by Sandra Hill
She knew that Tante Lulu or Aunt Mel, or both, were already down in the kitchen by the smells wafting upstairs. Bacon, for sure. Maybe sausage, as well. But a sweet smell, as well. Homemade beignets?
Aunt Mel was the only one in the kitchen, wearing an ankle-length, brightly floral, muumuu-style house dress and red slides. Her gray-threaded dark hair framed attractive Aleutian features, and, yes, she was still attractive at fifty-something.
The older woman glanced up and smiled from where she was sprinkling powdered sugar on the warm fried pastries, which had been draining on paper towels. “Good morning,” she said warmly in welcome.
“Good morning. Sorry I overslept. I should have been down here helping out.”
“No problem, sweetie.”
Getting closer, Fleur saw that she had been correct at guessing beignets, the absolutely delicious New Orleans specialty, served for breakfast, dessert, or anytime a sweet tooth addict needed a fix. But not for the diet conscious. Which Fleur hadn’t been. Until now.
Oh, well, maybe next week she would think about cutting back. For now, she took a huge bite out of one of the beignets, washed it down with a sip of strong Creole coffee, and almost swooned.
Mel watched her reaction. “They’re that good, aren’t they?”
“Yeees! Did you make them?”
“Tante Lulu made them, but I fried them.”
“Where is she?”
“Off with Daniel and Brother Brian, checking out the cottages to see what needs to be done before our ‘guests’ arrive.” She arched her eyebrows at Fleur, as if warning her about what was to come.
“Uh-oh. I take it Daniel is not a happy camper.”
“You could say that.”
“And Aaron?”
“He went to the airport to pick up Brother Jake . . . I know, it’s hard saying that, isn’t it? Somehow, priest and the name Jake just don’t jive together. Oh, well. Aaron will also be bringing a couple of nuns, and heaven only knows who else.”
Fleur winced. “This really is an imposition, isn’t it?”
Mel put her hands up in a “Not my problem!” manner. “Not for me to say. I can always go back to Juneau if it gets too crowded here.”
Fleur sat down at the table and motioned for Mel to join her with her own cup of coffee. And, yes, Fleur was eating another beignet. So, sue me, she said to her nagging conscience. To which, the voice replied, They are heavenly.
“Aaron wanted to go up and wake you before he left, but I wouldn’t let him,” Mel said with a twinkle in her eyes. “He had that mischievous look on his face.”
Fleur felt herself blush and decided a change of subject was called for. “Tell me about yourself, Mel, and how you’re connected to Aaron and Daniel.”
“Well, you know I’m gay, right?” She paused, probably wondering how a nun, or almost-nun, would react to that revelation.
Not my business to judge! “Yes, I knew that. But you met Claire Doucet when she already had the twins, right?”
Mel took a sip of coffee and nodded. “And I was married. Turns out we were both latent homosexuals. When we met, she was a premed student and I had just bought a fledgling air shipping business from the proceeds of a divorce from my husband, best known as The Asshole. Oops, forgive my language.”
“That’s okay. I’ve heard worse.”
“Barry Manilow first brought us together, we liked to say.” Mel smiled. “In fact, I met Claire in a music store where we both reached, at the same time, for Barry’s second studio album that featured the song ‘Mandy.’ We were never apart after that, until the day she died.” Mel’s voice went husky with emotion at those last words.
Fleur reached across and squeezed her hand. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to stir up bad memories.”
“No, no! Those were good memories.”
“Tell me about Claire.”
“She was a remarkable woman. I know, I’m prejudiced, but she really was. Her family kicked her out when she got pregnant as a teenager by that horndog Valcour LeDeux. Luckily, he gave her some money, just to get rid of her, probably figuring she’d get rid of the babies, though she didn’t know then that she’d have twins. Not that it would have made any difference. Anyhow, she moved as far away from Louisiana as she could get, and that was Alaska. Almost immediately, she decided that she was going to become a doctor, and she did. Lots of skimping and ramen noodle dinners and tiny little low-income apartments. But she made it, and she raised two fine boys.”
“You were a close family,” she guessed.
