A Bad Boy is Good to Find

by Jennifer Lewis

  “Dinner!” Maisie’s voice penetrated the darkness. “Let’s get out of here and into some light and air-conditioning before we all go mad.”

  “Lizzie, come with us!” called Con. He stood by Danny’s truck. She swallowed and walked forward, tucking her hair behind her ears. She had a feeling Danny Beale would see right through her.

  “I’ll sit in the middle.” Con climbed in, then held out his hand to help her up. The big old truck had a funky smell to it. She buckled herself in, then Con slid his arm around her shoulders and relief crept through her tight muscles.

  “Danny, did you see the news story?” She’d missed that part of the conversation due to Dwight’s arrival.

  “I didn’t, but when I went to get some breakfast after work, turns out everybody else in town saw it and heard my name.” His deep voice was rich with humor. “So I called the number, they asked me to come in and meet with a producer. I went straight there. Haven’t even changed my clothes. I don’t think they knew what to make of me.” He looked past Con and grinned at her. Two rows of perfectly straight white teeth, just like Con’s.

  “Anyway, they sat me down and a girl asked me my age and all my particulars.” His hand on the wheel looked huge, dirty nails. They were following the taillights of the van with the rest of the crew in it, piloted by Maisie, and Dwight’s rental car was behind them. “Then they asked me the trick question Con came up with to weed out the fakers.”

  “What was it?”

  “They asked me what the name of our pig was.”

  Con grinned and tightened his arm around her. “I told Lizzie about our pet pig. That’s what gave me the idea. I figured no one but you would know the answer.”

  The weight of his arm drew tension from her shoulders, and the spicy, musky scent of him made her want to bury her face in his neck.

  “And what was the name?”

  Danny looked at her. “Delilah.” His mouth fought a smile. “Con came up with it. He always did have an imagination.”

  They both laughed. It was nice to see Con so happy. He glowed with pleasure. She could feel the heat of his excitement rolling right off his skin.

  “Man, do we have a lot of catching up to do! You still live around here?”

  “Been living over on Bayou Lafourche the last couple of years. I’ve got my own shrimper. It’s a sixty-footer.”

  “Alright! I knew you’d make it.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah. Well, I hoped so anyway. I figured anyone who could make crab traps out of nothing the way you did was going to amount to something.” They laughed again.

  Something was hanging from the rearview mirror. A string of pointy teeth?

  “And what about you? You look like you’re doing alright.”

  “Me? Oh, I’m getting by. Finding Lizzie’s the best thing that ever happened to me.” He gave her a squeeze.

  Her eyes popped open and a surge of warmth flooded through her. The best thing that ever happened to me?

  “If it wasn’t for her, I wouldn’t be back down here. I’m not ashamed to tell you, I was running scared. I had no idea the old man was dead. But Lizzie decided I had to face up to my past, and here I am.”

  “And what’s all this about you comin’ into that house? I couldn’t see much in the dark but it looked like a big heap.”

  “Yeah. Well, if it’s mine, and they say it is, it’s yours too, bro.”

  Danny chuckled. “I never did too well in houses. I like to have water under me, but I’ll be happy to come spend time with you there.”

  Danny obviously had an upbeat, easygoing personality like Con. He explained that he’d gone to live with an elderly fisherman friend in a nearby parish, dodging social services until he was too old for them to bother with him. When Con confessed the shame he felt at leaving him, Danny teared up and cursed at him for feeling guilty. His driving became a little erratic as he put his arm around Con and said he never gave up hope that they’d see each other again. Lizzie sniffed back her own tears. This reunion was partly her doing. A warm glow filled the cab, and she let herself bask in it.

  The van ahead of them pulled up in front of a colorful seafood joint with Papa Ron’s on the sign out front. It reminded Lizzie of a Cape Cod clam shack.

  “Good choice,” said Danny, pulling in next to the van. “I’m ready for some celebrating!”

  Dinner was a raucous affair involving steaming platters of seafood and rice and shocking quantities of beer in iced jugs. Lizzie was the only one not drinking, and the conversation got more and more surreal as the level of alcohol rose in everyone else’s blood.

