by Tina DeSalvo
Jewell shifted closer to him. “You know, I’m not a child,” she said. “I’m a tough lady. You’re not a child. You’re a strong man. People like your father and Stanley can’t hurt us. Not really. Bruises heal. We’re smart enough to know the emotional hurt they inflict is their sickness. Their issues. We’ve done nothing wrong. We don’t deserve that treatment.”
“Yes, indeed.” He nodded as he kissed her on top of the head. “I think I’ve always understood that, because I was blessed enough to see how good people behaved and treated their families.” He put his arm around Jewell’s shoulder and hugged her. Holding her felt right. Her warmth and light weight against his side felt comfortable. “Ben was like a cousin or even a brother to me well before Ronald and Bernice took me in. Tante Izzy was always like my grandmother.”
”We were both saved by strong people who protected us.” She looked up at him. “They gave us second chances. We were smart enough to take it.”
He nodded.
“It’s why I’ll do anything and everything to make Mimi’s life better. For her giving me a second chance and simply because I love her.”
Beau liked hearing her say the words “I love.” His heart pounded hard in his chest. In that moment he wanted her to say them about him, and it scared the crap out of him. Was he feeling so vulnerable and emotional talking about his childhood after dealing with a drunken irrational client, that it made him wishy-washy in the brain? Hell, this was not something he should try to figure out now when his feelings were raw.
“I’m hungry,” he said, starting the car and turning on the lights. He was ready to take her to his house now. It was weird how nervous he felt about it. How important it became to him that she would like it. “I want to show you something.”
She slid to her side of the seat, as though she sensed that he’d put a wall between them. When he looked at her in the dark cab, he could see, even with only the dim light cast by the full harvest moon shining through the truck windows, that she looked relieved.
He drove slowly down the bumpy side road. She’d been right that they’d been given a second chance. He thought of what her life must’ve been like as a child, with a famous mother in a wanton profession on decadent Bourbon Street. How had her mother’s behavior, and the lifestyle associated with her profession, affect Jewell? Based on the story of the abusive jerk boyfriend, Beau figured Praline probably hadn’t shielded Jewell from it, or Mignon wouldn’t have raised her.
What scars had it left that surfaced in the solid, respectable adult life she’d created? Oh, hell. This isn’t my problem. He didn’t want to empathize with her. It clouded the solid boundaries that he’d established to protect the family that saved him and Jackson.
Boundaries?
What a joke. He’d crossed those boundaries to hold her in his arms. To kiss her. To desire her like he’d desired no one else. Who was he kidding? Now he wondered if he could reestablish those boundaries. This was new territory for him. Seemed logical, though, that if he’d just get her out of his system, give his body what it craved, then he’d crave it no more.
The other part of the fix he realized was to get Jewell to finish the job for Elli, finish her investigation on Mignon’s Twinnie and get her the hell out of Cane. Only then would his life be back to normal again.
But not tonight.
***
“We’re only about two miles from Sugar Mill, right?” Jewell asked, trying to get her bearings by looking for landmarks she wasn’t sure were actually there.
“A little more than that,” Beau answered as he turned off the main highway into the first marked driveway past Sugar Mill Plantation. She looked into the silvery night, making out the silhouette of the sugarcane fields around them. “It feels creepy and beautiful at the same time.”
“Feeling spooked?” His light eyes glowed bright, looking mystical.
“If I didn’t trust you and my ability to defend myself, I’d be totally spooked.”
“I should be the one who is spooked. I saw how you defended yourself earlier.” He gave an exaggerated fake shiver. “Besides that, I know you like to pack heat.”
“Ha, ha. Well, rest easy. I left my weapon hidden in the camper…Where are you taking me, Beau? Some backwater restaurant?” When he didn’t answer right away, she realized where he was taking her. “Is this the way to your house, Beau?”
“Yes, I wanted to show you my work in progress and grab a quick meal where we won’t run into any more drama.”
