Swamp Happens: The Complete Swamp Bottom Series

by Cora Kenborn

  Wait a second.

  “Do you know her from somewhere?” I whispered as the blonde pop tart led us to our table with a little too much sway in her hips for my liking.

  “Huh? Oh, no, my parents are regulars.”

  “Will this be okay?” The tater tot asked, indicating to a small table on the expansive porch.

  “That'll be all right, thanks,” Pope answered without sparing her a second glance.

  Point for Officer McHottie.

  She lingered longer than necessary, finally giving up when Pope turned his attention to the menu.

  “So, you come here with your family?” I pressed, not wanting to let the little nugget of information slip through my grasp.

  He smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Yeah, they have this amazing jazz brunch every Sunday. They bring out a whole band and it turns into a mimosa-fueled party. Come to think of it, that might be why my mother insists on coming here every week.”

  “Sounds like my kind of woman, I can’t wait to meet her,” I said absently and instantly wanted to take it back.

  What the fuck, Sav? Did you just tell him you expected him to introduce you to his mother?

  “I didn’t mean… What I meant to say was… I just…” I floundered, unable to think of a way to get out of the hole I’d just dug myself.

  I’m an idiot.

  He must’ve seen the terror in my eyes because he burst out into a full-blown belly laugh. Patrons from the tables all around us stared at us, but Pope didn’t seem to care. He was too busy wiping the tears from his eyes.

  “The look on your face,” he wheezed.

  “It’s not funny!”

  “Yes, it is. But in all honesty, my family will love you. Especially my mother. She’s a bit eccentric.”

  Will? Like it’s a foregone conclusion?

  I ignored his continued laughter and pretended to look at the menu while mentally chastising myself. Pope was a born and bred Southern boy and telling him I wanted to meet his mother was the equivalent of showing him fucking china patterns.

  He didn’t let the awkwardness linger, instead, launching into the history of the hotel, and effectively distracting me from my inner turmoil. Before I knew it, an early evening chill had settled in the air, and the sun began to set. Pope paid the bill, and we headed back to the streetcar, leaving the pop tart drooling at the hostess stand.

  “Thank you for showing me around today.”

  He reached across the console and grabbed my hand. “You're welcome, I had fun showing you around. Next time you come here, I'll take you to the cemetery. It's like nothing you've ever seen before.”

  Next time? My stomach did a little flip.

  As much fun as I'd had with Pope over the last day or so, I'd still been unsure of where we stood. I'd never done the dating thing. Hooking up, I could do. Hanging out, no problem. Hell, I'd even shacked up with a few guys over the years, although it had never been a conscious decision. Instead, it was more like an agreement based on necessity or circumstance.

  There was Atticus, who’d basically hijacked my apartment. The summer after college, I’d lived in an old-school bus with Geoff and six other people, traveling the country. That ended with a blown motor in Memphis. Before that, I'd spent a semester living at a frat house with my college boyfriend, Patrick because my evil dorm mate, Colleen, had kicked me out.

  One little electrical fire and everyone went crazy.

  “I’ve always wanted to see Marie Laveau’s tomb.”

  Pope’s rumbling laughter filled the small cab of the Jeep. “I can make that happen.”

  I didn’t think I’d said anything funny, but I’d noticed Pope was easy to laugh and usually walked around with a perpetual smile on his face. While we’d walked the Garden District, he’d stopped to chat with people, his easy smile and those winking dimples drawing them in. More than once, a group had gathered around us while he was explaining the history of a particular building to me. Without skipping a beat, he’d raised his voice so everyone could hear and continued with his story.

  I adored that about him.

  Pope squeezed my hand gently, pulling me from my thoughts. “Do you want to go grab a drink or are you ready for bed? It’s been a long day.”

  He was so considerate, always making sure I was taken care of, no matter the situation. I hadn’t experienced that before. Despite my flighty ways, I’d always been the caretaker in the relationship, mostly because I’d only dated overgrown toddlers.

  There was that word again, dating. I had a virtually perfect man sitting next to me and I had no idea what to do with him.

