Bayou Dreams

by Lynn Lorenz

He’d let Ted leave and let wolf nature take its course. All during the sleepless night, he’d tried to think of any of the men he’d known who had died without mates, but no one sprang to mind. Why would he die? As far as he was concerned, it was just an old wolf’s story, told by the women to keep the men in check.

  Besides, the spell had been broken, and it felt like the longer he’d been away from Ted, the more in control of his desires he’d become.

  Out of sight, out of mind.

  Good.

  Great.

  Scott wondered if Ted would forget him this easily.

  »»•««

  “Last day of painting, everyone!” Darcy announced at breakfast. “We’re going to skip my lecture and get right to work. After lunch, we’ll do a final critique, then check out, and say good-bye.”

  Ted and the others dug into their meal. He listened as everyone chatted about the week and about going home.

  “So I suppose your husband will be relieved to have you back,” Ted said to Kirsten.

  “Relieved?” She frowned. “He’s excited. He called this morning to tell me he can’t wait for me to get back. He’s even made special dinner reservations at Antoine’s.” She beamed at him.

  Peter, on the other side of the table, nodded. “That sounds incredible. I’ve never been to Antoine’s.”

  “It’s as good as everyone says,” Darcy answered. “I’ve been several times.”

  Kirsten agreed. “It’s where he proposed to me.”

  “Wow. That’s special. Don’t tell us he did the ring in the champagne glass.” Peter leaned forward, eager to hear the details.

  “No. It was at dessert. He ordered the Bananas Foster, and when they rolled the tray up to the table to prepare it, the chef swept off the domed lid and instead of the dessert, there sat my ring!”

  “Guess you couldn’t say no, then.” Peter laughed. “I’ll bet everyone in the place was staring at you.”

  She nodded. “Yeah. But I wouldn’t have said no. I couldn’t.”

  “Mated,” Ted mumbled into his orange juice as he sipped.

  “What?” Kirsten asked.

  “Nothing.” Ted shrugged. “Sounds romantic.” He smiled. Not for the first time did he wonder if the judge would pay him the rest of the money he owed for the job. He had a sinking feeling he was going to get stiffed, but at least he had the five grand up front.

  It might not get him to Hawaii in style, but it’d get him there. The farther away from the bayous, the better.

  “So, Ted, what are you going to do when you get home?” Peter asked.

  “Hit the bars,” Ted shot off before thinking. Peter’s face fell, and Ted’s rarely used guilt kicked in. “Just joking! I’m going to relax, maybe do some more painting.”

  “How about you, Peter?” Kirsten turned to the younger man. “More painting?”

  “I guess.” He gave Darcy a baleful glance, then shrugged. “Maybe I’ll show up in New Orleans, Ted.” He winked. “We can hit those bars.”

  Ted groaned. “Kid, you wouldn’t be safe.”

  Kirsten laughed. “He is pretty, isn’t he?”

  “So pretty!” Peter blushed, but batted his eyes like an ingenue and they all burst into gales of laughter.

  Darcy put an end to it when he stood and signaled for everyone to be on their way to the day’s location.

  He didn’t look happy about Peter hitting the bars in New Orleans. Maybe he realized too late Peter was something special.

  And for some reason, Ted was glad it had been too late. For Peter’s sake.

  »»•««

  “Another good day for you, Ted.” Darcy stood back from Ted’s painting, propped against his car.

  “Thanks. I’m really happy with it.” Ted had to agree this painting was good, or maybe he was just learning how to accept praise.

  Darcy moved closer. “It’s the last day. I’m free until next weekend when I’m due in Mobile. I could stop over in New Orleans if you were interested.”

  Just a week ago, Darcy would be the kind of fuck Ted would go for, no strings attached and on his way out of town. Now he didn’t look so good, and that worried Ted. The spell had been broken, right? He’d been aroused thinking of Scott, but that was just lust talking, not that mating shit Scott had ranted about. It was crazy anyway.

  Werewolves and mates.

  He should take Darcy up on it, just to prove it to himself, but it would be easier to just go to the closest bar once he was home and find a twink to fuck. Besides, he wasn’t sure he really liked Darcy.

