Finally Again

by Zoe Dawson

  I had been in a hotel room in Bangkok writing an article about Thai food when I realized I was homesick, but not for my apartment in London, or the one in New Orleans. I was thinking about the big, elegant, white family home on the bayou filled with my family.

  As I got out of my car in front of the portico, I ran my hand carefully over the sleeve-covered bandage protecting a gash on my arm that had required twenty-five stitches to close. Only a week ago I had been in a bus accident which had taken several lives.

  I had been so damned lucky to receive only this cut and a few bruises and scrapes, but ever since the accident I had felt…restless. I had begun to question everything…the constant travel, the isolation, the emptiness of my life all got to me in a way I hadn’t ever allowed them to before.

  I had been content with my travels and my chosen profession before this brush with death. Still loved my profession, but I figured there had to be more to life than my current nomadic existence. Going home seemed like an excellent way to begin a new chapter of my life. Reconnecting with family and my roots would help ground me.

  I turned at the sound of a car. I could see a woman behind the wheel and…my beautiful, sassy niece in the passenger seat. I tried to focus on River Pearl, but the woman driving pulled at me like a lodestone.

  The newly-discovered emptiness inside me seemed to vibrate with her, as if she was a tuning fork resonating in my hollow place, bringing out a sudden and intense longing which was…unsettling. I normally kept a level head on my shoulders, but this woman, even before I saw her clearly, somehow affected me far more than I was used to, and on many levels.

  I had come home to figure out where I wanted to take my life in the future, not to get entangled and distracted by a stunning face.

  As soon as the car came to a stop, River bolted from it and launched herself at me. I dropped my suitcase and caught her in my arms. I hugged her as tightly as she hugged me, breathing in her powdery scent.

  “Uncle Win!” she squealed with all the affection and happiness I could ever want.

  When I turned, the woman who’d been driving was standing there holding a shoebox-sized parcel. An exotic woman with long, black hair and brown almond eyes, direct and thickly lashed. Not even a dab of makeup enhanced her smooth-as-silk skin, the white top she wore showing her creamy shoulders, the jean skirt coming to the middle of her toned thighs.

  For a moment I could only stare into her surprisingly vulnerable eyes, then remembered my manners. Rushing forward, I took the box out of her hands.

  “I’m Winchester,” I said, bracing the box and extending my hand, “but most people call me Win.”

  “Evangeline. And most people call me Evie,” she said, and took my hand in hers. It was smooth and soft. With a very becoming flush, she gave me a winsome smile. Then she reached back into the car, pulled out two more boxes, and stacked them on top of the one I carried. They didn’t weigh much, and didn’t even strain my injured arm, and I began to wonder what was in them.

  “Thanks for bringing me home,” River said to her.

  “Anytime, cher,” she said without taking her eyes off me. Her gaze jumbled me up a little bit more, and now I wanted to get rid of these boxes and take her somewhere we could further our acquaintance. Right now.

  Whether caused by the look in my eyes or because she had somewhere she needed to be, she looked away and got back in the car, waving in our general direction as she drove off.

  I could finally draw a complete breath.

  “What’s her last name, River?” I asked, balancing the boxes and watching her car until it disappeared out of the gate.

  “Outlaw.”

  “Outlaw?” There was only one family in these parts with that name. I remembered Brody. We had gone to school together, although he had kept to himself, mostly because most guys liked beating the shit out of him. I hadn’t liked that at all, but I remember my brother James telling me to mind my own business one time when I knew they were going to hurt him. I couldn’t just stand by while bullies got away with such behavior, so I stepped in and got Brody out of there. It was the only time he and I had ever spoken. So, Evangeline Outlaw. I heard he had married a Cajun girl. “The trips’ momma? I had no idea she was so…lovely.”

  River Pearl took the boxes out of my arms and set them on one of the rockers so she could wrap her arms around me again. “What are you doing here?”

  “Visitin’ for a spell. I missed you.” I glossed over why I was here. I wasn’t ready to talk about my brush with death or the gash hidden by the sleeve of my shirt.