  There’s one thing I can do with him.

  I grinned. “I think I’m ready for bed, but not for sleep.”

  His answering smile had me squirming in my seat.

  Pulling out my phone, I shot a quick text to Addie and let her know she’d be spending another night at Zep’s then promptly turned off my phone. She’d probably be pissed in the morning but for the moment, I didn’t give a single fuck. Maybe another night together would force them to figure their shit out.

  Walking into Pope’s house together felt strangely domestic. I’d spent the previous night there, but the way we moved around each other like we’d been doing it for years was a little unsettling.

  Strong arms slid around my waist from behind, pulling me back into a hard chest. The combination of heat coming off him and his lips on my neck turned my insides to liquid. “You’re thinking too much,” he whispered into my skin.

  “Hmm?” The time for intelligible thought had passed.

  “Good answer.” Without warning or preamble, he spun me around and swung me up into his arms. I squealed and scrambled to lock my arms around his neck.

  He chuckled, low and deep. “I wouldn’t let you fall.”

  Gasoline, meet fire.

  Dear God, how was it possible for this man to get even sexier?

  Pope carried my hot and bothered ass to the bedroom. I expected him to lay me gently in the middle of the bed, continuing with the insanely romantic night, but I was wrong. One second I was in the safe circle of his arms and the next I was flying through the air, landing with a bounce on the mattress. The full belly laugh that hit me couldn’t be helped. He was just so unexpected. Every time I thought I had him figured out, he’d do something completely out of left field, throwing me off once again.

  “There she is,” Pope murmured, crawling onto the bed and efficiently caging me in with an arm on either side of my head.

  My giggles died down, and I caught my breath. “What?”

  He kissed a trail down my neck. “I lost you in that fascinating brain of yours and needed to get you back.”

  I arched up, encouraging him to continue his journey. “I’m right here,” I whispered, my voice embarrassingly breathy.

  We kissed, nibbled, and pulled at each other for long minutes, getting lost. When we finally broke apart we were naked, I wasn’t sure if my lust had caused temporary amnesia or if our clothes had just disintegrated. Either way, I didn’t care.

  Pope’s big body crept down the length of my mine, and his shoulders settled between my thighs. Logically, I knew what his immediate plans were, but nothing could have prepared me for the sensation of his rough hands spreading me wide and that sweet mouth devouring every part of me.

  A strangled cry tore through my throat. “Fuck! Oh God, yes!”

  He pulled back slightly.

  No, no, don’t stop!

  “If you can talk, I’m not doing my job right.”

  Oh, wow. So, this is how I’m going to die. Not a bad way to go.

  I whimpered, reaching for his head to put it back where it belonged.

  Pope smiled wickedly. “That’s better.”

  If it was possible, he dove back in with even more enthusiasm. It took all of thirty seconds for my back to shoot off the bed and for his name to echo off the walls. He didn’t let up his ministrations as I floated back down to reality, instead, giving
me his fingers and sending me off the edge for the second time.

  I was boneless and drowsy when he finally climbed back up my body, my hands gliding over the sweat slicked skin of his arms to curl around his shoulders. Having been thoroughly wrung out, I was a limp noodle, but I wanted all of him.

  “I need…” I gasped between panting breaths.

  “Shh, I know what you need, baby.”

  I tasted myself on his tongue when he kissed me, and it made me dizzy with want. Sensing my restlessness, Pope hitched one of my knees over his elbow, making more room for himself and slid home. The feeling was so perfectly delicious that I saw stars. We moved together, chasing a crest that was fast approaching. He whispered filthy promises in my ear that drove me higher and higher until my body couldn’t take it anymore and broke apart.

  Pope followed closely after, coming with my name on his lips before collapsing on top of me. We laid like that for a long while, catching our breaths and letting the post-orgasm fog settle around us. I drew shapes on his back with my fingertips while he played with my hair, and we talked.

