Swamp Happens: The Complete Swamp Bottom Series

by Cora Kenborn

  “I have plenty of conversations with my dick, thank you.”

  “Well, you might want to inform it that it’s been separated from its balls for over a decade because of Addie Dubois. You’re hopeless, man. Just admit it and get her to admit it as well before you both fuck this up.”

  I narrowed my eyes at him. “You got all this from observing a dinner?”

  “Your mom and I run in the same bartending circles. She might have mentioned it.”

  I flung the coaster across the bar. “Son of a bitch.”

  “Don’t blame her,” he warned, picking up the coaster and tossing it in the trash. “She needed to confide in someone. We have a code—no snitching.”

  “You snitched to me.”

  Michael leaned onto the bar and folded both hands in front of him. “Snitching to the subject isn’t snitching. It’s fixing the problem when the subjects have their heads up their own asses.”

  I groaned and pinched the bridge of my nose. “Shut up and pour me another shot.”

  “Whatever you say, boss.” Letting out a laugh, he reached for the bottle again.

  After Cole and the guys struck out with the women at the end of the bar, we talked for a little while longer before the bar started getting too crowded for my taste. Tossing a few dollar bills from of my wallet, I stared at my phone, willing myself not to text Addie. As I scrolled my fingers over her name, I looked up to find Cole leaning over my shoulder. Jerking my phone away, I scowled hard as a wide smirk broke the corners of his mouth.

  Throwing his head back, he laughed while pounding the bar with his fist. “Zep, you motherfucking dog! You’re getting ass behind her back!”

  I froze. “Behind who’s back?”

  A whoosh of air sucked in behind me as the door opened, and his eyes diverted. “Josie,” he announced, puckering his lips and kissing the air.

  “Man, I’m not seeing Jo—”

  “Hey, Big Sexy.”

  When you die, they say your life flashes in front of your eyes. No one talks about what you see when you come face to face with the woman you meant to dump but forgot to because you’ve been having marathon sex with your dream girl.

  Hallmark didn’t make a card for that. If they did, I’d have been all over that shit. Breaking up by greeting card was an untapped industry.

  Cole stood and engulfed her in an unnecessary hug, his hands dangerously close to her ass. “Josie, it’s good to see you again, darlin’. Haven’t seen you around much lately.”

  She hugged him back as if she’d rather reach for a can of mace. “A pleasure as always, Cole.”

  Turning slowly in my chair, I took in the woman I used to get Addie out of my system. It wasn’t fair, and to be honest, it made me a giant asshole. Josie Gereaux was hot; there was no denying that. She kept in shape, and out of the business suit she wore, she looked like she just walked off the pages of a Playboy centerfold. She had a tanned, tight, and toned little body. But it’d held my interest for only so long, and then I was done. I didn’t want to talk, hang out, or get to know her family.

  Ma always called Josie “Addie-Light”. She tended to talk in bartender terms a lot and claimed Josie was like a Bud Light—half the calories and half the taste but at the end of the night, none of the buzz or satisfaction of the real thing.

  Well said, Ma.

  Once Cole released her, Josie threw her arms around me, and I patted her back, immediately pulling away. “Jo, it’s good to see you.”

  She tilted her chin and ran her nails along my hairline, causing my shoulders to draw up around my ears. “What’s wrong, baby? You seem tense.”

  Tense? No, I wasn’t tense—ready to crawl out of my skin and slither out of the door to get away from her—but not tense.

  “I have work tomorrow,” I answered in a low voice, as if that answered for ignoring her for two weeks. “I need to get home.”

  Her eyes lit up like I’d just rolled out the red carpet. Sliding a hand down the front of my chest, she leaned in and dusted her lips across my cheek. “Want some company?”

  It’d be easy to put her off and walk out. Confrontation hadn’t been on my to-do list when I agreed to come to Bourbon Street. However, as I started to make up an excuse, a memory flashed through my head, making the decision for me.

  Terrebone Parish, Louisiana

  Thirteen Years Ago

  Lindsey curled her fingers around my neck and settled deeper onto my lap, the fire flickering behind the halo of her blonde hair as she turned up the beer bottle. “What do you say we get out of here?”

