Bayou Rouges: Dirty Part 9

Clara's chin was down and her eyes were angled up, giving her the appearance of a naughty pixie. Courtney rubbed her palm into her eye. Exhaling loudly she made her decision. "Okay, let's do it. I'll be charming and you'll be accommodating."

Clara squealed and walked around the counter to lay a bear hug on Courtney. "This is so exciting!"

"I hope it doesn't backfire."

Clara swatted her arm. "Oh, stop it. Be positive and the plan won't dare fail."

"I'm thinking nothing but positive thoughts. Positive and a little dirty."

Clara giggled. "Hey, what are we going to do about Doctor Tons-of-no-fun?"

"I don't think he'll be talking to me ever again."

The girls shared a high five and Clara filled their gla.s.ses with more wine.

Chapter 6.

Dressing for her Sat.u.r.day night plans proved more difficult than she'd originally thought. She pulled her favorite royal blue peplum dress from the closet and held it from the hanger in front of her. Would she upstage Sawyer in this getup? That wouldn't do.

She hung the blue dress back in the closet and settled on an blue-green lace dress that hung mid-thigh and sported a banded waist, boat cut collar, and three-quarter inch sleeves. She paired it with gray two-inch heels and matching clutch.

Looking at herself in the mirror, she decided she'd leave her hair down and livened up her blond curls with a spray mousse. She used foundation to cover the redness across the side of her face, and then she applied light shadow and mascara to her eyes. To finish, she applied a pale-pink lipstick to her lips.

On the drive over her stomach was in knots. Her thoughts stewed at the negative end of the spectrum from Sawyer denying her outright in front of the bachelorette party, to him dismissing her without any words and piling into his truck to head home. Was there not a thought in there somewhere that had a pleasant outcome? She couldn't shake the overwhelming feeling that this was a mistake-however large or small would be determined in a matter of minutes. She sighed and cranked up Bitter Sweet Symphony on her iPod, the intro sounding exactly that-bitter sweet-as it pulsed through the Accord's speakers.

As usual she parked along the curb. However, unusual was the distance she placed between herself and the door. Not wanting to get too close for fear of being seen by him, she opted to park several hundred feet away from the shop even though there was parking available near the door.

Pulling the key from the ignition she thought...now what?

What was she doing here at six o'clock on a Sat.u.r.day evening? She wouldn't lie about showing a house. Maybe she was catching up on some paperwork. She did have a market a.n.a.lysis to complete. Hmm, she was a s.h.i.+t liar.

Deciding it would serve her well to actually complete the market a.n.a.lysis she used her master key to enter Greystone Realty. She turned on the first row of lights and ambled toward her desk in front of the large bank of windows that looked out across busy Main Street.

An hour later, and highly unfocused, all she'd managed to get done was a little online shopping. She finalized the purchase of a marked down Anthropologie jacket and skirt, and then turned off her computer. Taking five minutes to build her confidence, she turned off the lights and locked up. She walked toward the cheese shop with purpose. She'd invite Sawyer to dinner, he'd say yes or no, and then she could get on with her life.

Her hand reached out to grab the metal handle of the door, its residual warmth holding from the heat of the day. Inside was a bevy of women and chaos. Lewd p.e.n.i.s-shaped frippery dotted every flat surface. In the center of it all was Clara sporting a p.e.n.i.s top hat. "The game is pin the p.e.n.i.s on the man. You must wear the satin blindfold, take a shot of tequila, and shout I love c.o.c.k! before placing your pin. April, as our resident bachelorette, you're up first."

Behind the bar was an uncomfortable looking Sawyer with wide eyes.

"Oh, excuse me for a moment. Bridesmaid number one, you're up." Clara pa.s.sed the blindfold to a pet.i.te woman who accepted it with unbridled joy, and then skipped toward Courtney.

"I'm so glad you're here. Sawyer's fading fast. I think once we brought out the p.e.n.i.s-shaped cake, complete with b.a.l.l.s, he turned a little green. He'll be delighted to be dismissed for dinner." She laced her arm in Courtney's and escorted her behind the bar where Sawyer dried water gla.s.ses.

"Sawyer, I'm sure you wouldn't mind getting out of here for a little while, hmm?" He turned to face them, eyeing her with intensity. His wiping action on the gla.s.s froze. His eyes darted from her to Clara.

