by Mary Ellis
The Menard weekend retreat was just a two-story house with tile roof, wraparound front porch, and a gravel turnaround that encircled overgrown palmetto trees. Then again, Nicki’s birthplace outside of Natchez wasn’t much to look at either. According to Hunter, Mr. Menard used this home only for hunting or fishing with his cronies. Ashley refused to stay there after her mother died, but the true reason had more to do with no malls within easy distance than painful memories.
Nicki didn’t like Ashley, but she would keep her opinion to herself because Hunter probably harbored lingering feelings for the woman.
Nicki swatted a mosquito that evidently hadn’t read about her bug repellant’s effectiveness and opened her second bottle of water. Fortunately, Hunter’s blond head appeared on the front porch before she needed to use the woods as a restroom facility. Sporting no bruises or bloody wounds after his visit with Mr. Menard, Hunter walked quickly to his Corvette. Nicki started her car and then backed it under some low-hanging tree limbs, hoping the lush Spanish moss would conceal her identity. No need to reveal herself now since her first stakeout was a complete success. If Hunter looked in her direction, he would think it was just another abandoned car along the roadside, all too common in southern Louisiana.
The Corvette barreled down the driveway and turned onto the highway in a cloud of dust. While Nicki waited for him to disappear around the bend, she felt her rear car wheels shifting on the soft ground. Her heart sank too, as she imagined her compact swallowed up by a gaping black hole, the counterpart of quicksand in old TV Westerns. She scrambled out to assess the damage and sighed with relief. One wheel had sunk only a few inches. With any luck she wouldn’t need a tow truck. Nicki got back in, shifted into low gear, and tried to pull forward. The car advanced a few inches and then stopped, spinning both rear tires now into a deeper indentation. She turned the wheel slightly to the left for an attempt and then to the right. Each time the car almost broke free but then slid back into the original rut. Nicki climbed out again and slammed the door.
“Need a little help there, missy?” asked a disembodied voice.
Startled, Nicki stepped back into a puddle of water, coating her sneakers with dark muck. She glared up into a familiar face. “Hunter Galen, what are you doing here?”
“I was about to ask you the same question, Miss Price. I had business in Terrebonne. Weren’t you told to stay in New Orleans?”
“Well…yes, but I was afraid something bad might happen to you. Anyway, how did you know I was here? I saw you drive away without a glance in my direction.”
“When you didn’t jump back on my tail, I decided to see what happened.” He sauntered into the tall weeds to where she stood, smelling spicy and fresh, totally contrary to the humid afternoon.
“Jump back on your tail?” Her first real accomplishment since barging into her cousin’s office vanished. “When did you realize I was following you? When I turned off Highway 1 onto this road?”
Hunter’s smile deepened his dimples. “It was a little before that…when I turned off Royale onto Canal.”
Nicki slapped her open palm on the trunk of her car. “While we were still in the Quarter? You’re not serious.”
“I certainly wouldn’t have driven that slow if I weren’t trying to make it easy on you. My foot was cramping from hitting the brake so often.” His laughter caused several birds to abandon their overhead perches. “But let’s get you away from standing water. Have you forgotten what I told you about snakes in the swamp?” He reached out for her.
With her right foot still mired in the dank water she accepted his hand. The touch of his fingers sent her already heightened body temperature into triple digits. “There are speed limits in this state. But since you were noble enough to return for me, how about a push back to the driveway?”
Hunter inspected all four wheels and shook his head. “I can’t believe you pulled this far off the road. You grew up in the Mississippi delta, not in upstate Idaho. If a car sits on soft ground, the wheels start to sink immediately. Everybody knows that.”
Fighting the urge to scream, Nicki pasted a smile on her face. Hunter was her boss and she certainly needed him at the moment. “Thank you, Mr. Galen, for the timely reminder. But if you don’t mind, could we do something before Mr. Menard decides to run to the market?”
