Biloxi

by Linda Joyce

  “How rude!” Chantel shouted, bending to help retrieve the documents. “And we think tourists are impossible. That car has a Louisiana temp tag. For shame.”

  Picking up the scattered pages, Biloxi sighed. “This is the picture of my life. Between the hurricane, Fleur de Lis, and now this, mess describes my life.”

  After leaving the artist’s gallery with wedding attendant gifts in hand, Biloxi stewed about what, when, and how to tell Nick the truth about her day. Would he understand?

  Chapter 7

  Biloxi drove up the long drive to Nick’s house. As the driveway curved, his truck came into sight. Her palms began to sweat. Why was he home?

  With Sophie’s sad eyes haunting her, Biloxi searched her mind for the best possible way to tell Nick about meeting his mother and breaking the news about his younger sister—so polite, so pretty, and so French.

  Distracted, she slammed to a stop and threw the car into park. Taking the front steps two at a time, she reluctantly pushed forward to the door. When she shoved the key into the lock, the door opened. Nick stood there shirtless. His tanned broad chest tapered to a narrow waist. His arms stretched overhead and his fingers gripped the top of the doorjamb. He leaned carelessly, as though a model for one of her shoots. Her heartbeat shot upward. Her initial panic dissolved. Desire bloomed. The man never failed to excite her. Mesmerized by him, she swallowed.

  “You’re home?”

  He took her hand and guided her inside. “Yes.”

  Confusion swept over her. “Why? You had a full day…”

  Nick pulled her into his arms and lowered his lips until they barely touched hers. It was the lightest kiss. An invitation.

  Forehead to forehead, he said, “I had to see you.” His whiskey-smooth baritone voice sent soothing vibrations through her. He was the Pied Piper, and she had no choice but to follow his tune. He massaged her shoulders before his strong, warm hands traveled down her arms. When his hands met hers, he laced their fingers together.

  “Did you get what you went for in New Orleans?” He planted another light kiss on her lips.

  Mood kill. Did he know? Guilt clogged her throat. She swallowed against it and nodded. It was a lie. She’d never told him one before.

  “Great. Did you have a good time?”

  A second ago, she wanted nothing more than for him to carry her off to bed, but now? She couldn’t make love to him until she confessed what had taken place.

  “Nick…”

  “Chèr.” His husky voice confused her senses.

  “Wait,” she said, tugging back. “We need to talk.”

  He pulled her close. “And we will,” he whispered. The warmth of his breath brushed her ear, sending shivers down her back. “After I tell you how much I love you and trust you. After I show you how much I worship your body—with my hands, lips, and…”

  “I love it when you call me chèr,” she said. “But I do have something important I need to tell you.” Why did he bring up trust?

  “Something like you love me, can’t live without me? I believe in you. Believe in us. Nothing will ever come between us.”

  How did she fight charming and sexy? Confessing now would punish them both. He deserved her attention. Anything else would ruin the romantic mood. “It can wait.”

  Her news could wait a little while longer. He cared about her feelings, had a talent for making her feel so special and loved. He could coax her mind into letting go of any distractions. Her body responded to his touch until her insides curled deliciously tight. He had a gift for sending her to the end of the universe, riding an incredible high.

  She dipped her chin and looked up at him. “Darlin’, I’m feeling it.” She pushed past him, grasped his hand, and pulled him along. Why had they ever thought waiting six months after they married to start a family was the most responsible thing to do?

  She smiled. At least practicing now would only make it perfect then. If they had a girl, she hoped to convince Nick to name her after her many-great grandmother, Bridgette, an old-fashioned name to be sure, but honoring her ancestor was important. Nick wanted something more modern like Toni or Tessa. If they needed a boy’s name, he insisted on Alexandre, named for one of his relatives from the 1700s.

  “Biloxi Dutrey, I think I know what you want,” Nick said, once they stood beside the bed.

  Hopping up, she perched on her hands and knees, giving Nick a peek at her cleavage. She straightened, put the tip of her index finger on her bottom lip and fluttered her lashes innocently. “And what might that be Nicholas Trahan?”