  Party-girl Maisie held court like an empress, eyes shining with power and drink, while Dwight smoldered in a corner, nursing a dry martini. She’d just started regaling the bartender with tales of her recent trip to Bangalore, and the huge crocodiles she’d seen there, when he beamed a smile that shone brighter than his bald head.

  “Y’all want to come see the gator I’ve got out back. Ten feet long and snarlin’ angry!”

  Not really, thought Lizzie, but everyone else was already on their feet, following Maisie out the door. She heaved herself up and traipsed out into the muggy darkness.

  An outdoor light beamed down on the alligator where it lay, looking small and oppressed, in a muddy pen surrounded by a low chain-link fence.

  Poor thing.

  “My nephew brought it here last week. Caught it in the bayou.” The man leaned over the edge of the fence and brandished a stick at the alligator, which swished back, snarled, and snapped at the stick, revealing its fearsome spiked teeth.

  “I don’t know if Tiny here has told you,” he gestured to Danny. “But he’s done some alligator wrestling in his time.”

  All eyes swiveled to Danny, who looked down at the alligator. “Nice looking creature. Young male, I’d guess. Wouldn’t want to get between those jaws.”

  “Don’t let him fool you!” said the bartender. “He’s taken down fifteen-footers. Learned it from the Indians.”

  “There are Native Americans around here?” asked Maisie.

  “Sure,” said Danny. “But he’s talking about a stint I did out in Florida. I was a paid professional alligator wrangler for the Seminole tribe. Did it for two years.”

  “You’re a Seminole?”

  “Nope, but they don’t care. If you can wrestle a gator out of deep water in front of a crowd of tourists, you’re good enough. The Seminole kids have casino money now, and they want to work in a nice office. Not me. That’s where I saved up the money to buy my boat.”

  Lizzie glanced at Con. He was wide-eyed like her. “Did you ever do that when you were a kid?” she whispered in his ear.

  “Nope.” He didn’t take his eyes off Danny.

  “Your brother is something else.”

  “Yeah.” Con shone with pride.

  “Danny, would you wrestle it on camera, please!” Maisie was suddenly right in front of him.

  “Wrestle it into doing what?” asked Danny, with a smile. “It’s just laying there.”

  “I don’t know. Can’t you make it mad and sit on it or something?” Maisie looked like she was about to start jumping up and down with excitement.

  “Tell you what,” said the proprietor slowly. “If one of ya’ll New Yorkers want to help Danny carry this gator to the pen over there—” he gestured out into the darkness. “Your drinks are on the house.”

  “I can carry it by myself, chief,” said Danny.

  “I know, but where’s the entertainment in that? I’ve got a bar to run.” The bartender slapped him on the back. “Come on, who’s willing to help move this magnificent creature for me?”

  The tree frogs sang.

  “Oh come on!” protested Maisie. “Conroy! Here’s a chance to get back in touch with your bayou heritage.”

  Con laughed.

  “Don’t be a spoilsport! I’m sure your brother would love to have you do it with him.”

  “Sure, it’d be fun.” Danny look
ed as relaxed as if he’d been dared to go floss his teeth.

  Con hesitated.

  Adrenaline surged through Lizzie. “No, don’t! You’ll get hurt.”

  “No, he won’t,” said Maisie. “Look, it’s not even moving. And it’ll make such a great cliff-hanger at commercial break.”

  “Well, I guess I—”

  “No!” said Lizzie. “Con, you can’t!”

  “Why not? As Maisie said it isn’t doing much.”

  “I’ll take the head, and you hold the tail still. I’ll walk you through it.” Danny settled his hands on the rim of the pen, ready to jump the fence and get started.

  “Alright.” Con took a step toward the fence.

  A vision of those hideous teeth closing around Con’s arm, or worse, his head, swam in front of Lizzie’s eyes and sent adrenaline surging through her. She grabbed his arm. “Don’t you dare get into that pen, Conroy Beale!” she screamed at the top of her lungs. “Don’t you care about anyone but yourself?”