  “No thanks. But don’t let me stop you from going to New Orleans. Lots of fun there, even if you’re alone.”

  “Right. Oh well, c’est la vie!” Darcy gave a flourish of his hand, and off he went to critique the next person.

  Ted might not miss Darcy, that’s for sure, but he’d grown fond of Peter and Kirsten.

  He packed up his supplies, eased the still-wet painting into the back of his SUV, and waited for Peter to join him for the ride back to the inn.

  Once there, he’d pack up his belongings, check out, and head back to town, leaving Bayou End, St. Jerome, and Sheriff Scott Dupree far behind.

  “Hey, glad you waited for me!” Peter called out to him as he leaned against the vehicle.

  “No problem.”

  “You packed up fast. Guess you’re ready to leave.” Peter pointed to Ted’s supplies neatly tucked away.

  “Well, no point in wasting any time hanging around here.” Ted shrugged as he got in. Peter put his things in the backseat and climbed in.

  “I bet you won’t even think twice about me.” Peter sniffed the air.

  “Kid, you’re one of the best memories I have of this place.” Ted winked at him.

  “Thanks. I’ll remember you too. The man I should have listened to.” Peter laughed, then ordered, “Home, James.”

  “As you wish,” Ted answered. He pulled out behind Kirsten and followed the line of cars back to the inn.

  When they arrived at the inn, and Ted had gone to his room to pack, he discovered Marie and Maurice had special good-bye gifts laid out on his pillow—a small mesh bag holding some of their specially made bath items, like shampoo and body lotion, plus several pralines, and a gift certificate for a free night when you booked two. It was just another example of the friendliness and hospitality of the people of St. Jerome.

  Ted could get used to a place like this. He could see himself settling down here, and as he packed the last of his clothing, he had to remember Scott wasn’t asking him to stay, so he wouldn’t have to make that choice.

  So what was he thinking about it for?

  Ted zipped up his luggage and made a final check of the room and stepped out into the hall. He shut his door, and rolling his suitcase behind him, made his way downstairs to check out.

  Peter called out to him, “Hey, Ted!”

  Ted stopped and waited for Peter to catch up. “What’s up?”

  Peter’s eyes shone, his cheeks flushed with excitement. “Darcy asked me to spend the weekend with him.”

  “Wow. Are you?” Ted wasn’t sure it was the best thing for Peter, but he was an adult.

  “Yeah. We’re going to New Orleans first.” Peter blushed a deeper shade of red.

  “First?”

  “He also wants me to go with him on the rest of his tour.”

  “Wow.” Ted couldn’t stop saying that word. “Sort of a sudden change of heart, isn’t it? Are you paying for this?”

  “No, he told me I’d stay in his room, and he’d pay for my expenses.” Ted didn’t want to crush the kid’s high, so he smiled.

  “Great. Just be careful, kid. Darcy’s odd.” He shrugged. “Did you ask if he was going to keep his dick in his pants while he was with you?”

  Peter stared at him. Had he grown a second head?

  “Just be careful.” Ted leaned over and gave Peter a soft buss on the cheek. He didn’t know why, but he added, “If you need any help, call me.” He dug out his b
usiness card and handed it to Peter.

  “I’ll be okay.” Peter pocketed the card without looking at it.

  Ted shook his head and headed down the stairs. He really hoped so. Peter was a nice kid.

  As Ted stood in line to check out, his gaze wandered over to the display of brochures highlighting the tourist events and places around south Louisiana.

  At the top, several cubbies were filled with bright red glossy brochures advertising the Rugarou Festival. He stepped out of line and snatched one up, then went back to his spot to read it.

  The front panel explained the legend of the rugarou, a vestige of the loup garou stories of France, brought to the bayou country by the Acadians who’d settled here.

  An artist’s vision of what the dreaded bayou monster would look like stared back at Ted, all bared teeth, and large pointed ears. Sort of half man, half wolf.

  Right then, the other shoe dropped along with his stomach, and Ted put it all together. What a fucking fool he’d been!

