“Whoa!” Drake took an unconscious step backward. They watched it slither into the water. “You’re making a habit of this.”
Sharlene tussled with the manual pulley to get the pirogue into the water. Drake freed his hands to assist. They worked as a team lowering the boat. It wasn’t until that chore was completed that her focus fell on him.
“A habit of what?” she replied, a perplexed tilt to her head. Sunrays glittered off of the diamond now poised on her hip.
Drake’s interest intensified as his smile broadened. “Saving me. This is the second time.”
“Third. But who’s counting?” She giggled. “Uncle Moot was ready to tear you limb from limb, if you recall.”
“Touché.”
“Anyway, a big, strong man like you can handle anything.”
No matter how he tried to cover, his jovial attitude was gone.
“I’m sorry. Did I say something wrong?”
“Don’t worry about it.” He left her gaping as he all but stormed toward his vehicle.
* * * *
“So you’re one of those!” she antagonized, mustering all of her courage to catch up to him. “Well, here’s something I learned from the master of you all.” Drake spun around when he was caught by the crook of his arm.
“You don’t walk away from a fight!”
While her eyes slung daggers, it was the smoke behind them setting him on fire.
“I don’t know you, Drake. Yet I know I’ve offended you.”
His finger stroked her cheek in a very familiar way. “I’m not offended, Sharlene.” His words came out sort of hoarse. “You just reminded me I thought like that some time ago. My shoulders were broad enough to handle whatever obstacles came my way.” A faraway look entered his eyes. “Reality check. Life proved me wrong.”
Sharlene moved back a few inches. Surely the electricity jolted him, also. The proof was in the way his hand lingered on her cheek. It was eons ago someone touched her so intimately. That person now had ex in front of their association.
“Do you still want to go?” She had to break the spell.
Drake confessed, “I was going to the car to get my camera.”
“Oh.”
“I’d appreciate it very much, Sharlene, if you’re the Mouton who doesn’t hold grudges.”
“What you’re looking into is greater than hurt feelings. It could mean life or death to this community.” She left him, heading for the house to loop a strip of cloth on the handrail. Sharlene did the same action on the dock rail as they piled into the boat.
A couple of quick yanks on the starter string produced a cough. “Gas.”
Drake stopped Sharlene’s attempt to leave the boat. “Tell me where and I’ll get it.”
“To the right of the door in the shed.” She watched him lope away, deciding it prudent to offer a bit of advice. “There’s another stick over there. Use it to scatter sleeping critters before getting the can.”
Drake screeched to a stop. “I can do this.” He gave himself a pep talk, relied on her instructions, and returned to the skiff with success written all over his face.
Gassed up, they were off.
Chapter Five
The pirogue’s tiny motor pushed them deeper into the marsh bypassing masses of water lilies hugging the perimeter. So far, their search for oil proved fruitless. And that was a good thing because hoop nets dotted the outer area. Those results met with Sharlene’s approval. Drake’s fascination with the swamp was exhibited in the way his camera whirred at the press of the button.
Sharlene left a flag at every turn.
“Almost like Hansel and Gretel.”
He had recovered, she realized by his teasing tone. “It’s picturesque, Drake. But don’t let the idyllic setting lure you to carelessness. The denseness of this swamp can swallow a body whole.” Drake swung and snapped numerous times, capturing her against the natural backdrop.
They traveled the narrow ways, sometimes losing sight of the sun through the overhanging and binding branches. It reappeared lower on the horizon, indicating the length of time spent on what turned out to be a wild goose chase. Sharlene decided to pack it in and maneuvered the craft around the next bend. One last search place came to mind.
“I’m glad this was a waste of your time,” he said.
“Not a complete waste. Allowed me to concentrate on something other than my pitiful problems.” Honesty was her strong suit. Saying something personal like that to a complete stranger was uncharacteristic.
