Hurricane Season

by Amanda McIntyre

  A roaring sound of a heavy-duty truck caught his attention and a beam of bright headlights bounced off the cypress knees on the opposite bank.

  “I’m giving fair warning than any interlopers on my friend’s houseboat will be fed to the gators on site,” a deep male voice called out.

  Gavin grinned and stood to greet Patrick O’Rourke, his childhood friend. He’d texted him earlier that he’d be staying at the houseboat. “Unless you have a six-pack of cold beer, sir, you will be heading into that murky water with me,” Gavin shouted back. He watched as his friend paraded across the short deck that served as a bridge between the dock and the boat. His arm lifted and in the dim light, Gavin saw the six-pack dangling from Patrick’s fingers. The man was built like a freight train--pure military breeding, that one.

  “How are you ass-wipe?” Patrick grabbed Gavin around the shoulder and pulled him against his chest. “Hey, I drove past the cottage. You get a look at your tenants, yet? You mentioned it was a girl’s weekend?” He poked his chest. “Could be an interesting weekend, brother. Not for me, of course. But when was the last time you found yourself between two beautiful women?”

  Gavin smiled. “Yeah, never. Livie was always enough for me,” he said, then took a pull on his beer.

  “Yeah, I know and really man, that’s awesome, but it’s been like…what, ten years?”

  “The girls are going to be twelve,” Gavin answered as he ushered Patrick to an empty chair.

  Patrick twisted the cap of the longneck and took a long swallow. He narrowed his gaze as he looked at Gavin. “So, tell me is it true?”

  “Is what true?” Gavin frowned.

  “That a man’s dick shrivels up all tiny and ugly after having no sex for a long time.”

  Gavin tossed his empty bottle at his friend’s chest and he batted it away in a fit of laughter.

  “My dick’s doing just fine, thank you.”

  Patrick shook his head. “I don’t know, you best have somebody look at that, son.” He glanced over his shoulder. “I mean, before you introduce yourself to the tenants.”

  “As a matter of fact, I think I caught one of them skinny-dipping out here earlier.” Gavin explained, twisting the lid off another beer.

  “No shit. That’s takes some moxy. There are gators hanging out all over the place and if they don’t get you the snakes will.” Patrick tipped his head and eyed Gavin. “Then again, that kind of fire might be pretty fun, if you catch my drift…or has it been so long we need to have the talk.” Patrick offered an evil grin.

  “Yeah, well the fact is I scared her and she knocked me into the drink.”

  Patrick let out a howl of laughter, spewing beer.

  “Can you be any louder?”

  His friend’s laughter tapered to a chuckle. “That’s rich. The first woman you’ve been naked with, in months and she drops you into the water. Classic.” He took a drink, then looked at Gavin. “How good of a look did you get?”

  The buzz of a second beer and having Patrick around was enough to make Gavin lean back and look up at the stars in total recollection of what he’d seen. “I didn’t get a good look at her face.”

  “Yeah,” Patrick shrugged. “What about the rest? Was she blonde, brunette, red-head…and in the natural sense?”

  “Hell, Patrick. Does your wife know you’re this perverted?”

  “By God, she does and loves it. Now answer me.”

  “Dark hair from what I could see,” Gavin said. His memory of her stepping onto the dock, the water dripping from her limbs, the curve of her hip, that firm ass…hell, he was getting hard just thinking about it.

  “You’re getting a boner, aren’t you?” Patrick smiled and playfully slapped Gavin on the knee. “That’s my boy. It means nothing is broken. You’re going to be fine.”

  “You’re a sick man, Patrick O’Rourke,” Gavin chuckled, but he at least remembered what it felt like to be attracted sexually to a woman. “Then there was this woman on the plane,” Gavin glanced at his friend and smiled.

  “No f*ing way, a plane? Come on, you’re killing me here.”

  “I gave her my number.” Gavin rolled his eyes to the heavens. “Well, I gave the old lady seated next to her my number, because I didn’t want to disturb her—the woman had those headphones on like--”

  Patrick held up his hand. “Wait. Wait. What about the other woman?”

  “What other woman?”

