by Zoe Dawson
I flew backward and hit the gravel hard, the wind knocked out of me. My brain rattled from my brother’s brutal right hook, I shook my head.
“What the hell is going on here?” Brax said, his voice hard and angry. He hated any kind of fisticuffs near Outlaws, worried it would ruin his family-friendly reputation. And now the Huckleberry Chef had even more to protect.
“Mind your own business, Brax,” Jake growled. His fists were still clenched. “You might be able to placate Momma and Daddy with your success, but I know you’re a gutless coward. Go back to the bayou, Chase. I can’t be bought.”
“I’m not trying to buy you. I just want to talk, Jake. We’re brothers!”
Anger and something else seethed in his voice. “I don’t have a brother anymore.”
Brax helped me up and I wiped the blood from the side of my mouth, working my jaw.
“Jake!” I called and started to go after him, but Brax held me back.
“Chase, it’s not going to solve anything. Give him time to cool off. Nothing is going to change overnight.”
Jake marched away and threw himself into a sleek, red sports car, gunned the engine, and the powerful machine fishtailed before he hit the paved road and evened out. He roared off. I rubbed my jaw, figuring that there was going to be more of this before Jake and I came to terms. It might not be in a couple of days, or weeks, not even in time for my parents’ anniversary party, but I wasn’t going to give up.
He was wrong. I did have a brother, and he was inside that big shell of a man. Eventually we would get to the meat of the problem between us, and then we’d both need some ice, probably stitches, and definitely first aid. And I was damned determined he wasn’t going to misdirect and then coldcock me like that again.
Even if I had to pound some sense into him.
My lip and jaw were swelling by the time I walked into Samantha’s kitchen. She looked over at me with a smile, then back down to her sauce, but her head whipped up almost immediately. “Chase! What happened?”
She rushed over to me and gingerly touched my lip with her thumb. It felt good, this concern of hers.
“Let me get you some ice.”
“I don’t need ice right now,” I said, and kissed her. Her mouth was eager and sweet beneath mine. She wrapped her arms around me. I kissed her for several minutes, until the door opened and Beth came in. “There’s no time for hanky-panky,” she admonished. “We just had two tables of six come in and a table of eight. Chop-chop.”
I looked down at Samantha. “She’s way bossy.”
There was a twinkle in her eyes. “I know. Think I should fire her?”
“Hmm, yeah.”
“Oh, you couldn’t do without me,” Beth said, her eyes flashing. “Now,” she pushed at my shoulder. “You’ve got to go. I need sirloin, mahimahi, and a crawfish étouffée—pronto.”
I sighed and waited until Beth left and the swinging doors ceased to swing. “I was hoping for some rollercoaster—”
“Mister, it’s been a rollercoaster since the minute I set eyes on you.”
“Oh, yeah? That’s what I like to hear, darlin’. You can’t get away?”
“Don’t give me those puppy-dog, little-boy-pleading eyes all wrapped in sultry. I’m up to my armpits in alligators. Unless you want to do some wrestling, I’d say you’d better git while the gittin’s good.”
I sighed. “I’ll have to see you tomorrow. I’ve got a full day, and I need to prep bait tonight. Tomorrow for dinner? I was hoping for breakfast.” I shrugged.
She stared up at me, and the air between us heated. “You really are a rollercoaster, tilt-a-whirl, space mountain master,” she murmured. “Dinner. My beautiful kitchen is in, and I can’t wait to make a meal for you there.”
With infinite gentleness, she rose up on her tiptoes and kissed me, whispering against my mouth. “Chase, you make me crazy.”
“Ditto,” I said, and caught her by her ponytail to pull her head back as she opened her mouth beneath mine, and I took all she offered. She gave me what I wanted, for now, then she pressed her hand against my face and eased away.
But she wouldn’t let me go until she gave me some ice in a bag and a couple of painkillers. I left thinking I’d be willing to take several more hits from Jake to get more of that tender treatment from her.
I woke up the next morning with stiff shoulders from handling the bait last night. A look in the mirror confirmed I had a bruise on my jaw and cheekbone, and my lip was still puffy and sore.
