Sherwood, Mickie - BayouBabe99er (BookStrand Publishing Romance)

by Mickie Sherwood

Guiding her back to the bench, he crooned, “It’s okay to nap, Sharlene.” Drake snuggled her under his arm. “I’ll wake you when Moot gets in.” She read the hopeful expression on his face that she would comply with his wishes, tempting him to put in, “He’s a Mouton, right?”

  She conveniently forgot about the pledge enacted to spare their feelings from hurt. Sharlene curled her legs while fitting her shoulder under Drake’s arm. A staggering breath was her defenses lowering. The thrill of her warm, pliant body nestled into his renewed his hope. She could shove all she wanted. But no way would he let her shove away their burgeoning relationship. Drake gladly welcomed the entanglement, for it held long-lasting promises.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Streaks of cottony strands highlighted the grayish-blue sky over the village. The sun peeped out, transforming the atmosphere, giving all those who still lingered high hopes for the outcome. Drake’s chin brushed his chest periodically. Refusing to succumb to exhaustion, he kept a diligent lookout for her sake. Sharlene’s head rested comfortably on his lap. She slept on even as a firm hand shook his shoulder.

  His head jerked up, and he worked the kinks out of his neck. He turned and looked directly at Clyde, whose expression was hard to read. Drake laid a protective hand on Sharlene’s shoulder, hoping to get the lowdown before she awakened. He gave Clyde the quiet signal.

  Clyde squatted at Drake’s ear. “They spotted the Babe.” Drake’s neck craned to get a glimpse of Clyde’s features as he spoke because those words could have meant anything. “She cripple, but bobbin’.”

  Something just wasn’t right with the information Clyde shared. “What’s the problem?”

  “No sign’a Moot. Sea too rough to get close.”

  Drake took in the view before him where the weather remained dark and gloomy over the horizon. “So the trawler’s just drifting?”

  “Got a grapple hook on ’er,” he answered. “Can’t raise him on the radio, neither.” Clyde hesitated. “They headed back, boy.”

  Drake’s hand tightened. His eyes closed in disappointment. How could he soften the blow he wondered. Her world was about to fall apart.

  “They ’bout four hours out.”

  Sharlene shifted. He knew it was hard to get the blood flowing in her limbs, for she’d been on one side for so long. Drake removed the slicker trapping her from freely moving. Her look was soft, sleepy looking. Nonetheless, her wide, dry eyes hinted she suspected everything when she dared to search his and Clyde’s faces.

  “You heard?” Drake asked. A nod of her head was his answer. “I’m so sorry, Sharlene.”

  “Go away, Drake.” A note of finality rang in her voice.

  “Sharlene?”

  Her expression vacillated between anger and sorrow. “Uncle Moot wouldn’t’ve been out there trying to squeeze a dime from a nickel if you and your cronies hadn’t screwed things up down here.”

  “You’re upset.”

  “No, I’m pissed!” She switched her emotions off, tuning him out. “Can we take the airboat and meet them, Mr. Clyde?”

  “Look at that sky.” He pointed to the metal gray clouds that blended with the dark waters. “Not on the open water, Sha.”

  “Then is there someone I can hire to get me out there? I need to get out there,” she repeated.

  “Sharlene—”

  She cut him off. “Are you still here?”

  “Sha, all reliable vessels are already in the hunt.” He patted her shoulder. “We wait.”

  That seemed to seal it for Sharlene, who moseyed up the hill en route to the store. Drake watched her dragging steps carry her away from him. All he could do was follow behind and monitor her progress. Her appearance caused a hush to come over the small gathering huddled on the sidewalk. He prepared to brave her wrath with one more plea when a nattily dressed man broke from the group.

  “Ms. Mouton?”

  Sharlene paused and turned at the calling of her name. “I’m Gary Maine. May I have a few minutes of your time?”

  “I have no comment regarding my uncle.” She started to push on.

  “I’m not a reporter, Ms. Mouton,” he explained. “I’m an attorney.”

  Drake and everyone within earshot listened.

  “Mr. Maine, your timing is atrocious. Please. Leave me alone.”