“I don’t know…” She looked up at the line of sixteen ancient oaks, eight on each side of the drive that created a dramatic canopy over the well-maintained road. “Wow,” her voice sounded breathy to her own ears. “The moonlight shining through the stately oaks makes this all look so magical. Not spooky at all. Oh, Beau, this is stunning.” She looked at him; his face was smooth, expressionless. Yet, something in his eyes hinted that he was nervous. “Is this why you wanted me to see this? It’s amazing.”
She rolled down her window, tilted her head out and inhaled deeply. The air was cool, damp.
“It smells so fresh. Clean.” She touched his arm. “Could you stop a moment? Just a moment.”
He braked. “See something?”
“I want to listen.” The sound of the truck’s old engine seemed to bounce off the branches of the trees. “Can you please turn off the engine?”
He turned off the rumbling engine and instantly the night sounds of the crickets, owls and distant gators filled the space around them. The fragrance of moist trees and grass, and of Beau’s masculine clean, earthy scent floated on the air. It felt like a dream.
“This is what it sounded and smelled and felt like two hundred years ago,” she whispered. “Maybe there would’ve been a horse and buggy clomping nearby with a gentleman and his wife riding side by side, dressed in their evening finery. They might be headed to a special dinner or social gathering where the sounds of laughter, music and clinking glasses would greet them through the open windows as they arrived.”
Beau stretched his arms over the back of the seat and rested his head on the seat. Jewell felt his eyes on her. “You’re hidden in the night shadows, but your dress is glowing an almost ghostly kind of blue in the moonlight.” He pinched a bit of her dress fabric between his finger and thumb and rubbed it. “You really like to transport yourself into the past, don’t you?”
“Yes, I do. I like to imagine being there.” She closed her eyes. “I don’t like all of the political and social struggles of the time. It was awful. I’m sure I would’ve been deep into the fight to right the injustices, but I would’ve loved being part of the rise of the beautiful architecture and the introduction of the new traditions and cultures into the area. I would love to have observed the growth of a new community. That era seems so much simpler in many ways. Not easier, but clearer.”
He turned to face her, tucking a long curl behind her ear. His light touch on the tender flesh of her ear made her shiver. She rubbed the chill from her arms.
“Is life so terrible for you today, beautiful Jewell?”
She looked at him. How much should she reveal to this man who had carried her in a fairy tale-like dance on the cypress plank floor, who had tried to protect her from a violent man who stirred to life awful demons from his childhood, and who now made her feel like he both wanted her near and far from him at the same time? “I don’t know how to answer that honestly.” Her eyes filled with tears she didn’t know were so close to the surface. She looked away, hating that she felt so confused and vulnerable with Beau. It frightened her.
He gently clasped her chin and turned her to face him. “Your eyes speak of loneliness, chère. They speak of your battle and your doubt. They tell me you are tired.” He kissed the first tear that fell onto her cheek. “Don’t be sad.”
“I don’t mean to be.” She rested her head on his shoulder, allowing him to gather her in his arms. She sighed.
Beau felt her sigh rumble through the marrow of his bone
s. It was cold and achy. He understood instinctively that it was the feeling of utter and complete loneliness. It felt awful. Even in his worst time with his parents in the sagging shack, he wasn’t alone. He had his brother who loved him…who had his back. He knew that Jackson would be there if he needed him. Later, he also had Bernice, Ronald, Ben, Tante Izzy and the rest of the Bienvenu clan. Once her Mimi was gone, Jewell would have no one. Hell, with her grand-mère’s advanced dementia, she really didn’t even have anyone now. His breath caught as he tried to speak. He cleared his throat.
“Do you have friends in New Orleans, chère?”
He felt her shrug. “They were fair-weather friends. Not real friends. When my life got complicated, they didn’t want to complicate their lives. I have a few old college buddies in other states. The kind you forever have a tender spot for in your heart, but who are too distant and busy for visits or many calls.” She sat quietly. The only movement was from her breathing. “It’s a pathetic thing to admit, but I guess Mimi is my best friend.”
“That’s endearing. It also must break your heart to see your best friend slipping away.” He thought of how difficult it had been to lose Bernice, only a few years after she’d become such a wonderful mother for him and his brother.
