way.

“Q my man,” he said clapping Pope on the shoulder. “I haven't seen you in a grip! Who’s this fine specimen next to you?” He grinned at me, but the little wink he added was less lecherous and more friendly, like he was playing up the sleazeball act to fuck with Pope. Which I fully approved of.

I gave them a little finger wave. “I’m Savannah.”

“Ha ha dude! I saw your dad the other day he said he hasn’t seen you in a while because you’ve been putting in overtime, I guess I know what he meant.” He wiggled his eyebrows at me, but looked confused when he saw my smile fall.

Pope had told me that his parents were out of town for an extended trip and that's why I hadn't met them yet. But if what Johnny had said was true, he’d lied. I found a way to understand thing from his side before. I’d realized that my feelings were hurt over him not opening up to me, but he hadn’t actually done anything wrong. Until now.

I could overlook a lot. My past relationships proved that. But I would not tolerate being lied to.

Johnny immediately jumped into apology mode. “Shit, I didn’t mean to offend you. I am so sorry I was just joking around.”

I managed a passable fake smile. “You’re fine, I just forgot I needed to call my sister. If you’ll excuse me for just a second.”

Pope tried to catch my eye as I stood, but I avoided his gaze and made my way around the side of the house and through the front gate.

I was sick and tired of playing this shadow game with him. I felt like I was the only one trying, while he continually put up roadblocks. If he wanted me in his life, he had a shitty way of showing it, and I was done trying to force it out of him.

I parked sideways in the driveway and left the truck idling as I ran into the house.

“Kevin!” I called as I came rushing into my room. He popped his head up from a mountain of blankets in the center of my bed. “Get up lazy ass, we’re leaving.”

Within minutes I was out the door with my stuffed messenger bad slung across my shoulder and a pig under my arm.

As soon as I slammed the truck door, the tears I’d been holding back started to fall, and they didn’t stop the entire drive back home to Terrebonne.

There was only one person that could help me now, and she had the best Vodka south of the Mason Dixon.

CHAPTER FIVE

Duck Number Twenty-Seven

Adelaide

Terrebonne Parish, Louisiana

After the fourth bug carcass had wedged in between my two front teeth, I’d had a drastic change of heart about riding in Zep’s truck bed. What seemed like an impressive display of independence outside the office, now felt more like a one-way ticket to YouTube infamy. At every intersection and stoplight, cars full of amused onlookers pulled up beside me and snapped pictures and took lengthy video with what I assumed was a colorful running commentary.

To be fair, a screaming woman in a business suit, swatting suicide bug bombs while holding on for dear life must have been a rare find.

Still aggravated at the turn of events, I swore to myself that if I made it out alive, first thing Saturday morning, I’d visit small, compact car dealership and get my own car. Daddy had meant for us to share the truck equally. However, on a regular basis, Savannah would run off to Pope’s with it or take off from work early to meet him. Inevitably, she’d leave me to mooch a ride off the one person I had no business being confined with in a car alone.

And after Zep’s unbearable taunts all day, I didn’t trust myself around him.

He hated me. He wanted me. He mercilessly pushed my buttons and sat back enjoying the show as I imploded. I had no idea what his endgame was, nor did I plan to find out. The fact remained, while I agonized over putting the brakes on whatever was brewing between us, he’d already moved on with someone else before I’d changed the sheets.

Unfortunately for him, that certain someone else needed a good dye job and an exfoliator. There was no accounting for taste.

As Zep maneuvered the truck to hit every pothole and imperfection on the road, I cursed and gave him a one-finger wave through the cab window. What the hell did he see in her? Sure, I supposed on a purely aesthetic level, she could be considered pretty…if you were into the nipped, tucked, enhanced, and permanently surprised look. But, what she had going on upstairs didn’t mesh with what I knew of the person Zep was today. He struck me as a man who got off on a good conversation just as much as a good fuck. And, add them together? Well, a woman might as well hang a cape on the front of her pussy and spend her spare time saving the world.

Because she ruled it.

Locked in a mental world of action hero role play with a very rugged and bearded Superman, I neglected to notice the hard-right turn he made from the highway onto a dusty dirt road surrounded by trees and wildlife.

Completely out of my element, I gripped the side of the truck bed until my fingers turned a blinding shade of white. Without a doubt, I knew we were surrounded by wildlife because as the truck bounced all over the rough terrain, dozens of glowing, hungry eyes appeared out of nowhere and stared at me like I was their long-awaited for meals-on-wheels.

“Oh shit…” Crab-crawling backward on my hands, I flung myself in an impressive full-twist against the cab window and banged on it until I thought it would shatter. “Zep! Stop the car! Zep! There are pumas or some shit out here about three seconds away from ripping my throat out. Zep!”

As the car rumbled across raised tree limbs and rocky terrain, I shoved my face against the glass just in time to see his shoulders shake as he wiped his eyes.

“What? What the hell? Are you laughing at me?” Pounding on the window again, I let out a bloodcurdling scream. “Stop this fucking truck and let me out!”

I’m going to die in the middle of nowhere.

Pulling into a clearing, he spun the tires, flinging mud across my cheeks and in my hair. Clusters of trees enveloped us, as if the moment we drove into them, they closed and transported us to another world. Only a sliver of sun still broke through an accidental opening in overhead branches, and other than the roar of Zep’s truck, sound ceased to exist. Any other time, I would have found it peaceful. Today, I’d had enough of our constant push and pull and just wanted to go home.

Finally coming to a stop next to a murky creek bed, I exhaled a rough breath. Squaring my shoulders, I mustered as much dignity as possible as he slammed the door and walked wordlessly to the lift gate. With his hand on the latch, he caught my eye and gave me a wink before releasing the lever and allowing the gate fall wide open, effectively demolishing my only barrier against the tree-dwelling serial killers.

He bit his lip to keep from laughing as he bowed. “Be my guest.”

