La Fleur de Love: The Series: Books 1 - 4

by Leger, Lori

  Bitterness and resentment rose from the pit of her stomach to sour in her mouth. She sought the image of the middle-aged stranger staring back at her in the rearview mirror. She raised a finger to the worry lines creasing her forehead. “What makes you think you can do this, you stupid, stupid woman?”

  Carrie inhaled a deep, cleansing breath before side stepping the self-doubt. “What you should be asking is what made you think you couldn’t? Or who?” She shook her head forcefully, disgusted she’d let him get to her. “Damn you, Dave.”

  Long after Gretchen and Lauren joined her in the car, she continued to launch low curses targeted at her ex.

  “Mom?” Gretchen asked, interrupting Carrie’s personal rant.

  “Hmmm?”

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, you look kind of mad,” Lauren chimed in.

  Carrie gazed back at the looks of concern on her twins’ faces, determined to conquer her fears. Years from now, she wanted her kids to remember she was strong when she needed to be.

  “I was, but I’m over it.” She shifted her gaze back on the roadway.

  “At Dad?” Lauren asked.

  “I was more afraid than angry—my fault for letting him get to me.”

  Gretchen turned in the front seat to face her. “Are you still afraid?”

  Carrie reached out and brushed Gretchen’s golden brown curls back from her face, then smiled at Lauren in the rearview mirror. “Not anymore.”

  The next morning’s two a.m. phone call had her reassessing her opinion. The caller spoke no words, made no sounds other than light breathing, but she sensed the threat, more dangerous because of its ominous silence. She suspected Dave but couldn’t be certain.

  You’ll never know another man, if I can help it.

  His threat haunted her, kept her awake, tossing and turning until the five a.m. alarm sounded for work.

  One week later

  Lafayette, Louisiana

  The young woman’s sightless eyes fixed on the ceiling, her face void of expression, as though she’d taken herself far from the tiny apartment.

  He stared, pleased with the effects of their latest session. Vivid, red whelps combined with the pattern of purple, black, and blue, mimicking the patchwork quilt draped across the back of her couch.

  He leaned closer and whispered, watching for any reaction from her. “You’re tough, I’ll give you that.”

  He fastened the sturdy, square buckle and threaded his belt through its last loop. Recalling the sharp whack of smooth leather meeting her skin made him long to hear it again. No time for another round with her. Several weeks of careful planning had culminated in three glorious days of self-indulgent pleasure.

  His motivation to maintain the carefully structured schedule had been the same for nearly a decade. Freedom to play, without having to pay.

  He pulled on his boots and straightened, studying her one last time. “Maybe that mulish pride will keep you fighting long enough to survive.” He paused to brush the back of his hand down the length of her face and neck. “If you do, maybe I’ll pay you another visit one day soon.” He frowned, mildly disappointed his threat hadn’t produced fear in eyes that were otherwise useless. Some would consider her unlucky for being blind since birth, but he knew the truth, and so did she. No sight, no way to identify him—a chance to live. An uncharacteristic show of mercy on his part, but what the hell, he was feeling generous today.

  Early August

  Kenton, Louisiana

  Damn, my life sucks.

  Sam Langley gazed up at the August evening sky from the front porch of his home. Today marked the unwelcome anniversary of his first year as a single man—middle aged, divorced, and not enjoying it in the least. Funny the divorce should finalize on the exact same day.

  God, it was hot. The dog days of summer were upon them, with no relief in sight for at least another month, maybe even two. July had broken records for heat and humidity levels, causing temperatures to rise into triple digits. He braced both hands on the porch rails and breathed in air that was hot and dense with moisture. Nothing compared to summertime in south Louisiana.

  As fast as it got here, it’d be gone. Before long, he’d be surrounded by the sights, sounds, and smells of Fall: parents calling kids inside for meals, homework, and baths; music and cadences drifting over from the stadium as the high school marching band practiced routines for Friday night’s games; the smell of leaves burning, or the occasional lit fireplace as someone took advantage of the first cool snap. Fall meant lower temps and drier air as humidity levels dropped, causing the entire population to breathe a collective sigh of relief.

