by Carol Ross
Short of winning the lottery, she couldn’t imagine anything else that could compare. Except, where the lottery was all luck, she’d worked her tail off for this opportunity.
“Nice to meet you, Mr. James, and welcome. Have Mr. Drewson and Ms. Rivas arrived then, too?”
“Please, call me Seth. No, they haven’t. Did you not get the email saying their plane was delayed?”
“Thank you for letting me know. I’m sure I probably did get it, but I’ve been out on the lake and haven’t checked my email.”
The derby had taken all her time and energy today. And yesterday, too, for that matter. As fun as it was, the annual event tended to wear her out. Tired and nervous was probably not the best way to begin this endeavor. The Romeo Reels reps would be watching her every move, assessing, evaluating, judging. Even though this was her home turf, she needed to be on her game.
At least, the delay gave her some extra time to get her wits about her. And, she realized, it also lent her the perfect opportunity to assess her competition.
“Scarlett, will you head on up to the house and let your gram know that Mr. James is here? He’s going to be staying in Cabin 3, and I’m not sure if the bed has been made yet. Grab the key, and we’ll meet you there in about fifteen minutes, okay?”
“Yes, Mama,” Scarlett answered and jogged away toward the office.
Vic turned on her most gracious smile, honed from a lifetime of working with the public, and faced her rival. “All right then, Mr. James, if you’d like to walk with me, I’ll give you a quick overview of our facilities here at Bayou Doré.”
While I take a quick overview of you.
CHAPTER TWO
SETH KEPT PACE beside Victoria as they strolled along a footpath running roughly parallel to the lake.
“I’m afraid that in this day and age, the word resort has come to mean something different than what we offer here at Bayou Doré,” she told him. “You won’t find any towel-art animals in your bathroom or chocolates on your pillow. We don’t have a spa or room service or any of those fancy amenities. We’re basically a campground with a handful of rustic cabins. What we do have is—”
They were past the dock when a voice interrupted from off the trail. “Hey, Ms. T.”
Seth saw a boy stand from where he’d been crouched under a nearby tree amid some brush and tall grass.
Victoria stopped, prompting Seth to do the same. Lifting a hand in greeting, she called, “Hey, Quinn, what’s up?”
The kid wore a pair of camo-green cargo shorts and a Louisiana Gators T-shirt. Shaggy blond hair curled up from beneath his baseball cap. He had that too-skinny, rangy-limbed look that middle school boys often have when they’re in the midst of a massive growth spurt. Seth estimated him to be around twelve years old.
“You wanna see what I found?”
“You know I do.” Victoria was already veering in his direction like she’d anticipated the detour. Seth followed, and as they approached, he noticed the kid held a wad of thick, twisted rope in his hands. He couldn’t help but think that it wasn’t much of a discovery.
Until it moved. Seth froze while his brain attempted to process what he was seeing. Not rope. Snake. Fear bolted up his spine, across his scalp and out through his arms, leaving a tingling trail. His sister Iris’s warnings about the vast array of dangerous snakes inhabiting Louisiana flashed through his mind. Why hadn’t he paid closer attention to those photos she’d shown him? Thinking fast, he realized he’d retained only enough to process that it wasn’t a copperhead. Yep, that was the extent of what he’d learned. He and Hazel had opted to tease Iris about her wildlife paranoia instead. Alligators had seemed a bigger concern.
“My goodness, Quinn, that is a beauty. Look at those markings.”
Seth relaxed slightly at Victoria’s praise. Probably not dangerous if she was passing out serpent-ish compliments.
“Isn’t it? Young one, too. You wanna take a guess what kind it is?”
“Mémé calls them chicken snakes, but I believe the proper term is Texas rat snake?”
“Excellent. That’s right!” Quinn said, deep dimples framing an approving smile.
“Thank you. I’ve learned from an expert. Very cool, Quinn.”
“I knew I’d convert you eventually.”