  Drake was about to intervene when the lawyer clarified his motives.

  “Ms. Mouton, I want to offer you a position with my New Orleans firm.”

  That stopped Sharlene dead in her tracks. She looked confused. “You came all the way down here to offer me a…a job?” Her eyes narrowed. “I don’t have any legal training, Mr. Maine. I don’t see how my presence would benefit your firm.”

  “You have exactly what we need, Ms. Mouton, a background in finance. We need a consultant.”

  “How do you know my qualifications?” she interrogated.

  “I have clients from this area since the spill. Some spoke highly of your knowledge in helping them weed through their contracts before they came to me.” His bushy silver brows slanted when his brown face frowned. “In addition, I saw your interview from last night that made mention of your blog.”

  Her eyes widened in surprise. “I didn’t say a thing about any blog,” she contested.

  “No, you didn’t,” he concurred. “The reporter did in his subsequent piece with the oil company’s spokesperson.”

  “Mr. Maine, I know I should be all over this opportunity because so many are in need of work and here you are…laying a prize at my feet.” She hesitated. “I can’t ask you to hold the position until my family situation is at least updated, if not resolved.”

  “But I can,” a voice in the background spoke out.

  Sharlene whipped to face Drake. “Butt out of my business.”

  Drake noticed everyone was looking at them as they sparred.

  “Who are you?” the lawyer asked.

  “A friend,” he said.

  At the same time, she snapped, “Nobody!”

  “Hmmm. I see.” He extracted a business card from his holder. “We’re in urgent need of your expertise. For that reason, I’ll give you a week to respond with your answer.”

  Accepting the card, Sharlene glanced at it. “Thank you, Mr. Maine. You’ll be hearing from me.”

  Drake watched the exchange as the attorney advanced on his black, foreign-made sedan.

  “Remember. One week from today.”

  Watching him drive off, she surmised anything could happen in a week.

  “Are you going to take it?”

  She turned a peeved expression on Drake. “I’d be a fool not to.”

  “I’ve got a feeling the Moutons don’t raise no fools,” he corroborated. Sharlene left him standing in the street as the crowd thinned out. He muttered out of her hearing range as he followed her into the store. “Now we may have a conflict of interest, Skeeter.”

  A sullen Sharlene went sat in a corner with her chin perched on her hands when he entered the store. It saddened him to know she was all alone in her misery. That was why he chanced another go at bridging the chasm between them. He sought Clyde out and now bore down on her with two cups of coffee.

  One cup hit the table under her nose, bringing her eyes up to his. A huge teardrop hung on her lower lid before spilling over. The sight mesmerized him as he watched it slide halfway down her cheek, cling there for all of a second, and plop right into the cup. That did it. The sight of her tears twisted his insides. Drake stalked away and out the front door, with a brand new purpose.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The rumbling sound vibrated the wooden dock behind the store. A tri-horn blasted the quiet and brought Clyde out on the run. He admired the cut of the sleek white racer with the bold red stripes. Clyde hustled his arthritic body back inside with a yell.

  “Sha, come see!”

  Drake, who’d changed into casual wear, jumped to the dock just as Sharlene came rushing outside. She faltered, he supposed, at what met her eyes. But she a
cknowledged him with a slow, sad smile. The act caused his heart to go ca-boom.

  “Let’s go.”

  He ushered her up the walkway by the hand and onto the deck, making introductions as they took the center aisle to the cockpit. His companion merely smiled and nodded as he brought the throttle down to reverse. Drake helped Sharlene into her life vest as the boat eased away.

  Clyde saluted their departure.

  Soon they cruised the open water, their bodies rocking to the motion as they cut through the waves. Drake positioned himself at Sharlene’s back. His hands held the rail on either side of her body as a deterrent to her tumbling from the jerky gyration. A fine spray misted them as they sailed along.

  The constant swaying bumped Sharlene and Drake’s bodies together continuously. Passionate thoughts stayed at bay because of the serious nature of the expedition. They sped into the gray day on a mission of mercy. Drake did what he did for Sharlene, because he suspected it would do her good to escort her uncle’s pride and joy back to port. For him? Well, he drew satisfaction knowing he provided her that small bit of relief.