  I was more than ready. I’d already drunk my weight in beer at the bonfire trying to erase Addie’s acid words. Giving Lindsey’s long hair a tug, I stared into her eyes, trying to find some semblance of the bright honey-dipped eyes that had looked at me with so much adoration only a few days ago. All I found were flat green ones swimming in cheap hops.

  Addie would never forgive me for what I’d done, so I might as well seal my fate. “Sounds good to me. What do you have in mind?” Releasing her hair, I gave the top of her ass a light slap.

  She smiled and nodded toward my truck. “We don’t have to go far.”

  Lindsey Lovell was the class pump. I knew it when I invited her to the bonfire, and I didn’t think past that. I’d used sex and booze to dull pain since I was old enough to know how to use my dick and saw no need to stop something that worked for me.

  Addie Dubois was a bump in the road—a mistake who’d be better off in the long run for what I’d done. She was getting too attached.

  Lies.

  I was the one getting too attached, and I’d be damned if I’d do to her what my old man did to my ma. If I didn’t end this now, she’d just end up hating me—and that’d kill me.

  With one hand tucked under Lindsey’s ass and one hand dangling my keys, I stumbled to my truck. We hadn’t walked ten feet when I locked eyes with familiar swirling brown ones filled with so much hate I had to look away. Addie stood at the edge of the field in white cut-off shorts, and a red halter top that accented the red in her long auburn hair. She glared at me with her fists curled by her sides, and I’d never felt like such a worthless shit in my life.

  As much as I knew I should’ve just taken Lindsey to my truck and let Addie watch, I couldn’t do it. Not to her.

  Not to my Addie.

  Dropping Lindsey to her feet, I took a deep breath and began what felt like a death march over to the only girl who’d ever have my heart.

  New Orleans, Louisiana

  Present day

  I blinked at Josie again as she repeated her offer. “Want some company?”

  I didn’t have to think about it. I wouldn’t bring Lindsey to the bonfire twice in one lifetime. “No thanks.”

  She released her hold on me, and her smile faded, replaced by disbelief. “I’m sorry, did you say no thanks?”

  I raked a hand over my face before leveling a stare at her. It bothered me that I felt nothing. “Jo, you’re a nice person, but—”

  “Nice?” Her voice strained as the muscles in her neck tightened. “I’m fucking nice? Are you kidding me? Is this your way of breaking up with me?”

  Screw what Addie wanted. “I’m with someone.”

  Fire blazed in her eyes as she slammed her purse down on the bar. “Well, that’s just perfect. You’re with someone. Congratu-fucking-lations, Zephirin. I’m happy for you. How long have you been dicking me around?”

  I opened my mouth to defend myself then closed it. I’d been sleeping with Addie for three weeks behind her back. Josie and I weren’t exclusive, but I still should’ve ended it a long time ago.

  “It’s not like that, Jo. She’s not some random woman I met. I’ve had a thing for her since high school.” Nodding to a stunned Cole, I turned to leave when five red painted nails dug into my arm.

  “It’s that Dubois woman, isn’t it? The one I rented the house to.”

  “No.”

  “It is,” she insisted, her face full o
f recognition. “I remember the death glares she kept giving me that day. I couldn’t figure out why, but it all makes sense now. You’d mentioned you went to school with one of them.”

  I raised an eyebrow at her. “You done?”

  She clucked her tongue. “Messing around with a married woman is dangerous territory, Zep. It could ruin a woman’s reputation.”

  Threats didn’t bother me, but threats against Addie raged a fire in me few people ever saw. Prying her fingers off my arm, I leaned in close so no one else could hear. “So can pictures. Remember the ones you sent me? Not very complimentary of one of NOLA’s highest paid realtors.”

  Her eyes widened. “You wouldn’t.”

  “Try me.” Letting out the breath I’d been holding, I stepped backward and said goodbye to the guys. As the door closed behind me, I heard Jo ordering something strong while snapping at Michael to keep them coming.

