by Angie Sandro
I hop off the bumper with a scowl. The arrogant jerk thinks he has me eating out of his hands; all he has to do is flutter those insanely long eyelashes, smile to show off his pearly whites, and tempt me with fresh, warm buns.
“These are mine?” I clutch the bag to my chest as I eye him in suspicion.
“Yeah, they’re your favorite, right?”
“Mmm-hmm.”
Landry props his elbow on the open window and ducks his head. Black hair tangles across his face, hiding his eyes. “I hoped you’d be more accepting of my apology if I bribed you with sweets. Forgive me for being an ass yesterday?”
Lucky guy. He figured out the fastest way to soften my heartstrings—sugar. Wait. How does he know they’re my favorite? Stupid question. It’s like him knowing my nickname and my job. He pays way too much attention to me, and I’m kinda scared to ask why. I stare at my sticky fingers, then lick the icing off one by one. Landry’s gaze draws my attention. He’s staring at my mouth. My gut tightens in response, and I slowly lick my lips. Get a grip. Don’t trust him just because he says he’s sorry.
I concentrate on the mouthful of cinnamon roll. Each chew echoes the rapid patter of my heart. God, why does my body react like this when I’m around him? Why? He’s still staring at me. Can’t he tell I’m uncomfortable? Oh, I get it. He’s irritating me on purpose so I can’t totally ignore him.
I pass the empty bag to him. “You’re not going away, are you?”
“Nope.” He smiles.
Stupid question. I’m his only link to figuring out how Lainey died. The only way I’ll get rid of the pesky Prince siblings for good will be to learn as much as I can about his sister’s life before she passed. I just have to convince Landry of the danger of allowing his sister to possess me. The saying “Keep your enemies closer” bounces around in my head. It doesn’t hurt that my enemy looks hella sexy with his sleep-rumpled hair, lazy grin…and whoa, holy bloodshot eyes.
“You drank again last night.” I squint at him.
“Among other things.” He rubs his face.
With a gasp, I pull down the hand trying to cover the violet bruise on his chin. “I know you’re grieving, but turning to alcohol and drugs is about the most asinine thing you could do. Fighting is even stupider.”
He blinks his tired eyes and sighs. “Look, I came to make up for yesterday.”
Crap, I fell into his cinnamon bun trap and forgot that I’m angry with him. Silly girl, stay firm. No sympathy. “Well, thanks for the breakfast. Now go away!” I head toward the back of the house. The truck door slams shut, and I glance over my shoulder to see him following.
“Seriously, we need to talk without constantly being interrupted by your boyfriend.” Landry drawls the word, making it sound dirty.
“I don’t have a boyfriend.” I round the corner of the house, angling beneath the clothesline and grabbing my pink, flowered panties off the rope before Landry catches sight of them and has another reason to tease me.
Landry strolls along with his hands shoved in his pockets and a Cheshire cat grin stretching his cheeks. “Looked to me like old Georgie Porgie’s got a thing for you, and the way you snuggled up in his arms said you have feelings for him too.”
“Well, you’re dead wrong.” Red spots are flashing before my eyes. I exhale a deep breath. “Cut it out. I’m not letting you ruin my day, Frog Prince.” I stomp up the stairs onto the back porch, grab two fishing rods and a can of worms, then storm down the stairs and shove them into Landry’s arms. “You want to talk? Fine. We’ll talk—on my terms. That means on the water. The sun’s shining, and the fish will be biting if we get moving.”
“Fishing?” Landry frowns at me. “Is that why you’re dressed like Huck Finn’s twin sister?”
“Call the fashion police,” I drawl. “Oh, that’s right. You and Clarice broke up.”
“We weren’t together.”
“Like Georgie and I aren’t together?” I choke on the words when Landry’s face lights up. Warmth stirs in my chest and spreads upward. Merciful heavens, if I could stick my head in a hole, I’d be perfectly content.
“Well, good. Nice to know you’ve got better taste than to like that idiot,” Landry says, eyes full of sparks. His gaze starts at my bare feet, works its way up the denim overalls, lingers for a spell on my chest that stretches the white, wife-beater tank top, then moves up to meet my glare. Yeah, that puts a damper on his lusty examination. The perv.