Sitting backward on his seat to face her, Drake’s stare held open curiosity. This event brought to mind the last time he felt so emotionally connected. He faced the heart-wrenching rawness rather than withdrawing psychologically as he’d always done in the past.
Drake took aim with the camera, zooming in for the perfect shot. Sharlene never altered her expression. What she offered right then was a look into her inner soul. That was a look the camera didn’t do justice.
A spirit-connecting shiver rocked him.
Sharlene devoted all of her energies to keeping her mind on the delicate operation and off the feelings of infatuation warring inside of her. Her sensitivity heightened. The stagnant water smell in places absent of sunlight drifted passed her nose. Feathery wisps of wind touched her skin. Every stimulus around her sharpened.
The sight of dark, gooey slickness clinging to Cypress knees put her back in a serious frame of mind. The shutter snaps ceased when Drake read her current expression. Swinging forward, he immediately began logging the unfortunate sight. “Damn!”
“What’s next?” Sharlene asked.
“A fight.”
She brought them safely through the alternate route, noting the heavy coverage of oil ended where the passage forked. They were chugging along on the return route when the three-propeller trolling motor clogged in debris. Sharlene saw an unwelcomed sight when she looked up ahead. “Oh, no!”
He whipped her way.
“Water lilies.”
He looked away. “Yeah. So?”
The motor resisted her efforts at clearing the strangling vines from its blades. “We’re stuck.”
“No, we’re not.” Drake sounded confident. “We have the pole.”
She exclaimed with a smile, “The pole!” Wrangling it from under the seat with a little too much enthusiasm courted disaster. The end hit the under-seat, Sharlene lost her grip, and the life-saving stick slipped into the murky water. “No-o-o!” she cried, peering over the side.
“Well,” he said to reduce her ire, “I can clear a path by hand.”
“Are you out of your mind?”
“You have a better idea?”
“Hopefully, there are other fools out today besides us.”
“Have you seen anyone else all day?”
He had a point. “No.”
“Then we don’t have a choice.”
Sharlene noticed a defiant look in his black eyes. She gave a stern warning with a hand on his shoulder. “This place is called Alligator Bayou.” She ordered him to reconsider. “We wait, Drake. There’s no other choice.”
* * * *
Drake gulped because a log in the lilies submerged right on cue. “I’m sorry, Sharlene. To have gotten you in this mess.”
“Like you twisted my arm.”
“I should have resisted.” I was too tempted by just being in your company.
“Uncle Moot’ll find us.”
Looking at the marshy jungle inspired little hope in him. “How can he?” She had the gall to laugh a throaty vibration that closed her eyes in enjoyment. She was the only one basking in the moment. Nevertheless, he soaked up all the charm she exuded, even in those uncertain moments.
“He knows these swamps like every line in his face.” When he seemed doubtful, she added, “Plus the breadcrumbs will help.”
His skeptical look caused another laugh to puncture the deathly quiet, scattering the birds from the trees. Drake followed their flight, a smile of his own slipp
ing across his face. “You do that so easily.”
“What?”
“Laugh.”
“Hmmm. Sometimes that’s all you have left.”
They lapsed into silence. Drake fiddled with his camera for lack of anything better to do.
“Can I see?” Sharlene broke the silence, rocking the boat as she shifted to get closer.
“Sure.” He handed her the camera after toggling the dial to slideshow.
“You have a good eye. The pictures of the swamp are magnificent,” she complimented. Her thumb continued to hit the back button until one of her popped up. “I hate taking pictures. But I guess this one’ll do.” She turned the screen to him.
“I’ll say.” Taking the camera back, he scrolled to another. “Now, this one deserves a frame.”
She hesitated when he handed it for her to see. Sharlene made a face. “Ummm.”
“You know you like it,” he teased. She rewarded him with her fabulous grin. “Told you.”
* * * *
The urge to continue the slideshow garnered her attention. Soon, the subjects turned personal. “Is this your wife?” A dark-haired woman heavy with child showed screen after screen. “She’s lovely.” Finally, Sharlene looked up.