She sucked in a soft, gasping breath as if she’d been stabbed. The tears were flowing now.
“Sweet Jewell. You’re in mourning. You probably have been for some time.”
“What?” She looked at him, her lashes wet, her heart exposed in her dark, dark eyes. She continued to stare at him for what seemed like minutes. Her intelligent gaze assessing what he’d said. “Yes. I guess I am. I hadn’t realized it. But I am. That’s exactly how I feel.” Her breath was ragged, her voice weak. “Oh, God. How will I live without her?” She grabbed his shirt, her fingers digging into his chest. Her raw emotion was thick, palpable, in the interior of the old truck. “What will I do, Beau? Oh, God. I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe.” Her chest was heaving up and down, up and down. “My heart hurts. It hurts, Beau.”
He wrapped his arms around her narrow waist, rubbed his hands over her back and let her cry. He whispered words of encouragement, told her how brave she was. How good a granddaughter she was. What wonderful memories she’d created and would always have. “And you still have time to create more.”
She nodded. “She’s leaving me alone while she’s still here. It’s tearing me apart.”
Her pain tore into his heart.
“Oh, God. I don’t want her to leave me.” Her fingers dug into his arms. “She’s my nucleus. Who will love me unconditionally? Who will even know that I exist? Who will know my history? Oh, God, Beau, I could die in my home and no one would know or care.” She sucked in a breath. “Do you know that Mimi didn’t recognize me last week? She woke up in the middle of the night, calling for “Twinnie.” When I went to her, she looked at me with the most god-awful blank look on her face. She wasn’t there, and I couldn’t be there for her.” She clutched her chest.
“I’m sorry, Jewell.” He kissed her on the top of her head again. “You know all anyone has is this moment. Elli taught me that. We have to live in this very moment. Take every single thing life has to offer us this second. I saw it from Elli’s perspective as a person who nearly died fighting breast cancer.” He stroked her hair, feeling the silken strands against his palm. “I see how it makes sense for all of us, in all times of our lives. Life reminds us how precious the moments are.” He thought about that before continuing. “Elli says we need to live like those crazy dogs. They don’t worry about tomorrow or yesterday or the next second.” He twirled a long lock of her hair around his finger, smelling the clean scent of her floral shampoo and the sweet earthy scent of her damn bug repellent. “I don’t know about all that, but if we just appreciate what we have right now, we can be happier for right now. It won’t take away the sadness and pain of what is to come.”
She nodded.
“When I was a kid, all I could think about was the future. I imagined wearing clean, nice clothes. Living in a house without empty beer cans littering it. Where food was eaten hot at the kitchen or dining room table without fear that a hand would come out of nowhere and knock me to the floor.” Her tears were still flowing quietly down her cheeks. “I spent so much time worrying about getting that, hating my life, that I lost my childhood and the moments that I could’ve enjoyed.” He stroked her hair. “I don’t want to lose another day to bad stuff.” He swallowed hard. “I was rescued…”
“You rescued yourself. You made a decision to move forward and not let that terrible time define you.”
“Yes, chère. I did it because my dad, Ronald, and my mom, Bernice, gave me a second chance. They were my true parents.”
“Mimi is my true parent.” She sniffed. Her fingers gently stroked the side of his face. “We were so blessed that people cared about us.”
He grabbed her hand and kissed her palm. “Not everyone has that, Boots.” He kissed the inside of her wrist, the inside of her elbow. She sighed.
“I’m so tired of my heart hurting.”
He kissed the tips of each of her fingers, took each one into his mouth and enjoyed the feel of it sliding over his tongue. Her breathing changed as she slid closer to him on the front seat of the old truck. She wrapped her arms around his neck.
She kissed his cheek, whispered in his ear. “Thank you for listening.” She nibbled on his ear. Now his breathing changed. He sucked in the warm, humid air around them. “I want to forget for a little while. I want to live in this moment.” She kissed him, not holding back her passion and desire. The roots of his hair tingled.
