by Gina Watson
Massive light fixtures, chandeliers, and antique fans hung from the high ceilings, dusty and with many blown light bulbs.
When they finally reached the end of their journey, Everett was in a room he’d spent time in before. As a child he’d played with little die cast cars on the rug in this very room, racing against his uncle—Ashton’s father.
The carpets were worn. A massive leather couch was cracked and scuffed from years of weather and use. A television rested on the hearth, with wires hanging haphazardly down to the floor. Dozens of brown crunchy leaves curled on the floor.
Ashton vigorously scratched his head as he sat on the worn couch, and it was the first time Everett noticed his attire. Denim jeans with large holes in the knees, fraying strings left to fly loose. His shirt was also denim—whether to match his jeans or for its enduring qualities Everett didn’t know. Three buttons were hooked, the others were left undone, or maybe there were only three. From where he stood Everett couldn’t tell, but suddenly he realized he was gawking. Courtney had already taken a seat in an iron patio chair so he took the cushion on the opposite end of the couch.
That was when he noticed the smell. Diesel and leather. The smell was strong. What the hell had Ashton been doing before they arrived?
“I’d rather hoped this meeting would be confidential.” Ashton cut his eyes toward Courtney.
“Oh don’t mind her. Other than her mouth, she’s harmless.”
Courtney thumbed through her phone, but managed to scoff at their exchange.
She stood. “How about I prepare us some coffee?”
“I don’t have any.”
“Tea then.”
“I’m fresh out.”
“Right. Three waters coming up. If you would just point me in the direction.”
Ashton gestured and Courtney strutted out in her three-inch heels.
Everett took in the greasiness of Ashton’s hair and the unkempt beard and wondered how long it had been since he’d bathed. He didn’t really smell bad, but he reeked of petrochemicals.
“You wanted me to take a look at an oil lease?”
Ashton stood and walked over to a console table. From a drawer he pulled a shiny black folder that he then handed to Everett. It’s actually my lease. I own a fifth of the land as it’s divided equally among my brothers and me. Recently I’ve discovered crude running beneath the parcels outlined in the document. I’m set to begin extracting the product, but I need you to oversee the business end of the operation.
“Me?”
“Your family needs representation. You’ll see in the document crude is present beneath your land as well. We’ll need to discuss pump speed and number of wells to set up to capture the oil. Please, I don’t want a family discussion. Just speak with your father and relay the info back to me.”
“Dad will probably want to speak with you.”
Ashton abruptly stood. “Forget it. I won’t extract anything. The oil can run until it’s discovered by someone else along the line. Good day.”
Ashton took hold of the document folder just as Everett tightened his grip on it. “Good day?”
“Yes.”
“You’d let it all go if extraction means you’d have to speak with my father, your uncle?”
“No, I’d let it all go if it meant I had to converse with anyone other than you.”
“Why?”
Ashton resumed his vigorous head scratching. Only it wasn’t scratching per se, but more of a rubbing, and only with one hand on the back of the head. The other hand was propped at his waist. “I don’t want to answer questions. It’s not open for discussion. I stated the terms I desire. If I can’t have them, then you may as well leave.”
“I’ll make it happen.”
“Please, it’s imperative that you make everybody understand that I don’t want to be bothered.”
“Fine. Consider it done.” Everett sighed, frustrated. “I’d like one question, however, as it pertains to me.”
“What?” Ashton responded with a gruff voice.
“Why me?”
“The obvious answer being you’re an estate attorney. Additionally, it seems you have an aversion to the area.”
“That’s a point in my favor?”
“It is. You’re removed from the gossip and local societal fraternizing. I can’t tolerate southern small-town politics. I can only assume you share my sentiment given the distance you keep.”
Ashton’s green gaze burned into Everett, demanding a reply. “Yeah, I almost got sucked into the vortex of Baton Rouge high society. Until I realized, in this day and age, who gives a shit? I left to escape the clutches of Clarissa Girouard’s father.”
