Griffith tensed. What are you thinking? This isn’t high school, and Adi isn’t your first girl crush. Get a grip. She needed to focus on her reason for being in this place. It wasn’t to steal kisses and get all hung up on a woman. It was to tell a damn story.
She sat up and slapped her hands on the mattress. Snap out of it. Yes, she’s gorgeous and different from any woman you’ve known. So what? And this place, it’s like some kind of Neverland, where things drift at the pace of slow-moving clouds. Not at all the hectic, busy world Griffith lived in. She needed to shake off the heavy, hazy state she found herself in and get busy. She needed to be far more LA, and far less down-home.
She had more than enough to write the article Dawn wanted, and she knew it would be a hit. Her prospects for her next job were thinner than spider silk, but she could pick up a lead and find something that would sell. She needed to get this done and move on. But moving on meant her connection to Adi would be lost. What about the itch Adi’s hidden past has started that won’t stop? Should I follow my gut and get to the story behind that story? What would that mean for Adi? Does it matter? Damn you, Tabitha. I don’t even trust myself, now. You’ve ruined me.
Her phone rang, pulling her out of her head and into the present. Who calls someone at the crack of dawn?
She grabbed at the offending phone, ready to rip the caller a new one. “Hello?”
“Hi, um, hi,” Adi said.
The irritation slipped away as Adi’s voice soothed her. She’s so innocent. I wonder if she’s ever called a woman before?
“Hi, Adi. How’s it going?”
“Good, it’s good. So I was wondering, did you want to go crawfishing? It’s going to be hot, but not so hot we won’t find some.”
Griffith tensed. Damn, should I spend another day with her? Am I getting in too deep? How can I stay objective if all I really want to do is run my hands down her gorgeous arms and kiss her? How is this going to help me? Crap. To hell with it. “Sure I do. What should I wear? And what do I need to bring? I don’t have a fishing pole.”
“Huh? Oh, no poles are needed. I have traps. You should wear something you don’t mind getting dirty. And boots if you have them. Something that can take mud. Sunscreen and bug spray are a must.”
“I don’t have any bug spray. And my boots aren’t really made for mud.”
“That’s okay. Just wear your oldest clothes. I’ll be there in half an hour. We want to get out on the paddy before it heats up too much.”
“The paddy?”
“Yeah, the rice paddy. That’s where we catch the crawfish.”
“Okay…”
“Trust me, I’ve been doing this all my life.”
“So half an hour?”
“There about. That going to work for you?”
“Sure…”
“Great, see you soon.”
Crawfishing? In Maine, they trapped lobsters in little wire or wood cages. Weren’t crawfish essentially small lobsters? This isn’t Maine. I’d better do some quick research. The closest I’ve ever been to catching a lobster is picking out the one I want for dinner in a tank.
Adi had said something the other day about it being messy and her doing most of the work. She pulled up a webpage dedicated to the craft on her smartphone. WikiHow showed worms, a pole, and string. Not too difficult, but Adi said no poles. Then there was a trap that looked like a clothes hamper on its side. Strange, but okay. The last suggestion was to simply reach into the water and grab the little buggers as they walked by. None of these looked messy or difficult, except the hand method. No way I’m going to use my hand to catch them.
She headed for the shower. Get clean, then, presumably, get dirty. She relished the effect of the hot spray on her back. Waking up was always a challenge, but a shower went a long way toward coherence. And caffeine. Coffee was the next order of business. The little room pot did nothing for her, but there was a coffee shop in the lobby. She quickly dried and dressed in her comfy jeans and an old SC sweatshirt. Pulling on a baseball cap, she made her way to the lobby and the promise of caffeine. When she met Adi outside, she was surprised by the small trailer she had attached to the truck. It was carrying a covered vehicle of some sort. She walked over for a closer look. Adi got out and wrapped her arms around her from behind. Griffith felt a flash of heat as their skin connected. How does she do this to me? I’m not a pushover, and she’s got me all frazzled. It has to be her innocence. Shake it off.
“What’s that under the tarp?”