“Very. And the boys were especially close, being twins and all. I don’t know how they’re going to deal with the separation.”
“What separation?” She had a vague memory of Aaron mentioning something about Daniel and Samantha moving, but she couldn’t recall the details.
“It’s not official, but Daniel is about to accept a new job in Baton Rouge. They won’t move until after the babies are born, of course.”
“You mean, Aaron will be alone here on this plantation?”
“Maybe,” Mel said, eyeing her speculatively.
“That man!” Fleur exclaimed, knowing what Mel was thinking. “Can you honestly see me acting like some mistress of a plantation?” She assumed that Mel now knew about her background. “Face it: A modern day Scarlett O’Hara I am not, nor could I ever be.”
“I doubt that’s what Aaron would want you to be. And this is no Tara, for darn sure.”
“People would condemn Aaron.”
Mel shrugged. “They already condemn him for some of his wild ways—well, former wild ways. Frankly, my dear,” Mel said with a grin, “you need to stop dwelling on the past, and worrying about other people’s opinions. What do you really want?”
Fleur’s eyes misted, and a lump formed in her throat. “Why are you being so nice to me?” she choked out.
Mel got up and came around the table to sit on the bench beside her. Putting an arm around her shoulder, Mel kissed the top of her head and said, “Child, it’s time to forgive yourself.”
“In these few moments, you’ve acted more like a mother to me than my mother ever did.” Fleur proceeded to explain the rejection by her parents when she’d been rescued by the Magdas.
“Honey, do you know what my mother said when she found out I was gay?” Mel said. “She said I was sickening and destined for hell. That was before she told me to get out and never come back.”
Thus it was that when Aaron returned, he found Fleur crying on Mel’s shoulder, and the older woman leaking tears, as well, and intermittently, both of them giggling. Along with Aaron were an equally shocked, or at least surprised, hunky priest, with salt-and-pepper hair cut short in a high-and-tight style, his military-buff body encased in a short-sleeve black shirt with clerical collar and belted black slacks, and three nuns in religious street garb—short-sleeve, calf-length, black dresses and short white veils, no wimple or half-circular breast cloths, but there were huge wooden crucifixes hanging from long chains around their necks, and big rosary beads dangling on the side from twisted rope belts. They all would have provided an attraction out in public, clearly being of religious orders, especially the big-bodied Sister Mary Michael, who matched Brother Jake in height and looked as if she could carry all their luggage, by herself.
And, boy, is there a lot of it! Fleur noticed with alarm. Are they planning a long stay?
After blinking several times in disbelief at Fleur and his aunt, who were no longer sobbing, but dabbing at their eyes with Tante Lulu’s St. Jude paper napkins, Aaron asked, “What’s going on here? Have you two been hitting the bourbon? For breakfast?”
“No, Mr. Sensitivity,” Mel told him. “Fleur and I just decided”—she glanced at Fleur and winked—“we decided that tomorrow is another day.”
Chapter Eleven
He and Rhett had a lot in common . . .
Aaron was in the dining room, which had been converted into a war room by the Bayou Commander, the name soon given to Brother Jake b
y both Aaron and Daniel after watching with amazement as he ordered everyone about like an Army drill sergeant. Well, not Army since he was a former Navy SEAL. Still, he had taken over Bayou Rose like Patton storming Normandy.
“Aaron, put those computers over there.”
“Somebody, go put a cover over that bird cage. If I hear ‘Holy shit!’ one more time, I’m gonna duct tape its beak.”
“Hey, hey, hey! That’s my wife’s pet, Clarence,” Dan said, although everyone knew she couldn’t stand the cockatoo, either, and would give it away to a good home, if only someone would offer.
Brother Jake didn’t even apologize. He just grunted and continued with his orders. “MM, where’s that black suitcase that holds all my maps?” MM was his nickname for Sister Mary Michael, whose name he deemed too much of a mouthful.
“Snake, my man! Where you been hiding? Did you get the latest intel from the ranch? No, you better go check. I don’t do blind dates. The exchange date has been moved up, again, you know.”