“The advertising guru?” Ashton’s raised brow awaited reply.
“Yeah, I was being pushed to join the family business—in which I had zero interest—just because I’d been having sex with his daughter. The family was starting to make demands: marriage, children, advertising internship. Suddenly I saw my entire life flash before my eyes and I had no control over it. As soon as I graduated I enrolled in Harvard Law and took off without saying goodbye because I was afraid her family would talk me into staying.”
Deep laughter filled the airwaves. The bastard was laughing at Everett’s most sincere confession. “Your laughter is not appreciated.”
“Oh yes, it is. I haven’t laughed in years. You better hope you don’t run into any Girouards while you’re in town.”
Everett hadn’t thought of Clarissa since undergrad. Surely she would have found a respectable and affluent southern Louisiana family to partner with by now. He shivered at the thought of how his life could have turned out.
“Where’s your sister?” Ashton’s grim demeanor was back.
“She went to get water.”
Everett followed Ashton to the kitchen where the refrigerator was open and various frozen food boxes and meats littered the countertop. The kitchen was old and dated but large enough to accommodate a small Viking clan.
Suddenly Courtney’s body emerged from the freezer where she’d been hidden by the large metal doors. Her arms cradled even more food.
“What the hell are you doing?
“Oh, there you are. I’ve been yelling for you for over five minutes.”
Ashton pinched the bridge of his nose and grimaced. “What are you doing?”
“Temperature is already up to fifty-five. Your compressor has conked out on you. Wanna keep this food in our deep freeze?”
“I do not.”
Courtney frowned. “Well it’s all going to spoil.”
“I’ll take care of it. Please leave.”
“Look here, Ashton”—Courtney placed her hand on her hip and aimed her dreaded pointer finger at him—”You’re a David and Davids don’t conduct themselves like animals.”
“Courtney.” Everett tried to divert her attention.
“We are social, we are friendly, we are hospitable, and most of all, we are family. You need to quit with this weird hermit-psycho-stalker-creep thing you’ve got going and cut your hair. Wash your clothes. Clean this place up.”
“Courtney.”
“What?!” She met Everett’s gaze. He frowned at her, but she didn’t take the subtle hint. “It’s true. Why have you been hiding in this drafty old haunted mansion all these years anyway?”
When they turned their attention to him it was clear he was upset. His eyes went out of focus, he swayed on his feet, and then he simply fainted.
“Shit! Courtney, help me.” His head had hit hard on the marble floor. They pulled him into a sitting position and leaned him against the center island. “Why’d you have to lay into him like that?”
“I was trying to help him.”
“Well maybe don’t try so hard next time.”
Everett shook his shoulders. “Ashton?”
His eyes rolled under their lids. “Ashton?”
Green eyes were visible through small slits. Once his focus was back he opened further. He cringed as
he took them in, blinking frantically. “I’m sorry. I can’t …” He gasped and choked.
Courtney went down on her knees beside him and offered comfort as she rubbed his back. “Hey, it’s okay. I’m sorry I was a bitch. I didn’t know you were …” Her brow rose when she couldn’t complete her sentence.
“I’m not good with people. I have anxiety.”
He would no longer look them in the eye. Everett offered Courtney a tight smile. “I’ve got the documents. I’ll read over them and come up with a proposal by next week. I may require access to the drilling sites.
“You are free to come and go as you please. If you let me know you’re coming I’ll have the gate unlocked.”
“Very well. I’ll be in touch.”
Courtney and Everett left Ashton sitting on the cold hard marble as they made their exit.
Once he was behind the wheel of his car Everett sighed. “That wasn’t awkward at all.”
Courtney pointed at the trees as they drove away. “With the moss hanging from the tree limbs this would be a great place to film a horror flick. It’s as if the grim reaper is dressed in tattered rags.”
Chapter 3
A horn blew. “They’re here!” Ryder hollered.