“Are you crazy,” I screamed, trying as best I could to climb on top of the roof of the cab. “Do you want to see me torn to shreds?”

“Addie, the only thing living in these trees are squirrels. Unless you’re stuffing your bra with acorns, I think you’re safe.”

“Nice. You’re a fisherman and a comedian. Don’t quit your day job.”

Patting the edge of the lift, Zep sat down, rustling a brown paper bag in his hand. “Sit down, Addie. We’re not going anywhere for a while. You might as well get comfortable.”

Annoyed, I scrambled to the edge of the lift and plopped down beside him. Peering over his shoulder, I gasped as he crushed the top of the paper bag around the neck of a glass bottle. “Oh my God, is that liquor? You drink hooch out of a bag? What’s wrong with you?”

“It’s not hooch; it’s bourbon—fucking expensive bourbon.” Shoving the bag under my nose, he cocked an eyebrow. “You want some?”

“Absolutely not.” I stuttered, shocked that we were sitting by a creek bed five o’clock in the afternoon on a Monday drinking bourbon out of a paper bag.

Zep squinted an eye and shook his head. “You sure do have a lot of rules for yourself, Snow White.”

Unable to form an adequate comeback, I stared straight ahead at the muddy creek as he took a drink from the bag. I tried not to watch the way his full lips molded around the bottle-neck, sucking every drop into his mouth before swallowing it down with a gusto I reserved for things such as birthday cake and top-shelf wine. I tried not to remember how they looked wrapped around the water bottle in the office, and I tried not to remember how those lips felt on my skin. I tried…and I failed miserably.

“No rules,” I said, forcing myself to sit on my hands. “Just careful of perceptions.”

Taking another long drink, Zep grimaced as he swallowed, clearing his throat with an unremorseful grunt. I don’t give a fuck what people think.”

“And does that include day-drinking out of a grocery sack? Classy.”

Smirking, he pointed the neck of the bottle toward me. “You want to talk about classy? You were riding in the back of a fucking truck bed like a Doberman. You don’t have a lot of room to talk.”

My mind raced for a witty comeback…something that would gain me some ground and make me not feel as if I were drowning in the hard stare of his blue eyes. But he was right. I didn’t have room to talk. Because of my overdeveloped sense of pride, I’d ridden across town in the back of a truck bed, filmed by teenaged drivers joyriding in their parent’s expensive cars.

I’d been too embarrassed by Zep’s taunting and Bam-Bam’s innocent observation to tell everyone to kiss my ass and not give a fuck. Just like he said, Zep didn’t give a fuck. That was just the type of person he was. He didn’t care about social norms or customs or protocol. He did as he pleased and dared anyone to tell him otherwise. He reminded me a lot of Savannah, both possessing a quality I’d envied my whole life.

Being perfect was exhausting.

I rolled my shoulders in a futile attempt at releasing the tension knotting my back. “Zep, why are we here?”

He hooked a finger under my chin, lifting my eyes back to his. “You need to take it down a couple of notches.”

“You need to mind your own business.” Jerking out of his hold, I put space between us. Not because I wanted to, but because I didn’t trust myself.

“Savannah knows about us,” he blurted out.

My heart leaped into my throat. Placing a hand against my stomach, I tried unsuccessfully to keep my voice on an even keel. “Did you tell her?”

“Not exactly,” he said while ripping pieces off the paper bag and tossing them aside. “We were talking in the office last week, and she mind fucked it out of me. Your sister is some sort of truth ninja.”

I tossed my head back and laughed, causing a lock of hair to fly over my mouth. “Welcome to my world,” I mumbled, raising my hand to tuck the rogue hair behind my ear.

As if it were an automatic response, Zep dragged my hair across my cheek and tucked it securely behind my ear. “She wants us together, you know.”

I did know. Savannah made no secret that she thought I was full of shit with the whole Jim LeChair story. But the fact that Zep knew fucked with me. It unbalanced me and sent my safe little world careening off a cliff. I needed an escape. I needed a way to deflect what was happening.

I needed alcohol.

Taking the bottle out of his hands, brought it to my mouth and prepared to drown the voices in my head when he grasped my wrist.

“Addie, you may want to go slow if you’ve never had bourbon before.”

“I’ve had bourbon before, Zep. I’m not fourteen.”

As it turned out, I hadn’t had bourbon before. After the first swallow, fire shot down my throat, constricting my airway, and incinerating every fiber in my chest. “Holy shit,” I managed to sputter through hacking coughs.

Slamming a palm against my back, Zep raised an eyebrow as my eyes watered and slobber rolled down my chin. “Good, huh?”

“Smooth,” I wheezed.

Taking the bottle out of my hands, he sandwiched it in between his thighs and gripped the edge of the lift. “You asked me why we were here. Do you remember four days before we took our final exams during our senior year? We got in that fight outside the chemistry lab.”

The memory burned deep in my mind. “Yeah, you wanted to grow pot for your final exam project. What the hell were you thinking?”

Zep laughed, draping a hand across my thigh. “You were so fucking mad at me. You threatened to walk out and let me fail. I wasn’t so much afraid of repeating senior year as I was of never seeing you again.” An introspective look crossed his face, and his eyes darkened as he lost himself in another time. “I knew I had to get your mind off your world and introduce you to my mine.”

I studied his face. “You told me I needed live life instead of reading about it. Then you took me four-wheeling.”

His eyes crinkled in amusement as a slow grin spread across his face. “Yeah, and you fought me every step of the way.” His gaze lowered to my thighs and his smile faded. “You still do.”

The intensity in his voice stopped me cold, and I shook my head, praying he left the past where it belonged. “Zep, don’t.”

“Addie, why did you never have kids? You always loved them. Even in high school, you’d already planned their names. What where they, Katie and Ethan?”

“You remembered.”

“Of course, I did.”

