Deborah Mello - Forever a Stallion

“Amen to that,” Marah chimed, everyone echoing those sentiments.

Joanne fanned her hands in front of her face, fighting not to bawl like a newborn baby. “Thank you,” she said, fighting back the tears. “I love you all so much,” she said as her mother wrapped her in a warm embrace.

Juanita moved toward the door. “Well, let’s go get you married!” she said, the rest of them following behind her.

And as they moved out of the room, in the direction of the family chapel, Phaedra swiped the tears from her own eyes, snapping one more photo for the Stallion wedding album.

Chapter 4

Mason Boudreaux was all partied out as he moved from the tented reception area back toward the Stallion family home. Guests were still enjoying the Stallion hospitality as they moved from the banquet tables laden with a surplus of food to the dance floor and back again.

Outside, the sun was in the final moments of its descent, the backdrop of a darkening sky heightening the rise of an almost full moon. Small white lights twinkled from the trees that lined the property, casting a seductive glow over the landscape. Looking out over the magnificent view, he couldn’t help being touched by the magnitude of it all. He took a deep breath, filling his lungs with the warm evening air.

As he slowly strolled in the direction of the family’s home he couldn’t help noticing the beautiful woman who stood with her camera in hand snapping photographs. He had noticed her earlier in the day as she’d taken photographs of the crowd at the rodeo and he’d noticed her during the wedding ceremony and again at the reception. In fact, so in awe of her, he’d spent a good deal of time noticing her, almost forgetting why he was there in the first place.

The exquisite woman was casually dressed in black slacks, a white button-down dress shirt and red Durango cowboy boots. The slacks were cut low against the curve of her round hips and she had the tiniest waist of any woman he had ever seen. Having more leg than torso, she appeared model-tall despite her petite stature. The lengthy appendages gave her the lean, lanky look of a gazelle, and the curvature of her full bustline showed that she clearly had more than a handful. Her flawless complexion was milk chocolate, so rich and decadent that with her distinct features he could easily see her posing on the other side of any camera.

He wasn’t quite sure what she was focused on as she stared out in the distance, but with the large telephoto lens and the light that flashed with each snap he was intrigued, curious to discover who she was and what she might be up to.

He casually strolled to her side, his movements so stealthlike that Phaedra didn’t notice him until he was standing directly behind her. She jumped, suddenly taken by surprise as the man stepped into her space.

“Good evening,” Mason said, a bright smile warming the curvature of his face.

“You scared me,” Phaedra gasped, pressing a hand to her chest.

Mason’s smile brightened. “My apologies! I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

“That’s what usually happens when you sneak up on a person,” she said, her heart still racing.

“I wasn’t sneaking,” Mason said casually. “You were just distracted. What are you photographing?” he asked as he looked off toward where she’d been staring.

Phaedra was still eyeing him with reservation. When he cut his eye at her and back toward the landscape, a wave of heat suddenly coursed up the length of her spine. He cut his eye at her a second time, a wry smile pulling at his full lips as he waited for her reply.

Phaedra tilted her camera so that he could see the LCD display, depressing the display button so that he could view the images she’d just taken. “Foxes,” she said nonchalantly. “There was a family of red foxes scurrying along the fence line.”

The man nodded as he met her gaze. “Interesting,” he said, his deep voice echoing through the evening air. He extended his hand. “I’m Mason Boudreaux,” he said as he wrapped Phaedra’s fingers beneath his own.

“Phaedra,” she answered, the heat he radiated causing her to take a swift breath. “Phaedra Parrish.”

“It’s very nice to meet you, Phaedra Parrish.”

Phaedra smiled, hoping he wouldn’t notice the blush that heated her cheeks. “The pleasure is all mine, Mason Boudreaux.”

“You have a very distinct accent,” Mason said, noting her deep Southern dialect with its hint of French Creole syntax. “Where are you from in Louisiana?”

“Good ear,” she said, smiling sweetly. “New Orleans. Born and raised.”

He chuckled softly. “Me, too, although I live in Arizona now.”

“I don’t hear any accent,” Phaedra said, eyeing him with a raised brow.

Mason laughed, shifting into the familiar phonology. “Y’all headed up da house o’ ova back da fields?”

Phaedra laughed with him, the warmth of the sound teasing. “So, why Arizona?”

Mason became pensive, hesitating in reflection for a brief moment. “My family was displaced after Hurricane Katrina,” he finally said, noting the 2005 category-five storm that had been one of the worst natural disasters on record. “I’d already had a house there and my parents decided to stay when their home was destroyed.”

“They didn’t want to go back?” Phaedra questioned.

Mason shrugged. “They did and actually, they’re back and forth as it suits them. We’re still rebuilding the family home, but it’s been slow going. That storm really broke their spirits for a bit. And it didn’t help that my sister shared its name,” he said with slight chuckle. “For whatever reasons, they haven’t been in any rush.”

Phaedra nodded her understanding. “My mother refused to leave. I was traveling so much for business that she couldn’t imagine herself being able to adjust anywhere else. It took everything we both had to repair the damage after the storm, but it was worth it. New Orleans was her home and she was determined to live out the rest of her life where she was happiest. She passed away a few weeks ago,” Phaedra said, her voice catching in her throat as she thought about her mother.

“My condolences,” Mason said, taking a step in her direction. He drew his hand against the length of her arm. “I’m very sorry for your loss.”

Phaedra nodded ever so slightly. His touch was so powerful that her mind suddenly turned to mush. Phaedra couldn’t begin to fathom why she was reacting so intensely. She took a deep breath as she took a step back, suddenly needing to put some distance between them.

Feeling the same thing, Mason crossed his arms over his broad chest, locking his hands beneath his armpits. He hadn’t meant to be so forward. There was a brief pause as both pondered how to move past the awkwardness of the moment.

“So, did you enjoy the wedding?” Phaedra asked, wanting to move the conversation in another direction.

“I did. How about you?”

She nodded. “They throw quite a shindig around here.”

Mason laughed. “Yes, they do.”

“Are you family?” Phaedra asked, curiosity tinting her words.

“By marriage. My sister Katrina is married to Matthew Stallion.”

Phaedra’s head bobbed against her thin neck a second time. “Your sister, she’s pregnant.”

“You’ve met?”

“Not formally. She was with the bride when I took photographs earlier and I noticed.”

The man nodded. “This will be her second child, their first baby together. We’re all very excited. So, are you related to the Stallions?” Mason asked, having noted a resemblance between Phaedra and the brothers.

There was an awkward pause as Phaedra turned to stare out into the distance. She suddenly wished there was someone with whom she could share her story. Mason appeared to have a compassionate spirit, the breadth of it tempting Phaedra to drop her guard and spill her secret. But Mason’s connection to the Stallions made him a highly unlikely ally. After a pause, Phaedra gave a deep sigh and said nothing at all, pretending as though she’d not even heard the question. She lifted her camera, aimed it directly at Mason and snapped the shot, once, twice and then a third time.