  Normally, he’d welcome the sights and sounds of the fall months. It meant the reddish gold of leaves as they turned, and the calls of Speckle Bellied, Snow and Blue geese flying in from the north, precise in their V-formations. Unfortunately, along with football season, the fall season would also bring shorter days and the long, lonely nights he dreaded.

  He walked inside to answer his ringing phone, thankful for the interruption to his personal pity party. A smile crossed his face as he recognized his married daughter’s number on the caller ID, no doubt calling to check up on her old man again.

  “Hey, Pop, how you doing tonight?”

  “I’m okay, Amanda. You and Joe just making it back from your mom’s?”

  “Uh huh, just calling to let you know we made it home.”

  “I’m glad you did. Is your brother walking home?”

  “One of Nick’s buddies picked him up. He asked me to let you know he’ll be riding around for an hour or so.”

  “Okay, hon.” He paused. “How’s your mom and everyone on that end?”

  “Everyone’s okay.”

  Sam heard a catch in her voice and her hesitance to continue. “What?”

  “Why didn’t you tell us the divorce went through, Pop?”

  He clenched his jaw and took the phone out to the porch with him. “I didn’t want to involve you in our mess.”

  Amanda spoke quietly. “I would rather have heard the news while I was home, so I could mope in private.”

  “I’m sorry.” He released his breath in a long, slow hiss. “One year ago, I never would have believed I’d be facing another summer—another fall, and all of those damn holidays—alone again.” Being single for the holidays was number one on his list of least favorite things.

  “You have us.”

  “I know. I appreciate having you kids around, too.” That won’t put a damper on those long, lonely winter nights.

  Sam stood still and listened to the sounds of small-town life. The young mother from next-door, pleading with her husband to help get their two rowdy boys settled; a barking dog down the street; the slow steady rhythm of the train’s freight cars clattering along the rail six blocks to the west. “When your mother left me a year ago, I really believed she’d be back by the end of the month.” Like all the other times she left in our twenty-one year marriage.

  “We all thought the same thing, but I guess Mom had other plans.”

  Sam grunted in agreement, as he heard Amanda cover the phone and speak to someone else in a muffled voice.

  “I need to go now, Daddy. You gonna be okay?”

  Sam smiled at the label that called to mind images from years past. His little girl, with banged up knees, big brown eyes, a constant pixie grin, and long, black pigtails—now twenty years old with a husband of her own. “You go on and get back to Joe. Don’t worry about me.”

  “Love you.”

  “Love you too, baby girl.”

  Sam ended the call and stood there, remembering the day Linda left. How the first month’s confidence in her return had slowly disintegrated when two months stretched into three, then four. The loneliness had eaten at him, eventually forcing him to accept the death of his marriage. It ended the only life he’d known for over two decades, with the only woman he’d ever known, in the biblical sense, anyway.

  He found himself twis
ting the plain, gold wedding band he’d continued to wear, even though Linda had discarded hers immediately.

  He pulled off his ring and raised it skyward to telescopically view the partial moon through the circle of gold. Sam palmed the ring before walking to the end of the sidewalk then out to the middle of the street. Without another glance, he wound up and pitched the ring as far as he could into the night. He never heard it land but knew it was gone, long gone, like his wife and marriage.

  Heat enveloped him as he made his way back to the porch. Sam dropped heavily onto the top step, feeling the residual warmth from the cement. As hot and miserable as it was out here, he dreaded going back inside.

  He gazed up at the star-studded sky, amazed at how much he sucked at going solo. He would’ve at least thought he’d enjoy being able to watch what he wanted on television, but he didn’t. He hated being alone, hated shopping for groceries alone, and hated not having a reason to shave. Scratching at his three-day growth of beard, he thought of his king-size bed, and how much he hated sleeping alone. It wasn’t even the sex, although he missed that, too. It was being in that big old bed with nobody to talk to at night.

