I looked over at Bayou to possibly do a transfer, but it was to find him gone, talking to a few of the guys and gesturing at the firetrucks that were blocking the road.
I looked at Zee and smiled at him. “Do you mind holding her for a second?”
Zee held his hands out, but before he could take her, Brielle stepped forward and also offered her hands.
Isa, who hadn’t cared about being transferred over to Zee’s arms, did have a problem being transferred over to Brielle’s. She gave out a mighty pterodactyl screech, causing every man in the vicinity to look over with concern.
“No.” I smacked Brielle’s hands away. “She doesn’t do well with women yet.”
Brielle dropped her hands, but obviously not her attitude.
“You don’t get to decide who she goes to,” Brielle snapped.
“Actually, she does,” Bayou said as I made the transfer of Isa to Zee’s arms. Isa settled into his hold without complaint, and my arms finally had relief.
“Why?” Brielle asked. “Wouldn’t you think as her aunt that I would have more say so in her than this woman?”
She gestured at me like I was a piece of shit that had crossed her path.
“Maybe,” Bayou answered. “But she’s scared of women, and for some reason has bonded with Fancy.”
“Fancy?” Brielle stiffened.
“Phoebe,” Zee supplied helpfully. “Let me guess, it’s the hair?”
I touched a tendril that’d fallen down out of the messy bun I’d placed it in after my shower.
“Probably,” I admitted.
“No.” Bayou shook his head. “Not that.”
But he didn’t say anything more, causing me to become increasingly curious about why.
But before I could pester him some more, an ambulance passed by sans lights and sirens, and an arm popped out to wave at us.
“Did they say what was wrong with whoever was in that ambulance?” I asked out of curiosity.
“Twenty-nine-year-old mother of three had a heart attack,” Zee muttered. “She had a DNR that the husband was able to provide.”
My heart skipped a beat. “Twenty-nine?”
Zee nodded. “Yep.”
“Holy shit,” I said.
“You leaving?” Bayou asked.
Zee nodded. “Yeah, guess I should. They’re going to start asking where I am here in a few.”
Bayou reached for Isa, who again didn’t protest the move. Once he had her, he settled her awkwardly in his arms, making me want to laugh.
“Give her to me and I’ll go get her into her car seat.” I held out my hands.
Bayou passed her off to me and I skirted around Brielle who was looking more and more pissed by the second.
Keeping the smirk off my face until I passed her, I walked to the rear passenger door of my dad’s truck and got Isa settled in before leaning my butt against the running board.
Zee was climbing into the helicopter, and his partner, who’d been busy talking to Rome and a few of the other guys, followed him moments later.
Then the huge blades were spinning, and the helicopter was off.
I would’ve stared had I been able to. Seeing it go was actually a really awesome experience. I’d never been that close to one taking off before despite my grandfather owning a fleet of Angel Flight helicopters that serviced the entire Ark-La-Tex.
I looked over at Isa when she picked her head up, the wind from the helicopter going all the way into the cab of the truck and ruffling her hair despite me standing in front of her to block most of the wind.
My hair was going crazy as well.
Then I heard Isa laugh.
Smiling, I turned to look at her over my shoulder.
The smile on her face took my breath away.
I turned to catch Bayou’s attention, wanting to share this moment with him, only to find him already staring.
Grinning like a loon at the happy baby sounds coming out of Isa’s mouth, and seeing Bayou smile at his daughter so tenderly, I pulled my phone from Isa’s hold and started to record the moment.
It broke my heart that Bayou didn’t have any baby photos of Isa. That was huge for a parent, to have something to refer back to, to remember the good times. And Bayou wouldn’t have any of that.
Not unless the grandmother decided to share what she had, and I honestly didn’t see that happening.
I had this feeling that the farthest we stayed away from Ilsa, the better it would be for us all.
And I knew that Bayou felt the same.
It wasn’t until the helicopter was high in the sky that Isa dropped her gaze to mine, giving me those eyes so much like her father’s.
“You ready to go, pretty girl?” I asked.
“Yes.”
My heart skipped a beat, and I dropped my phone. “You are?”
“Yes,” she repeated again.
I whipped my head around to see if Bayou caught that, too, only to see him standing directly behind me.
“Are you hungry?” he asked.
“No.”
If I wouldn’t have looked like a complete dork, I would’ve jumped up and down.
The moment, however, was lost when Brielle walked up to our sides. “Shotgun.”
Isa turned her head away and studied the opposite window, likely not seeing a thing thanks to the darkness that had settled over us while we’d been out here over the last two hours.
Bayou sighed into my ear. “I don’t have room for you, Brielle. I have to take Fancy home, and I have all my bunker gear and crap in the truck with me. I’m sorry.”
Brielle huffed and walked away. Well, more like stomped.
“One day she’s going to shank me,” I told him bluntly.
Bayou shrugged. “She’ll get over it.”
“Why Fancy?”
His soft, rumbled reply had me smiling.
“Because you just look like a Fancy,” he answered. “It suits you.”
