by Carol Ross
Two years of high school French meant Seth was far from an expert, but her accent sounded so lovely he wanted to ask her to repeat the phrase. Which would probably be weird and not help his cause. So instead, he asked, “Why do you say claims?”
Brow scrunching, her mouth settled into a frown. “What?”
“You said your mom claims that’s the story. Is there another version?”
“No.” Something like frustration flickered across her face but was there and gone so quickly Seth was left wondering if he imagined it. “I mean, no, I didn’t say that...” Features twisting with uncertainty, she said, “Did I?”
“You did.”
“Oh, uhm...” She chuckled, but it sounded forced. “Huh.” Gaze shifting along with her feet, she said, “Well, I didn’t mean to. I just meant that’s the family lore. My family has been here forever, I’m sure you can imagine we have a whole lot of lore.”
“I can imagine,” he said. “We have a bit of that in my family, too.”
“Tons of stories,” she reiterated. “Some of which you’ll undoubtedly be hearing tonight.” Glancing at the watch on her wrist, she did start walking this time as if she couldn’t spare another second. She confirmed that with, “I need to get back to the derby.” Seth fell into step beside her. “Your cabin is ready. After check-in, I’ll show you where it is, and you can get settled and relax a bit. And then I’ll see you at the house later for dinner.”
* * *
HE’D LOST HER at Belize.
Although, Victoria knew that if she were completely honest with herself, she’d begun retreating long before that. It was the question about college. Not that she was proud of the lukewarm reception she’d given the guy, but she couldn’t help it. It was that topic. It stung. Every time. And sometimes it filled her with an anger so intense she couldn’t think straight. Why that had happened today, she wasn’t one hundred percent certain.
True, there was a lot at stake here with this job. She finally had a second chance, an opportunity to, if not rectify the mistakes of her past, then at least overshadow them with something bigger. So much bigger. And, quite frankly, she was tired of competing with people who had all the advantages in life. Like Austin, her ex-husband, and his father, Linus, the men responsible for derailing her life and destroying her dreams in the first place.
Maybe there was a bit of that with Mr. Alaska here, too, she decided, almost excusing her behavior. Because, like Austin, Seth James did not strike her as a person who’d faced much in the way of adversity. Objectively, she knew she was reaching. Nothing that had gone wrong in her life was this guy’s fault.
But come on! Bonefishing in Belize! He’d just had to weave that into the conversation, didn’t he? No doubt in an attempt to intimidate her. And the worst part was that it worked.
Victoria had barely been to Biloxi. She highly doubted he’d be impressed with her stories about catfishing in Carlotta, Mississippi. That thought made her snicker as she crossed the wide expanse of green grass toward the dock.
No, she didn’t have a college degree, she hadn’t traveled the world knocking angling hot spots off some inauthentic, social-media-induced, corny hash-tagged bucket list, but she had spent countless hours on the water right here in the South. Fishing, observing, intuiting and flat-out practicing. Casting until her shoulders ached and her fingers were so stiff she couldn’t keep hold of her pole. And loving every moment, especially when that time was spent with Mémé.
Plus, a lifetime of working at the resort meant she knew how to connect with people. Real people. People like her. The type who purchased Romeo Reels products. There wasn’t any aspect of angling she couldn’t handle, any technique she could not learn, or any person with whom she could not find common ground. All of which she believed would be important in securing this job. And, if parenting had added anything to the mix, it was patience. Another trait that was beneficial to a true angler.
Already feeling better, she crossed the dock to her airboat, untied the line, and climbed on board. The engine started smoothly, and she motored away from the dock and into the derby’s fray, where she intended to busy herself until dinnertime.
She could do this. No way would she let some pretty-boy Alaskan who’d likely had everything handed to him in life mess with her head. All she needed to do was stay focused on her strengths.
CHAPTER THREE
“MAAACK-SHAW, IS THAT RIGHT?” Seth tried again, massacring the pronunciation of the spicy corn and pepper dish and making Scarlett howl with laughter.