The realness of the moment was too much. “Look, it’s getting late.” I half-way protested because, honestly, I’d lost all concept of time.

Zep squeezed my thigh and gave me a sympathetic look. “Tell me.”

Sure thing. Open a vein and bleed. Piece of cake.

Folding my arms across my chest, I admitted the biggest lie of my marriage. “Roland didn’t want children. After a few years, I thought I could convince him that a family would fix us, but he was adamant. I still don’t know if he didn’t want kids or”—swallowing the lump lodged in my throat, my voice trailed off to a whisper—“if he just didn’t want them with me.”

“Jesus, Addie! Didn’t that tell you anything?”

The pity in his eyes almost did me in. “I’m not as smart as you, Zep. I believe in the goodness of people.” Then, because the heaviness of the moment had become too much to take, I added, “Even if they betray me.”

“You’ll never let that go, will you? Haven’t you ever made a mistake?

“Twice.”

He shook his head. “You know, Snow White, maybe one day we can have a fucking civil conversation without you putting up enough walls to house a whole neighborhood.”

As I opened my mouth to argue, my phone rang, as Taylor Swift sang the first few bars of Mean. Weeks of avoiding his call culminated in a frustrated scream as I lunged for my purse, ripping my cell phone from inside. “Not a good time, Roland.”

The word barely made it out of my mouth before Zep grabbed the phone out of my hand, put it on speaker, and placed it out of my grasp. After I shot him a look, he lifted an eyebrow, almost daring me to touch it.

“A man like me doesn’t wait for things, Adelaide. We could’ve settled this days ago, but you wouldn’t return any of my calls.”

Zep eyed me curiously as I threw my head back and rolled my eyes. Staring up at the trees, I prayed for the strength to not drive to Shreveport and bury my knee so deep in his balls he’d have to repeat puberty to drop them. “What could you possibly want? Haven’t you already sent your minion to do your dirty work?”

“That was just phase one, and don’t think I haven’t noticed that a signed copy hasn’t made it back to my lawyer’s desk. Don’t fight me on this, Adelaide. You won’t win.”

“Get to the point, Roland. Is there one, or is your overwhelming charm just a gift?” Background noise filled the line, and a distinctly female voice called him back to bed. “Is fucking Brandi there?”

“Change your name,” he ordered, ignoring my accusation without a hint of emotion.

“I’m sorry, you seem to have forgotten the word, please.”

Who the hell did this asshole think he was dealing with?

Welcome to the New Addie, bitch.

“This isn’t a joke. The Bordeaux name affords the holder certain privileges, Adelaide. It carries with it a set of standards. If you insist on associating yourself with that inbred clan you call a family, then I want it back. You aren’t a Bordeaux anymore, and the benefits aren’t yours.”

“You can’t force me to do that.”

“I can do anything I want. You signed away your right to an opinion before we married.”

I honestly had no idea why I was arguing with him about something stupid as a name. I didn’t want the damn thing anyway. It was poison and just saying it made my stomach turn.

Scratch that.

I had every idea why I fought him. Yet again, Roland called the shots. Nothing about this decision was on my terms, and it pissed me off that he’d forced my hand.

“Bastard.”

“You’ve learned a lot of bad habits since returning to the swamp, haven’t you? It’s a shame that all that work I put into making you respectable unraveled in one night of slumming on your alcoholic grandmother’s porch.”

“Enough,” Zep roared, his cheeks flushed with heated anger. “Apologize to Addie.”

“I’ll do no such thing.” Roland seemed taken aback for a moment, his voice more annoyed than curious. “Who the hell are you?”

“I’ll be your worst fucking nightmare if you ever speak to her like that again. I don’t give a fuck what your last name is; you need to learn how to speak to a lady and not sound like a cock sipping frat boy. Now fuck off and don’t call again, or I promise you, I’ll answer.” Slamming his hand on the disconnect button, he threw my phone across the truck bed. “Dick.”

As Zep hurled Babs’ favorite insult at Roland, I simultaneously laughed and cried harder. “Did you just say cock sipping frat boy?”

Taking a lengthy drink from the paper bag, Zep gave an unapologetic shrug. “Your grandmother tends to get in people’s heads. It fits.” Eyeing me closely, he watched for a reaction. “Do you want to talk about it?”

My reluctant sigh held more meaning than he knew. “No. I’d like to go home now.”

As I slid off the lift gate, my head felt heavy. As stupid as it seemed to fight Roland on something as simple as a name change, giving in would only give him the green light to railroading me through this whole divorce. With a signed prenup, I already had limited legal recourse. Holding onto the small amounts of power I had was my only leverage over him. As much as I wanted to shed the Bordeaux from my name, the last thing I wanted was to make his life easy.

Suddenly exhausted, I reached for the passenger’s door, determined to not break down when a pair of hands slid around my shoulders. The moment he touched me, I flinched, then melted into the warmth of his calloused fingers on my bare skin. As he whispered my name, I broke. Every repressed emotion from Roland kicking me out, to Pappy’s death, to coming face to face with Zep after thirteen years came flooding out of me in a torrent of tears.

Turning me around, Zep pulled me hard against his chest. “I’m so sorry, Addie. If I’d known this was how you’d been treated for the past ten years, I’d have driven to Shreveport and brought you back myself.”

“It wasn’t always so bad.”

He reared back, regarding me with the same pitied look as before. “Addie…”

Hiding my pathetic joke of a marriage had always been a defense mechanism to save face. And where did that get me? Ten years of dinners alone and falling asleep to infomercials while Roland worked in his office or hung out with his snotty-ass friends.

Why the hell am I still protecting him?

“Okay, it was,” I admitted, covering my face. “It was always bad. It was miserable and empty, and I don’t know who I am anymore.”

Pulling my hand away from my cheeks, he studied me before giving my hand an intimate squeeze. “You’re who you’ve always been.”

A doormat.