  “There they are!” Sharlene exclaimed.

  Drake saw the faint black spots dotting the surface of the water, way in the distance. He also felt the sporadic tremors she attempted to hide. The tight grip she had on the iron rail was another giveaway. “Relax, Sharlene. We have quite a while to go.”

  Sharlene looked at him over her shoulder. “Thank you so much, Drake. I can’t explain it…I mean…”

  “You’re welcome.” He kissed the side of her face exposed to him, continuing in a somber voice. “I think I understand.”

  They rode in silence as the boat bounced and bumped over the choppy water. The minutes ticked down to seconds with the flotilla enlarging in size. The BayouBabe lurched along, pulled by a tow. Trawlers flanked her on all sides.

  The captain of the speedboat slowed to maneuver a wide arc around the group, doing an observation lap. Sharlene’s posture stiffened. Drake felt her heart racing so fast the beat competed with the thundering motor. A shaky hand wiped moisture from her unbelieving eyes.

  “Uncle Moot!” she screamed while scrambling to be free of Drake’s shielding embrace. He held tight. “He’s alive, Drake!”

  “I see him.”

  Moot stood at the wheel as big as day. Pausing from the strenuous steering job, he gestured to Sharlene by tipping the brim of his cap. The use of one hand nearly cost him control of his hobbling craft. The quick recovery brought a smile to his lips.

  Sharlene escaped Drake’s hold and darted to the narrow foot ledge rimming the boat. The going was risky for the surface glistened with water. The deck shoes she wore hardly mattered for she slid a time or two before arriving safely on the forward platform. Drake closed in on her sporting a not-so-pleased look.

  “You’re going to get yourself killed!”

  The bite of his words stung. Sharlene was just about to retaliate when she recognized that mournful look in his eyes. Her ire deflated. She refused to blast him after realizing he only had her best interest at heart.

  Besides, she was elated with the turn of events. Her world revolved from tragedy to triumph. Her uncle survived a horrific ordeal. Thanks to the stabilizing effect of the man next to her, Sharlene had reasons to smile again.

  Drake shepherded Sharlene to the captain’s chairs situated in the bow. He stole her hand once they sat in the open air. They had front row seats, which enabled them to see Moot hard at work. Drake marveled at Moot’s abilities to wrestle with the wheel, especially at his advanced age. He had no idea Moot tussled with the outrage of him getting too chummy with his kin. Or that he overlooked the fact Sharlene was very receptive to him.

  It was sailing at a snail’s pace, but they finally floated into port to the accompaniment of boat horns and cheers from the dock. Drake was astonished by the number of residents gathered to welcome home one of their own. He witnessed Sharlene’s hyperactivity. She barely contained her eagerness to disembark with restless pacing until their boat pulled up at Clyde’s. He had an image in his head of her leaping to the dock because the gangplank took forever to go down.

  Drake trailed her, keeping a close eye out for her safety. Sharlene was off and running through the store to get to the street. She trampled anyone in her way, slowing only when she reached the dock. He heard her uncle before he even rounded the corner. Moot aggressively resisted all attempts to load him onto a stretcher.

  “Nothin’ wrong wit’ me!” He fended off his would-be helpers.

  “Uncle,” she called. Drake delayed his approach while she stood at Moot’s side. “You need medical attention.”

  “I need a swig,” he balked, pushing up on one elbow to leave the stretcher.

  “You deserve one, ol’ friend.” Clyde rushed up, out of breath. “On the house!”

  Sharlene eased closer when Moot seemed to have trouble finding his land legs. His gait had him staggering all over the place. She stepped every time he did to maintain close proximity.

  Drake stayed his distance primarily because Sharlene’s uncle insisted on clinging to whatever happened years and years ago. Until now, the story held no importance. The fact he desired to act on his attraction to Sharlene Mouton changed his outlook on things. She offered no put-ons. The enduring qualities she possessed reeled him in every second he was in her company. Her caring nature and uplifting smile enchanted him.