  “I missed you, too, so much,” she said squeezing me again. “If you and I didn’t live our lives like vagabonds, I would get to see you more.”

  “That may be changing, darlin’. I’m considering a new opportunity which will allow me to stay closer to home.”

  “Really? That would be great!” I was basking in her warm affection when I caught movement out of the corner of my eye. The curtains in the front window opened and Earl, my deceased cousin’s kid, peered out while River continued talking.

  “I’ve never stopped hoping you’d settle here in Suttontowne.” She grimaced. “I’m going to have to miss dinner tonight.”

  “Aw, darlin’, too bad.” I was disappointed. It was more fun with River around. “Let me look at you.” I slipped my fingers under her chin and was startled to see her nose was bruised and scraped up. I frowned. “You been wrestlin’ gators?”

  She chuckled. “Almost,” she replied, her mouth twisting into a wry grin. “I just tripped and fell. It could have been worse.” She looked at her watch. “I’ve got to go. I’ve got a date with some amazing food…crab cakes and Cajun egg rolls.”

  “Cajun egg rolls. Sounds different and interesting. Served with what?” I perked up. I had no illusions that Suttontowne would provide the kind of cuisine I was used to, but this sounded promising.

  She thought for a moment and said, “Jezebel sauce and dirty rice.”

  “Where is this epicurean establishment?”

  “Here. It’s called Outlaws. It’s located right before you head out of town.”

  “The bar I passed….”

  “I’ve got to run. But, yes, the bar.”

  “Fishin’ later, darlin',’” I called after her, thinking that one of Evie’s sons must be running the bar. Or was she the one?

  “You’re on,” she said over her shoulder as she gathered up those interesting boxes before running into the house and up the stairs.

  As she disappeared into her room, my brother’s wife, Amelia, came into the foyer. I picked up my suitcase and entered the house and set it down, holding my arms open for an embrace. For a moment she stared at me, then sighed softly. “Win.”

  She came forward and slipped her arms around me and, like River, gave me an enormous homecoming hug. I had a great fondness for Amy. She put up with my brother’s obsession with being the Sutton in this town and living up to our illustrious name.

  But there was trouble in paradise. Chase had abdicated his throne, Jake was struggling to make up for it, and, River? Well, River had also always worked hard to maintain the façade we collectively felt the need to uphold.

  Sutton. My ancestor might have given his blood, sweat and tears to this town, but it was we who toiled to keep up with what it meant to be a Sutton. It always came down to that.

  “Welcome home,” she said and, though my gash twinged, I hugged her back.

  Chapter Two

  Evie

  I should have been paying more attention. It was usually foremost on my mind when I ventured into town. But I was thinking about him instead.

  Winchester Sutton. Win, he said. I shouldn’t have spent even a moment thinking about a man who existed on a plane so far above my own social standing. I didn’t want to think about ramifications of such a liaison—the complications and the opposition, not only from people in this town, but, even more, from his own family.

  I suddenly understood to my bones where Bra
xton stood. How he felt. This was why he fought against his attraction to Suttontowne’s little princess.

  And what did that make Win? A prince to James’s king.

  The man was devastatingly handsome. I couldn’t deny that. But where Brody had been dark and intense, Win was blond and very gentlemanly, cultured-looking. I’m sure he would unerringly choose the correct wine at dinner and could even order it in French. Yet I couldn’t seem to get his intense blue eyes and the way they had roamed over my face out of my mind.

  A day later, and I could still feel the heat.

  It was hard to dismiss the immediate sizzle arcing between us, even though I wanted to. He had been travel-mussed and weary looking, but it had done nothing to diminish his potency. Stubble had only accentuated his full mouth, the hard line of his jaw. There was something else there, too.

  A sense that he was somehow lost. I got a bit weak in the knees thinking about exploring just what it was that made him look that way. But I didn’t need the complication. He was a Sutton, and, as far as I was concerned, way too dangerous to know. It didn’t take much to set off this town. That was evident in the way they had responded to Booker and Aubree finding love, and Boone and Verity. I still couldn’t believe my boys had sung in church.