“That’s the problem, Zep.”

I barely recognized the drastic change in his demeanor as he set the bourbon bottle aside and shifted closer. “You’re still the girl in that pink dress who walked into study hall and almost passed out when she realized I was the jock she had to tutor. You’re still the girl who brought me a chocolate cupcake and hummed Pomp and Circumstance when I passed my final exams.” Running a hand through his hair, he lowered it to his lap and stared at his open palm. “And you’re the girl who ruined me for any fucking other woman the rest of my life. Because if I couldn’t have you, Addie, no one else mattered.”

Reeling from his admission, I leaned into him, only to pull back at the last minute. Where was the man from the office? Where was the cocky son of a bitch who threw Josie Gereaux in my face, not giving a damn that my world was imploding around me?

When his name fell from my lips with a moan, I knew I had to get away from him. The moment I unlatched the door handle, every emotion possible ran through me. I was tired of being on the outside looking in, wondering when it would be my time to be happy. As the door handle clicked, I stood at a crossroads, straddling either side of a double yellow line.

Pick a lane, Addie.

Turning around, I wound my arms around his neck and pulled him into me. I had no idea what the hell I was doing, but I had no intentions of stopping.

“Addie, wait,” Zep said, forcing an assurance I knew he didn’t mean.

“I’m tired of waiting.” Without giving him a chance to respond, I pressed my lips against him hard. Startled, he pulled back, staring at me as if I were a creature he’d didn’t recognize. When he opened his mouth to shut me down again, I took the upper hand and attacked his lips, sliding my tongue between them.

We tangled with heavy breaths and impatience, fighting for dominance, each one with something to prove. I needed to show myself that I could break the pattern that I continually found myself repeating, and Zep apparently needed to prove to himself I was still the girl who brought him chocolate cupcakes.

Pulling back once more, he pinned me with a heated stare laced with a question.

Am I sure…

A surge of independence rolled through me, and I kissed him again, longing twisting in my stomach. I swear I heard his resistance snap as he crushed me in his arms and drove his hand into my hair, deepening the kiss.

Light-headed with need, I weakened in his arms. “Zep…”

As he licked the seam of my mouth, his beard scraped across my chin, sending my desire into overdrive. The sensible, responsible Addie that I desperately clung to flew out the window, and I cradled his face, “Please.”

His eyes flickered with the strain of a man pushed to his breaking point. “Damn it, Addie.” He fisted my hair tighter, and his eyes dropped to the open neck of my dress. “Just goddamn it, Addie. You make me crazy.”

Jerking the truck door open, Zep slid his hands down the length of my back and dug his fingers into the flesh of ass. Without a word, he lifted me and tossed me none too gently across the seat. Crawling over me, he slammed his body against me, knocking the breath out of me. Before I had a chance to react, he braced his feet on the running board and dragged his tongue up my neck, stopping to lick at my jawline before taking my mouth in a dizzying kiss.

Holy hell, I lost my mind.

He kissed me like I’d never been kissed before. Long, deep, hard, and with a need that had become a living, breathing thing between us. Even through his jeans, I felt his hardened erection and scattered memories from our drunken night together reminded me exactly what he could do with it. All I could think about was how bad I wanted it.

Like really, really, really bad.

Zep LeBlanc was unlike Roland in every way possible. Roland’s motto was ‘Never let them see you sweat,’ while Zep subscribed more to the ‘Satan sucks my dick” school of thought.

My ex-husband never made me crave him—salivate for the taste of him. The one on top of me drenched my panties with a look.

“God, Addie, I want you so fucking bad.” I vaguely registered his hand running up the inside of my thigh, chasing my dress as it slid up and bunched around my waist.

“Yes.” It was all I could say, and all my pride would allow.

Dragging his thumb across my lip, he curled the rest of his fingers under my chin and forced my eyes on him. “I need you to touch me first.”

Not an unreasonable request.

However, as I reached for the button on his jeans, my hand shook. My fingertips numbed and weakened as they grazed the metal barrier.

I didn’t want to ask for it. I didn’t want to admit to needing validation. Jesus, why the hell couldn’t he just take control like a man, stop being a pussy, and fuck the pain away?

Was that too much to ask?

I didn’t know I was crying until I tasted the tear. Salty and single…just like me.

Mumbling a curse under his breath, Zep pulled away. Groaning as he slid off me, he winced, adjusting himself as he handed me the strap of the seat bed. “Here. Put this on.”

Something in his eyes made me suck in a sharp breath. “What? Why? I thought you said you wanted me?”

“I do,” he said, his eyes dulling. “But I want you to be with me because you want me too…not to punish your ex-husband.”

Every ounce of warmth in my body chilled. “You’re wrong,” I argued, refusing to believe I’d sunken so low. “That’s not what I’m doing.”

Wrapping the seat belt around my fingers, Zep stroked his beard and sighed. “I’ve lived without you for thirteen years, Addie. I won’t settle for less than everything. It’s all of you or nothing.”

With a slam of the door, duck number twenty-seven took her rightful place in the back of the class.

***

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!

What had I done?

The ride home was uncomfortable and silent. After collecting my purse and phone from the truck bed, Zep climbed behind the wheel and slammed the door with a finality that made me wince. For half an hour, I sat with my hands folded in my lap while he choked the life out of the steering wheel and hid behind a pair of dark sunglasses.

I tried to push it all down. I really tried, but all it managed to do was churn the already festering ulcer brewing since I left Sugarbirch. Unable to stand it anymore, I threw my hands in the air and groaned. “The silent treatment? Don’t you have anything to say for yourself?”

“Did that asshole call the cops?”

Not what I expected.

“Huh?”