"But I'm on the clock." He looked nice in a dark washed pair of jeans and an ash-blue Henley s.h.i.+rt.

Clara swatted her hand at his shoulder. "Oh you'll still be on the clock, but it's about to get downright raunchy." She cupped a hand to the edge of her mouth and said, "The male strippers are on their way."

Sawyer groaned and Clara looked toward Courtney with a c.o.c.ked brow and a nod. Right! Here goes nothing. "Um, I was wanting...well hoping you would accept my invitation to dinner as a token of my appreciation for coming so gallantly to my aid."

"I told you...there's no need to thank me. I should have gone with you in the first place." He turned and placed the dry gla.s.s on the shelf above the bar.

"Still, I hate to eat alone and it will get you out of here for a few hours."

"Yes, it's perfect." Clara chimed. "By the time you return the party should be ending. You can finish up then."

"We've been getting complaints about the noise level in here."

The trio turned toward the shouting emitting from the other side of the bar.

Two excessively groomed men dressed in police uniforms stood in the doorway. One took a baton from a loop on his pants and began slapping it in his palm. "I'm officer Miles Long-I'm going to need to search whoever's in charge here." Early millennial crunk, Yeah!, streamed from the speakers in the CD boom box one of the cops held.

In one swift motion two male strippers had their police uniforms off, exposing their bare b.u.t.tocks' in the thongs they wore. When they started to suggestively dance a steel hand wrapped around Courtney's upper arm. "Get me out of here."

She smiled at Sawyer, who was most definitely feeling out of his comfort zone.

Courtney leaned in to whisper into Clara's ear, "I'll have him back around nine-thirty."

He followed her past several shops and finally to her car. They boarded and as she snapped her seatbelt she inhaled a silent, but deep, breath of air. Placing her hands on the steering wheel she looked across the s.p.a.ce between them. "I hope you like French. I made reservations."

He shrugged and without looking toward her said, "I'm sure it will be fine."

Her bittersweet memories were not so distant as she started the car and was reminded she'd left the song on repeat-and the volume loud. She nervously reached for the b.u.t.ton in the wheel to lower the sound. "Sorry."

He was a pillar of stone in the pa.s.senger seat and she felt her upper lip moisten as sweat penetrated the barrier of her moisturizer. "I have your coffee mug." She reached and pulled it from the cup holder, offering it to him. "Washed and good as new."

He took it from her grip and set it right back in the cup holder. No words exchanged. Pulling from the curb, she cleared her throat. "How was the rest of your week?"

"Hectic." At a red light she dared a glance in his direction. Focusing on his profile and the sharp cut of his freshly shaved jaw had desire pulling in her belly. He scrubbed his face with his hand. His hair was thick, s.h.i.+ny, and dark as it curled slightly as it met his neck. He turned toward her, his forehead puckered in tension, exposing a wrinkle. "It's green." A honk behind her had her shaking her head to clear the haze.

"How have you been?" He asked.

"I've been okay." She put her foot down on the accelerator.

"Did you tell your brothers about the attack?"

"No."

"Have you told anyone?"

"No." She was stopped at another light.

"Don't you think you should talk to someone?"

"The only person I want to talk about it with is you."

Their gazes met-intensity and heat bloomed. Then he reached for her hand, taking it in his. "I'm sorry, Courtney. I should have called...would have called, but I was just so busy." The anguish on his face told her he meant the words he spoke and her heart thundered. "Tell me how you've been feeling."

When the light turned green she forced herself to focus on driving.

"Have you had thoughts about your ordeal?"

She swallowed. Thinking of Eric's hold on her made her anxious. "I've thought about arriving there...at the house, and then about running into the woods." She gasped when her breathing hitched.

"Pull over please." The gentle caress of his thumb on her palm soothed her. If he were around she knew she'd be safe. She pulled the car into a metered slot and parked.

"You should have called me."