That miserable look was back on Drake’s face.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to be nosy.”
His answer was trancelike. “She is—eh—was my wife.”
Was could mean any number of things. She hoped it meant was as in was but now we’re not together instead of was but she’s— Sharlene halted that train of thought. “Me and my big mouth.”
All of a sudden, she desperately tried to get the motor going.
“Sharlene, it’s all right,” he soothed.
“No, Drake. It isn’t.” She pulled and pulled, forcing him to risk capsizing them to stop her erratic behavior. Each of his hands claimed one of hers. Words failed her as her eyes shut in sorrow. The feel of his thumbs massaging the backs of her hands opened them back up.
He didn’t force the interaction. It just happened. Not another sound passed their lips while they submerged themselves in the other’s eyes. The gentleness of the handhold surpassed the need for communication.
It was the climax of her day.
The orange ball in the sky blinded her with its intense brightness as it slid closer to the water. Along with the waning light came a horde of flying insects. Shooing and slapping did no good. Mosquitoes zeroed in on them, stinging in swift repetition.
“Ow!” The kamikaze pests dived at the skin on her bare arms and legs. She could tell he felt responsible for her plight even though he had his own battle raging.
“Come here.”
Sharlene allowed him to move her to the flat bottom in front of him. She reveled in the way he hovered over and around her in his efforts to fend off the attacking swarm. “My apologies for bringing up what I know are terrible memories,” she uttered, rubbing at the stinging skin on her legs.
* * * *
Drake took his voluntary duty to heart, answering, “That awful time will be with me for the rest of my life. It’s just like the night swallowing us up as we sit like sticks in the mud. Nothing we can do because life goes on all around us.”
His pain was profound. “My wife and baby died in childbirth.”
She swiveled in the new darkness to cast enormous eyes on him. “That just doesn’t happen today. Maybe years ago when I had my girls.” Her voice diminished to a whisper. “Not today.”
“Unfortunately, it does.”
“Oh, Drake,” Sharlene moaned. “I’m…so…sorry for your loss. You’re young. Just give it time.”
Any response he considered died on his lips when a throttle echoed in the inky blackness. Streaks of light sliced through the trees. Sharlene jumped to cut off his yell with a hand to his mouth. Drake dragged her fingers from his lips. “They can’t find us if they don’t know we’re here.”
“Exactly.”
He sensed rather than saw her wary expression. “You’re afraid.”
“Cautious is more like it. We could be taken for poachers stealing traps. Or they might be poachers. Do you understand?”
“Sitting ducks,” he surmised. “That’s what we are.”
“Not necessarily. The traps were in the waterway. As long as we’re silent, they’ll pass us by.” She prayed that into truth for the boat continued on by.
Yet, to his chagrin, the sound veered back in their direction, coming nearer at a steady pace. “Get back by the motor,” he ordered with his hands firmly under her armpits for the lift. His voice brooked no defiance as he planted her there. “Sit on the bottom.”
“Drake?”
“Don’t talk,” he commanded. “And—keep still.”
Her heart pounded in her chest loud enough to give their location away. Out of the blue, the brilliant white light hit them. Drake sat defenseless. But he’d be damned if he wimped out.
“Maybe I can reason with them,” she whispered. “I know a lot of the people here. I’m sure they’ll remember me.”
He debunked that suggestion without turning by shaking his head “no”. Her warm palm on his back instilled in him the will to go down fighting. He owed her. And—he would protect her at all costs.
The metallic reverberation of a cocked weapon assaulted his ears. Drake jerked around because Sharlene lunged from her hiding place against his order.
“I’m a Mou—”
He heard her breath snag as she caught an elbow to the middle when he reacted to her outburst. As he fought to save her, the force of the blow knocked her off-balance, and she toppled over—right into the marsh.