Pulling into my driveway, Zep tugged off his sunglasses and pointed in front of us. “The cops, Addie. NOLAPD is sitting in your driveway.” Shaking his head, he threw his glasses on the dashboard. “Look, I know some of the guys on the force. Find out what they want and whatever your dick of an ex is accusing you of, I’ll—”

Squinting my eyes across the lawn, I recognized the lone figure sitting on the top step of my front porch. He had his head buried in his hands, and his shoulders hung with the weight of the world. “That’s no cop. That’s Pope.”

Clearing the distance from the driveway to the steps, I rested my hands on my hips and tilted my head curiously. “Pope? Everything all right?”

A dejected, sad look crossed his face as he lifted his bowed head. His eyes were bloodshot and glassy, ravaged from the pain hidden behind them. “Savannah’s gone.”

Chapter 6

Céline Dion's All By Myself came on the radio just as I pulled off highway 90 towards my hometown. I blindly punched at buttons until the damn song stopped playing. I loved me some Céline but damn, that song was like throwing the remaining pieces of my heart in a blender to make a lonely dinner if depression for one.

I bumped along the gravel road leading to Babs’ house serenaded only by the sound of Kevin's snores. I hadn't called to let her know I was coming, but as I pulled up, I spotted her sitting in her rocking chair on the front porch with a bottle of vodka in her hand like she'd been expecting me.

No words were spoken as I jumped out of the truck, leaving Kevin snoozing in his little nest and made my way up the porch steps. She handed me the bottle of vodka without a word.

After a few hearty slugs Babs snapped her fingers at me. “No camping.”

I reluctantly took one last swig and passed the bottle back to her.

She closed her bad eye, sizing me up with the foggy, but less cataract one. “You going to tell me why you show up here in middle of night?”

Letting my head fall back against the dilapidated porch railing I gazed up at the clear swamp sky. This far out in the sticks, away from the lights and noises of the city, you could actually see the stars, and hear the songs of the creatures who called the swamp home. It was beautiful, and as much as I loved living in the city, I missed home. “I was hoping I didn't have to.”

“Come now tell Babs problem.”

I groaned and scrubbed the tears from my cheeks. “It's Pope.”

She clucked her tongue at me, shaking her head. “Always problems with dick.”

“Ya Ya!” I yelled, snatching the bottle out of her hand and taking another swig. “Fuck men and their stupid lies. Let's get drunk!”

Babs gave me a gummy grin, she must've already taken her teeth out for the night. “Vodka to fix everything.”

I snorted, vodka was the Dubois cure all for everything that ailed you. We sat passing the bottle back-and-forth and I listen to Babs rattle on about the assholes in the town. The Sheriff had come down last week to tell her that if she shot another alligator without a permit he'd have to arrest her. Naturally, she’d told him to go fuck himself and that she would continue to do whatever she damn well pleased. Like Sheriff Tucker would actually haul off an 85-year-old woman to jail, it’d be the talk of the town.

“I almost forget!” Babs yelled, jumping up out of her chair. The little doll she’d been whittling fell to the ground with a clatter. “I be right back.” She speed waddled into the house, crop dusting me on the way. I stared at the wooden doll on the ground wearily, I wasn't certain, but I was slightly terrified that she’d been making a miniature Pope voodoo doll.

Babs pushed open the screen door and peeked her head out. “Ready?”

I was about seven sheets to the wind so I just gave her a sloppy smile and nodded. I had to squint through the vodka haze and the dim glow of the porch light to make her out. When I was finally able to focus, I saw that she was holding a leash.

What the fuck?

I followed the line of the black leash down, down, down, until…OH MY FUCKING GOD! I crab walked backwards as fast as I could, clamoring up onto the railing. “What the fuck Babs? Have you finally lost your fatherfucking mind?”

Oh man I was so not looking forward to having to commit her.

“What? You have pet pig, I have pet gator, his name fluffy.”

“There are so many things wrong with that fucking sentence. You keep a fucking man eating animal inside your house?”

Babs just rolled her eyes at me. “Only nighttime, don't want him hurt.”

She’d finally done it, she’d taken it too far and there was no coming back. “You don't want the vicious modern-day dinosaur to get hurt? You've got to be fucking kidding me. I'm in the fucking twilight zone.”

“When Pappy die and my girls leave again, I have no one. Pisshole sheriff say I can't shoot gators, so I got one for pet that keep me company!”

I instantly felt the lead weight of guilt settle in my stomach. “Aww Babs, if you're lonely call me. Addie and I can drive down for the weekend.”

“No, my girls don't have time to waste with sad old lady. You have bearded clam digger and officer Mc fuck nut.”

Shame washed over me, we’d come back only to move away again, leaving our poor grandmother all by herself.

God we were assholes.

I was ready to keep beating myself up when I caught the twinkle in Babs good eye, right before she let out what could only be described as a warrior cry. I had to get her to stop watching Xena.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

“A little guilt good for you. Is fine, I got my vodka and now I have fluffy,” she said simply, as if she were talking about a companion dog instead of a swamp monster.

“Dear God will you put that thing away so I can get off the damn railing? I'm about to jump out of my fucking skin.”

“Bitch, bitch, bitch,” Babs grumbled, turning to head back inside.

As soon as the beast’s tail cleared the front door, I jumped back down, fully intent on continuing my pity party. I wasn't sure if there was enough booze in the world to drown out the memory of seeing my grandmother with an alligator on a leash, but I sure as hell was going to try.

***

The smell of frying bacon pulled me from my comatose state. I shifted and groaned at the creaking beneath me. I was on Babs’ couch. The 80s monstrosity covered in a protective plastic sheeting to prevent its untimely demise. I tried to sit up but it felt like my face had melted into the plastic overnight. Slowly, I peeled my cheek off, the devil plastic taking at least three layers of my skin hostage in the process. I stretched and made the mistake of rolling, completely misjudging the width of the couch and unceremoniously dumping my ass on the floor.

I landed with a thud and more groaning. My head was pounding harder than a forty-year-old virgin with a hooker and my mouth tasted like roadkill. The perfect beginning to what was sure to be an amazingly shitty day.