  Patrick leaned forward, his bottle grasped in both hands. He peered at Gavin. “The woman you gave the note to.”

  Gavin chuckled. “She probably didn’t recognize me, but I think it was Bonnie.” The old woman’s eyesight probably wasn’t what it used to be.

  Patrick paused, pressing his lips together in thought. “You were trying to pick up Bayou Bonnie on a plane?” He shook his head slowly. “Hell, man, things must be worse than I thought.”

  It occurred to Gavin then, that he’d offered no explanation to the old woman, other than handing her the note and shifting his eyes to indicate giving it to the younger woman seated next to her. Between the beer and his wayward sex drive, things didn’t seem as clear as they’d been earlier. He needed to switch topic before he had to throw himself in the muddy water. “Hey, we really had some good times here, didn’t we?”

  “Most of which your mama would’ve skinned you alive for, as I recall.” Patrick pointed his bottle at Gavin. “You remember the night we stole some of your dad’s best Cuban cigars?”

  Gavin grimaced at the memory. “Which, by the way. Did not pair well with your grandad’s hootch and Hostess cupcakes.”

  “That’s because we were trying to impress those girls we met down at the gas station over in Edgard.” Patrick chuckled low. “Telling them it was a dessert wine.”

  “It must have worked,” Gavin snorted. “As I recall, we both got lucky that night.”

  “If by lucky, you mean I managed to finally get my hand in her shirt, then…okay, I guess back then it was considered lucky.” Patrick stared out over the water. “I did it all for you, you know. Livie was with her friend and I knew right then and there, that you and Olivia were going to be an item.”

  Gavin glanced at him, and quickly looked away to hide how the memory tore at his heart.

  A reverent, peaceful silence fell between the two friends as though both were lost in their private thoughts. Patrick spoke first.

  “So, how are you doing? Being a medicine man up there in the wilderness going well for you?” he asked.

  Gavin took a long pull on his beer and nodded. “I needed the change. I live a few miles outside Billings. Just a little cabin back in the woods. Get out there every day and chop my own wood. Have a dog.”

  “Really, a dog? Where’s he staying this weekend?”

  “With friends up the road a bit. I delivered this guy’s twins last Christmas. He doesn’t mind watching him from time to time if I need him to.”

  “And a social life? Any nibbles in that direction?” Patrick aimed his bottle at Gavin’s crotch. “We know the equipment works.”

  Gavin sighed. “You have to understand, with the schedule I keep I haven’t had enough energy to have a social life.” He rolled the longneck between his palms. “And please, for the record, my mother and my girls have given me enough grief about getting back into the dating pool.”

  Patrick was silent for a moment, then shrugged. “Sometimes, you just gotta jump into the deep end, my friend.”

  Gavin tossed him a glance. “Yeah, the thing is I haven’t really met anyone yet that I feel good jumping in deep with.”

  Patrick tipped his head and offered a wicked grin. “I’m not necessarily talking deep—like marriage deep.” He took a sip of his beer. “Don’t get me wrong. In my experience, deep is very effective.”

  “Oh, man. Do you think about anything else?” Gavin scowled at his friend.

  “Have you seen my wife?” Patrick asked with a grin. “I get no complaints.”

  “Thanks for sharing.”
Gavin knocked back the rest of his beer, glad for the gentle buzz in his head. He’d crack open a couple of windows and sleep like a baby tonight.

  “So,” Patrick set his empty back in the case as he stood. “We’ll see you over at Evermore tomorrow night around seven?”

  “What, you’re leaving so soon? We’ve got the rest of that six-pack to devour.” He looked at his friend with surprise.

  Patrick stretched his arms over his head. “Hell yeah, I’m leaving. In case you hadn’t noticed I’m sporting a semi with all this talk about jumping in deep. Has me thinking of Savannah waiting at home.” He pointed a finger at Gavin. “You always were a bad influence on me, bro.”

  “Fine, Get out of here. And by the way, I don’t make a habit of staring at your crotch.” He held up his hand to accept Patrick’s firm handshake.

  “It’s no secret. I know you’ve always been jealous of the King.” Patrick grinned

  “Okay, now I’m going to throw up.” Gavin laughed. “Get off my boat, you horny bastard. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

  “You’re sure you don’t want me to stop and let those girls know there’s a lonely, semi-attractive doctor down here who’d like to get laid?”