  Ever since I married Brody, I had assiduously avoided any kind of scandal. Avoided adversity and weathered whatever Suttontowne threw at me…but this time I was tempted. I would be lying to myself if I denied it.

  Being tempted surprised me, even though Brody’s face seemed to have faded over the long years I waited for him. I had loved him so much. Loved him with everything in me. He was my first and only love. But thirteen years of absence had taken a toll on my heart. I’d locked it up tight.

  I had a right to new happiness. I knew that, but I couldn’t shake the feelings of betrayal and hurt which swamped me whenever I spent even a moment thinking about moving on. I still clung to a small measure of hope that he would come home to me, even when I knew it was futile.

  Why couldn’t I let go?

  “You banged my car, Outlaw bitch!”

  I turned quickly to face the danger and saw I had just barely touched my door to his poor excuse for a paint job. I had just finished shopping, the cart still full of my groceries. I had opened my car door to pop the trunk. My door now rested against a particularly rusty patch on his beat-up rust bucket, the door guard long gone. My inattention had cost me and an encounter with an Outlaw-hater was brewing. He came around the car and jerked me out of it. I shook my arm free, backed away, and came up against a wall of solid muscle. Just as I poised to bolt away from more danger, the sound of his deep, familiar voice rumbled against my back.

  “Calm down. I’m sure she didn’t mean to mess up your…fine vehicle.”

  My knight in shining armor?

  I didn’t need the distraction of his hard-packed muscled torso against me. I sidestepped and glanced up at him.

  I took a quick, hard breath. It was clear he’d been running. Sweat trickled down his bare chest, over the swell of his pectoral muscles and down the hard ridges of his washboards. He wore black shorts with a yellow tank tucked into the waistband. A keen awareness moved roughly over me, his scent, his unbelievably blue eyes—those big hands currently knotted into fists—and the powerhouse of energy and threat he radiated, even as he kept his voice deceptively calm.

  “She’s going to pay for this,” the jerk blustered angrily.

  He snorted and reached into his pocket and drew two bills off the top of a gold clip. Grabbing the guys’ wrist, Win slapped the money into his hand. “This should cover it.”

  “No,” I protested, but the bully with the rusted-out beater gave me a smug look, closed his fist over the two one hundred dollar bills, and nodded. He pocketed the cash, got into his car and drove away.

  I spun around, sick of people like that jerk and irritated that someone had come to my rescue. I didn’t want that. I didn’t dare get used to having someone stand up for me. My independence was all that kept me together. “That was outrageous. He didn’t deserve that much money. His car was a rusty, dilapidated bucket of bolts. You’re going to let me repay you,” I said, feeling like I needed that shining armor to protect myself.

  “I’d forgotten about some of the jackasses in this town,” he murmured as if caught up in a memory. He followed the car with his eyes until it disappeared around a corner. Then the full force of his gaze zeroed in on me as he registered what I had said. “No, I’m not.”

  The sun was bright and it shimmered in his light hair, illuminating his eyes and glossing the sweat on his skin. He wiped absently at his brow, leaned down to my open car door and pulled the trunk release, then moved to where the grocery cart sat.

  He started to transfer the bags into my trunk.

  I marched to the back of the car and grabbed his upper arm, my hand curling around his biceps. It was a mistake. He stilled, and I was acutely aware of the flesh beneath my palm—moist, hard and so very warm. It jolted me, the feel of a man’s skin. The power of it took my breath away and I snatched my tingling hand back.

  “You know I’ve done just fine without a protector all these years, Mr. Sutton.”

  My lungs felt compressed when he straightened and turned toward me. “I’m sure you have, Evie.” My name sounded decadent coming from his mouth, and my eyes were drawn there, noticing how beautiful his full lips were.

  I jerked my eyes away. This wasn’t smart or proper. I shouldn’t be thinking about Win Sutton that way. It was too risky. This was a disaster waiting to happen. I had to get control of my thoughts. But he scattered them when he leaned down and said, low and silky, in his heavenly Southern accent, “But that doesn’t mean I can’t step in and do the job to give you a well-earned break.”

