Swamp Happens: The Complete Swamp Bottom Series

by Cora Kenborn

  I had no doubt Savannah would eventually move in with Pope. It was just a matter of time. Until then, maybe I could find her a roommate she wouldn’t end up smothering in the middle of the night, and for the fourth time in my life, I could start over.

  Wiping away another wave of fresh tears, I made the decision right then. I was leaving New Orleans.

  Curling up on the couch, I made a rough to-do list in my head of things I needed to get done in the next few days. I’d miss my sister, but I missed me more. I had to find her and bring her back.

  I’d almost dozed off when my purse chimed from across the room.

  Rolling off the couch, I crawled on my hands and knees to where I’d unceremoniously tossed my belongings. As I pulled out my phone out of my purse, a pain hit me square in the chest.

  Did you get back safely?

  Unable to process any more, I ignored it and dropped it on the floor beside me. Not five minutes later, another text came through.

  Are you going to ignore me after I drove all this way?

  Running to the window, I pushed back the curtain and gasped. Zep stood in my driveway, leaning against his truck with his phone cradled in his hand. He looked lost, and it took all I had in me to not bang on the window. Forcing myself not to move, I stared at the ravaged look on his face and the way the corners of his mouth pulled down as he stared at the phone, waiting for an answer.

  More tears spilled down my face, and my chin quivered. Opening the door meant opening my heart, and I couldn’t allow him inside either one.

  Addie, please…

  Please.

  He was on his verbal knees, and I couldn’t bring myself to kick him while he was down. One of us had to be an adult. If I planned on leaving New Orleans, at least I owed him the courtesy of telling him to his face. Taking a deep breath, I reached for the door.

  With a quick explanation, I’d walk away from him, and we’d end this. However, the only thing that broke as I wrenched open the door was me.

  He stood on my doorstep, both arms braced against the frame, and his eyes a little wild. For a moment, neither of us moved as we stared at each other, waiting for the other to react. The minute I opened my mouth, he rushed toward me, cupping the back of my head with one hand and jerking my hip toward him with the other. Stunned, I tried to speak just as his lips slammed against mine. His ferocity jarred me like a thunderstorm followed by a soundless tornado.

  The kiss wasn’t gentle. It was passionate and needy and erased every single thought from my mind. I had no idea why I didn’t pull away when he deepened it, and when his large hand grabbed my ass and squeezed it for dear life, I exploded.

  Zep kissed me like a man about to lose everything. I drowned in the dominance of his hold, the stroke of his tongue, and the repeated groans rumbling in his chest. Pushing me backward, he followed me down as I fell against the top of the couch. Without missing a beat, he dropped insistent, short kisses against my lips, finally pulling back and holding my face between his calloused hands.

  “I lost you once,” he whispered, his voice heavy with emotion. “I won’t make the same mistake again. I can give you the happiness you should’ve had all along, Addie. You just have to open your heart to me.”

  “I—”

  “If you want me to fight for you, I’ll fight. We’ve wasted too much time, and I’m done settling. I think you are too.”

  As he raked his thumbs across my cheeks to dry my tears, his words rang familiar, and I tucked them away in the back of my mind for later. Too overcome to do anything else, I held his gaze and ran a hand down his cheek while nodding.

  That was enough for him.

  Sweeping his arms beneath me, he cradled me into his chest and claimed my lips again as he stumbled up the stairs. Bouncing between the walls like human pinballs, we managed to make it through the door to my bedroom without breaking the kiss. Mumbling my name against my lips, he lowered me onto my bed.

  “You’re sure?”

  There was no other answer.

  “I’m sure,” I said with a smile.

  Zep stared at me, his jaw twitching. “What will it be, Addie? Slow and careful like the porcelain doll you’ve been all your life or hard and rough enough to shatter that motherfucker for good?”

  I swallowed as my body lit on fire. “Yes, please.”

  He quirked a lip and bent over me, bracing a hand on either side of my head. “Is that a please be gentle or please make me come so hard I see stars?”

  Yep, I’m going to die.

  “Stars,” I managed to squeeze out. “I’ll take stars.”

  “Good choice.” After releasing the button on my dress pants with one hand, he hooked his fingers around the waistband and dragged them down my legs. “Take a deep breath, Addie,” he mumbled against my skin as he chased the material with his tongue. “You might forget to later.”

  “Huh?” Confused, I popped my head up and searched his his face.

  With a wicked chuckle, he sank a finger inside me and lowered his head while licking his lips. True to his words, I saw stars.

  “Fuck!” As I clawed the sheets, he pushed my limits, drawing out three consecutive orgasms before I begged him to stop. Giving the inside of my thigh a soft bite, he crawled up my body and hovered over me with a smug grin.

  “Problem?”

  “I can’t take anymore,” I begged. “I need you.”

  “Then ask for it.”

  “Ask for what?”

  “If we’re going to shatter ‘Trophy Addie’, you need to learn to ask for what you want,” he rasped. “Tell me what you want me to do to you, Addie.”

  “I want you to make love to me.”