Victoria chuckled. “Now, I wouldn’t go that far. But I do appreciate knowing what I’m looking at.” She glanced at Seth, holding his gaze for a beat, and he wondered if she could see his fear. At least it wasn’t panic-inducing like his dislike of heights.
“Quinn, this is Seth James, a first-time guest, here to do some fishing. Seth, Quinn Duquette. Quinn is our neighbor, a close friend and resident herpetologist.”
“Aspiring,” Quinn corrected. “I don’t have my degree—yet. Hi there, Seth.”
“Nice to meet you, Quinn. I’d shake your hand, but I really do not want to.”
Quinn chuckled, the sound low and soft, and Seth presumed he was taking care not to startle his slithering companion. To Victoria, he said, “Another of the uneducated masses here, I see. Would you mind taking a pic for me?”
“Sure thing.” Victoria removed a cell phone from her pocket and snapped some photos.
Seth asked, “I take it that thing isn’t poisonous?”
“No,” Quinn said, wearing a smirk that suggested he found Seth’s remark amusing.
“Is that a stupid question?”
“No, sir,” Quinn said. “Like my daddy says, the only stupid question is the one you don’t ask. Especially when it comes to snakes. He’s a wildlife biologist. But rat snakes are constrictors and are neither poisonous nor venomous.”
“Uh... There’s a difference between those last two?”
“Yes. You’d have to eat the snake in order for it to be poisonous.”
“Seriously?”
“Yes. But don’t worry, it’s a common misconception. Venom is injected. You know, like through a bite. Poison is ingested.”
“Huh. Makes sense. I guess I’ve never thought about the distinction. But to be fair, I’m from Alaska, where the most dangerous critters all have fur.”
“Yeah.” Quinn nodded knowingly. “That explains a lot. Alaska only has one snake species, which is nonvenomous. Must be kind of boring walking through your woods, huh? Not having to worry about where you step and all.”
Seth chuckled. “That’s one way of looking at it, I suppose. Another would be that the danger in our woods is large and formidable, which can be plenty exciting. We’ve got wolves and cats and bears—grizzly bears. That’s kind of scary, right? In its own way.” Seth wondered if he’d ever before defended his home state in terms of its danger factor.
Quinn went thoughtful for a second before agreeing. “Fair point. And Scarlett wants to go to Alaska, so I’ll give it to you. Speaking of.” He shifted his focus back to Victoria, “Is Scarlett around? I want to show her this guy.”
“She is,” Victoria assured him. “I’ll text her and tell her to get on out here. She’ll definitely want to see this.”
Seth took the opportunity to ask Quinn, “How many types of snakes are there in Louisiana?”
“Forty-eight, seven are venomous. But you won’t find every variety here in the southern part of the state.”
“Only seven?” Seth repeated in a wry tone. “And to think I was worried about alligators.”
Quinn flashed him a knowing grin. “That’s what everyone says. But our gators are like your grizzlies. Attacks are rare. And you should know that here in Louisiana, the worst danger is always the one that sneaks up on you.”
* * *
SCARLETT ARRIVED TO check out the snake, handed a key to Victoria along with a nod, and promptly joined Quinn in admiring his discovery.
“To continue,” Victoria said, once they were back on the path. “We have full hook-ups, tent spaces and cabins.�
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Seth relaxed and enjoyed the tour—asking questions, listening attentively, and generally dragging it out as much as possible. He knew that once the Romeo Reels people arrived, everything would change, and he figured this might be his best opportunity to get to know his intriguing challenger one-on-one.
While she talked, he took a moment to study her easy, quiet beauty; the attractive shape of her jaw and cheekbone, soft green eyes outlined with spiky lashes and dark brown eyebrows that sloped gently across her brow line. And she seriously had the cutest nose; turned up just slightly at the end and delicately dusted with freckles.