Luckily, Snake had locked up all of Samantha’s other pets, who continued to follow him around like the Pied Piper. He could hear the unhappy cats, and pig, and dog barking and meowing and oinking below in a storage room. Otherwise, Brother Jake might commandeer them into some job or other, too.
“Can you find some extension cords, Mel? Preferably heavy duty.”
“Holy hell! The wireless here is weak as piss. You better call your cable company, Dan, and see what you can do about amping up the speed.”
Needless to say, he didn’t hesitate to use a few curse words, which caused Tante Lulu to wince and reprimand him, “Jist ’cause ya look like a fallen angel, doan mean ya kin swear like the devil. Watch yer potty mouth, or I’ll show ya some ampin’ up.”
Taken aback for a second, Brother Jake then laughed and picked up Tante Lulu, lifting her high in the air and giving her a big kiss on the cheek. “Sweetheart, if I weren’t a priest, I’d be chasin’ your tail like Roger Rabbit on Jessica Rabbit. You got any more of those ben-yays? You’re surely a saint in the kitchen. Some coffee, too. Blonde and sweet, like before. But more sugar this time.”
Tante Lulu made a harrumphing sound, but she was obviously pleased as she went off to bring the dictator more of the pastries, of which he’d already wolfed down at least a half dozen. That was all he needed! More sugar and caffeine to hype him up!
“Aaron, see if you can contact that brother or half brother or whatever he is of yours, the one that’s a cop.”
“John LeDeux?”
“Yeah. He needs to know that New Orleans police spotted Miguel Vascone at the Silver Stud last night.”
Maybe I should go there myself tonight, and kill the bastard, Aaron thought.
“I know what you’re thinking, LeDeux,” the Dictator said.
Does everybody know I have the hots for Fleur?
“Don’t you dare go off half-cocked on your own,” Brother Jake ordered. “No weapons!”
Aaron bristled. As Tante Lulu was wont to say, This guy is getting on my last nerve. Instead, he responded with, “They have a saying here in the South. ‘Some men need killin’.’” He wasn’t sure if he meant Miguel or the bossy priest.
The bossy priest assumed he meant Miguel. “I can’t argue with that, but the Street Apostles are a nonviolent group. No killing, unless in defense or unless absolutely necessary. You already know this.”
Yeah, I do. Dammit! “I’ll do it later, then,” Aaron said with a grumble.
“They lost track of the tango in the French Quarter, anyway.” Tango was a Navy SEAL term for a bad guy. “Oh, and tell your brother John that some Mexican dudes have been asking questions about Tante Lulu around Bayou Black. Some lady at Boudreaux’s General Store chased them out with a broom.”
How did this guy, who’d just arrived in Louisiana, know so much? He must have contacts all over the place. That was good, for the mission, Aaron supposed. But it didn’t stop him from being a major asshole.
Aaron was glad that Tante Lulu had left the room. If she’d heard the news about Boudreaux’s, one of her favorite haunts, she’d be storming down the bayou with her own broom . . . or an AK-47. And she wouldn’t give a damn about any nonviolence rule.
When Brother Jake began tacking maps on the wall, Dan yanked Aaron outside. “Oh, my God! Good thing we’re moving, or Samantha would be chasing that guy with a measuring stick, priest or no priest. Do you have any idea how much that wallpaper cost? Two hundred dollars a roll!”
Personally, Aaron didn’t think anyone had any business spending that much money on wallpaper, but he wasn’t about to tell that to Dan . . . or Samantha. “Your mistake was coming back to the house,” Aaron pointed out.
“I needed some more clothes, but I’m outta here now. I have a consult in a half hour. You’re on your own, bro.”
“Lucky you! Actually, I need to go to work, too. Remy’s swamped.”
Aaron walked Dan to his car.
“Where’s Fleur, by the way?” Dan asked.
“Helping Mother Jacinta up at the cottages. Call me later and let me know how Samantha’s doing.”
“Will do.”
On the way back around the side of the house, Aaron noticed Mother Jacinta and Sister Carlotta walking down the narrow roadway from the cottages toward the mansion. Fleur must still be up at the cottages. Alone.