  We talked about anything and everything until the sun started to stain the dark sky, and we couldn’t keep our eyes open any longer. We fell asleep like that, holding onto one another, and I knew in my gut that it was going to be impossible to let go.

  15

  Righting Wrongs

  Adelaide

  New Orleans, Louisiana

  “So, do you prefer the group dates or the one-on-one hot tub screwfests?” I dangled the remote control over my head as Zep glared at me from his reclined position against the wall. “I find The Bachelor to be much more entertaining than The Bachelorette, don’t you?”

  “We’re not talking about this anymore,” he mumbled, his arms crossed in a closed-off position. However, we were far from finished. I’d found a chink in his armor, and I was going in with power tools.

  Giving him my sweetest smile, I pressed more buttons, activating the rest of his stored DVR programming. As I scrolled, my eyes widened, and I pressed my lips together to hold in the snort that begged to be set free. “Dancing With The Stars? Grey’s Anatomy? Oh, holy crap. Really, Zep? Pretty Little Liars?”

  Pointing a finger at me, he winced as I enunciated each word on purpose. “Stop, it, Addie. I don’t really watch that show. The girls are hot, all right? It’s like soft-core porn.”

  After vegging on Zep’s couch for over two Bachelor episodes, I’d finally started feeling like my old self again. Well, as much of myself as I’d been able to recover since being ejected from my house and turning my liver into a cesspool of toxic waste. While I wasn’t thrilled about being stranded with the one person I wanted to be with least in the universe, I wasn’t a monster, either. Savannah was my sister, and at least one of us deserved a little action in our love lives.

  Technically, I was still Mrs. Roland Christopher Bordeaux III, even if in name only. Sleeping over at another man’s house was as scandalous as I was willing to allow myself to be. However, I wasn’t about to let an opportunity to screw with Zep’s head pass by.

  “Well, you really should watch it, you know. Pretty Little Liars is awesome. I couldn’t believe it when we finally found out that the elusive “A” was really—” My head smacked against the back of the couch when, in three huge steps, Zep cleared the room and clamped a huge hand over my mouth.

  “Stop! Don’t say another word!” he growled with his brow drawn in frustration. “I swear, Adelaide Dubois, if you ruin season six for me, I will duct tape your mouth shut and make you watch eight hours of WWE Smackdown.”

  Grabbing his wrist, I jerked it off my mouth and threw my chin back in victory. “Ah-ha! I knew it! Oh my God, it’s true!” I stomped my foot under him, causing us both to shift and him to fall on top of me.

  Leaning against me, he wedged his knee in between mine, and I made the mistake of glancing into his eyes. A thin layer of ice coated a smoldering stare that seemed to penetrate through me. More than anything, I wanted to tear away and push him off me, but something deeper wanted to melt the frozen coating in his eyes and make him laugh again.

  “What’s true? What the hell are you talking about?”

  “You! You cook. You clean. You watch chick shows. It’s official. You have a vagina.”

  Zep’s face twisted into horrified shock. “Damn it, Addie, give me the fucking remote!” Holding me down with one hand flat against my chest, he used the other to swipe at the air, attempting to grab the piece of plastic I waved like a red flag.

  The feeling of his hand on me, coupled with my determination to piss him off, fueled my refusal to answer him. Our eyes locked in a battle of wills neither of us planned to lose. “Oh, don’t be so crabby, Zephirin. I won’t tell anyone your dirty little secret.” I smiled sweetly and licked my bottom lip. “Well, no one except a few close friends, but they won’t tell anyone. It’s just girl talk.”

  He didn’t appreciate my humor.

  At all.

  Letting out a string of curses, Zep lunged for the remote again, knocking me both of us off the couch and sending us tumbling to the floor. My back hit the carpet with a thud, all the breath whooshing from my lungs the moment he landed on top of me. I fought for my own watered down curse as the remote fell out of my hands. Without stopping to check on my well-being, Zep snatched it up and threw it across the room.

  Memories flooded my head in swirls of excitement and anger. I didn’t want to remember them, yet with Zep LeBlanc lying directly on top of me, they wouldn’t stop playing like a home movie in my head.