Jake had been a butt yesterday, but the real truth was I wanted to reconnect with all my family again. I wanted a full life, and right now I didn’t have it.
I cared about Samantha, and taking steps to work this stuff out brought me a step closer to a future with her.
I showered and ate breakfast, pouring some coffee in my travel mug. I needed to get over to Bayou Berangere for crawfish, and then head out for catfish. I had a special order of apple snails from The Gardens, an upscale restaurant in Suttontowne, and that would be a quick hop skip over to the Gulf.
But before I could get those snails, I needed to tie some lures for the redfish run I would make either before or after the snails.
Almost to the truck, I took a fortifying gulp of coffee and swallowed wrong when I saw my slashed tires. I coughed as I stared incredulously at the ragged rubber, deflated, the rims of my truck all but touching the concrete.
“Sonofabitch, Jake!” He had warned me to stay in the bayou, and this strongly worded, nonverbal message that was almost as effective as the punch to my face.
I grabbed my phone out of my back pocket and dialed Ethan.
“Hey, bro, what’s up?” he said.
“I need your help.”
“Yeah, okay,” I heard the unquestioning support in his voice. “What you need?”
It took Ethan an hour to show up with the type of tires I needed.
He took one look at my truck and said. “Damn, you weren’t kidding. This looks like one pissed-off dude. Your brother is that angry?”
“Yeah,” I pointed at my jaw. Ethan looked a little closer. “He did that? Whoa, Jake packs a wallop, but that kid always knew how to hit, and hit hard.”
It took us another hour and a half to change out the ruined tires, and by then I was seriously behind schedule. I’d be lucky to make it to Samantha’s at a decent hour.
Ethan caught my eye when we were done, and I threw the jack into the back of the truck bed. “You’re not gonna kick his ass, are you?”
“Not my plan, as long as he fesses up.” My shoulders slumped.
“I’m sorry it’s been so hard for you,” he said, clapping me on the shoulder.
“He’s not the only one I wronged.”
“Yeah, well, I’m easy. I told you I was out of touch working for Uncle Sam…and shit happens.”
“I value our friendship, and I’m sorry if I hurt you when I left.”
“It was tough. One minute we were close, and then I didn’t know what had happened to you, but you better get out of here. You’re already way behind. We can talk about it later.”
“I just want him to talk to me. I don’t care about the tires. I just want—aww, Christ.”
“Give it time, man. He’ll come around.”
“I’m not sure he will.”
With the pressure of lost time dogging me, I pulled up in front of my parents’ house. I knocked and Jake answered the door. He didn’t move. Didn’t welcome me, and clearly had no intention of saying anything.
“You slashed my tires. I get it. You’re pissed, but talking about it would be a better alternative.”
“What?” He frowned, his eyes snapping.
“You know what?”
“I didn’t slash your tires. I don’t care enough to do that. I’ve got work to do.”
He tried to shut the door on me, and I wedged my foot in between the door and the jamb. He went to shove me, and we tussled right into the foyer. Suddenly I was inside the house and realizi
ng I hadn’t thought this through, not completely. I was a little rattled about being here. It had been such a long time, and my gut clenched with the memory of the day I found out my life was one big lie. That our lives had been built on foundations of sand.
“Get the hell out of here,” he shoved me, and I crashed into the foyer table, knocking over my momma’s Steuben rendition of a pecan tree, commissioned to commemorate our family business. The one-of-a-kind crystal art piece crashed with a loud, shattering, popping noise. We tussled some more and a fine porcelain vase with pink peonies in it crashed to mingle with the crystal, water and flowers going everywhere. I heard shouting, but I was much too busy trying to keep Jake from pummeling me. He’d gotten in several body blows before I had a chance to defend myself.
Then someone grabbed my ear in a familiar, pinching grip. Before I knew it, she had Jake by the ear as well.
“What in all that is holy do you two think you’re doing? You’re not boys anymore.” She punctuated the scold with a savage jerk on our ears. Both of us cried out, the pain from my ear running down into my cheekbone and jaw, catching everything on fire.