“Oh, chère.” He deepened the kiss, pulled her on top of him, and lay back on the seat. His hands slid down her back, over her derrière. He felt the edge of her underwear. Her thong. “Holy damn. You do wear a thong…” He squeezed her firm round bottom and pulled her tighter against his arousal. She groaned. Her erotic sound was more beautiful than the crickets’ song under the harvest moon.
Her hands were as anxious as his, as she pulled the bottom of his shirt from his pants. She slipped her hand under the shirt, touching his heated flesh. His muscles bunched under her hands. He sucked in a breath, her unique, special scent filling his lungs, making him want her impossibly more.
“Tell me what you want me to do, Beau. Tell me.” She lifted his shirt and kissed his chest, her tongue and lips leaving a path to his nipples.
“You’re doing just fine. Better than fine,” he managed to say, as he grabbed her perfect bottom and pulled her tighter on top of him. She shifted, opened her legs to sit astride. He reached up, grabbed her breasts and gently ran his flat palms over them, feeling the hard points of her nipples. He lifted his head up, closed his mouth over her right nipple, through thin fabric and bra.
She threw her head back and moaned. “That feels good.”
He tried to move, but his knee hit the steering wheel, limiting him. He tried to open the buttons of her dress, but they were so small, his fingers so clumsy he couldn’t do it; he took her hands off him and pressed them to her chest. “Buttons.” She smiled a wicked smile and started to unbutton her dress. Beau didn’t waste a moment, he was too needy to be patient. He pulled the fabric of her dress free from the tangle of their bodies, lifted it and ran his hand up her thigh. It was firm and smooth and so damn hot. She was hot everywhere. He was hot. Perspiration made them both slick, and it was damn sexy. He groaned.
He ran his hand along the tiny triangle of fabric over her center. She lifted a little to give him full access as her dress fell open. Then he saw it. The tiny fleur-de-lis tattoo low on her hipbone. It was partly covered by the single narrow strap of her white lacy thong. Beau outlined the small design with his finger, knowing he’d have to do the same with his mouth later. Then, he’d have the lights on. He’d be able to see what images were drawn on each of the three arching flower petals of the fleur-de-lis and on its center.
He sucked in a breath, looked up
at her as she shifted and moved in the most erotic dance against him.
“I like this, chère,” he whispered, running his finger over her tattoo, then letting his finger slide over her hip along the edge of her thong’s thin strip of lace—until his fingers dipped to where their bodies met so intimately.
She smiled that sexy half smile of hers, and he thought he’d explode into a million pieces right there beneath her. He lifted his body to kiss her. He had to kiss her, feel her hot, lush lips on his. She lowered her mouth to meet him.
When their lips met, Beau saw bright white light, felt the white heat too. She moaned with her pleasure as he did with his, as their tongues and bodies moved in a rhythm that brought them to an erotic place Beau hadn’t known existed.
She was beautiful. As she rose above him, sliding over him, her lush, glistening body was exposed for him to see. Her breasts were full, spilling out of her bra. Her waist was tiny and narrow, her legs, long and lean.
“Beau. This feels so good. I want you to feel this good.”
“Oh, chère, I do.” He touched her breasts, sat up and unfastened her bra. He tossed it, and it flew out the window.
“Oops.” He smiled. “We’ll get that later.”
She laughed. “If a raccoon doesn’t get it first.”
“Nah, not her size.” He shifted on his side. “Come a little closer, darlin’. I’m getting lonely.” He pulled her alongside of him. “You’re so magnificent. Perfection.” His large hands eased down to dip inside the lace between her legs. She was wet heat. And so damn ready. He’d been wanting her for days. Wanting her more than he’d ever wanted anyone. Now he’d get her out of his system. They’d get out of each other's systems. And they’d do it with the best sex of his life.
He shifted his weight awkwardly on the narrow seat, crashing into the steering wheel again. “Out,” he shouted. “We need to get out of here. Need more room.”
Jewell leaned over him and opened the door. Instead of climbing out, she eased her body down on him, kissed him deeply, passionately. “I can’t move off you,” she said. “Don’t want to.”