  So many hours spent after school, giggling at the burly football player who I’d written off as a dumb pothead jock, only to discover he was one of the most intelligent people I’d ever met. Anxiety over long good-byes beside my piece-of-shit Toyota, wondering if he wanted to kiss me and petrified that he would. And bonfires that ended my world, turning me into a cynical shell who valued a dollar more than a kind word.

  “Get off me, Zep. I’m married,” I demanded in a flat tone.

  Instead of moving, he tightened his grip on my wrists and held them over my head. “You’re separated, and what would your douchebag of an ex think of his perfect Adelaide last night, huh? Drunk, swearing like a truck driver, and throwing up everything but her shoes. Not to mention how she’s so far removed from the pedigree he stamped stamped on her—”

  “Watch it.”

  “Forehead,” he finished, raising a brow.

  “You have no right to judge me.”

  Screw this. Screw all of this. I didn’t play games with people, much less him. Attitudes like his were the exact reason I left Terrebonne in the first place. I escaped to Shreveport to get out from under Zep LeBlanc’s thumb. How the hell did I manage to find myself underneath him? Being forced to work together was one thing, but I was thirty goddamn years old, not seventeen. I didn’t have to put up with anyone’s shit anymore.

  “And you have no right to judge anyone, Addie.” The corners of his eyes turned down as he pressed my wrists into the floor. “God, what happened to you? The old Addie would have come back at me, fought with me, and told me to go to hell. What happened to the Addie from your Pappy’s wake? Did you drive back to Shreveport and have your rich ass friends shove a stick up your ass again? Do you think they're watching you?” Lowering his face dangerously close, he grinned wickedly. “That’s it, isn’t it? You think they're watching you and will assume you’re slumming with some low-life, blue-collar fisherman.”

  Without asking for permission, the worst thought crossed my mind. One that would ruin everything if it were true. Forcing myself to look him in the eye, I clenched my jaw. “There’s no way to say this but to just say it.” I took a deep breath and let it out. “Last night, I don’t remember much after passing out. We didn’t… You didn’t… God, we didn’t sleep together, did we?”

  Zep gleefully taunted me with a sneer I wanted to smack off his face. “What does your body tell you, Addie?”

  “T
hat I should leave!” I screamed while attempting to wiggle out from underneath him.

  Roaming his eyes down my barely clad legs, he smirked as he settled them back on my face. “Your clothes aren’t done.”

  “I’ll wear them damp.”

  He pulled away, confusion crossing his face as he released my hands and balanced on one elbow. “You’re going to walk around New Orleans in wet clothes?” I nodded stubbornly. “And go where? Who’s going to drive you?”

  I wasn’t ashamed to admit I was a brilliant marketing manager. I excelled in college and in any non-profit organization Roland put me in charge of after we were married. I took the reins and had every television, radio, and social media outlet singing our praises. I was comfortable in the spotlight when I wasn’t talking about myself. A master negotiator, I thought quickly on my feet.

  Unless I stood in front of Zephirin LeBlanc. Then I turned into JoJo The Circus Clown.

  So, I did what all Dubois women did when it came time to make stupid decisions.

  “I’m calling Babs,” I snapped, pushing him off me. Stomping toward his bedroom, I stopped to grab my purse and refused to look back as I slammed the door, locking it for good measure.

  “Adelaide, why you sound like dick-on-stick?”

  Rubbing my temples, I sat cross-legged on Zep’s king-sized black comforter picking at loose threads. My grandmother’s aging voice carried through the line as if she’d had her own night of eighty-proof indulgences. As mad as I was, her garbled swearing made me smile despite my situation.

  “Shit-on-a-stick.”

  “Most people use toilet, but you kids do crazy thing these days.”

  “No, Babs, I…” Shaking my head, I flopped back on the pillow, which did me no favors, because the scent of sea salt filled my nose, scrambling my thoughts. “You know what? Never mind.”

  “Stop beating around tree. Tell Babs what man got you so crazy.”