I huff a breath of muggy air and head for the woods, fully expecting Landry to follow. If the boy got up at the crack of dawn to bring me breakfast, a little fishing expedition won’t put him off. Besides, we do need to settle some things. I push aside the thick branches hanging over the trail to the pond. Unlike the river where I found Lainey, the pond comes from an underground spring and runs clear of algae. Most days, it’s safe enough to swim in. Every so often, I catch sight of a gator in there, but it moves along soon enough. The fish aren’t big enough and the range is too small to support a healthy-size gator.
The path runs narrow, and branches hang down low. Landry has a time of it for a bit because the fishing poles keep getting caught up in the leaves. I finally take pity on him and take one pole. “The trail opens up in about half a mile.”
Landry brushes aside the branch poking him in the head. “Good, I feared I’d lose an eye if this got worse.”
“Poor baby,” I say. “Look, I know the only reason you’re here is to talk me into helping you with Lainey, but I’m done with all that. My auntie came and taught me how to cleanse the house. No more ghosts, so you might as well head on back home.”
Landry stops dead.
I slowly turn to stare up at him. Crap, why did I drop that bomb on him? Especially when we’re out in the middle of the woods. Alone.
Chapter 20
Mala
Gone Fishin’
I back up the way I’d retreat from an angry skunk.
Slow, careful. No sudden moves to set Landry off. I keep my voice calm as I say, “Ruby’s dead. Having Lainey possess her burnt out her brain. If I’d let her enter me, I would’ve either died or gone crazy.”
He blinks then lowers his face to study the ground. “How do you know she’s dead?”
“My auntie’s a two-headed conjurer—a hoodoo practitioner. Now, I don’t completely believe in all that magical mumbo jumbo, but I think she told the truth about what happened to Ruby.” Tears trickle down my cheeks. “Blood came out of Ruby’s nose, Landry. I don’t want a ghost-fried brain.”
“So, that’s it, then?”
I edge closer and lay a hand on his arm. His muscles tremble. “I’m really sorry. If I could’ve helped, I would’ve, you know that. Don’t you?”
“Yeah, well, I don’t think Ruby’s dead. I think your aunt just wanted to scare you so you wouldn’t get hurt.” He breathes out hard and gifts me with a smile that brings tingles racing through my palms. I move my hand from the warmth of his arm and wipe my sweaty palm on my leg. “Maybe I agree with her.”
“You do?”
“I saw Ruby…Lainey fucked her up. I’m not a complete ass. If getting to the truth means you get hurt, then I’ll find some other way. I’ll respect your decision. Nothing I say will change your mind, right?”
I shake my head. “Not a damn thing.”
“Fine. So how far is it to this fishing spot of yours?”
“Huh?” I blink up at him. Why is everything so bright and shiny all of a sudden?
He takes off my straw hat and sets it on his head at a jaunty angle. “Bet I can catch a bigger fish.”
The boy’s seriously bipolar. So am I.
Laughter bubbles up, mainly from relief at disaster being averted. But it also breaks the spell Landry put on me with his smile. The boy’s more dangerous than a snake charmer. “It’s not the size that counts, Landry. You’re a guy, you should know that.”
“Size isn’t something any of the girls I’ve dated have complained about.” He wiggles
his eyebrows suggestively. I blush, wishing I kept my mouth shut.
I had no idea that he could be so funny. Maybe he’s putting on an act to disguise his true feelings. He has to be upset, but it doesn’t show. The trail opens to a small meadow. Wildflowers dot the waist-high grass, and the sun beats down on the dirt bordering the pond so we don’t have to worry about mud clumping to the bottom of our feet.
“There’s my Daisy,” I say with a proud grin, pointing to the ancient rowboat I found half sunk in the bayou after the flood last year. Nobody ever claimed my beautiful girl. I hauled her out, patched her up, and painted her green with tiny white daisies. Maggie and Tommy helped me move her here.
Landry stares at her skeptically. “Not sure Daisy will hold the both of us.”
“Chicken, don’t you insult my girl. She’s perfectly sound.” I take the rods and bait from Landry and put them in the boat with my tackle box, then get in myself. “Don’t just stand there. Shove her in.”
“Shove, huh?” He raises an eyebrow. I blink, not sure what he’s insinuating, and he shakes his head, saying “Seriously, this is the only reason you dragged me out here? So you don’t have to get your feet wet?”