“Let me do some snake-chasing first. You wait in the driver’s seat.” Hunter picked up a stout branch and then beat the weeds behind the car. Then he positioned both palms on the bumper, avoiding the rut of stagnant water. “All right, Nicki. Just give it a little gas when you shift into drive. I’m ready at this end.”
She revved the engine, put it in gear, and pressed down on the accelerator. The wheels spun for a moment and then caught. The car lurched forward onto the Menard driveway. She offered a thumbs-up of sheer joy until she caught sight of Hunter in her rearview mirror. He approached her with a dark stripe of muck down his white polo shirt and tan chinos. Several strands of swamp grass clung to his clothes like accessories, while speckles of mud dotted his suntanned cheeks and nose.
He leaned in through the open passenger window. “Someday over cold drinks, we’ll discuss the difference between ‘a little gas’ and ‘pedal to the floorboard.’ But right now, why don’t you drive me back to my car?” Without waiting for an answer he climbed in, careful not to touch her upholstery with his dirty hands.
Nicki handed him a pop-up container of wipes she kept beneath the seat. “I knew these would come in handy one day.” He shot her an exasperated look, but he didn’t yell or curse or display the reaction she’d come to expect from men.
“I’m really sorry, Hunter,” she said softly. “I didn’t spin my wheels on purpose.”
“I know that. But to make up for ruining my shirt, you’ll have to follow me to St. Martinville.”
Nicki narrowed her gaze at him. “Isn’t St. Martinville still in the Cajun parishes? That’s definitely not my comfort zone. So if it’s just the same, I’ll head back to the city and start on those files.”
“It’s not just the same. You trailed me to protect me, right? So do your job, Miss Price. After I finished with Mr. Menard, I’d planned to head to my aunt’s for a weekend party. Because there could be an assortment of desperadoes there, I may need you.” He winked. Even coated with swamp mud, Hunter managed to look handsome.
But Nicki shook off her attraction to him. “No way, Jose. I’m not dressed for a Galen society affair. I brought only jeans and another T-shirt.”
“Jeans will be fine, and if you don’t come you’re fired. Any more questions, Nicolette?” he asked, his face impossible to read.
“None whatsoever, but I’m still on the clock.” She stopped next to his car on the berm of the highway.
“Understood.” Hunter climbed out, taking the container of wipes with him.
Nicki held her breath until he got in his own car. Actually, she had plenty of questions about meeting more members of the Galen family. Even if this wasn’t a black-tie event, how would he explain her within days of breaking up with his fiancée? What if Ashley showed up in a desperate attempt to win him back? Nicki stewed all the way to St. Martinville.
The western part of the parish was still rural but didn’t seem as remote as either the fishing camp she’d been lured to or the Menard place. Flocks of egrets and cranes filled the skies over crystal-blue lakes and waterways. The landscape appeared wider, more open, and less harsh as they neared the home of his aunt. Trying to picture the sister of Etienne Galen, Sr., Nicki imagined a tall, severe woman with an angular face and couture clothes. But instead a very round woman barely five feet tall with graying hair, cropped jeans, and a baggy shirt greeted them at the front door.
“Good grief! What happened to you, Hunter?” The woman scanned him from head to toe. Nicki had almost forgotten his appearance by the time they arrived at the rambling old farmhouse set far back from the road. A variety of vehicles were lined up in neat rows across the front lawn from battered pic
kups to conservative minivans.
“Hello, Aunt Donna. We had a little mishap along the way.” Hunter stretched out his arms, but she avoided his hug.
“Let’s postpone that for later.” Instead, Aunt Donna immediately threw her meaty arm around Nicki and squeezed. “Why, it’s ’bout time you came to our neck of the woods and got to know the rest of Hunter’s kin.”
“Thank you, ma’am. It’s kind of you to welcome me since I’m just an employee of Mr. Galen’s.” Nicki gently extracted herself from the embrace.
“Are you on the job right now?” Donna’s brow furrowed in confusion.
When Nicki glanced at Hunter, he stepped back and crossed his arms over his mud-spattered shirt. No help from that quarter.
“Yes, ma’am. I’m serving as his bodyguard today.”