“Oh, that’s a four-wheeler. Best way to get to the rice field. Too muddy for the truck.” Adi kissed the back of her neck and moved away.
Griffith missed the embrace as soon as it was gone. I wish I’d turned around. “Muddy?”
“Yep. That’s why they call crawfish mudbugs. They build their holes in wet mud in the creeks and rice fields. Even in the swamps, but I like the rice fields best. You can predict the depth of the mud before you step in.”
“So you weren’t kidding when you said this was going to be messy.”
“Not at all, but it’ll be a mess of fun too. I brought you some hip waders to keep your feet dry. Are you wearing a belt?”
“No, just my jeans.”
“That’s okay. I have some belts that should work in my kit. Let’s go.”
They rode down to the rice field, talking about the trip to Avery Island, but avoiding any talk of the kisses.
When they reached the rice farm, Adi drove right out toward the field, stopping about a hundred yards away.
“Okay, now the fun begins. Let’s get the bike off the trailer and load up.”
Adi lowered the ramp while Griffith took the tarp off the four-wheeler. It was bright blue and larger than Griffith had imagined. There was a wire and steel tray welded to the front and another in the back. The saddle area looked like it would hold them both, but it would be a tight fit. Excellent.
Once Adi had the bike on the ground, she reloaded the ramp and locked it with a padlock. She tossed Griffith some heavy rubber waders from the truck bed. “Try these. They look like they’ll fit.”
Griffith looked at the boots with their long rubber legs and the loop of canvas at the top. She cautiously slid one shoe down into the boot. The fit was fine, if unusual. She looked over at Adi, who had her own set of waders on, hooked into a canvas belt slung low around her hips. Sexy, pure Louisiana swamp goddess sexy. That’s what she is. Griffith looked down at her own overly large boots, sagging around her knees. I am so out of my element. I wasn’t designed for this. I must look like a clown.
Adi had a rakish grin on her face and Griffith flushed with embarrassment.
“Here, catch.” Adi tossed a belt to Griffith. The buckle was just like a military belt. Adi bent over the tailgate of the truck and tossed things onto the ground, giving Griffith a perfect view of her sweet round backside. The humidity level kicked up a notch where Griffith stood. If this were LA, I’d have you bent over that tailgate and it wouldn’t be for unloading a damn thing. You have no clue what you’re doing to me.
Griffith looked at the assortment of things on the ground. There was a five-gallon bucket, two sets of heavy rubber gloves, a small ice chest, twine, and some strange wire and net things that must be the traps.
“Could you use those bungee cords to strap the bucket down? Here, take these first.” She handed over one pair of gloves, a helmet, and some goggles.
Griffith pulled on the gloves, then attempted to fasten the bucket to the front tray. The gloves made it quite a challenge. She stretched the cord around the ungainly thing and tried hooking it to the tray. The metal end barely missed her cheek as it snapped back. “Crap. I don’t think this is my forte.”
Adi was busy attaching things in the back, but she looked up at Griffith. “Oh, hold on. I’ll give you a hand.”
She made quick work of the bucket and slid into the wide saddle.
“Okay, let’s go. You climb on behind me and hold on. Put on your helmet and goggles fir
st.”
Griffith did as requested, feeling like a kid dressed for Halloween. She slid into place behind Adi, enjoying the way her thighs snugged tight against Adi’s and the feel of her chest pressed to Adi’s back. The big bike roared to life and they took off across the field. At first, Griffith had a death grip around Adi’s middle, but as she got used to the feeling of the bike she eased back and began to enjoy the ride. It was over all too quick as they stopped beside the first flooded field.
“We’ll set out traps in each paddy as we go along, then circle back to start collecting. Here, watch how I set this up.”
Adi pulled the wire and net traps off the back of the bike and shook them open. The wires crossed in the middle, locking in place and forming a little wire tent over a square of netting. She pointed to the center of the net. “We tie the bait right here. And a couple of weights too.”
She demonstrated, tying the weights and a chicken neck into the center of the net. “We’ll set four traps in each paddy. So you set up two more traps here and I’ll do another.”