  “Come closer, chèr, and I’ll show you.”

  Their lips met. Shivers and tingles raced through her.

  “I’ll worship your body,” he whispered, pushing his fingers into her hair.

  Delighted, she nodded. Desire and need rolled into one. Giddy anticipation bloomed into craving. A second later, Nick sat beside her. Her clothes went flying, her bra and panties landed on top of the pile on the floor. When she reached for his shirt, he playfully pushed her hands away and yanked off his clothes.

  Biloxi giggled. “I think that’s a record. I’ve never seen you strip so fast.” Her hand traveled slowly down his chest, inching closer to the prize.

  He grabbed her around the waist and flipped her on her back. “We’re not going to hurry with the rest of this. He peppered her face with feathery kisses, then licked from the hallow of her neck up to her ear, setting her core on fire. Squirming beneath him, she arched her hips, offering herself, then reached for his hardness, but he drew back just beyond her grasp.

  “Slow, chèr. I’m not going anywhere.”

  With gentle caring, he touched her, his palms brushing her skin so tenderly. He stroked her breast. Need ricocheted through her body. She strained to reach him. When she sank back into the bed, she tried again to guide him to her spot craving connection, but he resisted. He moved as his tongue traced a line down her stomach. He sucked her fingertips. Trembling, she tried to keep from fighting him to give her body some relief. Coiled tension in her core tightened more.

  “Nick,” she moaned, clutching the comforter as though that would keep her from exploding. “Please, please.”

  “What do you want, chèr? What more can I give you?” He slid his finger from her belly button, dipping lower until he reached her hidden nub.

  “Nick,” she moaned. “Baby, now. Please. I can’t hold on. Don’t make me go without you.”

  His body covered hers. His hardness slid inside her. Joy washed over her as she tightened around him. The first wave of bliss hit her at his first deep thrust.

  “Again,” she commanded. She wrapped her legs around his hips and hung on. His motions were fluid. His strength rocked her. Her body tightened and relaxed.

  “Faster, Nick. Fast.” Her body hungered for satisfaction. As she rocked in rhythm with him, heat rolled through her. Her mind blanked. Waves of sensations flooded her, taking her higher. A deep moan escaped from her lips. Nick’s moan joined hers. Glorious sounds filled her ears.

  Slowly, she drifted down, down, back to earth. Awareness became reality. The weight of Nick’s body on hers.

  “Ahhh,” she sighed.

  Nick rolled to his side, taking her with him. He nipped at her breast. “I love you.”

  “Oh, Nick,” she whispered. “I love you.”

  He rested his hand on the curve of her hip. His eyes closed. “You hold my heart in your hands.”

  Her heart tripped from the cocoon of love back into reality. “Nick?” she whispered. No answer. “Darlin’ I need to talk with you.”

  “Hmm?” he mumbled. “Later.”

  Sighing, Biloxi wiggled close to him. She flipped the comforter over them, wrapping them in a cocoon of bedding. There was no crime in afternoon delight or Nick napping. It would give her time to find the right words to tell him about meeting his mother. He trusted her. He had to understand. Besides, family meant everything to him. Someday, they’d make one of their own.

 
Family…the ache of missing the Old Aunts surfaced and seeped into her heart. Their presence had been the life-beat of the clan at Fleur de Lis for…forever. Family meant everything to her, too. But as a new bride, under no uncertain terms, would she allow Cat to live with them. She’d waited a very long while to marry this man. The reward for that—serenity, which would come after she and Nick married and just the two of them lived in his house.

  No sister-in-law.

  No mother-in-law.

  But would he agree?

  Chapter 8

  When the weekend rolled around, a limo pulled under the portico of the casino in Tunica, Mississippi. “We’re here,” the chauffer announced. “If you’ll wait a moment, I’ll unload your bags.”

  Nick stretched his legs and bumped the plastic bowl resting on the floor. The poker chips inside clattered together. His bachelor party weekend provided time for him to think, stew really, on the story Biloxi told him last night about his mother. It had taken several days for her to get up enough courage to tell him. He’d waited, given her time to share what he already knew, because he trusted her. But the waiting had torqued his patience.

