by Geri Krotow
“Where, Yankee girl? Tell me where you want to do this.” He bit her lower lip and she groaned, the vibration from her throat going straight to his cock.
He shifted to have a better hold of her and his foot settled into something soft and messy. Looking down, he saw the half gallon of ice cream he’d squished, its melted contents melding with the rain. A bright box of microwave kettle popcorn was near his big toe.
Chick food. Sad chick food.
He looked at Poppy. Her swollen lips matched the half-lidded expression that begged him to keep going, to fuck her senseless right upside the Beemer where anyone who drove by could see them, rain and all. Still holding her, he took a step back and allowed room between them. Room for the raindrops to fall and hit the plastic grocery bag with decided plop-plop-plops.
“Fuck, Poppy. We can’t do this, babe.”
“What?” Clouds of lust cleared from her amber eyes and anger snapped out of their depths. “What. The. Hell.” She shoved against his chest and he let his arms drop to his sides.
“Let’s go inside and talk.” Since when was he the sensitive type? His dick was never going to forgive him. The ache for Poppy was insatiate.
She bent over to grab the groceries and clutched the sodden bag to her chest. “I don’t want to talk to you. Stay the hell away from me!” She stalked away from him and he hung his head, let the water drip off his nose, his face. Christ, he was soaked—she had to be, too. Gritting his teeth, he turned around and followed her to the house. Because of his stupid, let-my-dick-do-the-thinking move, it was going to be a lot harder to convince Poppy that she couldn’t stay here. And that the only place left to take refuge from the storm was his house.
Double fuck.
* * * *
Poppy shivered under the hot stream of water, thinking she’d take a steaming bath later tonight, too.
It’d been too close of a call out there with Brandon. Thank God for the rain and for an excuse to run into the house like she had. It would have been polite to at least give the dude a towel but he could figure out where the other shower was if he needed it. Hopefully he’d taken his big truck back to what she figured was no doubt some fancy mansion his boat business had paid for. It’d be easier on both of them if they never saw one another again.
She dried off with thick fluffy pink towels that had to be Sonja’s and tried to ignore the shame that made her gut wiggle. Brandon had seen her at her absolute worst. Five days into her pity party, the longest she’d gone without dressing up or putting on makeup since starting her stylist business in New York six years ago. And still, he’d kissed her. Shit, she’d almost gotten down on her knees and made up for what he hadn’t let her do Saturday night. Cock-blocked again, and he hadn’t even pretended it was the rain that stopped him.
He’s better gone. Although it would have been fun to try to design nautical decor. She put on a clean pair of yoga pants and a loose-fitting lightweight sweatshirt, relishing the crisp clean scent and soothing textures. Yup, a shower had been what she’d needed. No wonder she’d let him kiss her like that—she’d been half crazed from her mopefest.
You kissed him back.
Yes, she had. Making her way downstairs to the kitchen she let out a yelp at the sight of Brandon sitting at the expansive island. “I told you to leave. Did the rain make mush of your brains?”
“Sorry, no can do. Not until you agree to let me get you to the airport.”
He was kicking her out?
“I can’t leave. I’m house-sitting for Sonja and Henry.” She looked around the kitchen for candles and grabbed a glass jar filled with one from the counter. “Look. Emergency lighting, and it smells like cottage roses.”
“Poppy, when the power goes out so will the sump pumps. At this rate of rain we’ve got about another twenty minutes to drive out.”
“Because they’ll block the roads?”
He placed his hands on his hips. “No, because the Mississippi is overflowing its banks and this tributary is next.”
“I can’t leave the house to the weather.”
“Henry asked me to come check on you. It’s my assessment that you’re no longer safe here. You’ve got fifteen minutes to pack and then we’re out of here. I’ll find you a flight while you pack, if you want.” He was serious.
“You’re still wet.”
“Poppy.”