Griffith gritted her teeth. Tie a chicken neck here, she says. Right. Griff had traveled the world for her work; she’d eaten things in other countries they’d never serve in California. She could do this. She reached cautiously into the Ziploc of chicken parts. They were warm and fragrant, not in a good way. Gotta do it. She pushed her forearm against her nose, trying to tame the stench. Her stomach was about to flip and make her lose her coffee. Good thing I’m not a breakfast eater. She finally nabbed a slippery piece of meat and dropped it unceremoniously onto the net. Tie it. She grabbed the two bits of string in each hand, but tying them was virtually impossible with the cumbersome gloves. She made it look so easy. It’s anything but.
Just then, a gust of wind blew one of Griffith’s curls across her cheek, where it promptly stuck to the sweat accumulated there. Without thinking, she started to sweep it away with her finger. Her chicken gut dripping, glove wearing, stinky finger. She gagged.
“Time out. I don’t think I can do this,” she said.
Adi looked over at her. She wasn’t sure what it was, but Adi found something particularly funny about the situation. She started belly laughing so hard she doubled over.
“What’s so funny?”
“Your face. Oh my God, the look on your face is hysterical. Hang on. I’ll do the chicken if you set up the traps. Deal?”
“Deal. How do I get this funk off my glove?”
That set Adi off on another round of guffaws. “Just go rinse them off with the water in the cooler. Oh, Lord, you’re killing me.”
“I’m happy to amuse you, but I’m going to throw up if this stuff isn’t gone, like yesterday.”
“I’ll help,” Adi said.
She had streaks of tears on her face, but hurried over with a cup of melted ice water. She poured it over the gloves as Griffith vigorously rubbed them together. Then Adi tenderly wiped the crud on Griff’s cheek away with her thumb.
“Thanks, I’ll let you do the chicken. All I do is open the wires and slip them into place?”
“Yeah, it’s simple.”
“Right.” Griffith was doubtful, but it really was as easy as Adi said. They made quick work of setting up the traps. Then Adi directed Griff out into the flooded field to set the traps down. She had to make sure they were as flat on the ground as possible. The mud sucked at her waders as she walked from spot to spot. It made Griffith think of the sanitation workers who went into the sewers back home. What manner of filth is this? It feels like it wants to suck me right down. Just don’t fall down. Don’t fall. The Internet didn’t say shit about the mud factor. I’ll add some blazing editing to that damn Wiki page. It seemed like it took forever, but they finished the first paddy and moved through the succession of fields until they had no more traps. There were twenty-four in all.
“Now comes the fun part,” Adi said, “collecting our little friends. Come on.”
They climbed on the bike and Adi kicked it into life. Then she ran it full throttle back to the first paddy. Mud was flying out on either side of the bike, slapping into Griffith’s legs. Charming. I managed not to fall, but now I’m getting the full mud bath at no extra charge. People pay for this crap in LA. She was happy to have the helmet and goggles. Luckily, Adi was a sensible driver and didn’t attempt any tricks. Griffith didn’t relish the idea of flying off the bike into the rice field.
“Come on, let’s go get them.” Adi grabbed the bucket and handed it to Griffith. “I’ll haul them up and you collect them in the bucket.”
They walked slowly out into the field to the first trap. Adi put her good hand gently on the top that stuck out well above the water line. She quickly lifted the whole thing clear of the water. The net dipped deeply in the middle as it was raised, and in the bottom, several angry red crustaceans flapped their tails and waved their claws.
“You want me to touch that? Are you kidding?”
“No, just hold one corner and put the opposite corner in the bucket. Then we’ll shake them loose.”
They did just that with the first and all the other traps. When they were done, the bucket was more than half full of crawfish. They rode back to the truck and dumped the bucket into the big ice chest. As they rode between fields, Griffith’s job was to steady the bucket now perched on the back tray. When they finished, she couldn’t believe how tired she felt. The time seemed to fly by. Her waders were caked in mud from the ankle down, and she knew she looked a sight. If my friends could see me now. She had mud in her hair, on her face, and flaking off both forearms. She looked at Adi. Her waders had mud around the ankles, but the rest of her was basically clean. How did she manage that? She reached down and grabbed a fistful of mud.
