Chapter 4
It was a joke. It had to of been a joke. Why else would she have found his reaction so delightfully entertaining? Why on earth would she want a house that came with the danger or alligators? Because she was born and raised in the bayou, that's why. He'd driven, because they both knew that his car was less well known than hers was, and because he just didn't want to put his life into her hands yet. She was absolutely crazy, leaving so late at night, when most sane people would be in bed. Not necessarily sleeping, but most assuredly in bed either way.
"How much farther?" He asked, annoyed and tired, and hungry.
"Not much, turn left," she said and squealed when he tore around the corner at break neck speeds. "Slow down!"
"Well give me better warning next time!"
"I am! Slow down unless you want to crash through the gate!" She said and slapped a hand on the dash when he slammed on the brakes. "I'll go unlock it," she said gleefully and pushed out of the car. Seconds later she had the gate unlocked and swung open, waving him through so she could lock it behind them. She climbed back into the car and gave him a light smile as he drove down the drive.
The house wasn't much, a two story building with white clapboard siding. It had a large wrap-around porch and elaborate gardens. When he put the car in park, she was out the doors like a bullet. Damn it, he thought and pushed out himself. She'd had the front door unlocked and the lights on before he had their bags out of the trunk. She walked back out and grabbed her suitcase just as he was, the momentary touching of their hands sent a spark up her arm.
"We'll have to go to the market tomorrow, but I have some jambalaya in the freezer I can put on the stove if you're hungry," she said and tugged the suit case out of his hand. "Or if you'd rather just go to bed, I can show you the rooms and let you pick which one you want."
"Whatever," he muttered as he followed her inside. The inside was much like the way she had her apartment decorated. Old, worn, and comfortable furniture in the living room. The layout was open, so the living room gave way to a dining room, which opened into a kitchen with vintage appliances. The floors were old, hard wood, and well cared for, each room had a hand braided rug. "Your handy-work?" He asked referring to a rug.
"No, my grand mamma's," she said and sauntered up the stairs. "There are three rooms...are you coming?" She asked when she noticed he hadn't followed her. He simply waved her on and took the steps two at a time. "Okay, there are three bedrooms, one bathroom. The towels are in the closet next to the bathroom," she opened a door to a bathroom that appeared to be modernized recently. A spa shower stood in the corner, and a claw foot tub stood under a large window. A beveled sink sat in the center of a maple vanity next to the toilet. She continued to walk down the hall, opening doors as she went until she reached the end of the hall and stood in front of a set of French doors. "You can choose which room you'd like, but this isn't a hotel. I won't be cleaning up after you."
"I didn't expect you to," he said with a smirk. "What's behind those doors?"
"My room," she said with a smile and turned to push the doors open. The room itself was huge, and the wrought iron bed that stood in the center was canopied with a filmy material. Behind the headboard was a set of French doors that lead to a terrace. "Did you want that jambalaya?"
"What?" He had been too busy fantasizing about having her in that bed to really hear what she was saying. Picturing himself spreading her like a banquet, and feasting on her until he had his fill. Of course, that was a ridiculous notion, because he knew that he'd never have his fill of her from the moment he had stupidly kissed her.