  There was a lengthy pause. Lizzie flushed violently.

  “Nice to have someone who cares about you,” said Danny softly. He lifted his hands off the fence.

  “I just don’t think it’s a good idea, that’s all,” she mumbled. “I just…”

  I just love you.

  “Alright.” Con slid his arm around her. “I won’t do it if you really don’t want me to, Lizzie.” He kissed her forehead gently. “I won’t do anything you don’t want me to.”

  Lizzie tried to act like she didn’t care much either way. Which was hard when Con settled his lips on her cheek and squeezed her waist, sending a current of heat and relief charging up through her.

  Maisie scanned the group. “Roger?”

  “I think I’ve drunk a bit too much,” he slurred, swaying like a redwood in the wind.

  “Dino? I’ll take over the camera.” Dino just looked over the camera, which was running, and raised an eyebrow.

  “Raoul.” She sidled over and slapped him on the back. “Come on. Just think of the great stories you’ll have to tell. You’ll be dining out on this for years.”

  Raoul lifted his chin in the air. “Sweetheart, I don’t do mud.” He straightened his shirt lapel.

  “Ugh!” Maisie put her hands on her hips. Her eyes flashed in the harsh light above the door. “You’re all such wimps. I’ll do it!”

  Even the tree frogs shut the hell up.

  Danny looked down at her from his impressive height, and a slow smile spread across his tanned face. He strode up to her and gently lifted her hand, as if they were about to step out in a minuet. “I’d be delighted.” He kissed her knuckles gently.

  Maisie shook her hair back and stuck her chest out. “Good. Let’s get started.”

  Lizzie covered her eyes with her hand. “That poor alligator.”

  Chapter 23

  Lizzie was the only one sober enough to drive home. Except for Dwight who’d zoomed off in disgust after learning from an anxious Raoul that his fiancé was about to get down and dirty with an alligator. Raoul had gone with him to help navigate.

  Con sat on the bench seat of the big van next to Lizzie while everyone else, including Danny, piled into the rear. They’d retrieve Danny’s truck in the morning.

  The alligator was sleeping it off in a larger pen down near the bayou, the drinks—which had flowed for a couple more hours—were on the house, and Maisie and Danny—both covered in mud from head to toe—had been giving each other glances that could scorch the skin of a lesser mortal.

  “Your cousin is something else.” Con had also managed to get very dirty, and he was nearly as drunk as the rest of them.

  Lizzie put the car into gear and pulled out of the space without stalling even once. “Yup, that’s Maisie, loves to be the center of attention.” Typical. Everyone in the bar had been drooling and falling all over her. Apparently, a glaze of mud only enhanced her Amazon appeal. “I’ll never hear the end of her alligator-wrestling adventure. I can’t believe Dwight didn’t try to stop her.”

  “Do you think anyone could stop Maisie doing what she wants?” Con stretched and cracked his knuckles.

  “Buckle your seatbelt.”

  He smiled, eyes soft with affection or liquor or both. “I love it when you worry about me.” He obeyed with fumbling hands.

  ”I bet Danny let the alligator get loose on purpose just so he could have the fun of catching it again.”

  “Yeah.” He grinned. “He sure knows how to put on a good show. It’ll be a blast on TV.”

  “That’s not what you were saying at the time. My arm still has white marks from you gripping it.”

  “Hey, he’s my brother and I haven’t seen him for ten years. I didn’t want him to get eaten right after I found him again.”

  “He’s quite a character. I guess it runs in the family.” She winked at Con, who winked back, causing a teeny sizzle in her belly.

  “What is Maisie doing with that Dwight? He seems a real stick in the mud.”

  “Dwight is from an old oil family. He’s well connected and very, very rich.”

  “That may be, but he’s not man enough to handle Maisie.”

  “And you’re suddenly an expert on the subject?” Driving strange unlit roads in the dark was rattling her nerves enough without Con having opinions about Maisie’s love life.

  “I just know what I see. Maisie needs a real man.”

