Farrah Rochon - Yours Forever

Matt took the envelope and left Carmen with a promise to return in an hour. He walked along Main Street, Gauthier’s central attraction. Despite the slight breeze that ruffled the purplish-pink petals of the saucer magnolia trees lining the street, the humidity had him wishing he’d left his suit jacket back at his office.

Like his family’s law practice, many of the other businesses along Main Street had served this small community for well over a century. Matt strolled past Cannon’s Dry Cleaner’s and the Gauthier Pharmacy and Feed Store on his way to Gauthier Bank and Trust. The bank had long been taken over by a larger regional chain, but after an uproar over plans to change the logo and remove the ornamental clock that had hung over the bank’s entrance for more than 150 years, the corporate offices had agreed to make an exception. The checks and debit cards had the chain’s name and logo, but the sign and clock out front remained the same.

He entered the bank and spotted Theresa Rushing behind the counter. He and Theresa had graduated together from Gauthier High School.

“Hey there, Matt. How’s the campaign going?” Theresa greeted.

“It hasn’t officially kicked off yet, but my opponent is already slinging some heavy mud.”

“That’s a good sign. It means he’s taking you seriously, which he very well should. Patrick Carter has been in office too long already. He’ll probably run for dogcatcher after you whip his butt in this election.”

“That’s probably the only seat he hasn’t held,” Matt agreed with a laugh. He handed over the envelope. “Carmen said you’d know what to do with this. And I want to deposit this into the Katherine Gauthier fund,” he added, slipping Theresa the money he’d drawn from his private equity account. He used his dividend checks to fund the account he’d set up in his mother’s name to sponsor various charitable projects around Gauthier.

“No problem,” she said. She cast a sly smile in his direction. “By the way, a very nice-looking woman came in asking about you not too long ago. If I wasn’t happily married, I would be jealous that some newcomer is scoping out Gauthier’s most eligible bachelor.”

Matt’s stomach dropped. “Was she wearing a red top and black skirt?”

“Yeah,” Theresa confirmed.

Dammit.

“What did she want to know?”

“Just stuff.” She shrugged. “Whether or not you’ve lived in Gauthier your entire life. How long you’ve been practicing law in your grandfather’s old building. Stuff like that. So.” Theresa raised her brows. “Is she someone special?”

“Yeah, a special pain in my ass,” Matt muttered. “Any idea where she went?”

“I think she said she was heading to Claudette’s.”

“Aw, shit.” Anywhere but the beauty parlor. “I’ll come back later for the deposit receipt. Or better yet, have someone bring it over to Carmen at the office.”

“No problem,” she called.

Matt quickly made it out of the bank and across the street to Claudette’s Beauty Parlor. He opened the screen door and was nearly bowled over by all the estrogen. He usually avoided this place at all costs, mainly because he’d dated two of the beauticians who worked here.

Dread crept up his spine as he spotted Tamryn sitting in one of the twirling salon chairs, her lean legs crossed. His gut clenched at the sight. It had done the same thing this morning when she’d assumed a similar position across from his desk.

“Well, look who’s here,” Claudette Robinson called, waving a comb at him.

“Hi, ladies,” Matt greeted.

Joelle Richardson gave him a wave from where she stood at one of the shampooing basins along the back wall, washing someone’s hair. Mariska Thomas grunted at him and rolled her eyes.

Things had ended amicably with Joelle. With Mariska, not so much.

“We were just telling Tamryn here about you running for state senate,” Claudette said.

“They sure were.” An amused glint lit up her eyes. “They also told me about your work with the Boys and Girls Club, and the scholarship you award at the high school, and the work you do with the elderly. You really are a Boy Scout, aren’t you, Matthew?”

“Everybody loves Matt around here,” Claudette chimed in.

There was another grunt from the station where Mariska was slathering cream in a customer’s hair and folding pieces of foil over it.

“Don’t mind her,” Claudette said. In a loud whisper she pointed a finger between Matt and Mariska. “They used to date. Didn’t end well.”

“Oh.” Tamryn’s eyes widened in what looked like genuine curiosity. That expression alone told Matt that he needed to get her the hell away from these wagging tongues as quickly as possible.

“Professor West, you mind if I talk to you outside?” Matt asked.

“Professor?” Claudette’s brows met her dyed hairline. “You didn’t tell us you were a professor.”

“I am.” Tamryn unfolded those stunning legs and stood. “I teach African-American history and women’s studies at a small liberal-arts college in Boston.”

“Well, well, well. How very fancy,” Claudette said. “I hope you enjoy your time in Gauthier. Stop by and see us again.”

“I’m sure I will,” Tamryn said as she slipped out the door Matt held open.

“What was that?” Matt asked as soon as they were outside.

“What was what?”

“Why are you going all over town asking about me?”

She put up a finger. “Okay, first of all, I am not going all over town asking about you. I’ve only been to the bank, the pharmacy and here.”

“That’s about all there is to Gauthier.”

“And second—” her voice held a hint of irritation “—may I point out that I wouldn’t have to go around asking about you if you’d just agree to an interview? I promise it’ll be painless.”

A nerve jumped in Matt’s jaw. He was stuck between the proverbial rock and a hard place. He sure as hell didn’t want to answer any of her prying questions, but if she insisted on digging into his background, he wanted to stay on top of just what she uncovered. There were things about both him and his family that were better left buried, and Matt intended on keeping it that way.

If he agreed to let her interview him, he could give her just enough to satisfy her curiosity. Maybe then she would move on to something else.

“Fine,” Matt finally answered. “Why don’t I take you to lunch? I’ll answer anything you want to know.”

She gave him a cheeky smile. “See, that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

Yeah, that was because the questions hadn’t started yet.

* * *

“I knew I should have started dieting the day I decided to spend my summer in Louisiana,” Tamryn said, using the crusty French bread to soak up some of the spicy shrimp étouffée. Her eyelids slid closed as she slipped the morsel between her lips, releasing a throaty moan.

Matt’s stomach clenched at the sound. So did the fingers he’d wrapped around his glass of iced tea, to the point where he figured he was in danger of shattering the glass. She’d been making those little noises throughout their meal. Sounds that, if he closed his eyes, he could imagine coming from something much more enjoyable than a simple lunch at Emile’s.

She expelled another satisfied sigh, then pushed the plate away. “No more. I can’t spare the extra calories.”

His eyes narrowed with his skeptical frown. “You’re joking, right?”

“Oh, how I wish.” She laughed, then hunched her shoulders in a hapless shrug. “What can I say? I love to eat. I’m counting this as my splurge meal for the week.”

Matt shook his head. The woman clearly worried about the wrong things.

From the moment he’d pulled his bike up to her smoking car yesterday, he hadn’t been able to get her shapely body out of his head. The sleeveless top and formfitting skirt she wore today weren’t helping.