“Oh good you're up,” my mother’s chipper voice sounded from above me.

Am I still asleep? What the fuck is Mama doing here?

I cracked open one mascara crusted eye and peered at the blurry figure hovering above the couch where I had been sleeping a moment ago.

“Mom?” I croaked, sounding like my voice box had been thrown through a wood chipper. “What are you doing here? Did I go to your house? Where am I?”

I could feel rather than see her giving me the disappointed mom face. “Glad to see you didn't die if alcohol poisoning.”

My stomach flipped and summersaulted down the rabbit hole at the mention of alcohol.

Oh, God, make it stop.

“Mama, please don't.” I gagged, but forced myself to reel it in. On top of everything, I wasn’t going to disappoint Babs by being the pussy who made it through a whole night of drinking without losing it just to blow chunks the next morning. I was better than that

“Oh dear, are you going to be sick? Let me get a bowl.”

I waved a hand at her in protest. “I'm fine.”

She twisted the dish towel in her hands nervously. My mother had Addie’s caretaking tendencies times a hundred. If she wasn’t fretting over someone, she was cleaning or fixing something in the kitchen. “Would you like some coffee?”

Door number three it is with a healthy dash of door number one.

“Yes, please, you sweet, sweet woman.”

“Do you want decaf?”

What in the actual fuck? I’m hungover and its God knows fuck o’clock. This is not the time for decaf, woman.

The sound of Babs snort followed by her spitting in disgust came from somewhere beyond the living room. “Drinking decaf is like going to hooker for pull job.”

Good ol’ Babs, I can always count on you to have my back.

I hooked a thumb in the general vicinity of Babs hacking cough-laugh. “What she said.”

My mother tsked in disapproval and scurried off to the kitchen, God bless her soul. My mother was the quintessential southern housewife. She went to church twice a week, volunteered for charity events, and made sure that my father had three home-cooked meals a day. She was practically Betty fucking Crocker. How she managed to deal with having Babs as a mother-in-law without stroking out before she turned forty, I'd never know.

She came back bearing a steaming mug of coffee that smelled like heaven.

“Thanks, Mama.” I scooted over to make room for her on the couch, but instead of sitting down, she started to fold the blankets I’d used the night before. My mother never could relax if there were things that needed tidying.

I took a sip and almost orgasmed. Liquid gold, with the perfect about a cream sugar, just like I liked it. “Goddamn, woman! You know how to make a cup of coffee.”

She scowled at me. “Savannah Dubois, what have I told you about taking the Lords name in vain?”

Has the poor woman learned nothing?

I wagged a finger in her direction. “Ah, ah, not so fast. This is Babs house, and she doesn’t have those rules.”

“Oh heavens me!” She threw up her hands in exasperation, stopping for only a second before diving back into the mountain of blankets. “What am I gonna do with you?”

“I don't know, the same thing that you've been doing with me for the past 25 years? Hoping and praying I’ll finally turn out to be the proper lady that you always wanted me to be and then dealing with the crippling disappointment when I don't meet your expectations?”

She froze mid-fold, her mouth hanging open and sat down next to me. “Baby girl, is that really what you think?”

No, no, no! It’s too early for a heart to heart.

“Is what, what I think?”

Smooth, Sav, she’ll never decode that one. My evil powers of diversion have failed me in my time of need; it’s official vodka is my kryptonite.

She didn’t even blink. “Do you honestly believe that I am disappointed in you?”

“Well aren't you?” I wasn’t sure if it was possible for any functioning adult not to be disappointed in me. Hell, I was disappointed in me.

“Heavens no!” She reached over and took my free hand in hers, giving me a comforting pat. “Darling, you are adventurous and free spirited and so spontaneous, I’m jealous. I would kill for just a teeny bit of your courage.”

Mama say what?

I looked around the room as if I were searching for cameras. “Am I getting Punk’d?”

My mother, after years of experience with my antics, just ignored me and continued. “Now do I wish that you'd swear a little less and maybe try to act like a God-fearing woman? Of course, but that doesn't mean I'm not proud of you for setting out to carve your own path and saying screw you dude anyone who didn't like it.”

My jaw about hit the floor, that ‘screw you’ was the closest thing to a curse that I’d ever heard come out of my Mama’s mouth.

“Wow, I guess I didn't ever think that you thought that highly of me. Oh child, you and your sister are the apple of my eye, I’m equally proud of both of you. But you’ve always been different, even as a little girl you marched to the beat of your own drum. I'm not saying it was easy bringing you up, but that I knew God gave me you for a reason, and that was to teach me patience and understanding.”

“Yeah how’d that work out for you? If I recall, your patience and understanding cost you a tractor and a shrimp boat at one point.”

She closed her eyes briefly and I couldn’t help but wonder if she’d taught that coping mechanism to Addie because she did a lot of that pausing and breathing shit around me. “I’d blocked that tractor incident out for ten years, so thank you for reminding me.”

Jostling her with my elbow, I wiggled my eyebrows at her. “Was that sarcasm? Did my Mama just throw a little shade?”

“Lord have mercy, are you going to let me have this moment or not?”

It’s your Mama, don’t be an asshole.

“Sorry.” I pretended to lock up my mouth and throw away the key, she wasn’t amused.

“Where was I? Oh right, even when you were little, you were so free and fierce oh my, were you fierce. I knew you were never going to be a doctor or a lawyer; you’d never be content living a life like that. What I did know is that whatever you did, you would be passionate about it, and you would live life to the absolute fullest. Not everyone can say that Savannah. Some of the richest and most successful people on the planet are empty inside. Sure, on paper they’ve got it all figured out, but their life is confined to four office walls. You've always been a bit of a wanderer, seeking your next adventure and I’ve got to say, the woman you've become, that’s someone special, and that’s someone to be proud of.”