“Nooo,” Scarlett drawled and then slowly enunciated the name, “macque choux. It’s more like mock-shoe than mack-shaw.”
Mémé was sitting across the table watching the interplay with a tight-lipped, narrow-eyed expression that could only be described as suspicious. Victoria could relate. She was also relieved. She should have known that her cautious grandmother would share her wariness where the too-charming Alaskan was concerned.
While Mémé had been working at the resort and Victoria had been off weighing bass and chatting with derby participants, Mama and Scarlett had, evidently, been here entertaining their guest. Instead of his enjoying a little R & R in his cabin, in the isolation where she’d left him, she’d returned to find him, her mama and her daughter engaged in a raucous game of cards on the front porch. Scarlett had also gleefully reported that while Mama had been working in the kitchen preparing this feast of Cajun delights she, Quinn and Seth had “obliterated” the campers in space C-4 at a game of horseshoes.
Taken aback, Victoria had slipped inside the house, apologized to Mémé for running late and urged her not to wait dinner. Heading upstairs to shower, she couldn’t help wondering if she’d been the topic of any card playing conversations. Had befriending her mother and daughter been his way of trying to get information about her? She’d been extremely careful not to divulge any personal details about herself. What had Mama told him? What had Scarlett said? What could her daughter have inadvertently disclosed about their situation, about Austin, the man who was her father?
Panic had sent her heart racing. Breathing deeply, she reminded herself that Scarlett didn’t know most of the dark details about her past. Not even Mémé or Mama knew everything. Austin, or his father, were the only ones who could ruin this for her, and they had no reason to do that. Even if Austin was tempted, he would never risk the reputation he’d cultivated for himself by attempting to destroy Victoria’s. Political aspirations kept his behavior in check.
The meal was on the table by the time she returned. As she’d settled in, Seth had smiled a greeting, but she’d pretended not to notice. Now, laughter and conversation and a Cajun language lesson flowed around her while she fixed her plate.
He tried the word again with equally disastrous results. Same reaction from Scarlett. Standing near the stove where she’d gone to check on a batch of corn bread, her mama chuckled. Mémé, bless her, remained stone-faced. Vic felt herself frowning and made a concerted effort to stop. Rudeness did not have a place at the dinner table, no matter how disconcerted she felt.
“I give up. Even if I could get the pronunciation right, it wouldn’t sound nearly as cool as the way you guys say it.” Seth winked at Scarlett and scooped up another serving. His second helping, Victoria noted, of both the macque choux and the choupique. “No matter how you pronounce it, I’ve never eaten such a delicious meal, Ms. Thibodeaux, Ms. Effie.” By Ms. Thibodeaux, he referred to her mother, whose name was Corinne. Almost everyone called her grandmother Ms. Effie, except for her and Scarlett, who called her Mémé.
“My pleasure,” Mémé said politely.
Corinne said, “Why, thank you, Seth. What a sweet compliment.”
“I am not exaggerating in the slightest. Please do not tell my mother or my Aunt Claire that I said that.”
Ever since Victoria had learned she’d made the final round of this competition and would
be hosting a fellow finalist along with two representatives from Romeo Reels, Mémé and her mama had started in with the meal planning. She’d told them it was unnecessary, that they were judging her and not the resort, but they insisted on “doing their part.” The absence of the Romeo Reels people at tonight’s feast hadn’t deterred them in the slightest. They’d gone ahead with the traditional Cajun fare as planned. An even grander menu was in the works for tomorrow’s meals.
“My lips are sealed,” Corinne said, “as long as you start calling me Corinne.” Mama, it seemed, was already taken in by his charms.
“Mine, too,” Scarlett agreed. “’Course I’d have to know her to tell her, wouldn’t I? Where does your mama live?”
“Rankins, Alaska,” Seth answered Scarlett. “Most of my family lives in Alaska.”
“Alaska!” Scarlett cried.
Oh dear, Vic thought and braced herself, surprised the topic hadn’t already come up amidst their earlier antics. In addition to fishing, Scarlett shared her desire to travel the world, preferably with fishing gear in tow.