“Don’t,” Adi said, backing away.
“Don’t what?” Griffith moved closer to her, mud dripping out of her tight fist.
“Don’t even think about it.”
“I don’t know what you mean.” She slapped her hand onto Adi’s back, slinging mud from her shoulder to her hip.
“Hey. That wasn’t very nice. I didn’t even make you tie the chicken necks.”
“Ugh.” She wrapped both muddy hands around Adi’s waist and held her.
“You sure are a cute little swamp rat. Makes me want to kiss the breath out of you.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah, but only after you take a shower,” Adi said.
Adi dumped the last haul into the ice chest and tossed the empty bucket into the back.
“Peel off your waders and gloves and toss them in the truck bed. We can go hose down at the house and boil up these babies.”
“Sounds good. Did you happen to bring anything to drink?”
“Oh, sure. There’s water and beer in the small cooler in the cab. Help yourself.”
Griffith went straight to the cooler, desperate to wet her parched throat. She took an icy cold bottle of Abita and popped the top.
“Can I grab something for you?” she asked, looking back at Adi. She was bent over, detaching the chicken necks from the nets, her dark hair falling over the side of her face. The muscles in her arms bunched and relaxed with the effort. She was gorgeous. Griffith leaned against the truck and watched unashamedly.
Adi must have noted the still silence. She looked up quickly from her work and caught Griffith watching. She blushed a deep red and smiled. “You like what you see?”
“You know, I kind of do. Even the big line of mud down your shoulder.”
Adi tried looking to see behind her shoulder, but just ended up twisting and showing more of her long, lean body to Griffith.
“I like this game. But seriously, can I grab you something to drink?”
Adi stood up and smiled again. “Sure, I’ll have what you’re having. Looks good.”
“It is. Strawberry, no less.”
“My favorite.”
“I think it’s going to be mine too. Can we sit in the shade somewhere?”
“Yeah, but just for a sec. We
’ll need to get the catch back pretty quick. Come on.”
They walked to a nearby live oak and sat down. The breeze began to kick up, which Griffith was grateful for. That had been hot, physical work, something she hadn’t done outside a gym in a long time. She leaned back against the rough bark of the tree and watched Adi. She was leaning forward with her head on her knees.
“Whatcha thinking, Lincoln?”
“Nothing really. I was just thinking about how easy it is to be with you. I feel happy spending time with you.”
“I like spending time with you too. Thanks for cutting your hand. You’ve made the last two days really special.”
“Good. I’m glad they’ve been special. I’m not glad about the cut though. It stings like a mother right now.”
“You didn’t reinjure it, did you?”
“No, it’s just all the movement and sweat. It will be fine in a few minutes.” She tipped her bottle back and finished the beer. “You almost done? We have to get those crawfish into a nice pot of boiling water before too long,” she said.
“Yeah, I’m nearly done.”
“You do like to eat crawfish, right?”
Griffith swallowed her last sip. “Um, sure. I guess. They were great in the étouffée. I’m sure they’ll be just as good boiled.”
“Better. They’ll be so good you won’t believe it.”
“I can’t wait. This is hungry work.”
“Yeah, it is. Let’s head back.”
They loaded up the bike and drove back to Bertie’s house. They enjoyed a comfortable silence, both worn out from the adventure. Bertie was sitting out on the porch as if she were waiting for them.
“Is she expecting us?”
“Well, sure. She’s probably got the water all ready for the crawfish. She knew we’d be bringing back a mess of them. I always do. Let’s take them around the back and clean them before we hose down. Then you can shower first while I help Bertie get the other stuff in the boil.”
“Okay.”
They rinsed the crawfish and then left them near the huge pot Bertie had boiling on a propane burner in the back driveway. Adi poured in seasonings from a nearby box. Griffith saw potatoes and onion slices in the roiling water. The scent was rich and spicy, and Griffith heard her stomach growl at the thought of the deliciousness to come.
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