  “Get in your truck and keep driving,” he warned.

  “It’s true. You should probably save your energy for tomorrow night. There is the outside chance that you could get lucky.”

  “Asshole.” Gavin stood on the dock and called out to his friends departing back.

  Patrick lifted his hand and flipped him off.

  A few hours later, neither the lulling river sounds or the sultry breezes coming in with the storm brewing over the Gulf aided in helping Gavin to sleep. He lay atop the sheets, stripped down to his boxer briefs, the heat and humidity shimmering on his skin. He closed his eyes, forcing himself to get lost in the darkness, purge his mind of everything, find some semblance of peace from the guilt that he hadn’t been at Olivia’s side when she died. The watery image of her face, smiling at him emerged in his brain. He could almost hear the sound of her soft laughter, tickling his ear. Memories, tucked away, far too painful to remember ebbed against his brain…

  God, how he loved her laugh. It hadn’t mattered what his day had been like, when she laughed, his world was right again.

  “I always loved it here” a familiar voice seeped into his psyche.

  He smiled, glad to see that she hadn’t changed in all these years. Her breasts beneath that halter dress—his favorite to remove from her—were as lush, firm and round as he remembered. Her legs as smooth and tan. She loved to go barefoot. Hated shoes. And her raven hair worn down, cascaded over shoulders that he knew felt like satin to the touch. He held out his hands and took hers, surprised by how small and delicate it fit in his.

  “I’ve missed you so damn much, Livie.” The words seemed to ache in his chest, yet he couldn’t not move his lips.

  “Make love to me, Gavin,” she whispered near his ear. The scent of her perfume filled his head. Desire set his blood on fire.

  She climbed onto the bed straddling his lap as she lifted the dress over her head, revealing the body he remembered, the one he’d spent hours memorizing.

  “You feel so good, Livie.” He groaned as she leaned forward allowing him to caress. Weigh. Touch, Tease. She slid her warmth over him, awakening a need he hadn’t felt in forever, it seemed. Tension formed in his lower gut. His erection grew thick, jutting proud between his legs. She drew to her knees, taking him in slowly inch by inch. He watched her head loll to the side in bliss as he lifted his hips to push deep. Her palms braced against his chest, her delicate fingers kneaded his flesh.

  “You were my one love, Gavin,” she sighed, leaning down to cover his mouth with a warm, kiss. She tasted like heaven. He didn’t want this moment to end. Grabbing her ass, he held their joined bodies, satisfying himself with hot, hungry kisses, relishing the low growl in her throat that signaled her arousal. Rocking against him, she broke free and straightened, pushing her hands flat against his lower torso. She found her rhythm, riding him with unbridled freedom. Fast. Furious. Wild. It was all he could do to stay with her, meeting her in this fiery dance of passion.

  “You will always be my first love,” she said breathlessly. She lifted his hands curling her fingers with is.

  “There’s no one else, Livie.” Once more reiterating that she alone owned his heart. “No one.”

  “It’s time, baby.” She looked at him, her dark gaze intent. “I’m letting you go.”

  On the cusp of finding heaven, his thoughts became scrambled. He held her gaze and grasped the top of her legs, unwilling to let her leave him again. He knew every nuance, every sigh indicating that she teetered on the edge of release. He clenched his teeth holding back ready to join her with every beat of his heart.

  “You will go on with your life. Take care of our girls. Find love again. Promise me.” She leaned down and framed his face with her hands. “Promise me.”

  A large lump clogged his throat. Tears pierced the back of his eyes. He nodded.

  “Say it. Promise me.” Tears slid down her cheeks. Her insistent gaze pierced his soul.

  Gavin’s body, wracked with tension, wound tight with need ached as he held on–unwilling to say the word—knowing deep in his heart what it would mean.

  “I can’t stay much longer, my love. Please,” she pleaded. Her chin dropped and he felt her closing around him.

  Gavin clung to her, willing time to stand still with the ferocity of her climax slamming into his. “I promise,” he said in a strangled whisper, riding out the dark waves rolling thunderous through his body.