I felt the tears welling in my eyes and I forced out a pathetic laugh. Well, shit woman, you sure know how to make a girl feel special.”

My mother threw back her head and raised her hands in a praying gesture. “Lord help me!”

I reached out and gave her a one-armed hug, balancing my coffee cup on my knee. “Thanks mama, I needed that.”

“Are you ready for some breakfast? The bacon is getting cold.”

God, she was good. Maybe it was because she had gestated me for nine months and then wrangled me for another eighteen years, but somehow she knew I couldn’t take any more of the heavy on an empty stomach.

“Yeah, I’m starved.”

The ancient warped floorboards creaked as Babs made her way down the hall. “Is love orgy over now? I come out?”

“Sure thing, I'm just fixin’ up breakfast, are you hungry?” Mama asked, her voice as sweet at molasses. Her patience with Babs was otherworldly, especially since the older woman seemed to get off on deliberately fucking with my mother.

“Is there bacon?” Babs asked. “The crispy kind not wet soggy-cock kind.”

“Yes ma'am, I made yours extra crispy, just like you like it.”

Babs nodded and then stopped mid-shuffle. “Shit. I have to put good teeth in.”

Mama piled enough food onto my plate to feed Bam Bam for an entire day. Due to an unfortunate incident during Pappy's wake that included several fiesty members of the church elder choir and a gallon of hot sauce from the Piggly Wiggly, Babs didn't have a dining table. I shivered at the memory that I'd rather forget. Because of the absence of said dining table, the three of us sat in the living room balancing our plates on our knees and eating in an uncomfortable silence.

Picking up a piece of bacon I paused and turned to Kevin, wincing. Typically, I tried to avoid eating pork products in front of him. “Sorry bud, but I need this more than I care about your feelings right now.”

“So, you want to tell me what had you driving all the way home in the middle of the night and your grandmother calling me first thing in the morning to tell me you might be dead on her couch because you drank your weight and vodka?”

I'd known it was coming, I was just hoping to avoid it for as long as humanly possible. But my mother while sweet and innocent on the outside was actually a deviant mastermind. Because I've been sitting on the couch so long that my thighs we're vacuum sealed to the plastic covering and there was nowhere to run.

Out of the corner of my eye, I watched Babs reach down into the knitting basket beside her arm chair and pull out a tiny bottle of vodka, pouring the contents into her coffee cup. She was clearly settling in for the show. Relenting to my fate, I unloaded the whole sordid tale about the picture Kevin had found and Pope’s unwillingness to introduce me to his family and finally what had happened at the barbecue.

Cue the violins.

My mother covered her mouth with your hand. “Oh my, what did he say?”

I crinkled up my face, confused. “What do you mean ‘what did he say’?

She raised a quizzical brow. “When you asked him about his parents, he had told you that they were out of town and then the young man at the barbecue had contradicted that. So, what did he say when you talked to him about it?”

I blinked, I had a feeling the next answer to come out of my mouth was not going to be what she wanted to hear. “I didn't. I just left and came here.”

Her eyelids fell closed and I could hear the gears grinding in her head. “Oh Savannah, you didn't. You didn't even wait to get his side of the story?”

“Why would I? It's just gonna be more lies.”

Mama was not impressed; she straightened her shoulders and folded her hands in her lap before pinning me with a stern stare. “What if they came back early?”

I threw my hands in the air, frustrated that, yet again, no one could see the situation from my side. “What does it matter? Even if they did come home early, he would've known and he still didn't tell me. A lie of omission is still a lie.”

“Hmm.” Mama’s understanding and kind face had turned in to one of judgment.

Oh shit, here we go.

“Sounds to me like you're just looking for an excuse to cause trouble here. So, tell me Savannah, what are you really afraid of?”

I gripped my coffee mug so tightly I was afraid it was going to break off. “How did this come become about me? He's the one that lied.”

“You don't know because you don’t ask,” Babs chimed in

“Take it from two women who have collectively been married for close to a 100 years. You're jumping to conclusions because you've already predicted the outcome of your relationship. You're just looking for a reason and excuse not to try so you won’t get hurt. You need to ask yourself this, do you want to be with Pope or not? Because the only thing standing in your way is you.”

Et tu brute. I do believe I just got served.

“I want to be with him,” I admitted sheepishly.

“Are you sure about that?”

“Yes.”

Mama wasn’t letting up. “Then what's the problem?”

“I think he's embarrassed of me,” I blurted it out. It took a minute for it to sink in. That really was the root of the problem. I was worried that the reason Pope didn't want to introduce me to his family was because he didn't want them to know that he’d been slumming it with swamp trash.

She stood up from the couch and straightened her skirt. “Mmm hmm, sounds like you have a few things to think about. I've got to head over to the church but I'll be back later this afternoon to check on you, okay sweet thing?”

“Yeah Mama, thanks.”

She dropped a kiss on the top of my head before sashaying out the door like she hadn't just dropped a bomb of epic proportions right on top of my goddamn head.

***

I'd had the coffee and grease from the bacon, I just needed that little extra something to pull me fully out of my hangover. I search the cabinets not caring that I let them slam behind me until I came upon what I was looking for. A can of funfetti frosting. Just what the doctor ordered.

Grabbing a knife from the drawer I shuffled my way to the front porch. Just as I plopped my happy ass down and shoved a spoonful of sugar and red dye number 5 in my mouth, a hissing noise sounded behind me. I jumped up like my ass was on fire and spun to see fluffy's sharp teeth and beady little gator eyes staring at me through the porch railing. "Christ on a cracker!"

He'd ninja'd up behind me and had it not been for the rickety railing, he probably would've bitten my head off. The little fucker had murderer tattooed all over his reptilian face. Storming back into the house I shouted for my grandmother. "Babs! Where's the shotgun? I'm going to kill your little fiend before he eats me."

She popped her head out from the kitchen.  "Why you bitch so loud?"