“Mama and I want to go to Alaska so bad. We are for sure going fishing there someday.”
“Do you now?” Grinning, he slid a glance at Victoria as if he’d just learned some big secret. “Your mom did not mention that.”
The familiarity made her bristle, and it took effort not to roll her eyes. Every angler dreams of fishing in Alaska, she wanted to say. Instead, she offered a small, polite smile. “That is our plan.”
“I highly recommend it. What kind of fishing are you interested in, Scarlett?”
“I’ve never been fishing in the Pacific Ocean, so I’d like to catch a salmon. A big ol’ king salmon or steelhead. Mama really wants to catch a steelhead. I think that’d be epic, too. I’ve heard they fight like mad.”
“Excellent choices. Steelhead is probably my very favorite fish to catch. It’s one of my specialties.” Again, with the sliding glance. Victoria pointedly ignored him, spearing corn kernels with her fork, while he went on, “You guys should come up and visit us in Rankins. I could hook you up.”
Scarlett and Mama laughed at the silly pun.
As he continued to ramble, Vic silently, grudgingly admitted that the guy had a very appealing manner about him, unassuming with an edge of self-deprecating humor. Confident yet down-to-earth.
“I happen to have my own boat,” he was saying. “Two of them actually, and my dad is a commercial fisherman. I could take you out myself. My cousin also owns a very nice guide service if you’d rather have a more structured schedule. We know all the best places. The James family and fishing—it’s kind of our thing.”
“Really?” Scarlett asked.
It was only one word, but the yearning in her daughter’s tone, the unabashed admiration in her eyes, made Vic’s heart hurt. Next summer, she promised herself, she would find the money to take her daughter to Alaska. Unless she were to land this job with Romeo Reels. Then she might not have to try so hard to find the funds. But she knew that for now, she needed to tamp down on longing and dreams and concentrate on her performance. Job first. Dream granting second.
“You’re officially invited. You could come this summer.”
“No. Way! Mama, did you hear that?”
Unless someone decided to lay those dreams at her daughter’s feet, where she was forced to deal with them in the here and now. “I did. That is a very generous offer.” She managed to smile in Seth’s general direction but didn’t meet his gaze for fear he’d see the fire of irritation flickering there. Not everyone had the money to fly to Alaska, stay in hotels, purchase out-of-state licenses, and take expensive guided excursions. Vic wanted to strangle him for planting this seed of hope in her child’s head. It was difficult enough to watch her daughter not having the luxuries that other kids did.
Scarlett, on the other hand, was already boarding the plane. “I cannot wait! That would be so cool. What’s your family like? Do you have any brothers and sisters?”
“My family is awesome. I have five siblings and a bunch of cousins.”
“Five! That is so great. I wish I had five brothers and sisters. I’m an only child. The only child of an only child, like my mama and Gram. Are you the oldest or the youngest or somewhere in the middle?”
“Technically, I share the title of youngest with two of my siblings.”
He was a triplet? And his cousin owned an Alaskan guide service. Annoying how the guy seemed to get more interesting every time he opened his mouth. Scarlett was going to love this, and any second now... Sure enough, she was only about a beat behind Vic in figuring it out.
“Are you even kidding me right now!” she cried. “You’re a triplet?”
“Scarlett,” Vic admonished. “Please stop screeching. It’s impolite.”
“Sorry, Mama. But that’s supercool, huh?”
Seth grinned, clearly enjoying her excitement. Which might be endearing under different circumstances. “I think so.”
“Are you guys close?”
“We are.”
“Where are they right now, your... What do you even call a triplet? Twins just say ‘twin,’ so is a triplet a ‘triple’?” Scarlett asked. “Are you all boys? Are you identical? What are their names?”