“He started it,” Jake said.
“Oh, that’s nice. That’s just so mature,” she said. “What is this about?”
Both of us clammed up, but my momma knew how to get us to talk. She was an ear-twisting master.
“Ow!” I shouted when she again used her torture technique on me. “I just came to talk to him.” My voice subdued and my shoulders slumped. “I just want to have a conversation.”
She let go of us, turning to glare at Jake. “Can’t you hear him out?”
Jake stared at me. There was something so raw, so devastating in his eyes. He realized that I hadn’t brought up the tire slashing and had protected him. I could see it in the way he looked at me. “There’s nothing to talk about.”
“Jake, please.” He ignored her and silently took the towels from the maid standing there and began sopping up the water.
“I’m sorry about the tree, Momma. I’ll replace it.”
“I broke it. I’ll replace it,” I said.
Her eyes softened as she looked at me, and before I knew what was happening, she threw her arms around me. I hugged her back. Squeezing my eyes shut, I could barely keep my emotions in check. She still looked amazing, so beautiful and put together. Every inch the Southern lady, and the love for her welled up from my gut and smashed my protective walls to smithereens. I had no armor where she was concerned. I think I ran from here because I was so lost, and it never occurred to me that she would have the answers. I never took the risk and shared what I had found. Had that been my way of protecting them? Saving them from the same pain I had endured, the loss of something so fundamental? Or was I the gutless coward Jake had accused me of being?
“I missed you every day. I’m so proud of you and what you’ve accomplished.” She said, her face beaming with a joy only a mother could exude.
I opened my eyes to find my brother standing there, an anguished look on his face, before he masked it and accepted the broom to begin sweeping up.
Had I lost my chance with him? Was it too late to make amends and forgive? I had hurt him deeply, and now he was making sure I never did so again. His hurt had turned to bitterness and anger. His reaction to what I had done was his own to handle and come to terms with. Mine was to make amends. But I couldn’t make Jake talk to me or forgive me. He needed to figure out how to handle me being back in his life in his own time.
After he’d cleaned up the flower and water mess, he left the foyer without saying a thing. Regret weighing me down, I was left standing with my momma, whom I hadn’t seen since Brax was shot. “Chase, I’m so happy to see you. I got your RSVP, and your daddy and I are thrilled. Your plus one will be a charming addition. I knew you had your eye on Samantha Wharton.”
I smiled and shook my head. “Momma, you were shameless when you got Aunt Evie to work up a scenario to ambush her,” I said. “We are just starting a relationship. Give her a break.”
“All right. I’ll try, but I like her very much, and she cooks like a dream. Even though she does have an affiliation with the North, I think I can overlook that after what she has done to revitalize that beautiful landmark.”
I left my momma with a kiss to her cheek. She noticed the bruises, but didn’t say anything. I suspect she’d guessed Jake gave me the bruises, but she was smart enough to know she couldn’t coerce my strong-willed brother into doing anything he didn’t want to do.
Somehow I had lost my phone in Bayou Berangere, and I felt like slime that I couldn’t let Samantha know I was going to be late. When I got to Samantha’s, I knocked, but there was no answer, so I felt even worse, thinking our dinner date was ruined.
Then I heard the noise and it sounded like…a gunshot. I took off to try to chase down where it came from, and found Samantha with a very deadly-looking handgun. She was in a shooting stance, both hands around the grip, and focusing on tin cans in the distance.
As soon as she emptied the clip and shot all the cans off the wall, I cleared my throat. She turned around and smiled.
“I’m sorry I’m late.”
She thumbed the safety and set the gun into a case that lay open on an old stump, like a pro. It hit me. She’d been a cop, put her life on the line every day. Damn, that impressed the hell out of me. Two years ago she’d suffered terrible loss, and now she was thriving.
She ran over and hugged me. “You could have called,” she groused. “I was worried. You’re never late.”
“I lost my cell somewhere in Bayou Berangere. It’s been a bitch of a day.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. What happened?”