  He jerked awake, his arms frantically searching for her. The bedsheets lay tangled around his legs. Exhausted he sat up, disoriented. Sweat poured down his face, mixed with his tears. His body felt as though he’d lost a boxing match. Drawing his hands over his face, he caught the unmistakable scent of Olivia’s’ perfume. It was her signature spicy floral that always had him wanting to undress her. He blinked in the blackness of the boats one bedroom--nothing more than a wood platform with a mattress, small bedside table, and a built-in chest of drawers. He told himself it had been nothing more than a dream.

  Until he spotted the magnolia blossom laying at the end of the bed.

  Olivia’s favorite flower.

  Jesus. Either he was crazy, or he’d just made love to a ghost.

  He climbed out of bed and poured himself a scotch-neat.

  ***

  Caroline held her second glass of wine, and walked around the ornately decorated living room. Her encounter earlier in the evening had shaken her. Maybe the boat was someone’s home. That kind of thing wouldn’t be unheard of around here.

  “Are you going to pace all night?” Louise looked up from perusing a stack of brochures depicting area plantations. “You know I’ve been doing some research on this place and it’s pretty amazing.”

  Caroline frowned. She wasn’t taking lightly her encounter earlier with the strange man on the dock. “Do you think we should call the owner and let them know someone is skulking around their boat?”

  “You aren’t the least bit interested in the history, are you?”

  Caroline looked at Louise. “Did the owners even mention having a boat?”

  Louis pondered the question, her eyes narrowing as though deep in thought. “Nope. I don’t recall that she ever mentioned a boat.” She raised and impervious brow. “Are you sure that you weren’t the one trespassing?”

  Caroline held her friend’s gaze. That was entirely possible. She’d taken a walk while Louise whipped up a gumbo for supper. Curious where the old dirt road led. She’d wound up on the banks of the inlet. The moonlight cutting a swath across the still water looked so inviting and the idea of washing off the heat and humidity of the day seemed so appealing and the boat’s windows were dark. Assuming she was alone, she’d stripped down and dove in for a quick dip.

  “You’re lucky that a gator didn’t come along and take a ni
bble, or worse a snake.”

  Caroline plopped down in a faded floral print wingback chair. Well-used by a family and seemingly more comfortable because of that fact. “Do you think I should go back and apologize?”

  “Says the woman who pushed a complete stranger into a bayou without any warning?”

  “Hello. I was frightened,” Caroline argued. “And naked, may I remind.”

  “Fair point,” Louise said. “I suppose.” She picked up the booklet she’d been reading. “I’m guessing it’s not anything that can’t wait until morning.” She tossed an inquisitive look at Caroline.

  “I suppose.” Caroline shrugged, still uneasy about a strange man living on what appeared to be an abandoned boat.

  “So, do you want to hear about the history of this cottage for which we’ve paid very good money?”

  Caroline sighed, took a sip of wine and scanned the eclectic room. There was no television, no computer, however there were shelves lined with books and on vintage drum table sat an old record player. It’d probably help take her mind off the stranger. “Okay, hit me with some history.” She reached into the bowl and scooped up a handful of peanut M & M candies.

  Louise grinned and curled her legs under her as she settled on the couch. She turned the brochure over. “It looks as though this is written by the lady I spoke to on the phone.” Opening the brochure, her friend began to read. “It was built in the mid-eighteen hundreds, but the family has worked this land for longer than that. I remember her saying that it’s been in her family since the war.” Louise seemed caught up in studying the old photos on the pamphlet.

  “World War II?” Caroline asked.

  “No, we’re talking the Civil War,” Louise answered. “It says here that she--the owner—is descended from French Senegal slaves who were brought here in the seventeen hundreds.”

  Caroline raised her brows and scanned the room with new eyes. The eclectic mix of European craftsmanship and southern elegance appeared to be more real than perhaps a modern-day knock-off. She noted the Queen Anne chair tucked in front of an exquisitely carved writing desk with a screen and glass hutch. Delicately carved birds and cherubs decorated the hutch along its’ curved edges. Definitely old world. “Some of the furniture reminds me of what I saw when I lived in Europe.”