  If he hadn’t seen her and Chantel leaving the Royal Street address, he might have been tempted to disbelieve her, but the truth flashed brightly like a red neon sign in the middle of a black desert night. He hadn’t seen Cat in over twenty years, and she’d invited his fiancée to visit her before him. It stung. Plus, she lived so close, yet hadn’t sought him out for nearly a year. That pain soured in his stomach. Soon he’d have more answers. The PI was meeting with Cat at that exact moment.

  “Stop your frowning, Nick. You won every hand of poker on the trip over,” Linc, Biloxi’s brother, complained. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you cheated. It would’ve been cheaper for me to rent a plane and pay for fuel than play poker with you.”

  Nick slowly smiled wide. “You’ll be flying for hire soon enough. It’s not the same as going up for pleasure. Besides, isn’t it one of the rules of a bachelor party—to let the groom win?” He eyed James Newbern, Branna’s husband, Carson, Branna’s brother, Jared Richardson, Camilla’s boyfriend, and Linc.

  “Watch it now,” James cautioned. “You’re marrying into a volatile family. No need to create additional problems.”

  “You’re telling me? I’m officially ending the Trahan-Dutrey feud. No one ever hated a Trahan more than a Dutrey.”

  “I, for one, can’t wait until the wedding is over,” Jared chimed in. “Camilla insisted we wait until after you’re married to set a final date for ours. Now, she’s saying after your wedding”—he punched Nick in the arm—“she wants to head to Cody for the summer. Help her friend Haley with her new riding business since it’s going to be another six months of construction to finish Fleur de Lis Café. I don’t want to wait. I want to marry that woman tomorrow.”

  “Riding? Camilla doesn’t ride,” Carson interjected. “Send me video of her on a horse. That’ll go viral,” he chuckled.

  Jared leaned back, putting his hands behind his neck. “Son, you don’t know how fine your sister looks atop a horse.” He appeared to think on memories of his soon-to-be bride.

  Nick picked up the bowl of poker chips. “Shall we take a bet on which one of us has the most tempestuous mother-in-law?”

  The limo driver interrupted the betting when he opened the door. “The doorman has your bags on a cart waiting at registration for you.”

  Nick insisted his party exit the vehicle before him.

  “Thanks,” Nick said, handing the man a hundred-dollar tip. “See you Sunday afternoon.”

  “Sure thing, Dr. Trahan.”

  Sliding glass doors whooshed open as Nick approached the lobby. Ding. Bing. Clink. Sounds of slot machines in the background created a thrum of excitement, offering the promise of great wins.

  Once registered and checked into their rooms, Nick gathered his group in his room. Pouring a shot of whiskey into five glasses sent up from room service, he lifted his. “To some of the finest men I know. I really lucked out with Biloxi. Smart, talented, and so family oriented. I never thought when I took a wife, I’d gain a band of brothers. To you, gentlemen.”

  They clinked glasses and drank.

  “As best man, I’ve got the schedule planned. Golf, then dinner, then gambling.” Linc passed out cards with the itinerary. “Tomorrow is a repeat of today. Sunday is sleeping in, then male spa time.”

  Jared and James groaned.

  “Hot shaves,” Linc continued, ignoring the two. “Massages and haircuts for all.” He grinned wide. “And just for Nick—a manicure. Your hand’s gotta look good when my sister slides the ring on it.”

  Nick rolled his eyes. He was about to retort when the phone rang. Carson, sitting closest to it, answered. “Yeah. Okay.” Then he hung up.

  “Shit. It doesn’t pay to eavesdrop on you,” Jared said.

  “The van is downstairs ready to take us to the golf course. Plantation Oaks has agreed to allow us to play as a five-some. Two carts. Linc and I are driving.”

  “Yes, Capt’n.” Nick saluted. “Let’s go.”

  They arrived at the resort course a half hour later. “I need to replace my putter,” Jared said. “Once you get the cart, pick me up over here.”

  “That’s not a bad idea,” Nick said. “I’ll join you.”