“You’re a big strong guy,” I say with a flirtatious grin that I don’t think will actually work on Landry, but he sighs. He sits down on a rock, pulls off his black boots, and rolls up his jeans. I give a wolf whistle. “Nice legs.”
“If I actually thought you meant it, I’d blush.” He places his hands on the wooden bow and pushes. The muscles in his arms and back bulge underneath his gray T-shirt, and my mouth goes dry. “Sure this isn’t going to sink?” he grunts.
I clear my throat. “S-sure, yeah. I mean no, it won’t…”
He catches me staring, and it’s my turn to blush. “Ooh, so you don’t like me, but the muscles turn you on.”
“I’m not dead. I like muscles,” I say, then grimace. Stupid, dead reference. I peek at him from beneath my lashes, hoping he hasn’t noticed my slip of the tongue. He has his own tongue pressed to his top lip as he struggles to move the boat stuck in the dried mud. “Do you need help?”
“How much do you weigh? You look like such a tiny thing, but dang you’re made of white dwarf metal.”
“Holy Moses.” I jump into the water. “Move back. I’ve got this.”
Landry backs up and crosses his muscular arms. “This I gotta see.”
“Watch and learn, city boy.” I rock Daisy from side to side then give a good shove. The bow shoots out of my hands and into the water. I tumble forward, doing a face-plant into the mud, and roll onto my butt with a shout. “You did this!”
Landry raises an eyebrow. “Oh, really?”
“You faker.” I rise to wade into the water, rinsing mud out of my eyes. Why did I fool myself into believing all those bulging muscles couldn’t dislodge my tiny boat from the mud? Because the boy has me wrapped around his little finger. My gullibility has reached legendary status.
With a heave, I pull myself up onto Daisy’s side, teetering on the edge of falling back into the water. Hands wrap around my waist, then I’m airborne. I land flat on my stomach across the wooden bench. All the air whooshes out of me.
Daisy tips when Landry climbs inside. A wicked light fills his eyes. “Are you okay?”
“C-c-can’t b-breathe,” I wheeze, tears filling my eyes.
“Sorry about that.”
I sit up rubbing my chest. “You’re still trying to kill me.”
“No,” Landry says with a firm shake of his head. “I was just playing. I didn’t mean for you to get hurt. I’ve been so serious and uptight for the last week. I just wanted to have some fun. Guess I don’t know my own strength.” He strikes a pose, flexing a bicep, and I choke on my giggle. “Feeling better?” He squats and flexes first his right then his left butt cheek, and I just about die when he finishes with a tushy wiggle. “What about now?”
“Stop, please. I can’t breathe,” I wheeze.
Landry straddles the bench behind me. His hands settle on the curves of my hips, and he slides me backward until I’m snuggled between his legs. His thumbs massage the tight muscles at the base of my spine before traveling upward. He rubs my shoulders in slow, concentrated circles. The heat of his chest warms my back. “You’re a tough audience to please. Do you like this better?”
Can’t. Speak. Brain. Shutting down. My eyeballs roll up in pleasure. Tense muscles begin to relax, and my breathing eases. I try to shift away, but his hands tighten so I can’t move. His fingers dance like he’s playing the piano, kneading the tight cords in my neck. It feels like a little piece of heaven. No one has ever caressed me with such gentleness. He sweeps my braid over a shoulder. Warmth takes its place as feather-soft lips brush my skin. I clench my hands together—unsure if I’m afraid I’ll touch him back or try to make him stop. ’Cause I don’t want his kisses to stop.
My heart’s racing. I can’t catch my breath as I fight the overwhelming desire flooding through my body. I want to wrap my arms around him. I need to trace my lips across the prickles of hair growing on his cheeks. To slide my hands beneath his T-shirt and run my hands over his bare chest and feel the ripples of hard muscles beneath his smooth skin.
But, if I do, I’ll lose control. I’m barely holding on.
Landry shifts my legs sideways and lifts me onto his lap. Cradled in his arms, I sink into the hollow between his legs. His hardness presses up against me. A blush burns through my cheeks, and I wiggle, sure my weight must be uncomfortable. His arm tightens around my shoulder, and his hand splays across my hip. His hand’s so large that his fingertip brushes my navel.