"I know you're busy and I didn't want to disturb you at your jobs." A lone tear escaped her eye despite her attempts at blinking it back. His lips kissed it away. She didn't think the tears were because of the incident...no, she'd shed that tear in sheer relief that he actually did care for her, about her...just maybe. His thick, delicate lips on her skin sent chills coursing up her arms, her neck, and head. He pulled away, but only enough to bring their gazes into focus. They were close, and time and circ.u.mstance had stopped for them in this moment. His eyes lowered to her lips and he s.h.i.+fted ever so slightly toward her, drawn like a bug at night is drawn to a porch light. She sat frozen, wanting him to know that he'd met her lips for a kiss all on his own because his body desired her. She'd seen the signs-she knew he desired her, but his brain was making a ploy at denying what they'd felt.

His eyes closed, and then he closed the gap between them. When his lips met hers he held them there for a beat, moaning when he began to ma.s.sage his softness into hers. The lone spark that had been present since she'd first set eyes on him grew into a raging forest fire. She'd never felt anything like it before. His hands cupped her jaw as his kiss deepened. Her hands sought him, ending up lacing through his thick hair, tugging and twisting as she sighed into his kiss.

She sensed his goodness. This man would never cheat on her. This man would never attack her. With him she felt warmed and tethered. Away from him her body was cold and floating in a black abandoned abyss.

He pulled away, leaving her head screaming No! and her fingers sinking deeper into the hold she had on his hair. Since he couldn't move without ripping out hair, he settled just an inch before her. "I'm sorry. I got a little carried away."

"Please don't be sorry."

"I don't think this is what you need after your ordeal."

"You're so wrong. It is exactly what I need." She pulled him back to her lips. Their kiss quickly turned explicit when she sighed her breath over his open mouth and his tongue entered her, exploring and learning. His touch remained delicate and savoring, but deep and all consuming. His moans turned to l.u.s.t-filled groans that ignited her s.e.x and had her body shaking beneath his hands. Hands that were exploring her lower back, pulling her even closer toward him and the middle of the car's console. d.a.m.n, how she wished for a bench seat!

Her hands were doing a little exploring of their own as her breath mingled with his in their heated kiss. Sliding her palms from his head down to his shoulders gave her a s.h.i.+ver, for he was built like a mountain. Mountains were for climbing. Her wayward thoughts had her panting into his mouth. His biceps were warm and hard, making her wonder if other places on his body were as hard or harder.

They pulled apart as the heat in the car became unbearable. For the first time she noticed the fogged state of the windows. His eyes blazed with desire at her. It was too intense and she looked down, noticing his huge erection. Her eyes flashed before she managed to level out. He adjusted himself and when their eyes met again she noticed a slight blus.h.i.+ng in his cheeks.

"Courtney, I'm so out of my comfort zone here. I've never felt so much desire for a woman before. It's obvious what being near you does to me, but as I said before...I've got responsibilities that keep my life from being my own."

There was that phrase again. Who owned him? "Everybody does. If we didn't, we wouldn't exist. Not to make light of your needs of course, but sometimes it's okay to accept a little help from friends and lovers." Lovers? Why'd she have to say the L word?

His brow furrowed and his thinking wrinkle appeared across his forehead. Over-thinking wrinkle she suspected. She clasped his hands and gave them a shake. "Hey, let's not overthink this, okay? I want to take you to a nice dinner. No strings, no expectations. Can I just ask you one thing?"

His eyes were wide on her. "What?"

"Just try not to dismiss what we have because you think it can't work with your responsibilities."

"But I can't-"

She leaned in and placed a chaste kiss to his lips. "I only said try."

He smiled. Wow. She hadn't seen him smile much, but then it grew into full on laughter and wow...oh wow. He was magnificent. His smile could establish world peace. She liked smiles. Usually it was the first thing she noticed in a guy, but he'd not laughed since she'd known him...until now. When he exposed his full-on smile it squared his jaw further and pushed his plump lower lip out-corner to corner his teeth were symmetrical and dazzling. He was s.e.xy as h.e.l.l.

"Okay...I'll give it a shot."

They agreed on a kiss, and then she drove them to Mon Ami Gabi, her favorite French restaurant.

The first thing he noticed was how decadent the restaurant was. He couldn't remember existing in a s.p.a.ce that was any fancier than where his old booted feet stood now. Courtney in her blue-green dress and heels looked like she was born from the mortar that pieced the building together. He on the other hand was severely under dressed.