  Prior to this, he had all but given up on the dating scene. Too much drama. Too little substance. A simple swamp tour whetted his appetite to indulge again. The brief, electrifying encounter with Sharlene lit the spark of life dimmed by his loss. He would chance her rejection rather than not give himself a chance at all.

  He wasn’t the only one following them into the store. Those instrumental in pulling off the daring rescue sent their loved ones home. They hung around swapping stories and hoisting a few in celebration, thanks to Clyde’s generosity. Drake took in the way they closed ranks around Moot at the nosiness of an embedded reporter. She didn’t go away empty-handed. Her persistence got her a quick interview with lots of local flavor. But not one with Moot.

  The festivities carried on with Drake winding his way out back to the dock. The waterway shimmered silver in places highlighted by the bright shining moon in the sky. Diamonds cluttered the inky night, a stark difference from the day’s dawning. A flash streaked across the sky to fizzle into the darkness.

  “That was gorgeous!”

  Drake turned. It was as if the star’s trail transferred its energy to them as they looked at each other from across the open spaces. His emotions rioted.

  Her graceful stride brought her toe-to-toe with him.

  “You’re gorgeous,” he blurted.

  “My head says I slept the enemy. My heart has no business hinting—it’s not so sure.

  “Skeeta!” Moot rammed the fission to smithereens before Drake could answer.

  “Uncle Moot,” Sharlene protested. “It’s time to use my real name.”

  He stumbled forward. “Time to head to the house.”

  She grinned. “You’re drunk.”

  “Got a right to be.”

  “Yes, you have,” she agreed. “Come on. Let’s get you home.” Starting him on his way, she paused to look at Drake. “Do you always redeem yourself with such flair?” He looked puzzled. “The boat was a nice touch.”

  “Wait’ll you see what I do for an encore.” Her brows quirked. “Need a ride home?”

  “No, thanks.” She refused his kind offer. Sharlene corralled Moot as he headed off down the pier. “The truck.” The realization she was stranded struck.

  They thanked Clyde on the way out the door. Drake and Sharlene sandwiched Moot between them on the walk to his car. A couple of times he halted midstride to scrutinize Drake, weaving back and forth in his boots. “Son of a bitch!” His condition exposed a side that surprised Sharlene and apparently flabbergasted Drake. Moot moved on, leaving them with their jaws hanging.
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  Chapter Fifteen

  The ride to Moot’s progressed in companionable silence until Sharlene gave in to temptation. “Who’s Becky?” she whispered, certain Moot’s snoring in the backseat covered her question.

  “My grandmother.”

  She tried to find his eyes, but the dash lights couldn’t compete with the darkness.

  “Why do you ask?”

  Sharlene’s inquisitive nature took hold. “Did she ever live in Pauchex Pass?”

  “I don’t believe so.”

  “Drake, who was the relative you mentioned that resided here back then?”

  “My grandfather was born and raised here. Left in his early twenties after his father was killed in the war.” Even though they spoke in lowered voices, Drake’s rumbling punctured the quiet. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

  Sharlene swiveled his way. “That’s there’s a connection? Yes, I am.”

  “You believe Mr. Mouton and my grandfather were sworn enemies?”

  “No.” She rejected his conclusion. “Not at first, anyway.”

  “Come on, Sharlene. If you know something, spit it out.”

  The edge in his voice told her he didn’t like where this topic headed.

  “I think my uncle and your grandfather were in love with the same woman.”

  Drake let loose a hearty laugh that circulated in the car and cuddled Sharlene all over. She liked what she heard. Hearing that degree of cheerfulness from him was encouraging. Maybe he was on the way to healing.

  “Well, I guess that’ll do it…turn friends into enemies every time,” he rationalized.

  “Their dislike apparently went to the extreme, Drake.”

  “Explain that.”

  “They seemed to have had a…a duel.”

  “What?” he exploded.

  “Shh,” she cautioned. She twisted around to see Moot, head thrown back, mouth wide open. “I have your company contacts to thank for that piece of info.” The need to twist the knife was too hard to resist. “The reporter poked me in the ribs with the name he intended to investigate. The public relations man used the duel to bribe BabyBabe99er into silence. Need I say more?”