  Josie Gereaux’s hurt feelings were the least of my problems. I had to go home and somehow figure out how to tell Addie I told the biggest gossip in New Orleans we were sleeping together.

  34

  My Kind of Perfect

  pope

  New Orleans, Louisiana

  Even if Stevie Nicks’ “Whole Lotta Trouble” hadn't been pouring out of my sound system when I walked through the front door, I would’ve known Savannah was there instantly. Something about her just filled up a space. There was an energy that seemed to pulse around her I couldn’t quite explain.

  Hanging my keys up and setting my duffle bag down, I crept into the kitchen where the sounds of her off-key singing told me I’d find her. She was awful. She was talented and artistic in so many other ways, but her singing voice would make the drunkest karaoke singer cringe. I stopped at the doorway to the kitchen and watched her for a moment while she stood at the island facing away from me, completely oblivious to my presence.

  The kitchen looked like a disaster zone. Bowls and measuring cups littered every available surface, and I prayed to God she wasn’t trying to cook me something. Again, Savannah had many talents, but cooking, much like singing, wasn’t one of them. Among the mayhem of whatever project she worked on was a large mason jar filled with freshly picked wildflowers from the front garden. They were a splash of vibrant beauty in an otherwise chaotic scene, just like the woman in front of me.

  I took stock of her as she danced in place and sang along to the music. Her long brown hair, currently highlighted with streaks of blonde for the summer, was a mess of tousled waves hanging around her shoulders. I smiled at the daisies she’d braided into a few random strands.

  Looking at Savannah when she didn’t know anyone was watching was like gazing at pure sunshine. She was happiness and freedom personified. If I could bottle up her essence and sell it, I’d be a millionaire overnight.

  She was wearing a dark gray tank top, which I guessed was her own creation, gauging by the rips and knots tied into it. I’d quickly learned that almost everything Savannah wore had a story and a piece of history. She usually hacked her clothes to pieces before putting them back together again as something unique. Most of her clothes were either thrift store finds she’d customized to her own unique style or pieces she’d made herself. Her originality was one of the things I both loved and envied about her the most. There was no one on Earth quite like Savannah Dubois.

  I let my eyes drift down her body to those swinging hips and the cut-off denim shorts plastered to her backside. Her ass made me want to fall to my knees and worship the ground at her feet while simultaneously locking her away so no man could ever ogle her again. I wasn’t an idiot. I saw how men looked at her when we were in public, and it only got worse the longer they watched her. Savannah was a knockout; there was no question about it. However, anyone who’d ever spent more than a few minutes in her company would tell you her looks weren’t even in the top five of her best qualities.

  It was nearly impossible to rip my eyes from her swinging hips, but I managed to follow the line of her toned, bronzed legs all the way down to her bare feet. She lifted one foot to rub against the opposite calf, revealing a dirty sole which meant that she probably walked barefoot out to the garden to get the flowers. I had to stifle my laugh. If I’d learned one thing about Savannah, it was that she had an unusual aversion to footwear. If it were socially acceptable, I was positive that the woman would be barefoot all the time.

  I couldn’t help the stupid grin I knew was plastered across my face as I watched her doing God only knew what science experiment in my kitchen. Just then, something nudged at my leg. Looking down, I locked eyes with Kevin Junior Bacon Cheeseburger. Not wanting to alert Savannah to my presence just yet, I put my finger to my lips in a shushing gesture.

  Great, now she’s got me talking to the pig like he’s a real person.

  I swore I saw him roll his eyes before turning around and heading back into the living room. Maybe Savannah was onto something. That pig really was smart.

  I moved toward her, careful not to alert her to my presence. When I was close enough to smell the sweet lavender lotion she always wore, I slipped my hands around her waist. At the unexpected contact, Savannah let out a bloodcurdling scream and flailed. I jerked back to avoid a face full of elbow, only to step on something soft and be met with another with a high-pitched squeal, only this time from Kevin. He must have circled back around and come up behind me while I was sneaking up on Savannah.