  Sam wiped a hand roughly over his eyes. Nothing to look forward to. He stood up slowly and shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his denim shorts. He looked up at the sky as though he were talking to God. “So what the hell do I do now, huh? What do you have in store for this old man?”

  Old man? He shifted uneasily at the thought of his birthday around the corner. Being thirty-nine and single hadn’t done much for his mood at work. He doubted moving into the fourth decade of his life would be any better. He’d transformed from the office clown to “Oscar the Grouch” the past year.

  God must have one hell of a sense of humor.

  Mid-August

  Lake Coburn, Louisiana

  Carrie followed her new supervisor around the office as he gave her the grand tour.

  Dale spoke in a quiet drawl, typical of people raised in the northern parishes of Louisiana. “Counting you, we have five designers and a five-man survey party. That’s headed by Sam Langley.” He pointed to someone just walking into the front door. “Nice of you to join us, Langley. You want to introduce Carrie to your bunch?”

  Carrie turned and found herself facing a big, barrel chest covered in a blue chambray work shirt. She lifted her gaze up, up to the tall, broad-shouldered man standing before her. Striking blue eyes, nearly the same color as his shirt, held her attention as he gave her a scrutinizing stare.

  The fair-haired man nodded and introduced each of his crewmembers in a business-like manner before retreating into a nearby office.

  Carrie watched him walk away, wondering if she had done something to offend him.

  The only other woman in the office walked by with a mug of coffee and extended her hand. “Hey, I’m Roxanne, but everyone calls me Roxie. Don’t pay any attention to Oscar.”

  Carrie’s gaze danced from one stranger to the next. “I don’t remember meeting an Oscar.”

  Roxie sipped her coffee and motioned toward the office where Mister Big, Blonde, and Blue-eyed had disappeared. “Sam, also known as Oscar the Grouch.”

  “He seems a tad serious.”

  “He’s been cranky since his wife left him over a year ago,” Roxie explained.

  Carrie sucked in her breath and grimaced. “I know the feeling. I’m waiting for my divorce to finalize any day now.”

  Roxie wiggled the fingers of her left hand to flash her wedding ring. “I’ve been through it, too. I’m on my third husband.”

  Carrie cringed at the woman’s confession. “Jesus—do you walk on broken glass for kicks?”

  Roxie put her head back and laughed. “Men! Can’t live with ‘em, too damn broke to live without ‘em.”

  The days rushed by in a whir of activity. Before Carrie knew it, she’d been at her job for two weeks. She enjoyed the relaxed work environment and had already formed lasting friendships with her co-workers—or most of them, anyway.

  On the second day of September, she glanced up from her studying when members of the office carpool entered from the back door, as usual, nearly ten minutes late. From her own brief experience with the carpool, she was well aware who was to blame.

  She’d never forget the embarrassment of being fifteen minutes late her second day on the job because of Sam. She’d sat in that truck with the others, waiting for Sam and seething at his tardiness. The driver, a member of his survey crew, refused to leave without him, so they’d waited at his designated pick-up spot until he’d finally arrived, fifteen minutes later than he should have. Once he’d taken his sweet time to settle himself in his front seat place of honor, she’d given him a verbal chew-out he’d accepted with pure indignation. Since then, anytime they were in the vicinity of each other, the room temperature dropped to match her icy disregard for her co-worker.

  She briefly met Sam’s gaze as he dropped coins into the soft drink machine, before returning her attention to her study guide.

  “Look at you, hard at it this early in the morning. I’m so impressed.”

  Carrie responded in a dry monotone. “Goody. I can sleep at night.” She knew little about the man, other than the fact that Oscar seemed to be in a perpetual bad mood.

  He folded his long body over to retrieve his can of Coke, then walked slowly toward her desk. “What’cha got there?”