  Inside the large golf shop, Nick pointed to the display of putters. A sand wedge caught his eye, “I’ll be over there.” He kept Jared in sight as he tested a club.

  Jared selected a new putter, dropped a ball from a bucket, and then took a swing, sending the ball into a hole in the floor.

  “Nice,” a man said, approaching Jared.

  Nick tensed. He’d never been properly introduced, but was familiar with the face of the man whose picture often landed in the local paper. Steven Sterling. Branna’s ex-fiancé. Whatever caused Branna to call off the wedding remained a mystery still, but the name Sterling brought out an aloofness in her like no other.

  Jared took another putt, made it on the first try.

  “Hello,” the man said, offering his hand. “I’m Steven.”

  “Nice to meet you.” Jared shook his hand. “Jared.”

  Nick marched into the conversation. “Jared, we need to go. Think that putter will do?”

  Jared raised an eyebrow. “Just a minute more. I want to try out a few more.”

  “That’s exactly what I did,” Steven said before turning and leaving without acknowledging Nick.

  “What was that all about?” Jared asked.

  “I don’t know. Pick a putter. I’ll be outside with the guys waiting.”

  When Nick reached the golf cart, Linc pulled him aside. “I need to get something off my chest. I’ve been waiting for you to say something about it, but nothing.” He shook his head. “Biloxi told me you want your dad for your best man. I want you to know it’s cool. I can do that. I understand he wasn’t around most of your life, and now you’re reconnected.” Linc shifted his weight from one leg to the other. He lifted his hands in surrender. “I promise. No hard feelings.”

  Nick frowned and raked his fingers through his hair. “Look, I didn’t say anything because some other things have come up, and I don’t want to start another family feud.”

  “If it will make things easier, I can always say that I withdrew.”

  “Nope. That’s not going to happen. I want you as my best man. There may be a surprise guest at the wedding…and I don’t want my dad to lose it if he sees her.”

  “Her?”

  “Linc, you’re my best man.” Nick slapped him on the back. “Let’s go play golf and not worry about anything else.”

  The afternoon sun beat down as Nick took his place at the first tee. “Drive for show. Putt for dough. We’re playing best ball. The person with the most strokes on each hole buys drinks tonight.” After placing the ball on the tee, Nick planted his feet and set up his swing. In his mind, he was stepping up to the altar to marry his bride.
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  “Come on, Nick, take a swing,” Carson urged.

  Pushing aside the daydream, Nick focused on the task in front of him. He hit the ball.

  Wack.

  It flew straight down the fairway at least two hundred yards.

  “Shit. Is there anything you aren’t good at?” Carson asked.

  Jared used the handle of his club to push up the brim of his hat. “Damn.”

  “Yep, guys. Damn. I’m good.”

  But in his mind’s eye, his father as his best man crashed to the ground before the wedding ever began. Standing at the altar allowed a straight-arrow shot of Cat in a pew. No matter how Nick imagined what happened next, there was no good outcome. Nope. He only needed one best man. Linc had been there from the beginning. From the first night he and Biloxi met. He would have one best man, three groomsmen, one father, and one mother at the wedding.

  This time the feud would be contained to only those with the Trahan name. But what would that mean for Biloxi, once she became one, too?

  Chapter 9

  Biloxi paced Nick’s living room while he talked on the phone. The end to their weekend surprised both of them.

  Something about Cat had made her question setting a time for an introduction. Instead of ruminating on the problem, she pushed ahead with wedding festivities. Her bachelorette party weekend had gone off without a hitch—almost.

  Branna, Camilla, Nola, Evie, Melony, and other cousins roamed the streets of the French Quarter in boas and tiaras, making appropriate spectacles of themselves. Those not underage sipped on frozen daiquiris. They played silly games of truth and dare. Sophie kissed a mime on his box. The man played dead. Camilla had danced in the street like a wild woman to music from a sidewalk band.

  All of the women in the family, especially her sister, Nola, had taken Sophie under their wing. Cat had been a no-show, which was no big deal. None of the other mothers were allowed. Biloxi had only extended the invitation to Cat as a courtesy.

  Then, on Sunday evening, the big blow came.