I scrunched up my nose. “So…are we boyfriend and girlfriend? I’m not sure that suits us.”
He was silent for a few long seconds as he contemplated my words. “Yeah. If that’s what you want to call it. You’re mine.”
Then I threw my arms around his neck.
And later, when I fell asleep in the truck right along with his daughter, it was with a satisfied smile on my face.
Chapter 12
Why do people say it’s 5 o’clock somewhere? Grow up. You’re an adult. It doesn’t matter if it’s 8 in the morning. Adults don’t need excuses to get drunk.
-Beer Mug
Phoebe
It was the voices that woke me.
I rolled over, feeling the delicious soreness of my body, soreness that only came in one way, and one way only, and stretched my arms up high over my head.
That was when I realized that I wasn’t in my bed.
I was sleeping on a cloud.
A cloud that was so soft and perfect that I knew it didn’t belong to me.
Peeking my eyes open, I took a glance around the room.
I wasn’t in my room.
Not even the new one that I moved into just yesterday.
I was in a different room, one that was decorated in masculine colors and bold, not-feminine-at-all décor. Hell, even the furniture screamed manly.
It was big, bulky and sturdy. If a tornado came through right now and ripped the house around it to pieces, I had no doubt in my mind that the furniture could be salvaged to be used another day.
A soft, feminine voice had me stiffening.
Brielle.
I was in Bayou’s house.
In Bayou’s bed.
Sore from Bayou pushing his big dick inside of me and reminding me that I’ve never had a man like him before.
My cheeks flushed and I covered them with my hands, groaning into my hands.
What had I done?
I’d slept with my boss!
/> And, not only that, I’d agreed that we were boyfriend and girlfriend…or something like that, according to him.
Holy shit!
Bayou was my man!
The giddy feeling inside of me felt like a hundred thousand butterflies had taken flight, swirling around my stomach and reminding me that I was definitely falling for the guy.
Hell, if I was being honest with myself, I’d already fallen.
Deep and irrevocably.
And it wasn’t recently, either.
It was when I was fifteen and saw him for the first time. It was also again at sixteen when I’d witnessed the change in him.
Sitting up in bed, I took new stock to my surroundings.
I wasn’t kidding earlier.
There was no woman’s touch at all in Bayou’s room.
Swinging my legs up over the side of the mattress, I stood up and immediately groaned, this time because of the soreness.
Holy shit, was I supposed to be this sore?
We’d only had sex once.
Last night I vaguely remembered being carried into Bayou’s place and put into his bed. I also remembered him taking my clothes off, leaving me in only my panties, and tucking me under the covers.
I also remembered waking up once in the middle of the night needing to use the bathroom.
After he’d told me in a husky voice where it was at, I’d gone, come back, and immediately fallen asleep next to his heater-like body for a second time.
It was like he was a drug, because I hadn’t slept like that since I was a kid.
I was an insomniac. A huge, fat, never sleeping insomniac that constantly struggled to catch sleep. Hell, that was why I’d volunteered to take the night shift at the prison…which reminded me.
I had to work this evening.
Which meant I needed to get a move on if I was going to make it on time. I was a habitual latecomer to everything. My mother said that I’d started that trend at birth, and continued it on throughout my teens, and into my adult life.
I’d even been late to my own graduation—from both nursing school and high school.
More laughter had me stiffening, and I gritted my teeth.
Being Bayou’s girlfriend meant that I also had to deal with Brielle, and I wasn’t looking forward to that aspect of our relationship.
Busying myself getting my clothes on from the night before, I quickly washed up in his bathroom, using a manly smelling facewash that said it was for the ‘beard and face’ and went through all of his drawers until I found an unused toothbrush.
From there I brushed my teeth, combed through my hair with my fingers trying to disentangle the rat’s nest, and then decided ‘fuck it’ and swirled it all back up into a bun.
I’d have to do that for work anyway, but for some reason I wanted to have my hair down and some armor on when I dealt with Brielle today.
I had a feeling this was about to go bad, and I’d need every defense I could get.
Which was likely why I stopped and grabbed the old, worn flannel shirt that Bayou had been wearing under his leather cut yesterday when we’d been setting up the landing zone.
Slinging it on over my shoulders, I pushed the sleeves up over my hands and looked around for my phone.
Finding it next to my set of keys that Bayou could’ve easily used to put me into my own house, I shoved everything into my pockets and walked out of his bedroom door, head held high.
The closer I got to the kitchen, the more nervous I got.
Not because of Brielle, but because of Bayou.
Would he be the same today that he’d been yesterday? Would he feel the same? Act the same?
I had that answered the moment I walked into the kitchen and saw him leaning his hip against the counter, cup of coffee in hand, staring directly at me.
He had a small smile on his face and his eyes were dancing as they met mine.
He must’ve heard me moving around, because when I arrived in the kitchen he picked up a cup of coffee and brought it to me in the doorway where I was standing.
“I think I made it correctly,” he paused. “But if not, I have more coffee in the pot.”