  “A study guide.” She returned to her book. The sooner she could get a couple of certifications under her belt, the better. Certifications plus time meant a raise in pay, and boy did she need that. She’d just tanked up her car for the second time since dropping out of the carpool. With the price of gas, her paychecks wouldn’t go far.

  He popped the lid on his drink and grunted. “All you ever do is study. What’s the hurry? If you needed the money, you’d still be in the carpool.”

  She stared at the man, shocked at his nerve. “If you’ll think back, genius, I tried that.”

  “Uh huh, you got all uppity with me, then dropped out after one day.”

  Carrie pointed at the large wall clock next to the entrance. “I can’t get to work late on a new job. Do you even know the meaning of probationary period?”

  “Aw, five minutes here and there won’t hurt anyone.” His tone was a mixture of teasing and serious-as-a-heart-attack.

  She blew out a frustrated breath. “Whatever, Sam.” She returned her attention to her studies and flipped her notebook to a fresh sheet with a snap of her wrist.

  “It’s not whatever, it’s what is.”

  When she ignored his overly confident comment, Sam would have been smarter to walk away. Instead, he leaned one elbow on her desk, as though daring her to confront him.

  Bantering with seven siblings and a nearly ex-husband had left Carrie sharp-tongued, sharp-witted, and itching to put him in his place. Being the new girl, however, she thought it safer to ignore his taunt, lest her position of “Last Hired” become “Next Fired”.

  She tapped the eraser of her mechanical pencil in time to Toby Keith’s Should Have Been a Cowboy coming from the piped in speaker system. She tried to concentrate on the text in front of her, an impossible feat when she could feel Sam’s blue-eyed gaze tracking her every movement.

  “Carrie …” His tone issued a challenge.

  “Go away, Sam.”

  “Uh unh, you want to fight. I can see it in your face.” He stepped back from the desk and picked up his fists, assuming a playful fighting posture. “Come on, Carrie. Let’s fight.”

  She spun on her stool to meet his gaze. “What’s in it for me? Besides getting fired, I mean.”

  Sam’s brow furrowed, his hands fell to his sides. “Is that what you’re afraid of?”

  She raised an eyebrow in answer.

  His rumble of laughter filled the air between them. “You’d practically have to kill someone to get fired from this place.”

  Dale spoke from behind her. “That could happen sooner than you think, i
f you don’t leave her the hell alone, Langley.”

  He released a low snort. “I ain’t afraid of her. If she had the gumption, she’d have done something about it by now.”

  Carrie released an irritated sigh and slammed her book closed. She stepped down from the stool at her desk and walked up to Sam, meeting his amused gaze with a sober one of her own. “You’ve got nerve, you know that, Sam?”

  The office buzzed like opening night of a Broadway musical, as co-workers gathered in anticipation of a verbal throw-down. Dale spoke from his spot behind her. “Get him, Carrie. That ornery son-of-a-gun has had it comin’ fer over a year now.”

  Her mouth tightened to suppress a grin at her supervisor’s vote of confidence. She focused her attention completely on Sam, and, though she stretched to her full height, still had to look up to face the irritating giant of a man.

  She nearly laughed when Sam put up his dukes, ready for a fight. She placed one finger on his broad chest, and gave him a light shove. “Who the hell are you to make that carpool late every morning?”

  He dropped his fist to his sides. “It’s not every morn-”

  “Every morning.” She poked his chest to make her point. “You made me fifteen minutes late my second day on the job.” She watched as Sam took a step back and stared down his nose at her.

  “Do you have two different colored eyes?”

  Her gaze narrowed suspiciously. “Don’t try to change the subject, you big Redneck.”

  “Do you?”

  “Yes, but what does that have to do with anything?”

  “That’s weird.”

  “You’re weird.”

  He cocked his head slightly to the side, as one corner of his mouth lifted in a lopsided grin. “Aw, is that the best you can do?”