Liz Talley - The Road to Bayou Bridge

“So let’s turn on it and hit it out of the park,” Darby smiled, moving toward the door. His demeanor had shifted again and he was back to being light and charming. How could he accomplish that so quickly? She felt pressed down by an unbearable weight with the news he’d delivered, with the falsehoods uncovered. She needed time to process. Time to grieve. Time to confront. Time to...drink enough wine to forget what had transpired over the course of the past two hours.

“Yeah, hit it out of the park,” she echoed, following him to the door, trying not to wince at the ache in her leg. It was always worse at the end of the week, which was another reason she usually spent Friday nights with Chauncey, a glass of white and three hours of Lifetime TV.

Darby opened the door and Chauncey shot inside. “He seems pretty attached to you.”

“Or his food bowl.”

He turned and brushed a lock of hair that had escaped her ponytail behind her ear. “I think it’s you. You have a way of growing on people...and cats.”

Her heart flopped over at his touch. At his words. “God, Darby, you say things that make me want to—”

“Kiss me?”

She shook her head and smiled. “Make me want to forgive you.”

“And you have to forgive me for...what? Loving you once?”

“I really don’t know.”

CHAPTER FIVE

DARBY WATCHED ANNIE ROLL a ball across the hardwood floor to Paxton, who immediately picked it up and shoved it in his mouth.

“No, Pax. Dirty,” Annie said, wrestling the soft ball from her ten-month-old son’s mouth. The kid cranked up like a siren.

“Get used to women denying you, kid,” Darby said, clinking a beer bottle to the one in his brother’s hand. They sat in double recliners centered in front of a big-screen in Nate’s den. For the first time since he’d hit land in New Orleans, Darby felt at home. Odd, since he’d never even glimpsed the new house Nate had built nor met the tenacious Annie.

“Yeah, Nate’s living a hard life sitting back in that leather recliner drinking Abita. Denial is the man’s middle name.” Annie scooped up the wailing kid and plopped a pacifier in his mouth. Pax’s super-suction made the car or train or whatever was on the end of it bob like a cork on a fishing line, but it appeased. Darby wished he had one of those for hard times, then he looked at the amber bottle in his hand. Guess he kind of had a little something to soothe him.

Nate belched. “Yeah, life’s tough.”

Annie rolled her eyes, settled the kid on her hip and regarded her husband. “It’s your turn to change Pax.”

“Come on, hon, I’m hanging with my little brother.”

“And that gives you reason to shirk your duty? This is an equal partnership, bud.” Annie’s gray eyes were sort of shardlike. He could see former FBI agent written all over her.

Darby struggled up from the depths of the recliner. “Give him here. I’ll do it. Been wanting to spend some time with my nephew anyway.”

His new sister-in-law raised her eyebrows. “You know this is a poopy diaper, don’t you? Might ruin the relationship before it’s out of the gate.”

Darby set his beer on the table. “How hard can it be? I’ve had plenty of practice.”

Nate’s bark of laughter startled Pax, who started fussing again. “On who?”

“Myself.”

Nate rose and shook his head. “Totally not the same thing. Trust me.”

His brother held out his hands and Pax sort of fell into them with a drooling grin behind his enormous pacifier...and that’s when Darby got a whiff.

Dear God.

His nephew smelled dead.

“Um, on second thought, I’ll keep Annie company. Haven’t had the opportunity to spend much time with her, either.”

His brother frowned but dropped a kiss atop the baby’s head. Yeah, Nate knew when he’d been suckered, but he didn’t say anything more as he left the den, noxious fumes trailing behind him.

“You’re good.” Annie smiled as she sank onto the couch adjacent from the recliners and propped her bare feet on the ottoman. “Almost as good as me.”

Darby shrugged. “I’m the baby of the family—we’re born knowing how to manipulate the oldest.”

“So does the wife. It wasn’t even his turn to change the baby.”

Darby laughed. He liked this new addition to the Dufrene clan. Spunky might have been Annie’s middle name, something she’d need when up against his headstrong, set-in-his-ways brother. “Nate’s happy finally.”

Her eyes darkened. “Yeah, so am I.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t come to the wedding.” Darby had felt guilty about missing his brother tie the knot, but could do nothing except send a nice gift since he hadn’t had enough leave to head stateside.

“He missed having you there, but he understands. That’s the good thing about Nate. He’s reasonable, otherwise, he wouldn’t be here at Beau Soleil.”

“Mother?”

Annie laughed. “She’s hard to live next door to at times, but we love her. She’s a good mother even if a bit, um, managing.”

“You mean Attila the Hun tries to control your life?” Darby shook his head. “Give her an inch of rope, she’ll take a mile, truss you up and drag you screaming and kicking behind her.”

“She’s not that bad. Just always at war with herself. She professes to allow life to take its course, but like those engineers who control the Mississippi River levee, she wears herself out trying to steer it to come out the way she wishes.”

Darby shifted in the recliner and took another slug of beer. His brother’s wife had Picou pegged, but she seemed remarkably tolerant of the interfering woman. He glanced at his sister-in-law and she stared back, an almost odd probing in her gaze. She shoved a brown curl behind her ear and sighed. “You’re her logjam in that river.”

“Huh?”

Annie shook her head. “Nothing. Never mind. Tell me about Spain. Did you enjoy living there?”

He didn’t want to talk about Spain. He wanted to talk about what Annie meant, but she’d closed that chapter. Something told him not to try and go backward with this woman. So he didn’t. Instead he chatted about the country he’d left behind—the food, the culture, the really bad drivers.

Nate walked back into the room during a story about getting lost when out on his motorcycle. He was Pax-free.

“Where’s the kid?” Annie interrupted.

“Left him in his crib gumming that toy you bought him. Turned on music to stimulate him.”

“Classical?”

Nate smiled. “Classic rock.”

Darby vaguely heard Eddie Van Halen’s infamous guitar licks coming from the hallway. “Nice.”

“We want a well-rounded kid,” Annie said, patting the spot next to her. Like a spaniel, Nate went to her. Bet she scratched his belly regularly. Of course, Darby understood the appeal of belly-scratching from a woman who had a vibe like Annie—that sort of vibe would have a man happily doing as bidden.

It made him think of Renny.

She had that vibe. Or she had at one time. Beautiful golden skin, tumbling caramel hair and a soft laugh that made a man twitch thinking about her hands on him. But she’d changed. Her laugh wasn’t easy, her disposition more guarded...even if some remnant of the past lurked in her eyes, in her voice. It was like a promised resurgence.

He wanted to make her laugh again. To watch her glow in the light of the sun sinking over the Atchafalaya. To tangle his hands in that hair and make love to her under the full moon just as he’d done so many times.

Hunger clawed at him.

“Darby?”

He blinked. “Huh?”

“Want another beer?”

“Sure.”

Nate stared blankly at him. “Grab me one, too, when you come back.”