I grinned and looked down at the mug. Not only was it the correct color—so light that it resembled more milk than coffee—but it also tasted perfect, too.
“It’s excellent,” I told him. “You’ve become great at it.”
So, now was the time to say that over the last few months that I’d been working at the prison, Bayou and I had done a lot of coffee making for each other. Granted, Diane and a few of the guards had also been added into the coffee making—such as I knew that Rome took his black and Diane took hers with only a splash of milk—but that was neither here nor there.
I was fairly sure that Rome had no clue how I took my coffee, and neither did Diane.
But Bayou knew, and that was important.
And that was how I learned that Brielle was none too happy to have me there. Surprise.
Brielle was standing with her hands on her hips staring at me with a narrowed glare.
“You’ve never made me coffee before,” Brielle said. “And what are you doing here so early?”
I took another sip of the coffee before turning to study Brielle.
She really wasn’t my favorite person, and I sure as fuck wasn’t hers. I could tell just by the disgusted look on her face that she really hated the fact that I was here when I shouldn’t be.
“I stayed the night.” I paused, waiting for the backlash.
It wasn’t far in coming.
Brielle got a mutinous look on her face as she said, “Why the hell would you have stayed here when you live literally three houses down?”
“Because she was tired, and I didn’t want her to stay at her house when she still doesn’t have all her shit out, or anything to feed herself with.” Bayou paused. “Oh, and by the way, I’ve never made you coffee because you’re fully capable of doing it. I made it for Fancy because she’s my girl, and I want her to like me.”
I felt my mouth go dry, and the sweetest smile ever crosses over my face.
“That’s sweet,” I said, walking forward until I was pressed against him.
When I leaned up on my tippy toes to offer my mouth to his, he didn’t hesitate to give me what I wanted.
The kiss was sweet, and just a brush of the lips, but it was definitely enough to set that swarm of butterflies off again.
“I…”
“You’re her what?!” Brielle screeched.
A shuffling sounded from behind us, and I turned to see Isa making her way into the kitchen, dragging a blankie and a bear in her wake.
She looked sleep-mussed and so adorable that I couldn’t help myself from pulling out my phone and taking a picture.
Instead of paying attention to Brielle, who was still fuming, she walked right up to where I was standing against Bayou and pressed her face into the gap between our legs.
I felt my heart melt as I looked up at Bayou.
He was looking down at Isa, and he had a small, satisfied smile on his face.
When I dropped my hand down to Isa’s hair, trying to tame the unruly mess that was going on, she tilted her head back and said, “Pink!”
We’d literally gotten a whole three words out of her.
Stepping back and dropping down to my haunches beside Isa, I let her see my hair.
She touched it and smiled. “It’s more red than pink.”
Isa scrunched up her nose, and I took another picture of her.
“Are you hungry, Isa?”
That was said by Brielle.
Isa didn’t bother giving her any of her attention. Instead, she fisted her hand in her dad’s perfectly starched and ironed uniform pants and said, “Up.”
I looked at Bayou. “She doesn’t talk, does she?”
Bayou’s lips twitched. “So maybe I need to watch what I say.”
I snickered.
“Probably.”
Bayou bent down and picked Isa up, then offered me his hand, which I accepted.
Brielle was busy making Isa toast since she hadn’t answered her.
When Brielle turned from the toaster with a piece of toast slathered in way too much butter, offering it to her, Isa turned her head away and laid her face against Bayou’s neck.
“Thank you,” Bayou said. “Just put it on the counter.”
Brielle did, then leaned back with her arms crossed over her chest. “So, I have today off. Do you want me to watch her?”
She sounded like she’d rather do anything but babysit, though she had offered anyway.
“No.” Bayou shook his head. “I’m taking her over to Pru’s. They seemed to get on well last night, and honestly, I don’t think she’ll stay with you.”
Brielle frowned. “What makes you say that?”
“Because every single time she’s had the chance, she’s turned away from you,” he answered bluntly. “Something happened to where she doesn’t do well around women. Trust me when I say that it’s nothing personal.”
Brielle was taking it personally, whether she should be or not. Hell, if I was in her shoes, I might be a little upset, too. Not because I wasn’t getting to watch her, but because of what was done to Isa to make her this wary in the first place.
“She likes her,” Brielle countered, sneering in my direction.
I walked to the fridge and pulled out a few of the cheese sticks that I’d seen from the night before and opened one. Walking over to Isa, I ran my hand down her back and said, “You want this?”
Isa turned her head and laid it back against her father’s shoulder. She stared at the cheese, unsure.
I took a bite of it, moaning at the taste of the sharp cheddar, and then offered it back to her.
She took it and shoved half of it in her mouth before tearing it.
I bit my lip at the show of aggression.
“Feisty,” I teased.
Patting her shoulder lightly, I took a sip of my coffee and nearly moaned. “Did you know today is National Coffee Day?”
The tension surrounding Brielle and Bayou seemed to lighten, at least on Bayou’s end.
He hadn’t liked the way she was acting and was letting his displeasure for her show on his face.
One Chance, Fancy Page 14