The two nuns were talking animatedly and didn’t even notice him. Not that he was hiding from them. He just didn’t have time to chat before leaving for work . . . and doing some other things.
He waited until they’d entered the kitchen before he headed up toward Magnolia, the last cottage refurbished so far. It was the most traditional of them all, being painted a creamy white.
Fleur was bending over the sofa, fluffing the cushions and arranging some throw pillows. For a moment, he just leaned against the doorjamb, enjoying the view. Idly, he made a mental note to call Ed before he left and remind him to hang a screen door ASAP, or whoever stayed here would be bitten alive by mosquitoes or those blasted no-see-ums once dusk hit the bayou.
When Fleur straightened, she noticed him. “How long you been standing there?”
“Just long enough to admire your heart-shaped ass in those tight pants.”
“In crude mode again, Aaron? Tsk, tsk! Back to the New Raunchy You, I see,” she said.
“Nah. Back to the old raunchy me.”
“My pants aren’t tight.”
“They are when you bend over. Do it again, and I’ll show you.”
“Not a chance.” She laughed.
At least she was laughing.
And, man, what was she was wearing on top? It looked like a black bra, but it was probably one of those running things. Was she planning on jogging? Regardless, her top was made of some stretchy material that molded her breasts and lifted them. Which, of course, reminded him of how sensitive her breasts had been under his hands and mouth last night, so sensitive she’d climaxed.
She knew what he was thinking, too, he could tell, and not just because his eyes were latched on the twin mounds. She was looking at his hands, and his mouth. Under his perusal, the nipples pearled against the tight fabric.
Good sign!
She backed up a step and asked, “Did you want something, Aaron?”
“Oh, yeah.” He stepped inside and closed the door behind him.
She blushed and backed up another step. “I mean, did you come here for some particular purpose?”
“Oh, yeah,” he repeated. One more step backward, sweetie, he urged silently. It wouldn’t take many steps for her to reach his goal. The cottage was small, an advantage in his present ulterior calculations.
She backed into the counter of the kitchenette, right where he wanted her. He barely stifled a grin of satisfaction.
“I’ve come to collect my apology kisses,” he said.
“Oh, that!”
“Yes, that,” he said, moving in closer. “Remember what Aunt Mel said earlier today?”
/> “Huh?” She tried to laugh, but she was nervous.
Good! Nervous is good.
“Are you saying your aunt gave you the idea for kissing?”
“I got that idea all on my own, darlin’.” He put a hand on either side of her on the counter, which was just a bar separating the tiny living room from the tiny kitchen. She was trapped now. “It’s about that line that Aunt Mel tossed out from Gone with the Wind. The ‘Tomorrow is another day’ one.”
She tilted her head at him. “You’re a Gone with the Wind fan?”
“Not exactly. Next to Barry Manilow, Mom and Aunt Mel loved that movie. Dan and I couldn’t help but watch it sometimes.”
“And that has what to do with—”
He lifted her to set her butt on the bar so he could step between her legs. The counter was just the right height.
“—this?” she squeaked out.
“Her quote reminded me of my favorite line in the film. Rhett tells Scarlett, ‘You should be kissed by someone who knows how.’”
She made an exaggerated tsking sound. “Your humility knows no bounds. Now you’re saying that you’re an expert kisser.”
“It’s one of my top three talents. In fact, you could say I’m a world-class kisser.” He had a sudden idea. And those were the best kind, by the way. If he was able to make Fleur come by touching her breasts, what if he could do the same by just kissing?
Now there was a challenge!
He smiled.
She pretended to sigh and said, “Oh, Rhett.” Then she burst out laughing. She probably thought she could deflect him with mockery.
He was not to be deflected.
And she wasn’t laughing for long.
THIS was his idea of kissing? . . .
After the meltdown Fleur and Mel had engaged in this morning, Fleur made a decision. No more fighting this attraction to Aaron LeDeux. She was going to let the chips fall where they may. It was a gamble, but she was hoping that the fire would fizzle out of its own accord. And, if it didn’t, well, then, she’d know for sure that she wasn’t destined for the religious life.