  I didn’t know what to say to that. It wasn’t as though my reputation and that of my sons weren’t notorious. Win Sutton would surely know how we were treated in Suttontowne. The fact that he even stopped to stand up for me touched me. It had been me and my boys for so long. It was possible part of my pique had more to do more with my defenses than it did with my need to remain strong and independent. I didn’t want to feel like this. I wanted him to just go away and take his tormenting thoughts with him.

  He leaned even closer and said, “And, it’s Win, not Mr. Sutton, for mercy’s sake. My daddy died ten years ago.”

  I huffed, but he just went back to handling my groceries as smoothly and effortlessly as he was handling me. “Tell me, Evie. I’m looking for a really authentic Cajun place to sample the food. I like the angle of doing some articles about the local cuisine. Got any suggestions?”

  Apparently I hadn’t gotten as much Cajun out of my accent as I had thought. “There’s an old woman over in Vermillion Bayou who has an out-of-the-way place that is quite popular. It’s called Mumbo Gumbo.”

  He laughed, and the sound of it was rich and did funny things to my stomach. “She’s an old eccentric Cajun woman, and I love her food.” He set more bags into my trunk. I was dying of curiosity. Finally I had to ask. “Article?”

  “I’m a food critic. I’ve been traveling for many years writing my column online. Started vlogging a while back, and now I have a large following on YouTube. So, thank you for the tip. Why don’t you get out of the sun, darlin’?” he said, glancing at me with a look that made it more of a command than a suggestion. So unaccustomed to having things done for me, all I could think of to do was stomp back to my open car door, plop into the seat, and fold my arms.. I’m not saying it wasn’t nice and didn’t feel damn good, but—but, please, anyone but Win Sutton.

  When my trunk slammed, he came around the car and I reached for my purse. He crouched down and my mouth went dry at his nearness, the thick muscles of his thighs, his intent and determined look.

  “I will write you a check,” I said, since I never carried that much cash with me. I pulled out my checkbook and started to search for a pen.

  He covered my hand with his and I jerked u
p to look at his face. His intensity tore at my composure.

  “You will do nothing of the sort. ‘Sides, I’d just tear it up.”

  “You’re enough to make a preacher cuss.”

  “I suspect I am. But doesn’t change a darn thing.”

  “This wasn‘t your battle or your business. You should just accept my money and be done with it.”

  “No, it wasn’t, but I made it so because I can’t abide men who are not gentlemen. I wasn’t about to stand by and let you be abused, regardless of your clear ability to stand up for yourself.”

  “Mr.…” when he gave me that frowning stare, I lifted my chin and said, “Sutton.” And he sighed. “I need to repay you. I don’t want to owe you anything.”

  “Fair enough. Your son owns that bar, Outlaws, correct?”

  “Yes,” I said, frowning now.

  “Good. How about you consent to going out to dinner with me?”

  I shook my head and he sighed again, but my stomach jumped when he didn’t look at all discouraged. “It’s the only thing I’ll accept as payment.”

  “You are exasperating,” I said, muscling him out of the way and slamming my car door. “You are crazy,” I muttered as he stepped away from the car. He was too distracting, I thought as he stared at me through the glass. Too…much. I started the car and he raised his hand in a quick wave. I backed out of the space and he still hadn’t moved.

  I drove home, still steaming a little that he wouldn’t just accept my money. Damn that man and his piece-of-shit car! Now I felt beholden to Win, and it didn’t sit right with me.

  Once I got home, I unloaded my groceries, trying to keep my mind blank, but I couldn’t seem to stop those sensual memories of the way he’d touched me, and the way his sweat-damp skin had felt.

  Next, I filled my watering can and went out to the front porch to water my thirsty plants. Feeling at loose ends, I thought about going to the hospital to see if they could put me to work. Keep my mind off of Win. Or…I had been itching to go see my sister and browse antique places along the way.