“Fine!” She ran back upstairs and did as he asked, throwing her clothes into her luggage in five minutes flat. Once back downstairs she loaded her portfolio, laptop, and art journals into her backpack and turned to face him with satisfaction.
“Done. But you don’t have to take me. I’ll follow you out of the neighborhood to the main road. I can get to the airport on my own in Sonja’s car. We’d already planned for me to leave the car there for her and Henry when they get back. When they were going to get back. You know what I mean.” When there was going to be a honeymoon, before the wedding had been ruined.
Brandon shook his head. His T-shirt still clung to his chest. He had to be freezing, but not an iota of shiver emanated from him. “No can do, Poppy. Sonja’s car will never make it through the water. It’s rising too quickly. My pickup’s the only choice.”
She wavered between deciding to stay put regardless of his opinion or to ignore him and drive herself out of here anyway. She’d driven through the residential roads less than an hour before. It wasn’t raining that hard.
A flash followed by an immediate growl of thunder made her decision.
“Let’s go. I’ll move up my flight while we drive. If there are still flights going, that is.”
“The airport’s not due to shut down for another two hours. It’s a half hour away in good weather, so if we’re lucky we’ll get you there with an hour to spare. Check in online, obviously.”
“I always do.”
He nodded. It was impossible to tell if he was relieved she’d agreed or had thought he’d already made the decision and was waiting for her to figure it out. She’d never allowed a man to make decisions for her. Even with Will the choices had been all her own. That should have been her first of many clues that Will wasn’t invested in their relationship. In her.
Within two minutes her bags were on the backseat of the truck’s cab and Brandon was maneuvering around and through the shallowest parts of the flood water, nearly all of the road covered. He swore softly under his breath as he concentrated, and Poppy tried to get a signal on her phone. Brandon had the radio tuned to an AM station. The broadcast was static and continuous emergency weather information.
“I can’t get a signal.” Her phone wasn’t responding to her efforts to launch her airline app, much less make a call.
“Cloud cover’s too dense, and with the lightning there’s a good chance one or more of the towers are out.”
Her shoulders tensed when the truck seemed to groan as it crept through the water that rapidly approached the level of her door’s window.
Brandon stopped the truck and rapped his fingers on the wheel, staring out at the rain and wind.
“Why did you stop?”
He took in a breath, shifted the car into reverse, and placed his hand on the back of the seat so that he could turn enough to look out the rear window.
“We’re going back.” The strain of maneuvering the vehicle was evident in his taut throat. Damn her lips for wanting to kiss it nonetheless.
“Why? You said we have to get out of here now. There’s one other way out, if you turn left back over there.” She hadn’t wanted to come out of the safe, dark hole she’d burrowed under since the wedding but now that it was clear that New Orleans wasn’t going to help her feel better she wanted to be anywhere but NOLA. She wouldn’t go back to the city, not yet, but she could get a flight to Western New York and stay with her mother or sister for the time being.
First, she had to get to the airport.<
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“You’ll still be able to get me out, right? To the airport?”
As if he heard her, the AM radio deejay declared: “New Orleans airport has been closed. Repeat, New Orleans airport is closed. Shelter in place or safely move to a community shelter. Do so as soon as possible.”
Poppy’s stomach flipped.
“I can stay at the house, really. I’ll stay on the top floor.” Did she sound as frightened as she felt?
“We’re going to have to boat out of here, Poppy.” He’d turned the truck back around and she was relieved to see hard road again.
“I don’t understand how the water is so high back there when the house is right on the river and we can still get to the driveway just fine.”
“We’re on top of the bayou, Yankee girl. Henry had the house built on the highest point of land, but also on a significantly raised foundation. Few folks around here can afford to do that. But even with all the safeguards, Henry’s house is probably going to flood, at least the first level.”
“That’s awful! All of their furniture will be ruined.”
His eyes flashed over her face and she saw a definite twinkle there. “It’ll be fine. We’ll move everything to the second floor. Then we’ll go to my place.”