Donna broke into uproarious laughter. “Who are you protecting him from? His ill-mannered cousins during a volleyball game? From the looks of his shirt, the trouble was on your way here.”
“It was nothing Miss Price couldn’t handle.” Hunter uncrossed his arms to pat her on the back like his favorite pet dog.
His aunt eyed her suspiciously. “Okay, as long as you promise not to shoot my sons, come on in.” Grabbing them both by the arm, Donna pulled them into her crowded home. People of all ages and sizes were working industriously—dusting, cleaning shrimp at the kitchen sink, and paring potatoes in front of the TV, while a man on a stepladder replaced the screen in the patio door.
With hands perched on hips, Donna gestured toward her helpers. “Look around. We don’t allow bad people here in St. Martin Parish. We make them stay in Orleans. Miss Price, you go on up to the guest room at the end of the hall. I see you’ve come for some fun.” She pointed at the bag hanging from Nicki’s shoulder. “My nephew has some explaining to do, but he’ll holler up if he needs any emergency protection.” Her laughter filled the already noisy room.
When Hunter was dragged to another part of the house, Nicki had no recourse but to climb the stairs and find the empty guest room. She washed her face and hands, brushed out her hair, and then settled in a rocking chair by an open window. Below on the wide expanse of lawn, teenagers streamed in and out of a barn carrying bags of ice and cases of soft drinks. An outdoor kitchen had been set up on the patio under a plastic canopy with several grills heaped with charcoal, while giant steamers rested on tripods above propane burners. Streamers, party lights, and balloons had been strung between the trees and from the house to the barn. Everyone she saw wore shorts and flip-flops, without a tie, dinner jacket, or uniformed waiter in sight. Watching the party come together, Nicki felt vaguely homesick despite the fact her family never entertained with this kind of energy.
“In case you’re curious, my mother and grandmother won’t be at tonight’s festivities.”
Nicki nearly hit the ceiling with surprise. “Don’t sneak up on people like that!” she snapped before remembering her manners. She looked up to see Hunter leaning his shoulder against the door frame. Shaking her head, she tried to remember she was his guest and should behave accordingly. “I mean, I beg your pardon?”
“I said my mother and grandmother won’t be attending this evening, although I’m sure they were invited. They came once in clothes bought for the occasion, which they never wore again.” Hunter strolled across the room to the window. “But my sister may show up. Chloe loves to dance.”
“There will be dancing tonight?” Nicki scrambled to her feet.
“Yup. We’ll have a jazz-and-blues combo on the dock under the stars and real Cajun music in the barn. Something for everyone.”
“I thought you said your family wasn’t Cajun.”
“We’re not, but most of Aunt Donna’s neighbors are. So you can count on plenty of good eats. And if you happen to hate steamed crawfish and spicy barbeque, at least you’ll be ‘on the clock.’ ” Hunter flopped down on the bed’s colorful quilt and put his hands behind his head, apparently at ease anywhere in the house.
Nicki didn’t share his calm tranquility. “Did your aunt ask about Ashley?” She lowered herself to the rocking chair again.
“She did.”
Nicki waited a polite interval and then demanded, “Stop stalling. How did you explain the situation?”
“I told her the truth. Ashley and I parted ways because of irreconcilable differences.”
“What did she say?” Nicki got up and paced the carpet like a caged animal, the temperature in the room growing oppressively warm.
“Will you stop worrying? My aunt said better now than after she shelled out for both a shower and wedding gift. Donna is rather frugal with her money.”
Nicki watched for any sign he was teasing before releasing her breath with a whoosh. “That worked out well.” She plopped down on the blanket chest.
Hunter swung his legs off the bed and stood. A moment later he was sitting next to her. “What are you afraid of, Nicki? Why do you think only bad things happen in life? It seems as though you’re always waiting for the ax to fall.”
“Is that how it appears? You could be right, but this isn’t about me. I thought severing an engagement might cause problems in your family.” His close proximity affected her in mysterious ways.