  “You’re lucky she can’t hear you through that partition, she’d show you which one of you is the real man.”

  Con laughed. “Too right.”

  What a day! Con sprawled naked on the bed, too tipsy to try and keep his thoughts straight. Finding Danny again was the best thing to ever happen to him…right after meeting Lizzie, of course.

  The lights were back on so he got to admire the vision of lovely Lizzie coming back in from the bathroom, her robe held closed with one hand.

  “Get that off, cher.”

  “You’re drunk.”

  “I know. C’mere.”

  He could see her fighting a smile as she slipped her robe off and slid under the covers with him. Her lush silky body felt like cloud nine up against his.

  How would he propose to her? It would have to be something really special. A carriage ride? Nah, too ordinary. A hot-air balloon? Since the TV show could arrange it, the sky was truly the limit. But maybe something closer to home—a riverboat ride? Maybe even on Danny’s boat?

  He squeezed her and couldn’t help a groan of pleasure as he grew hard against her soft belly.

  He wouldn’t tell her the wedding was off. He’d propose to her, she’d accept, and they’d do the wedding in fine style, for real.

  She’d say yes, he was sure of it. He’d seen her looking at him on the sly—those big eyes all wide and cautious. And when she screamed and got crazy when he was about to help with the gator…

  She’d say yes.

  He buried his face in her glorious hair. It smelled of almonds, probably some stuff Raoul put in it, but perfectly beautiful, like the rest of her.

  The house made it possible. It made him good enough for her. Here she could live in the style she was accustomed to, no stepping down in the world. They’d install new air-conditioning and update the kitchen. There were plenty of bedrooms for…

  Get a hold of yourself Con! You have to propose first.

  “What are you laughing about?” Lizzie’s soft voice tickled his ear.

  “Nothing.”

  “Then why are you grinning like the Cheshire Cat?”

  “The who?”

  “Never mind. We need to get some sleep. You’re going to feel like hell in the morning.”

  “I sure feel like I’m in heaven right now.” He tightened his arms around her and inhaled the womanly sweetness of her skin.

  He was looking forward to doing this for the rest of his life.

  Lizzie emerged from a long, cool morning shower to a gloriously silent house. Everyone was sleeping off last night’s bender
and a big box of pastries had been delivered to the kitchen. She opened it and helped herself to a beignet loaded with powdered sugar. Mmmm.

  Roger slept on the sofa in the “dressing room,” one long arm trailing on the floor near the boxes of linen napkins.

  A creak from upstairs brought her to the foot of the curved staircase in time to see a rumpled Gia leaving Dino and Roger’s bedroom. So that’s why Roger was sleeping downstairs. She took another bite and smiled. Gia winked at her on her way into the bathroom.

  Lizzie polished off her beignet and licked the sugar off her fingers. Time to find Raoul before the hair got out of control. Of course she could just pull it back in a ponytail like she’d have done back home, but since the electricity was back on, maybe they’d do the wedding today as originally planned?

  A shot of mingled fear and excitement jolted her.

  Do you take this man…?

  Yes!

  She didn’t think they’d get divorced either. She looked around the wide foyer, where the polished wood floors gleamed in the morning light. Maybe it was the way the sun streamed through the bright glass, or the easy warmth of the morning air, or all the hot sauce rolling around in her bloodstream, but she could see a clear vision of Con and herself living here…

  Happily ever after.

  Deep breath.

  She climbed the stairs, and pushed her rapidly tangling hair out of her eyes as she knocked on Raoul’s door. No answer.

  “Raoul,” she whispered, not wanting to wake everyone else.

  She turned the knob—unlocked—and pushed the door open.

  And gasped.

  There were two men in the bed. Not entangled in the throes of passion or anything, but just sleeping peacefully, dressed in PJ’s, one on each side. Raoul, and Dwight. One of them was snoring.

  Dwight?

  Was this why he wouldn’t set the date? Because Maisie wasn’t exactly his… cup of tea?

  She closed the door. Phew. Okay, time to find a ponytail band. Maisie was going to go ballistic.

  Why did that give her a thrill?