I rolled my eyes and flopped onto the sticky plastic couch. "Because your little pet gator just tried to bite my face off."

"He get you? I get vodka will make better."

I sighed, maybe Addie had a point, maybe I did tend to overreact just a teeny bit. "He didn't actually bite me, just scared the ever-loving shit out of me."

Babs hurumphed and she disappeared back into the kitchen mumbling to herself. "Pussy."

"What was that?"

Instead of pretending like she hadn't said anything at all like a normal person Babs barrel back out of the kitchen and pointed at crooked finger at me. "I call you big fat gaping pussy. You raised in swamp whole life and afraid of little baby gator."

"Little? He's fucking six feet long!"

"Ack! Still baby, teeth not yet break bones, harmless."

"Whatever, as long as he stays out there. I don't want him seeing Kevin and getting pork fever."

She waved me off and turned back to whatever she was doing in the kitchen. "In Russia we wrestle bears for vodka, Americans too soft."

I leaned back and flipped on the TV prepared to spend the day wallowing and watching Dr. Phil talk nonsense at a teenager who thinks her unborn child is the antichrist.

Because that's what any well-adjusted twenty-five-year-old woman would do. Sit on her grandmother's couch eating junk food and watching daytime television on a Tuesday afternoon.

I'd deal with the remnants of my shattered heart tomorrow. I just needed a mental health day, and maybe some vodka.

Chapter 7

Epilogue

Savannah

New Orleans, Louisiana

“What are you doing, Pope?” I asked as he guided me forward into the house. He’d covered my eyes with his hands as soon as we reached his front door and wouldn’t let me in until I agreed to follow orders. If he wasn’t a cop, I’d think he was about to murder me.

Pope slowly walked forward, his entire torso plastered to my back, I was definitely not hating the position. I could feel every divot and hard plain of his body, and I couldn’t stop my mind from wandering to all the different ways I’d experienced that body all up in mine over the past day and a half.

“It's all surprise, now hush.”

“When did you have time to come up with a surprise? You’ve been wrapped up in me for the past thirty-six hours.” I shuffled along as he guided me forward. If I was counting my steps correctly, we were in the living room.

I could practically hear the smirk in Pope’s voice as he bent down to whisper in my ear. “I called in some favors.”

We’d stopped walking and I impatiently waited to find out just what the hell he had up his sleeve. What on earth was he doing?

“Okay, are you ready?”

“No, I think I’d rather stand like this for the rest of the night, thank you very much.” I felt Pope’s laughter all through my body and it had me foaming at the mouth for more of what I’d just had. I couldn’t help my reaction, the man turned me into a hussy in heat.

“Open your eyes,” he murmured, removing his hands. I had to blink a few times, letting my eyes adjust to the dim light in the room. Once everything came into focus a lump formed in my throat. It was beautiful. There were candles everywhere, on the tables and across the mantle of the fireplace, and rose petals sprinkled all over the floor. It looked like something from a movie.

“What’s all this for?”

He came to stand in front of me, taking my face in his hands. He stared into my eyes, a fierceness in his expression I’d never seen before.

“You mean the world to me Savannah; I want you to know that. I have something to ask you.”

Crazy boyfriend say what?

The sound of a record scratching reverberated in my head and my eye started to twitch. It was a full on all systems failure in my brain, neurons weren’t firing, and his words began to run in a loop.

I have something to ask you, I have something to ask you, I have something to ask you.

Pope’s voice broke through the haze. “So, will you?”

Oh shit, did he already ask and I missed it? He’s not down on one knee, and I don’t see a ring…what if he slipped some fucked up shit into the proposal? Addie always tells me not to agree to something I don’t fully understand. Fuck, I’m going to have to bite the bullet and tell him I wasn’t listening.

“Will I what?”

Pope grinned, clearly enjoying watching me off balance. “Go to the Policeman’s Ball with me. My parents will be there and they’re looking forward to meeting you.”

Holy hepatitis, Batman! That was better than a marriage proposal.

“You’re not fucking with me?”

The toothpaste commercial smile was out in full force. “No, I’m not fucking with you.”

I let out a scream and lunged. We both toppled to the floor in a mass of elbows and knees and lips and tongues.

Blue Lights and Boatmen

Chapter 1

Pope

New Orleans, Louisiana

Sunday.

The only day of the week I had to will myself out of bed. It was only two hours, tops. Two hours of absolute torture that no person on the planet should be subjected to. Two hours of sitting across the table from my father and listening to all the ways I’d screwed up my life in the most polite and condescending way imaginable. Of course, my father insisted on sitting on the terrace for brunch, to ensure not only civility from me, but that everyone passing by the Columns Hotel could see his perfect family enjoying a perfect meal at the perfect establishment. Image was the only thing that mattered and every moment was an opportunity to advertise our brand.

Yes, my fucking family had a brand. At least that’s what my father called it. My mother on the other hand, just wanted to listen to the music. The jazz brunch was her absolute favorite part of the week, and that was the only reason I still came.

Every. Fucking. Weekend.

I bit back a groan as I approached the front of the hotel. My parents and sister Katherine, were waiting for me, I’m sure because my father wanted to make a grand entrance with the entire Pope clan. This meant the first half of brunch would consist of my father telling me how unfortunate it was that I made my poor mother wait on the sidewalk.

“Quintin,” my father’s clipped voice grated on my already frayed nerves.

I kept my lips sealed; if I tried to speak I’d lose my cool and cause a scene, upsetting my mother and sister in the process. Swallowing my pride, I nodded at my father and offered my elbow to my baby sister who gave me a wink of solidarity as we made our way up toward the hostess.

The same hostess that had seated Savannah and I months ago was peering up over the hostess stand. “Good morning, Senator Pope. If you’ll just follow me, I’ve got your usual table all set up.”

Senator. The worst thing that ever happened to my family.