  He growled as he read the rest of it, barely restraining himself from shredding the flimsy paper. The other side talked about the social club that sponsored the event, with the proceeds going to help charities for firefighters, EMS, and sheriff’s department.

  Sheriff? As in Sheriff Scott Dupree?

  Scott had been bullshitting him. He wasn’t a werewolf at all. It was just some crazy legend, and Scott had to be caught up in it, or had just used it to get him to have sex. How could he have been so stupid to believe that line of crap?

  Ted’s face burned with the sudden shame of being played, and just as fast, anger swelled in him. He clenched his fist, crumpling the brochure, imagining Scott laughing about it.

  The line shuffled forward, and it was Ted’s turn.

  “I’m so glad you came,” Marie told him. “I hope you’ll come back soon and visit us again.”

  Ted forced a smile as he gave her his credit card. “Bayou End is lovely. I’ll be sure to tell my friends about it.” There, friendly, but noncommittal. He’d never come back here again. What had he been thinking?

  She gave him his receipt. “I see you have one of our brochures.”

  He stared down at the one still crumpled in his hand. “Oh, yeah. I forgot.”

  “I’ll just get you a new one.” She laughed and moved away to retrieve another.

  “No, that’s okay. I’ve read enough.” He frowned as he shoved it into his jacket pocket. Marie nodded and came back. “Marie, thank you for your hospitality.”

  And with that, Ted turned around and headed out the door, determined to put St. Jerome and everything that had happened here far behind him.

  If he ever saw that bastard Scott Dupree, sheriff or no, Ted would beat the shit out of him.

  »»•««

  Scott sat in his cruiser down the block and watched as the cars left Bayou End. He wondered, not for the first or third time, what the hell he was doing there.

  He hadn’t been able to shake the urge to see Ted again, and he’d almost convinced himself that it was to make sure the man had left St. Jerome.

  But the longer he sat, the more he doubted his motives. With each car, his heart raced, and butterflies danced in his belly as they turned onto the road from the long driveway and headed out of town. And with each car that left, he exhaled as his stomach sank when he realized it wasn’t Ted’s SUV.

  This was crazy. Even if he saw Ted, what did he think he was going to do? Wave good-bye? Get out and talk?

  Kiss him good-bye? Slide his tongue down Ted’s throat and grab his ass? Rub against him?

  Ho-ly hell, no fucking way. The spell had been broken, and he hadn’t thought of Ted that way since that night.

  It was over. He’d made his decision.

  Scott put his hand on the keys to crank up the car just as another car pulled into view.

  This time it was Ted’s, and with a hard thud, Scott’s heart beat like a jackhammer in his chest.

  The car turned and headed straight for him.

  He almost ducked to hide, but something kept his hands braced on the steering wheel.

  Ted slammed on the brakes and jerked his car to the side of the road, coming nose to nose with Scott’s cruiser.

  For a long moment, they stared at each other through their front windshields, gazes locked with something Scott didn’t have a name for burning between them.

  Ho-ly shit.

  Ted glared at the man who’d played him for a fool and all the blood drained from his brain to his dick, leaving only fierce anger and unspeakable need shaking his body.

  Scott just sat there, staring at him.

  The bastard. Had the fucking nerve to show up. Trying to rub Ted’s face in it, no doubt.

  Ted had enough. One way or another, this was going to stop right now.

  He jerked open the car door, got out, and slammed it shut. Traffic swept past him on the road, blowing his hair around his face as he went around the vehicle to the side of the road.

  “Get out, you fucking son of a bitch!” he yelled, as he stormed, fists clenched, toward Scott.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Scott growled low in his throat as the hairs on the back of his hand sprouted. His fixed gaze took in only one thing—a furious, mad-as-a-wet-hen, take-no-prisoners, pissed-off PI.

  “What the hell got up his ass?” After prying his hands off the wheel, Scott climbed out of the cruiser and slammed his door shut. He’d started forward before he realized Ted was shouting at him.

  “Motherfucker! I can’t believe you’re sitting here waiting for me. You must have balls the size of grapefruit, you bastard.”

  “Whoa!” Scott held up his hands in a ‘calm down’ gesture, but it only seemed to rile Ted up even more.