Fiona finished wrapping the brownies she’d made for Ryder’s contribution to the fishing trip. She gathered his backpack that they’d stocked with various lures and bait recommended by Mr. Roy.
“Did you get the sunscreen?”
“It’s already loaded in the pack.”
“Great.”
Looking down she saw he had his pillow and the Kermit the Frog plush animal she’d purchased for him when he was three. She didn’t want to cry, she wanted to be strong and convey to Ryder that she trusted him to have a big-boy weekend, but the tears filled her eyes at the sight of her baby so grown up and handsome.
The horn blew again. “Ready?” Fiona asked.
He nodded, and that was when she saw the collected moisture in Ryder’s eyes. She’d need to keep her own tears in check until they were on their way.
At the truck she confirmed the details with Mr. Roy and then she watched Ryder load into the back seat next to Elijah. When he shut the door any hopes she had for a hug were shot. Mr. Roy put the truck in reverse and started backing out. Fiona waved, but only Mr. Roy waved back. Before he could make it out of the driveway the truck stopped and Ryder opened the door, bouncing out. He ran up to Fiona and hugged her tight, “I love you, Mommy.”
She kissed his forehead and inhaled his fresh clean scent. “I love you, Ryder. Be safe, okay?”
“I will.”
Fiona wrung her hands as she watched the large truck disappear down the road. She would have to find some way to keep busy all weekend or she’d spend the entire time worried about Ryder.
The phone in her hand buzzed. As she walked back toward the house she read the text from Everett:
Just checking on you. I think you are ignoring me. That’s fine, I’d ignore me too. Just wanted you to know I’m here and thinking of you and would love to see you again. We could go for lunch or dinner or a movie or whatever. I could get a tattoo. I would, you know. If it meant you would let me see you I’d let you give me a tattoo. I’d prefer it not be floral, but I’ll leave the details up to you.
She smiled. Everett was charming and he knew how to make her laugh—something no other guy had ever been able to do. Mainly because she’d had to worry about money and Ryder and the shop.
Her finger smoothed over the glossy phone screen. How she longed for another night with him—in his bed. His touch was silk and his kiss, she remembered, had rendered her speechless. The phrase friends with benefits bounced around in her head. However, she didn’t know what Everett’s intentions were. He worked in Boston so nothing long-term would be possible. Didn’t that work well for a sex buddy? Maybe they should meet and discuss.
She typed a reply:
Would U like to get lunch, or I can make lunch for us. Then we could talk.
On her phone an icon popped up, indicating he was typing a reply. She guessed as a lawyer he’d have to be on top of his communication game, but still she smiled at his eagerness.
Is it a let-me-down-easy talk? Because I’d just as soon skip that.
She marveled at his proper grammar, even when sending a text.
No, but it is a serious talk.
OK. I’d like to choose option B.
I have to get groceries. See U around one?
Can I go with you?
You wanna go with me to the store?
Yes.
Fiona was a little surprised by his request.
OK.
Shall I come to you then?
OK.
Are U gonna send me the address?
212 Rainy River Road.
See you around eleven?
OK.
She realized her last few replies, other than the address, had simply been OK.
It was early yet, so Fiona thought she’d go for a jog along the bayou. As she ran and listened to Belle and Sebastian, her mind cleared and it was then that she realized why it wasn’t a good idea to entertain long-term thoughts of Everett.
Ryder was ten years old now. Soon he’d be a teenager. Fiona would never bring a man into his life at such an impressionable age. She was rearing him to understand that he could be anything, do anything, say anything he desired. She would not let an outsider interfere—especially a noncommittal and possibly narcissistic male. She was speculating about Everett of course, but in her mind most men possessed those qualities.
If she was being honest with herself, she couldn’t picture Everett being any of those things, but her son came first—even above her own selfish needs. He needed stability and consistency. Not some flashy big-city guy who devalued his roots, small southern life, and family. But what about friends with benefits? Would Everett be her beneficial friend? Fiona realized she didn’t have the time to accommodate another friend in her life, and she couldn’t risk Ryder getting attached to a man who may not be there when he needed him most.