  He shook his head. “Not good enough. I want dirty words coming out of that pristine mouth, Snow White. Either you learn how to talk in bed, or I’m gonna—”

  My patience snapped. “I want you to fuck the shit out of me until I come so hard I pass out!” With a gasp, I slapped a hand over my mouth, not quite believing those words came out of me.

  Zep grinned as he pulled my hips toward him. “Well, why didn’t you say so in the first place? My pleasure.” Shedding his pants, he reached into the pocket and produced a foil packet. With a flick of the wrist, he had it rolled on and my legs over his shoulders. With a wink, he dropped a kiss against my knee. “Shooting stars.”

  I didn’t have to ask. On a drawn-out groan, he slammed into me, causing a spray of brightly lit stars to erase all further thought.

  Shooting stars.

  Once fully embedded inside me, he stilled, giving me a moment to adjust to his possession and size. He’d literally and figuratively stretched me to my limits, and my walls were crumbling.

  “Mine,” he growled, closing his eyes and shifting backward. Without another word, he drove back into me.“Fuck, Addie, you were made for me.”

  “Zep!”

  He thrusted so hard I was confident I had sheet burn on my spine, making me lose my mind for a second time. Screaming his name, I free fell back to Earth just in time for him to launch me back into the stratosphere.

  True to his word, he fucked me until I came so hard I passed out.

  Sometime during the night, I awoke happy and sated, wrapped tightly in Zep’s strong arms. Glancing over my shoulder, I watched him sleep, and as I brushed away the dark hair falling over the tip of his nose, I knew I’d never leave New Orleans.

  He said the words I needed to hear and destroyed “Trophy Addie” once and for all.

  “I can give you the happiness you should’ve had all along. You just have to open your heart to me.”

  As I snuggled deeper into his arms, the earlier nagging memory crawled out of a dark, tapestry-laden room and slapped me across the face.

  “Another from your past, from before the darkness will make himself known again. You’ll find the true happiness you always should’ve had, but only if you open your heart to it.”

  Who knew a crack fortune teller and a drunken night out at Mardi Gras would
change everything.

  30

  A Surprise Proposal

  Savannah

  New Orleans, Louisiana

  “What are you doing, Pope?” I asked as he guided me into the house. He’d covered my eyes with his hands as soon as we reached his front door and wouldn’t let me in until I agreed to follow orders. If he weren’t a cop, I’d think he was about to murder me.

  Pope slowly walked forward, his entire torso plastered to my back. As I felt every divot and hard plane of his body, I couldn’t stop my mind from wandering to all the different ways I’d experienced that body over the past day and a half.

  “It’s a surprise, now hush.”

  “When did you have time to come up with a surprise? You’ve been wrapped up in me for the past thirty-six hours.” I shuffled along as he continued to guide me forward. If I counted my steps correctly, we were in the living room.

  I could practically hear the smirk in Pope’s voice as he bent down to whisper in my ear. “I called in some favors.”

  We stopped walking, and I waited impatiently to find out just what the hell he had up his sleeve. What on earth was he doing?

  “Okay, are you ready?”

  “No, I think I’d rather stand like this for the rest of the night, thank you very much.” Pope’s laughter vibrated throughout my body, and it had me foaming at the mouth for more of what I’d just had. I couldn’t help it; the man turned me into a hussy in heat.

  “Open your eyes,” he murmured, removing his hands.

  I had to blink a few times, letting my eyes adjust to the dim light in the room. Once everything came into focus, a lump formed in my throat. It was beautiful. Candles were everywhere from the tables to the mantle of the fireplace, and he’d sprinkled rose petals all over the floor. It looked like something from a movie.

  “What’s all this for?”

  Coming to stand in front of me, he took my face in his hands and stared into my eyes with a fierceness I’d never seen before.

  “You mean the world to me, Savannah. I want you to know that. I have something to ask you.”

  Crazy boyfriend say what?

  The sound of a record scratching reverberated in my head, and my eye twitched. I experienced a full-on systems failure in my brain. Neurons weren’t firing, and his words began to run in a loop.

  I have something to ask you.

  I have something to ask you.

  I have something to ask you.

  Pope’s voice broke through the haze. “So, will you?”

  Oh shit, did he already ask, and I missed it?

  He wasn’t down on one knee, and I didn’t see a ring. What if he slipped some fucked up shit into the proposal? Addie always told me not to agree to something I didn’t fully understand.

  Fuck, I’d have to bite the bullet and tell him I wasn’t listening. “Will I, what?”

  Pope grinned, clearly enjoying the sight of me off-balanced. “Go to the Policeman’s Ball with me. My parents will be there, and they’re looking forward to meeting you.”

  Holy crap! That’s better than a marriage proposal.

  “You’re not fucking with me?”

  The toothpaste-commercial smile came out in full force. “No, I’m not fucking with you.”

  Letting out a scream, I lunged and we both toppled to the floor in a mass of elbows, knees, lips, and tongues.

  BLUE LINES & BOATMEN

  Book Four #datingdubois

  No one said dating would be easy.

  Then again, no one mentioned dating a Dubois sister would threaten your sanity.