Drake didn’t waste a second debating what to do. His arms submerged to pluck her straight out by the elbows with a big heave-ho that sprawled them on the bottom of the boat. Bullets whizzed by their moving bodies into the very spot of water she vacated.
“Get closer!” The recognizable accent shouted orders. More shots rang out. “Dumbass kids!”
Sharlene’s tremors caused Drake to fit her reclined body closer to his.
“What ’cha say, Moot? A waste of good alligator, if ya ask me.” Clyde lamented the creature’s destruction. “No hide. No meat.”
Apparently that was all it took to tickle Sharlene’s funny bone. Containing her mirth was impossible. She clung to Drake, seemingly unable to shut down her laugh attack. The gentle way he wrapped her up—stroked her back—seemed to calm her to take a cleansing breath.
He was glad when her hysterical laughter quieted. “You’re safe, now.”
Somehow, she actually felt that way and cuddled comfortably against the length of his body.
Chapter Six
Sharlene fidgeted between the two men as Moot drove them back to his house. Drake, the interloper, rode along purely at the whim of her uncle’s good nature—toward his niece. She was sure her tongue-lashing time would come. The Mouton men whipped one first with silence.
Moot doled out deep, measured breaths. “Coulda got yo’self killed.”
“I know.” She stopped scratching long enough to kiss his wrinkled cheek, remembering she smelled like muck. “I’m glad you didn’t let that happen.”
Drake smiled. With an inconspicuous lean, he taunted, “You…are…good.” What he got for his interference was an “accidental” elbow to the ribs. He let out a grunt.
“Payback,” she responded under her breath.
Moot pulled into the yard, unable to get into his usual spot because Drake’s rental occupied that parking place. “Clyde think he gon’ collect for using his airboat. Gon’ be yo’ bill, Cormier.”
“Yes, sir,” he agreed. “I take full responsibility.”
Moot grabbed the rifle from the gun rack and slammed his door. Sharlene slid out after Drake. That reply didn’t satisfy Moot. “Git goin’. Don’t let me catch you on my place, again.”
“I won’t bother you again, Mr. Mouton.” Drake scratched his way to his car.
“He did ya
nk me into the boat, Uncle. That should count for something.”
“Only right he did. Knocked ya in, didn’t he?”
Neither Sharlene nor Drake could argue with that logic. All stood in the encroaching moonlight serenaded by swamp songs. Moot remembered his cargo in the truck bed, reseating his rifle and himself behind the wheel. He backed up to the water’s edge, guided by bright silver beams. Moot apparently wanted no help from Drake, who jumped to assist.
“Stay yo’ distance.”
“Let him help, Uncle Moot,” she encouraged. “The pirogue’s not on the trailer. So the extra hands will lighten the load.”
He strapped the motor blades up. Each man took a side to muscle the boat and engine into the water. Once done, Moot charged across the yard, up the steps, and burst into the house. Sharlene drove the truck to the front porch while Drake watched. He was near his vehicle when a rapid-fire order stopped him.
“Inside! Both ya!” Anybody observing would think they marched to purgatory. “Skeeta, in the shower!” He didn’t say another word until she moved to obey. “You, Cormier. Wash at the sink.”
* * * *
Moot slung a towel at Drake once he finished. Before long, Sharlene reappeared. Her tight curls had changed to a darker shade of red due to dampness. She appeared so cool and refreshed in her shorts and sleeveless top that complemented her skin tone. Beyond all of that, Drake took in the knots pimpling her fresh-looking skin.
“Sit!” Sharlene and Drake dropped into chairs. A bottle hit the table. Moot stood guard.
“No, Uncle.” Drake monitored their interaction. “I’m a woman with two grown daughters and a granddaughter.” Sharlene’s refusal was to sit on her hands—a stunt that indicated anything but maturity.
Moot shifted the bottle nearer and went to the refrigerator.
“What’s going on?” Drake inquired, rubbing furiously at his face, arms, and legs.
BayouBabe99er (BookStrand Publishing Romance) Page 3