Only when she met his gaze did he realize that she’d stopped talking, and the not-so-subtle hoist of one eyebrow told him he’d been caught staring.
He smiled.
She frowned.
Hmm. Glancing away, he scratched his cheek just for something to do, to hide the sudden uncertainty coming over him. Something vaguely intimidating about her, he realized. Surely that would pass once he got to know her better.
He decided to concentrate on doing that. “So, Scarlett said her family owns this place. Did she mean you?”
“She means my grandmother, Effie Thibodeaux. I help run it along with my mother, Corinne. And now, Scarlett.”
No mention of the husband that, thanks to his not-so-subtle inquiry, he knew she did not have. Or a dad or grandfather either, for that matter. He couldn’t help but wonder what had happened to the men in her life. Definitely too personal of an inquiry at this stage in their relationship.
“So, you grew up in Louisiana?”
“I did.”
“Have you lived here in Perche your whole life?”
“I have,” she answered simply.
“Did you go to college here, too?”
“No.”
Seth waited for her to expound. No, she didn’t go to college in Louisiana or no, she didn’t go to college at all? A few seconds passed before he realized that she had no intention of enlightening him.
Stepping ahead, she pointed to a narrow rectangular clapboard building situated perpendicular to the lake. “Those are the restrooms for campers and day-use customers.” It was painted in the same attractive scheme as the other structures, deep forest green with white trim and a red door. “All the cabins have their own bathroom with shower, though, so you won’t have to worry about that.”
Lifting her other hand, she explained, “Laundry facilities are at that end of the building. I’m guessing you won’t be utilizing those either, so I don’t need to advise you to get there early. There’s only one washer and dryer. Behind the building are a gazebo and picnic area. There’s a horseshoe pit, beanbag toss, badminton net and a playground. It’s a very popular area with our campers.” A loud cheer and accompanying stint of laughter rang out from the general vicinity, an almost comical underscore to her assertion.
Stopping near the water’s edge, she nodded toward the dock. “And of course, the boat launch, which is popular with the locals. There’s a faucet, sink and outdoor shower on the far end of the building.”
“And you rent boats as well?”
“We do. We have a few boats, some canoes, and kayaks. We also rent fishing gear. Our little store, which you undoubtedly saw when you arrived, sells basic groceries and supplies, bait and tackle, sunscreen, insect repellent, snacks and other essentials.” He had seen the store, attached as it was to the registration office where he’d first gone when he’d arrived.
“Sounds good.” Seth spun a slow circle, memorizing the details, admiring the scenery and all the while wondering about the woman standing beside him. He couldn’t help but speculate about how many times she’d given this spiel in her life? Not because she wasn’t great at it. Because she was. Professional, articulate, word perfect. And yet, he felt a vibe radiating from her that he couldn’t quite decipher. Tense, but trying not to be. Polite, but not quite friendly. Definitely not inclined to talk about herself, and possibly growing bored with talking to him.
“I think that’s about it. We try to keep things simple and let nature speak for itself. Maintain as much unaltered beauty as we can. Any questions, feel free to ask. In the meantime, welcome to Bayou Doré.”
“Thank you. I’m thrilled to be here. This place is extraordinary.”
“We think so.” Thumb up and out, she gestured toward the office. “I’m sure you’re ready to see your cabin and relax a bit. Should we go get you checked in?”
“Uh, yeah...” he said but didn’t budge. A gray-and-white bird appeared overhead before dipping low above the lake and then landing gracefully on the water. Seconds later, another one joined it. Seth pretended to be distracted by the action as he pondered her blatant attempt to wrap up his tour and send him on his way. So much for his plan to get to know her. Victoria Thibodeaux was giving nothing away.
Maybe if he opened the door a little about himself, they could get a dialogue started. “For me, an Alaskan boy, this feels a bit like traveling to another country.”
Gaze pinned on his, her brows inched up onto her forehead. Her tone seemed to hold more censure than surprise when she asked, “I take it that means you’ve never fished the South?”