  Quentin Pope and Zephirin LeBlanc have been content to stay in the background and let their girlfriends take the lead, but not anymore.

  They’re setting the record straight.

  Southern gossip, jealous exes, hidden agendas, meddling family members, and an unexpected twist push both couples toward the edge. However, nothing worth having comes without a fight, and Pope and Zep are ready for battle.

  Only the strong survive, and to be a part of this family, you have beat crazy at its own game.

  31

  Meet The Popes

  Pope

  New Orleans, Louisiana

  Sunday.

  The only day of the week I had to will myself out of bed.

  Brunch would be two hours, tops.

  Two hours of absolute torture no human should be subjected to. Two hours of sitting across the table from my father, listening to all the ways I’d screwed up in the most polite and condescending way imaginable.

  Of course, my father would insist we eat on the terrace, ensuring not only my civility, but that everyone passing by the Columns Hotel saw his perfect family enjoying a perfect meal at the perfect establishment. Image was the only thing that mattered, and every moment together provided an opportunity to advertise our brand.

  Yes, my family had a brand.

  At least, that’s what my father called it. My mother, on the other hand, just wanted to listen to the music. The jazz brunch was her favorite part of the week, and it was the only reason I still showed up.

  Every. Fucking. Weekend.

  I bit back a groan as I approached the steps that led to the lobby of the hotel. My parents and sister, Katherine, waited for me, undoubtedly because my father wanted to make a grand entrance with the entire Pope clan. This meant the first half of brunch would consist of my father telling me how unfortunate it was that I’d made my poor mother wait on the sidewalk.

  “Quentin.” My father’s clipped voice grated on my already frayed nerves.

  I kept my lips sealed. If I tried to speak, I’d lose my cool and cause a scene, upsetting my mother and sister in the process. Swallowing my pride, I nodded at my father and offered my elbow to my baby sister. She squeezed my arm and gave me a wink of solidarity as we made our way toward the hostess.

  The same woman who seated Savannah and me a couple of months ago peered over the hostess stand. “Good morning, Senator Pope. Please follow me. I’ve got your usual table all set up.”

  Senator.

  The worst thing that ever happened to my family.

  I willed my expression to remain neutral as we wound our way through the busy restaurant and onto the terrace. I spent years perfecting the mask I wore in order to hide my disdain for the man in the crisp blue suit in front of me.

  My father had never been a warm or caring parent. He didn’t see his children as beings who needed love and attention. We were simply pawns on a chess board he manipulated and used to get ahead in the game.

  Since I was ten years old, I’d been shoved in front of cameras and positioned like a piece of furniture to help drive the narrative of whatever garbage my father peddled at the time. I was used to being valued as little more than a prop. My father was who he was, and no amount of reasoning on my part was going to convince him to change. What I couldn’t accept was that he continued to wield the strings of my sister’s life like he was a puppet master and she was his marionette.

  I hadn’t let my father call the shots in my life since the day I turned eighteen. As soon as that clock struck twelve, I was done.

  Done playing his games.

  Done following his carefully constructed plan.

  Done subjecting myself to his bullshit.

  The hostess ushered us to the same table we’d had Sunday brunch at for nearly a decade. It sat situated against the balcony in the center of the terrace—prime real estate. Everyone walking the streets of the garden district below would have a perfect view of the senator’s picture-perfect family.

  “I’ve been assured that you’ll be seated at our table next week. As you know, gaining the commissioner’s support is instrumental to the campaign.”

  The campaign.

  Of course, it was the first thing he brought up. Why would he want to know how his daughter was doing in school, or how his son was settling into his new job? That didn’t get him anything or bring him closer to his achieving his goals.

  He lived on th
e roar of the crowd when he was on the campaign trail. So, it wasn't a surprise to me when he announced his candidacy for the governorship last year. It was why I decided to come back home. My father didn’t give a damn about anyone but himself. He didn't care that his campaign meant we were all in the spotlight and his family was running for governor as well. He’d never been a family man. To him, we were little more than accessories that made him look respectable and honest. He was a wolf in sheep’s clothing who didn’t care about his constituents. All he cared about was power.

  My hands clenched into fists, my knuckles cracking loudly as my grip tightened. I tried to control my temper, but after only five minutes in his presence, I’d had enough. I caught a glimpse of my sister out of the corner of my eye, her hands folded neatly in her lap and her eyes downcast as if she were waiting to be called to the executioner’s block.

  Ignoring my father’s attempt to steer the conversation, I turned in my chair to face her, successfully blocking out the tyrant sitting across from me. “So, Kat, how's school?”

  Her eyes darted to meet mine, and she opened her mouth to speak, but instead of her sweet Southern inflection, it was my father’s voice that filled the space.

  “Katherine just started her summer classes and is well on her way to law school.” Condescension dripped from his words, and it made me want to rip out his tongue. I could feel his eyes boring into the side of my head, but I refused to give him the satisfaction of my attention.

  Keeping my eyes on my sister, I spoke through gritted teeth. “Kat can speak for herself.”