Would Everett be her Baton Rouge Booty Call? She’d joked with him about this before, but it was just to keep him from pursuing her. She didn’t think he came to the area that often. Maybe less than a dozen times per year. That would be perfect. A smile grew across her face as she contemplated the perfect situation for them. After all, what red-blooded male would refuse her proposal?
After a shower, Fiona dressed in jeans and an off-the-shoulder blouse that showcased her tattoo. She applied mousse to her dark mahogany hair that was cut in an asymmetrical bob that hung along her jawline.
The doorbell rang as she finished up a light makeup job that amounted to lip gloss and a sweep of mascara to each eye. She padded to the door, scanning for her black wedges as she made her way through the house.
With no luck she answered the door in her bare feet. Everett stood in dress slacks, white dress shirt, and fancy shoes. His sleeves were loosely rolled up affording him the look of a relaxed distinguished gentleman. Fiona felt her nipples tighten at the sight of him. He dripped with testosterone. “Damn my uncontrollable primitive urges,” she mumbled.
“What’s that?” Everett asked with a gorgeous smile that left his gray eyes smoldering as if smoke was beginning to curl. Smoke comes before fire, Fiona excitedly thought.
“It’s nothing. Won’t you please come in?” As he entered he handed her a bottle of Riesling. “Nothing too heavy for lunch, but that is my favorite Riesling.”
“Let me start it chilling.” His fancy Rolex watch sparkled as she took the bottle from his hands. “Can I get you something to drink?”
“No thanks, I’ll just wait for the Riesling. This is a great neighborhood. Right on the park and trails.”
“I love it here. I’m a jogger so I usually hit those trails around five in the morning. Believe it or not, I’m not alone.”
“I jog too.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah, qualified for
the Boston marathon last year.”
“That’s impressive.” Really impressive. Fiona herself wasn’t very fast. She just liked to run because it cleared her mind.
“Let me locate my shoes and we’ll get going.”
The kitchen was small and when she passed next to his chest her nose took in his expensive male scent. Since they’d had sex in New York she knew how skilled he was at bringing her body to the place she desired to be. Shit. She’d frozen in front of him. With his chin angled toward his chest he offered her a sexy knowing smile.
“Thanks for inviting me over for lunch.” His voice was deep, laced with lust for her—or at least she hoped.
She cleared her throat and answered, “Thanks for coming.” Hmm, so many puns went through her mind she felt a little smirk pull on her face.
Everett drove them to the supermarket in his BMW. When she mentioned the only health food store in town, his nose curled up.
“You don’t like that store?”
“I don’t think I’ve ever been in it. I thought they only sold granola.”
Fiona scoffed. “That’s not all they have there. Anyway, that’s where I get groceries. I’m vegan.”
“You may be the only vegan in Louisiana.” His eyes grew openly amused.
“What if I told you I could prepare you something that you would swear was chicken, but wasn’t?”
“I’m intrigued, Ms. Miller.”
“Okay then. Leave it to me. You’re in for a treat with dessert because my neighbor has a throng of blueberry trees. I’ve got blueberries coming out of my ears so I’m making a crumble.”
He pressed an open palm to his chest. “Alas, dinner is saved. I hope that crumble comes à la mode.”
“Of course.”
***
“Mmm, this is pretty good actually.” While Fiona thinly sliced cucumber, Everett dunked a piece in the dip she’d made. Watching him eat was sexy as hell. All of his movements were efficient, and every time he placed a cucumber slice in his mouth he wiped his lips with a napkin. His manners were impeccable, as he chewed with his mouth closed and kept his elbows off of the counter despite sitting at the kitchen bar.
“What’s in this green sauce?”
“That’s a dip I make out of Greek yogurt and arugula. If I have it, I add scallion.”