“I’m not staying with you! And how do you know your house isn’t in just as bad of shape?”
“You don’t have a choice, Poppy.” His hands held the wheel firmly, his confidence in being able to navigate the treacherous waters evident. But his knuckles grew white and his mouth was in a grim line. “I’m not going to touch you again. What happened earlier was nuts. We’re both probably stressed after the way the wedding blew up in our faces.”
She swallowed. “You sure know how to make a girl feel pretty.”
“Your attractiveness has nothing to do with it. But for the record, you could have stepped out of a pigsty and you’d look as hot as ever. You’re that kind of woman, Poppy.”
Tension thrummed between them, a taut awareness that was becoming as familiar as the scent of the winter-blooming camellias that graced Sonja’s porch. Poppy couldn’t afford this; her heart was still in shreds from Will. From losing the Attitude by Amber line. From not knowing where her life was headed.
He didn’t force her from her silence. “My house sits up and away from the water far enough to not worry about it, not for a good while. It would take a week of rain like this to make the water level near me rise to my house. I did as much to hurricane-proof it as I could when I built it. It’s safe and as weather-protected as any place in these parts. And where else are you going to go?”
He had her there. With the airport shutdown and Henry and Sonja’s place about to flood, she was screwed. Doubly so. And of course Brandon had a stormproof house. He was a multimillionaire, according to what she’d found on the Internet. Not that she’d spent a lot of time obsessing over him.
“Double dang damn it.”
His laughter reached across the cab to her as he pulled back onto the gravel driveway and cut the engine.
Chapter 10
They worked efficiently together, scarily so. Poppy figured the chemistry that had almost had them fucking like dogs twice so far worked well for other physical tasks like moving furniture and belongings upstairs. Brandon carried the heavier items while she ran up and down the stairs with other items from the floor that weren’t too heavy. They got most of the furniture up the stairs together. She let Brandon guide her hand placement on how to edge the large chairs and sofa around the wainscoted stairwell and hallways without crushing her fingers.
“The larger sofa is too big for us to get upstairs.” Brandon spoke without a hint of the breathlessness she felt after they set down a big recliner on the stair landing. “I’ll prop it on its side and shove it up as many steps as I can, but that’s as far as it will go.”
Poppy nodded. “Maybe we’ll get lucky and the flood won’t come this high.” As the rain continued to batter the roof and sides of the charming house, she was resigned to the fact that indeed, Henry and Sonja’s house was going to flood.
Poppy wondered if the heavens knew about the failed wedding. Did angels throw self-pity parties? She doubted it.
Brandon eyed her luggage, which they’d brought into the house with them. “Take what you absolutely need for the next week or so and put it in this bag. Your suitcases are too heavy and they’ll get soaked.” Brandon held a white plastic kitchen garbage bag out. “I’ve got clothes you can borrow, and you can do laundry. Focus on any prescriptions, what you need with you to be able to work. Worst case you can always use one of my computers.”
Poppy took the bag, careful to avoid touching his fingers. Their short work of Henry and Sonja’s furnishings had forced a sweat from both of them and Brandon’s was all tangy male, sexy and dangerously spicy. At least he was warm and not freezing as she’d be if she hadn’t showered.
“So you’re telling me we’re going to paddle to your house in this downpour? The grocery clerk told me to try to find a canoe in case I had to escape.” The skies had grown darker and they’d turned the lights on throughout the house. The bulbs flickered on and off as the power ominously fluctuated.
“We’re going to take Henry’s flat-bottom boat. I made it, so I know how it’ll handle the water.”
“I didn’t know Henry had a boat.” She shoved her headache meds and toothbrush into the bag, along with most of the contents of her backpack. “You’re sure this will keep my laptop dry?”
“It’ll have to, won’t it?” He said it like a statement, underscoring the direness of their circumstance.