  I jumped forward to avoid hurting him and lost my balance. Savannah windmilled her arms, trying to keep herself from slipping, but it was no use. When I pitched forward to avoid crushing Kevin, I threw us both off balance, and we fell to the floor. My arm caught one of the utensils she had splayed all over the island on the way down, and it clattered to the floor along with our bodies. I opened my eyes when we hit the ground to find a fine mist of pink dust settling all around us.

  What the hell?

  Savannah groaned and pulled herself up on her elbows.

  I brushed away the hair that had fallen across her face and inspected what I could see of her for any damage. “Are you okay, babe?”

  A grin stretched across her lips, and she burst out laughing. The minute her giggles started to subside, she caught another glimpse of me, and it started all over again.

  If she doesn’t knock it off, I’m going to get a complex.

  Reaching out, I cradled the back of her head and rolled us so that she was pinned underneath me. “What’s so funny?”

  When she didn’t answer, I knew it was time to kick things up a notch. There was one sure-fire way to get Savannah to spill her dirty little secret. Reaching down, I dug my fingers into her side until she was squirming and squealing like Kevin.

  “Mercy, mercy!” she screamed while futilely swatting at my hands.

  As soon as I ceased my assault, she shot her arms out and tried to return the favor. However, there was a major flaw in her plan because I wasn’t ticklish. I watched in amusement as her face contorted with each new attempt. Putting her out of her misery, I reached down and circled both her wrists in my much larger hands and brought them to rest above her head on the tile floor. Securing both wrists in one hand, I brought the other down and traced my thumb across her cheek, wiping away the speckled splatter of dust that was there.

  I examined the powder, rubbing it between my thumb and forefinger. “What is this stuff?”

  “Mica dye powder—we must’ve knocked down one of my pots in the fall.” She giggled and struggled against my hold.

  I released her wrists and braced myself on my elbow above her. “I see, and what are you doing in here? Besides making a mess, of course.”

  “Soap. I got a special order, and I had to do it over here because Addie said the smell of patchouli made her want to gag.” She rolled her eyes as if her sister were the only overly dramatic one in the family.

  Sitting up, I pulled her with me. “Have you been selling a lot?”

  Addie had convinced Savannah to take her jewelry making busines
s online about a month ago, and since then, she’d expanded from just selling her wire jewelry to include bath and body products. I hadn’t realized what all women used on a daily basis until Savannah started explaining all the different products she was making.

  We stood, and I helped her dust the non-existent dirt from her ass. She was more than a hot body, but I still had a dick.

  Swatting at my hands, she grinned up at me. “Actually, it’s getting hard to keep up with the demand.”

  I frowned as I reached out and gripped her hips, pulling her closer to me. I had an undeniable need to touch her whenever she was around. It was like a compulsion. “I hope you’re not working yourself too hard. I don’t want you to get burned out.”

  “I’m not. I love every minute of it.” She wound her arms around my neck and did a little hop, forcing me to grip her tighter so she wouldn’t fall. As she wrapped her legs around my waist, I laughed and turned toward the island, wearing Savannah like a backward backpack. Bowls and utensils clinked and rattled as I swiped an arm across the countertop, clearing a place before I set her down.

  My hands slid up and down the outside of her bare legs as my nose traced the line of her neck. Everything about the woman in front of me was perfect, but everything that made her unique and beautifully flawed were the things my father would zero in on and pick apart. Thinking of my father brought to mind the impending garbage fire that was about to take place at the ball the next day.

  “Are you all set for tomorrow?” I asked.

  “Yep, Ads is going help me get ready at the house, and she's watching Kevin for me this weekend so I don’t have to worry about him.”

  “Good, I want you all to myself this weekend. No distractions, no wet noses, or beady little eyes to distract us.” I gave Kevin a pointed look.

  I liked Kevin just fine. He was cute, and he made Savannah happy, which in turn made me happy. But if I caught him staring at us while I went to town on her beautiful body one more time, I’d lose my shit. It was distracting and creepy to have a pig in the corner of your bedroom watching you give it to your girlfriend. I was afraid I’d develop performance anxiety with the little swine sitting there judging me.