Scarlett’s barrage didn’t faze him. He smiled and began ticking off answers, “Well, in my case, they are my sisters, Iris and Hazel. So, no, not identical. And they don’t look all that much alike either. I think Hazel and I are the most similar. And we think an awful lot alike. They call me their trip, and I call them my trippas, but those might be more like nicknames? I don’t know. I think most of us three-borns just say triplet or sister or brother.
“And to answer your first question, Iris is a doctor, and she currently lives in Alaska. Most of the time.”
“What about your other trippa?” Scarlett asked. “Is she in Alaska, too?”
“Hazel sort of lives all over the world. She’s currently hiking and adventuring in New Zealand. She’s a travel writer and blogger.”
“Wait!” Victoria interjected a bit sharper than she intended. Heads turned her way. Dialing it back, she asked, “Your sister is Hazel James? Of Hazel Blazes Trails?”
“You’ve heard of her?”
“I have,” she answered, trying to quell her envy. A wildlife guide for a cousin, one sister a doctor, and the other one Victoria’s favorite travel blogger. Hazel’s adventures had provided her inspiration to apply for this spokesperson job.
What other highly educated and skilled professionals were lurking in this close-knit family of doctors and high achievers, she wondered?
“What does the rest of your family do?” Scarlett asked, unintentionally chaffing at Vic’s insecurity with the question.
“Mom is a school principal. My brother, Tag, is a pilot, my sister Shay runs a hotel, and my sister Hannah is a state senator.”
Vic tried to prevent her spirits from plummeting any further. But seriously, what was next? With her luck, she’d soon discover that the third applicant vying for the Romeo Reels job was a Hollywood movie star or a member of the royal family. Good thing Romeo Reels wasn’t basing their decision on pedigree. The problem was, though, in her experience anyway, the wealthy and connected often had an advantage.
“More tea, Seth?” Her mom asked, hovering at his shoulder, pitcher of sweet tea in hand.
“That would be great, Corinne, thank you.”
She topped off his drink.
Victoria frowned at her empty glass, waiting for her refill offer. Instead, her mother asked Seth another question and sank back down into her seat. Nice, she thought wryly, completely ignored in her own home for the novelty at their table. You would think this family had never had a guest for dinner before. Admittedly, they’d never had one quite this engaging but still. “Um, will you please pass—”
But her mom was
already up and moving toward the kitchen again to fetch who knew what.
“I’ve got it.” Seth picked up the pitcher of tea and poured her a glass.
His gaze collided with hers, and he smiled in that same too-familiar way as if he knew what she was thinking. A mix of humor and apology danced in his brown eyes. Victoria felt her cheeks go hot. So, only ignored by her family, she thought with a forced smile.
“Thank you,” she told him quietly.
He acknowledged her with a tip of his head.
“Mémé and Gram grew all these vegetables in our garden, too,” Scarlett carried on. “They know everything about gardening.”
“No wonder the corn tastes so sweet,” Seth said.
Mémé executed a single courteous nod at the compliment. Ha. It would take more than corn praise, Alaska invitations, triplet status, doctors, pilots, or semifamous travel blogging awesome sisters to sway her grandmother. Effie Louise Thibodeaux, bless her, was not easily impressed.
Hefting his glass, Seth asked, “What is the secret to this, by the way? I’ve never tasted anything quite like it. It’s like drinking sweet liquid velvet.”
Nooo. Victoria barely managed to suppress a groan.
“Tea leaves,” Mémé answered flatly.
“No, no way,” he argued lightheartedly. “This is not your average run-of-the-mill sweet iced tea. Something is different.”
“Well, it’s made with loose tea,” her grandmother conceded. “Tea leaves, not those powdery leftovers they scrape together and stuff inside those smelly bags.”
Ever since Victoria could remember, her grandmother had harbored an innate distrust of tea bags, insisting that some vague entity she called “they” were trying to unload this inferior “smelly” product on unsuspecting consumers. It was unclear to Victoria exactly why this conspiracy existed or what the offending odor could possibly be. She’d spent an embarrassing amount of time sniffing tea bags as a child. They smelled fine to her. But Mémé’s beliefs were as convincing as concrete in their firmness.