“Excuse me if I’m not used to swimming my way out of storms.” She stood up and blew a stray lock out of her eyes. Brandon didn’t miss the gesture from the way his eyes narrowed on her lips. She shrugged. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to sound like such a spoiled little bitch. I’m used to having to stock up for a snowstorm, and when the wind’s blowing the snow sideways in Buffalo I know not to go out. We get some major storms in New York City, too. But this, this is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. I half expect Noah’s Ark to show up on the dock.” She looked where she motioned her thumb, out the French doors toward the backyard and deck where only a little more than a week earlier the wedding party had enjoyed pre-festivity cocktails. Shock shook through her at the sight of water covering all but the last few steps up to the main deck that was adjoined to the house. “Holy hell, it is the Great Flood.”
“And we have the perfect ark for it. Come on, let’s go. Wear this.” He tossed her a rain slicker and looked at her feet. “Sonja’s got to have waders in the garage.”
She followed him through the kitchen entry to the garage. Sonja’s car sat alone in the double-vehicle room, still dripping.
“When did you pull this in?”
“While you were showering.”
She’d never noticed it when they’d driven out in the truck.
“Here, try these.” He handed her a pair of flowered rubber boots. She took the waders and stepped into them.
“They’re roomy but they’ll do. Where’s the boat?”
“Around back. We’re going to have to work together to get it to the water, but at least that’s not going to be very far today.” He took a larger, man-sized slicker off a hook and shrugged into it. The drab olive, rubber slicker would look silly if not practical on anyone else. On Brandon, it looked classic.
“Stop staring, Yankee, and get ready to push, pull, and heave this boat into the river.” He opened a door to the outside and they faced Henry’s boat. Brandon quickly removed the tarp over it before he took the brakes off the hitch and began to roll the boat down a cement ramp.
“I had no idea this boat was here.” And she hadn’t noticed the boat ramp that was built into the side piece of property, angling down to the river. When she’d arrived last week the ramp didn’t catch her eye, as she�
��d spent her time on the back deck. Goosebumps rose on her forearms and nape as she saw that the water they had to get the boat into was mere feet away, instead of the two hundred yards she estimated it had been before the rain.
“Stay to the side and out of the way of the boat, Poppy. It’s heavier than it looks.” His instruction was firm, confident, but also empowering. Not one hint of condescension percolated in his tone.
Once the boat was afloat, Brandon pushed it far enough out so that he could pull the trailer back up onto the level ground.
“Won’t the water carry that away?”
“It might, but probably not. It’s heavy enough to stay put.” He waded toward her and took the plastic bag from her hands and tossed it into the cabin, under a protective roof. Thanks to the tarp, the boat looked relatively dry.
Although the deluge didn’t let up and she feared the boat would sink. Brandon’s arms were at his side and he faced her. “I’m going to have to put you in.” He had to shout over the roar of the rainfall.
Poppy’s knees were shaking, and she hated not knowing how exactly he thought they were going to survive this. “Are you sure?” She motioned at the water filling the boat.
“Now, Poppy!” His roar shook her and she scrambled toward him, her boots sloshing in the muddy water. A quick flash of a tail slithered across the top of the water near her calves and she screamed.
Strong hands had her waist and she was being lifted up and over the side of the boat, where she landed on the cushioned side benches on her knees with a splash. The deck tilted starboard as Brandon swung himself aboard and landed next to her.
“That was a cottonmouth. Not someone we want to bring back with us.” He grabbed her elbow and led her to the overhang that protected the engine controls. Within seconds he had the engines running and was slowly maneuvering them away from the house. They passed the decorative tops of the deck railings and Poppy shuddered. “The water’s almost completely over the deck.”
Brandon didn’t answer but instead was immersed in guiding the boat through and between trees and brush. Poppy knew that water moccasins liked to hang out in trees and decided to not look too closely. The brush of the snake against her rubber boots had been enough reptile contact for her.