“Don’t move,” he orders, pressing his forehead against mine. His breath comes in ragged gasps.
I freeze, afraid I’ll push him over the edge.
His husky chuckle sends tremors through my body. “Breathe, Mala.”
I draw in a hitched breath. Emotions tumble through my fogged mind, but I can’t think rationally enough to work through them. So, I give in, allowing myself to enjoy the sensation of each caress searing its path across my increasingly sensitive skin.
Landry tilts my head and nibbles along the side of my throat.
“Oh, God…” I whimper, trembling. His teeth graze my earlobe, the tip of his tongue circling the gold ball of my stud earring. My thighs clench against the moist heat building down low with each warm breath. I had no idea my ears could be so sensitive. He slides a hand through the gaping side of the overalls. He trails his fingertips across my stomach, and the resulting explosion arches my back. Landry takes advantage of my position to cup my breast in his palm and roll my erect nipples between his fingertips.
I’m dying…
“Wait, Landry. Stop.” It’s too much! Too fast.
Breathing hard, I grab his wandering hand and pull it free of my clothing. I wrap my arms around myself, shivering against the mini-orgasms brought on by the wind blowing across my oversensitized body like a warm caress, and climb off of his lap to kneel across from him.
Landry remains silent. He sits with his hands on his upraised knees, and when I glance down, I see the bulge of what I’d only felt pressed against me. He’s gotten as turned on as I have.
Tiny sparkles dance in front of my eyes. My hand shakes as I wipe my forehead.
“Maybe we should head back to shore,” I say with effort. The boat has floated to the middle of the pond. I can’t escape unless I take a swim.
“I still haven’t shown you how big a fish I can catch,” Landry drawls.
I almost choke on my words, but I force them out in the same wry tone he used. “Oh, I see what you have is plenty big, but I told you before. Big isn’t everything.”
“Suppose you’ve got to be in love with the fish.”
Landry picks up a fishing pole and searches the bucket for a worm. He baits the hook—merciful heavens, even that turns me on—and holds the pole out to me, then does the same for his own. We sit at opposite ends of the dingy, separated by
only a few feet, and I’m intensely aware of him. The way his ebony hair tumbles across his face in the breeze. The faint scent of his spicy aftershave filling my nose every time I draw in a deep breath.
“Are you still mad at me?” Landry finally asks after a couple of hours with no bites or conversation.
“You didn’t do anything that I didn’t let you do,” I say, giving a tiny jerk on the line.
He rests his pole on his lap and turns to face me. “Then why?”
The truth flashes through my troubled brain: Because I liked having you touch me. How could someone like him understand? Addictions run in families. It’s why I rarely drink alcohol and why, at twenty, I’m still a virgin. I’m terrified of becoming so addicted to sex that I end up whoring myself out—like Mama.
“You’re right, I want to love the fish or, rather, the guy. I don’t want to be like those other girls you’ve made out with”—I frown over at him—“girls whose names I don’t know, but who let you smile and charm them into having sex with you without love. If I let you, you’d break my heart, Landry Prince.”
“Would it be that bad? To give in for a time and let your cares drift.” Landry sighs and stares out over the water. “Can’t it be enough that I want you? That I need the warmth of your arms to hold back the memories? I could get lost inside you, Malaise Jean Marie LaCroix.”
His gaze captures mine when he says my name, and I whisper, “How do you know my full name? I never use it.”
“I know a lot about you. I’ve been watching you for a long time.” His voice is husky, and my body tightens in response. “You’ve just been too busy watching someone else to notice.”
Georgie. Who else could Landry be talking about? Damn it! How many times do I have to say that George and I are coworkers—friends? No romantic feelings involved. Landry should know that much if he’s being truthful about being interested in me. I still find it hard to believe. Maybe he’s only saying this to get in my pants? Boys. They make my brain ache.
Landry jerks upright. The boat rocks, and I let out a little squeal. “Sure you won’t change your mind?” he asks, setting my straw hat on my lap, then lifting the bottom of his T-shirt. My eyes widen as he slowly lifts it over his head, revealing chiseled six-pack abs leading to a toned chest. Whew, boy. I try to look away, but I can’t pull my gaze from the hand that unzips his jeans and slides them down his narrow hips, taking his underwear with them.