“I’ve been to the Florida Keys a couple of times and—”
“Pfft,” she interrupted with a rather ungraceful snort. Surprising, after the complete and total professionalism she’d displayed until now. He liked it; hoped it was a genuine glimpse of the woman beneath the slick facade.
Seth chuckled. “What was that for?”
“Florida Keys is not the South.”
“Uh, have you looked at a map lately?” he joked.
“It’s not about geography.”
“Okay,” he agreed because he knew what she meant. “So, I’m guessing bonefishing in Belize, and offshore fishing in the Cayman Islands and the Bahamas don’t count as South either?”
Her head started shaking long before he’d finished the statement. “No, sir. Not even close.”
“Hmm,” he answered because he wasn’t sure what to say to that.
A little huff escaped her, almost like she couldn’t help herself, and Seth had to ask, “What?”
“You’ve been to Florida and the Bahamas and the Caymans.” Raising one hand, she pushed it up and through the air in a long slow arc. Mimicking the path of an airplane, he realized as she added, “Which means you flew right on over some of the best angling in the entire world...” Dropping her hand, she trailed off with a shake of her head. “You people. Why do y’all do that?”
He hesitated to answer, letting her words settle into him. He really liked her voice, he realized. And not just her accent, although he enjoyed that, too. It was the rich, buttery tone that held him spellbound. She had the kind of voice that would be suited to broadcasting or acting. He wondered if she could sing, too.
She frowned, and he realized his hesitation had dragged on a bit too long. Again. He must be making quite an impression. Quickly, before she could retreat again, he asked, “We people? What type of people do you think I am?”
Too late, he realized, when she cleared her throat and said, “I meant people in general.”
No, you didn’t, he wanted to say because it was obvious she was hedging. Something about him bothered her, and that bothered him. What that was and why he had no idea. Of course, there was the simple fact that they were competitors. But could it really be that simple? It was easy for him to put their rivalry aside as he gawked around this exotic paradise. But maybe not for her. But still, just because they were competing didn’t mean they couldn’t be friends, right? Or friendly at least.
With a sheepish shrug, he grinned and said, “Well, I’m here now, and I plan to savor every second.”
Nodding, she nibbled on her bottom lip, and Seth got the sense she was contemplating a response. He waited, hoping she would say something to give h
im a hint about what she was thinking. Another long moment stretched between them, heavy and awkward. He didn’t think he’d ever had so much trouble conversing with a fellow human in his life.
When she gazed longingly toward the office, he knew the moment had passed. Sensing that she was about to start moving again, he scrambled for a topic not quite as personal that might keep her talking.
“Doré, I assume that’s French. What does it mean?”
Victoria looked in his direction again. Reluctantly. “It means golden.”
“Golden,” Seth repeated, shifting his body so that it faced the lake. “Golden Bayou.”
“That’s right,” she said and then angled her body, too, as if to admire the scenery right along with him. A soft sigh escaped her lips, but Seth couldn’t tell what it meant. Was it a happy sigh or a sigh of discontent? Or was she annoyed with him? He had no idea.
“Do you know why? Other than it sounds pretty?”
“I do.” She produced a half smile and kept her focus on the lake. “Mémé, that’s my grandmother Effie who you’ll meet here soon, is Cajun. Acadian specifically. She inherited the property from her parents and then started this resort with my granddaddy. Mama tells this story of when she was a little girl, maybe four or five years old, and she used to play over there near where the dock is now. One evening, she stayed too late, and her grandma, Mémé’s mother, came down to the lake just before sunset to fetch her.
“She claims they stood right there by that tree looking out at the setting sun glowing on the water. Then Great-Grandma put an arm around her shoulders, and, with tears in her eyes, she whispered, Regarde, mon cher, le bayou et plein d’or. Look, my love, the bayou is full of gold. Since that day, this place has been called Bayou Doré.”