I ran my fingers through her hair. “Someone slashed my tires. All four of them.”
Her gaze was riveted to mine, her eyes registered her alarm. “What? Oh, God, Chase. Did you call the sheriff?”
“It was probably my brother, Samantha. He’d already told me to stay in the bayou.”
“Your brother? He would do something like that?”
I shrugged and looked away. “I don’t know. I really don’t know him anymore. I’d like to think I’m way off base. Speaking of surprises, what’s with the gun?”
“No one’s going to take anything else away from me, Chase. I don’t care who it is. I know how to handle myself with a firearm.”
“Yeah, that’s pretty clear to me. You’re sure not the shy, retiring type. Can’t even imagine you as a damsel in distress.”
“No. I’m not, but I think you already realized that about me. I was a cop, a good one.” Her voice softened. “I couldn’t bear it if anything happened to you because of me.”
“I’m no damsel in distress,” I said.
She smiled. “I know that. I have no doubt you can take care of yourself. Look at these guns.”
“What? These biceps?” I said, flexing them, and she sighed.
“I’m a sucker for powerful, sinewy arms.”
“Thank you kindly. I think you have well-formed…everything.” She pushed up on her toes and kissed me.
“Thank you kindly.”
“So, what’s for dinner?”
She gave me a wry look. “Men, it’s either about your stomach or even farther below your belt.”
“Speaking of which…”
She laughed. I liked the way she held my gaze, liked the intimacy of the smile in her eyes. I could come home to her, to this, every night.
Whoa. That thought had just hijacked my brain, but it sounded damn good to me. We headed for the house. Inside, I oohed and ahhed over her new kitchen, and I didn’t have to feign it at all. It was very impressive.
It was going on eight o’clock by the time we made it back to the kitchen. I promised to help her assemble her bedroom after we ate. She turned down the burner on the big pot. The aroma had been unmistakable, but I had been too busy getting her into bed for it to truly register. Gumbo. “You tried Mrs. G’s recipe?” My mouth was already watering.
/>
“Yes, and there’s corn bread to go with it.”
“Even better.” We ate out on the back porch, and it was so good, both of us went back for seconds.
“So, what is the verdict? Is this the best gumbo you’ve ever tasted?”
“Yes.”
“Would you have said that regardless to spare my feelings?”
I schooled my features. “Yes. That’s my final answer.”
She gave me one of her dry, amused looks.
I grinned at her, and what I’d planned to say later just blurted out of my mouth. I had wanted to work up to it, but instead I said, “Will you go with me to my parents’ wedding anniversary? It’ll be formal. Brax is catering it, though, so the eats will be great.”
“You’re asking me to come to a family gathering?” she wheezed. “As in meeting your parents.”
“You’ve met my parents.”
“But this is, you know, formal.” She stood up and began to pace. “I’d have to put on a dress…heels and everything. That’s a lot of work.” She looked me up and down. “Do you think you’re worth that much work?”
I got up and settled my arms loosely around her hips, letting her explore and taste, reciprocating in kind, amusement warring with arousal. She turned me on in every sense. When I pressed her face to my chest, her hair like silk against my jaw, she felt soft, sensual, and sexy as sin.
“I’ll endeavor to work at being deserving,” I said, my voice low and husky. Smiling into her eyes, I gently kissed her again. “So, what do you say? You wouldn’t want me to have to go alone, because I’m pretty much attached to this beautiful chef.”
She gazed at me, her eyes dark and slumberous, her mouth still moist from our kisses, and my pulse tumbled and caught.
She ran her thumb over my bottom lip, then leaned in to press a slow, savoring kiss against my lips. “Are you? You’re so easy.”
I gave a huff of laughter against her mouth. “You still haven’t answered my question.”
She gave me a slow half smile that was a come-on if I’d ever seen one, but there was a glint in her eyes that wasn’t at all sensual.
That sparkle of amusement intensified when she tipped her head to the side. “Yes, I will come to your parents’ wedding anniversary party with you.”