“Not for me. And I made sure Ashley didn’t lose face with her friends. I have no desire to cause her pain. My family doesn’t sit around questioning people’s decisions. Even if I told Donna I broke up because another woman caught my eye, she wouldn’t judge me harshly. Things like that happen in life.” Hunter trailed a finger across her kneecap, the sensation tickling her funny bone.
“Stop that.” Nicki slapped his hand away. “Don’t you think you should take a shower, boss? That shirt is starting to smell.”
He rose with the sleekness of a cat. “Good idea. You, Miss Price, will meet me in exactly twenty minutes on the boat dock. If you walk out the back door, someone will point you in the right direction.”
“I saw it from my window. It’s been strung with colored lights.”
“Perfect. You and I are taking an airboat ride.” Hunter headed for the door.
“I would prefer—”
He cut off her protest with a shake of his head. “No arguments and no excuses. This ain’t La Maison de Poisson or growing up back home with Nate. My relatives don’t drill holes in pirogues and fill them with putty. You are safe with my family, just like I’m safe with you as my bodyguard. Agreed?”
She hated the thought of going deeper into the bayou but then remembered Jeanette’s words: You know what they say about opportunities, O’lette. “Very well. I’m placing my life in your hands.”
“Splendid. We won’t go far. I wouldn’t want to miss the dinner bell.” He disappeared down the hallway without a backward glance.
Nicki focused on the motionless waterway beyond Donna’s sloping backyard. Her boss wanted her to return to the swamp, where she’d spent the worst night of her life. Yet somehow she felt safe with him. Hunter carried no weapons and was only average-sized at best, yet he possessed more confidence than Goliath with a grenade launcher.
Nicki had two choices. She could stay on dry ground and look like a coward, undeserving of his trust and the generous paycheck she was paid, or she could take her courage in both hands, swallow a few antacids, and show up ready to do her job. She yearned for Hunter’s approval, something she’d never sought from a man in her life. Her chance for a future with him might be one notch above none, but she wanted that one chance.
Grabbing her overnight bag, Nicki headed for the bathroom ready to face the swamp monsters head-on. Twenty minutes later, she was clinging to the seat of an airboat as it rocketed across a wide expanse of water. Hunter opened the engine to full throttle, making conversation, sightseeing, or anything other than hanging on for dear life impossible. But once they had turned down a narrow waterway and he slowed to a gentler pace, Nicki settled back to watch the passing scenery.
Life was abundant in the watery landscape. Hawks and vultures soa
red on air currents, ducks and geese bobbed on waves, and egrets and great blue herons fished in the shallows close to shore. Uncountable species of insects darted above the water, while fish, snakes, and nutria lurked unseen. Only an occasional ripple revealed their furtive movements beneath the surface. Thick vegetation encroached from all sides. Trumpet vines filled with orange blooms and purple morning glories hung from the overhead canopy. Cupping her hands, Nicki scooped up some water to inspect. Three types of plant life floated in her palms.
Hunter leaned over her shoulder to see. “Looks like duck weed, invasive Slovenia, and floating lettuce. But do me a favor and keep your hands in the boat. Gators live in this bayou, and I would hate for one to spoil the party with his afternoon snack. If you lose a finger or hand, I’ll never get you back to my favorite place on earth.”
“I fear creepy men with shotguns more than alligators, but I’ll keep my hands out of the water. What are those flowers?” Nicki pointed at clumps of floating blooms.
“Those are invasive water hyacinths. Think of them as kudzu on the water. They fill the canals, depleting the oxygen and killing the fish. They form such thick mats that fishermen have become tangled up and drowned after falling overboard. Pretty but deadly, just like all females.” Hunter pulled down his sunglasses and winked.
“In that case, put on your life jacket, boss. We’re all alone out here.” Nicki closed her eyes and breathed deeply. The humid air felt cooler than it was at the house and smelled sweeter than at the fishing camp. The drone of insects and birdsong lulled her into drowsiness as they cruised up and down coves and inlets. Around every corner lay another discovery in the ageless, unpredictable ecosystem.