But just look at her...she shone like a new penny. G.o.d, she was gorgeous. To kiss her was to kiss something that wasn't of this world. He'd never felt emotion like that. Her dress came to mid thigh and he knew he'd be fighting his eyes to focus on her eyes for the remainder of the night. When she turned to speak with the greeter he got a shot of her extremely shapely derriere and had to lift his jaw from the floor. Courtney. He didn't even know her last name. And shouldn't he know it after he'd manhandled her in the car?

He felt a tinge of remorse building beneath the surface. He was angry with his father for putting him in his current position. Oh, he loved his sisters and nothing could change that, but he was twenty-seven and should be free to date Courtney if he wanted to.

To her credit she'd been inside his home. She'd seen he didn't have the money for a proper oven or even refrigerator. They used a mini fridge they'd purchased for forty-five dollars on black Friday. She hadn't flinched then. In fact, she'd appeared quite content in the home he'd made. She also knew he had no money and worked several odd jobs and she'd accepted him as is. But...there was so much more for her to accept. She didn't know about his family's history and she didn't know that he had full custody of his two sisters. But what if she did know? What if he brought her home and showed her?

He'd been so deep in thought he hadn't realized the commotion, and now standing before him was the greeter. She held a jacket open in front of him and wore an expectant look on her face.

"What do you want me to do with that?"

Courtney's light touch at his elbow and her words in his ear set fire to his spine. "I do apologize, but it seems I've made reservations at a restaurant that requires men to wear jackets."

He shot her an incredulous look, but quickly smiled when he saw her wince at him. He reluctantly shrugged into the jacket as the couple behind them waited for access to the greeter girl. To make matters worse, the jacket wouldn't accommodate his shoulders. "It's too small." He looked at the polished woman in black who was already hanging the coat on the hanger.

"I have one larger." She stepped behind her counter and pulled a second jacket down from its place on a hook. As she removed it from the hanger the man in the party of two behind him cleared his throat with urgency.

Embarra.s.sed, Sawyer stood to the side. "If you want you can take care of them first."

"Good evening, Senator Jordan." Greeter girl placed the jacket beneath her arm.

Senator. Perfect! Sawyer rubbed his middle finger across his aching brow. He didn't know how to express to Courtney how extremely uncomfortable he was standing in this place, underdressed, and under pedigreed. Worst of all he was embarra.s.sing her.

Once the senator had been properly attended to, greeter girl was back, sliding the jacket up Sawyer's arms. It was enormous. He frowned. Did he really need this stupid jacket just to eat dinner? He must look ridiculous. His eyes sought Courtney's, and when he found them her baby blues sparkled at him. Her sincere smile calmed his nerves. "It's perfect." She laced her arm in his and they followed greeter girl. Sawyer was relieved when she left them in peace, hopeful that was all he'd be seeing of her for the night.

No sooner were they seated than an extremely pompous waiter approached their table-derisive frown in tact. His eyes scanned Sawyer, his eyes lifting in question before he turned to eye Courtney who seemed oblivious.

Large, thick and red leather-bound menus with beige pages were placed delicately in their hands as if they'd been dusted in gold. The apprehension as the waiter lowered him the menu said he thought he'd get it dirty with his greasy paws. It had Sawyer wondering where he could get some axle grease this time of night.

With one hand behind his back he said, "My name is Grant, I'll be your waiter tonight."

"What kind of name is Grant for a French waiter?" Sawyer mumbled under his breath.

Two sets of curious eyes landed on him. He cleared his throat. "Thank you, Grant." Courtney giggled.

He turned to Courtney who he seemed to think was in charge. "Shall I send over the sommelier?"

"That'd be great." She smiled and opened her menu, dismissing Grant, and Sawyer loved her all the more for it.

When he opened his menu his stomach dropped to the floor. It was in French, though the prices were in dollars. There was no way in h.e.l.l he'd have her paying for his meal. The prices were outrageous. He'd decided, in true southern fas.h.i.+on and custom, that he'd be paying the bill, but there was no way he could. He frowned as he desperately tried to make sense of the menu but couldn't. Why did it have to be in French? He'd taken Latin in school. Was told he was great with languages and Mrs. Foster had demanded he attend UIL. He'd made it all the way to state, even lettered in the d.a.m.n language. A lot of good it did him now.

"Sawyer." Her hand rested over his. He felt the sweat beading around his hairline.