  “Don’t tell me to calm down.” Ted stepped into Scott’s face, invading his space until Scott had to retreat a bit.

  “What the hell is going on, Ted?”

  “Did you think I’d never find out about your little social club? That I’d be so stupid to really believe you and all your bullshit about werewolves? It’s just a fucking legend, isn’t it?” Ted poked him in the chest with his finger, and he winced. “One you used to get to me, telling me I was your mate just to trick me into having sex with you.” Ted shook with rage, his fists white-knuckled.

  Scott blinked, trying to take it all in. “It’s not bullshit. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Right. The Rugarou Festival?” Ted sneered and placed his fists on his hips as he waited for an explanation.

  “I didn’t trick you.” Scott’s reserve broke, and he bellowed, “We both wanted it. You felt it too.” How could Ted deny what happened between them?

  “All I felt was lust. A hard-on for a good-looking guy, that’s all. I’ve had them before, and I’ll have them again. You’re the one that came up with the love spell crap and the werewolf story.” Ted glared.

  “It’s the truth, not a story.”

  “So there’s no legend of the rugarou?” Ted cocked his head to the side, glaring.

  “Yeah, there is, but…”

  “And you do belong to a social club, right?”

  “Yeah, but it’s not like that…” Scott couldn’t get a word in with Ted in his enraged condition, and it bled over to Scott, kicking his anger into gear. It was all he could do to keep from grabbing Ted and throwing him to the ground to make him submit.

  Ted growled as he pulled at his hair. “And to think, I believed you. I even considered staying here with you as your fucking mate! How gullible could I be? How stupid? You must have been laughing your ass off over that. Did you tell your friends at the club?”

  Scott froze, then reran Ted’s words in his head. “Did you say you considered staying?” For the first time, he really looked into Ted’s eyes, searching for something.

  Ted’s chest rose and fell with each deep gulp of air he sucked in. Pain filled his eyes. He let go of his hair, and his arms fell to his side. “Yeah. I did.”

&n
bsp; Scott nearly reached out for the man but caught himself. The spell had been broken. He’d made his decision to let Ted go. What was done was done.

  “I’m sorry. I swear to God I didn’t play you. I am a werewolf, and there was a love spell. But we broke it, and you’re free to go.” Scott took another step backward, distancing him from his former mate.

  Ted’s glare softened. “Right. Free to go.” He exhaled, reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the crumpled brochure. “I saw this when I was checking out at Bayou End.”

  Scott recognized it. “Oh, yeah. We raise money for charity. The pack does, I mean.”

  “I’m sure it’s a good cause.” Ted seemed to have calmed down.

  Scott tried to reach him with a smile and a soft voice. “It is. We take care of our own here in St. Jerome.”

  “Good.” Ted’s gaze fell to the ground, then back up to Scott. “Look, I’m leaving.” Ted waited for Scott to say something, but none of the things that came to Scott’s mind could be said. And definitely not any of the things he wanted to do. Not now.

  Scott gave him a nod.

  Ted shoved the brochure back into his pocket. “Have a nice life.” Then he turned and went back to his car, got in, reversed, and pulled away, gravel flying.

  A tightness in Scott’s chest hit him, stealing his breath. The world spun, and he staggered backward, landing on the hood of his cruiser.

  He closed his eyes tight and inhaled deeply several times, then looked up and down the road. Scott rubbed his chest and wondered if anyone got the license of the truck that just hit him because he felt like he’d just been run over.

  Ted was gone.

  »»•««

  Ted hung up the phone. He’d set the meeting with Judge Charbonnet for eight tomorrow night at the old man’s office in the French Quarter near the Old Mint. The old man sounded eager to get the news, but Ted didn’t think it would be what he expected.

  If everything went Ted’s way, he’d have the next check for five grand in his pocket when he left there. If not, he’d just have to deal with it. He’d been stiffed before by a client or two, and unless he wanted to involve a lawyer, there wasn’t much he could do about it.

  Ted walked over to his makeshift bar on the counter that separated the kitchen from the living area and poured a scotch, then downed it in one gulp. The fire burned down his throat and landed in his belly, spreading warmth through his body.