Cajun Magic 02 - Voodoo for Two (19 page)

Did he love her enough to risk going through all that pain again?

Hell, yes!

Then why not start now? He didn’t have to wait for Alex. He could do some snooping into Lucie’s psyche all by himself. Besides, she could probably use a shoulder to lean on about now, what with her mother returning after a twenty-year absence.

No time like the present
. He marched around Miz Mozelle’s house and up the steps to the garage apartment. He knocked and waited.

Nothing.

He knocked again, this time louder.

Still no answer.

Damn! How had he missed her again?

…

About the time Lucie pulled her pillow over her head to block out the banging on the door, her phone rang on the bedside table.

She let it ring five times before she reached out lifted it and slammed it back on the receiver. “I’m not home! Not to Eric, not to Ben, and especially not to mommy dearest!” She pulled the comforter up to her chin and her pillow back over her head, pressing it into her face until she couldn’t breathe. Maybe she could smother herself out of this pickle.

When her lungs began to burn and panic set in, she flung the pillow aside and gasped.

Jeez
. Well, she could rule out that method of suicide. Sleeping pills were out of the question as she didn’t have any, nor had she had a need for them, until now. She didn’t own a gun, and knives were too messy. Carbon monoxide poisoning was out of the question since every appliance in her apartment, including the water heater, air conditioner, and heater, ran on electricity.

Damn. She’d just have to live through another day.

Chapter Nineteen

Lucie’s head and feet hurt, but most of all her heart hurt.

Time was running out
.

She’d avoided the phone, company, and any contact from human beings all day long. Finally, she’d unplugged the telephone and buried her head beneath her pillows once again.

When she’d tried to call in sick, Jean told her Brandy had beaten her to it. He was counting on her as the only waitress at the Raccoon Saloon that night. She couldn’t call in sick or she’d be fired.

Great.

With a heavy heart she slipped into the “uniform” that would make any Hooters waitress proud, and hitched a ride to work with Maurice’s grandmother and her poodle. Her mood reflected the color
du jour
of Granny and FeFe’s matching hair. Blueberry, Granny informed her. To Lucie, it was blue funk.

“Hey, Lucie, what’s gotcha so down?” Jean set two frothy mugs on her tray and went back to the tap for two more.

“Nothin’.”

Everything
.

Her whole damn life!

“Well, try smilin’ a bit. You’re scarin’ the customers.”

“Right. Smile.” With her teeth bared at the bartender, she lifted the tray to her shoulders and set off in the direction of the beer-drinking customers. As she snaked her way through the usual crowd of rowdy Cajuns, she plunked the beers on the table so hard golden liquid slopped over the sides.

“Hey, watch it!” A lumberjack of a Cajun scooted back and cursed at the damp spot on his lap.

“Oh, Amos, I’m sorry.” She dabbed at his jeans with a bar towel. How much worse could it get? Her life was in the crapper and she couldn’t even do her job right.

“
Coo-wee
, baby! Spill some of dat on me.” The man next to Amos waved her forward.

Heat suffused her cheeks when she realized what she was doing, dabbing at the man’s crotch. “Oh hell! I’m sorry, Amos. This one’s on me.”

“Oh please, Lucie.” The man next to him pressed his palms together in prayer. “I don’t mind wearing a little beer if it means you’ll wipe it off.” He sat back from the table and spread his arms wide. “I’m all yours, honey, spill away.”

Despite the weight of her worries, Lucie managed a smile. “Keep your shirt on, Marcus. I’m not gonna spill beer on you.”

With his hands clutched to his chest, he heaved a big sigh. “My heart’s broken.”

“Get in line, buddy.” Amos whacked him in the belly with a backhanded swing. “You and every guy in this joint are heartbroken.”

Lucie tipped her head, frowning. “Why?”

“Rumor has it you’re marrying Littington,” Marcus said.

“Rumor, hell!” Amos picked up a copy of the
Times-Picayune
and smacked it against the table. “Says so in the paper.”

“And you believe everything you read in the newspaper?” She snorted and placed empty bottles on her tray.

Amos grabbed her free hand. “You mean it isn’t true?”

Marcus dropped to his knees on the floor. “Bless my soul! There is a God!”

“Get up, Marcus.” She swiped her rag over the table and straightened. “I didn’t say I
wasn’t
marryin’ him.”

“Then what did you say?” A low voice asked behind her.

Lucie’s heart turned a complete cartwheel and landed with a thunk against her rib cage.

“Ben!” she swung around, tray and all, and bumped into his chest. Empty bottles teetered and toppled over the side. She reached out with her free hand to grab for the bottles, upsetting the others. Before she could utter an ugly curse word, five bottles had crashed to wooden floor, four of them bouncing, and one, unfortunately, shattering. “Damn!”

Ben’s warm hand on her bare arm stopped her from stepping backward. “Don’t move.”

“Let go of me.” His fingers seared through her skin, creating havoc with her heart rate. “I have to clean up this mess.”

“No, the glass could go right through those crazy high-heeled shoes you’re wearing. Let me.”

“No way, Ben.” She yanked her arm free. “This is my job. I’ll do it myself.”

“If you’d stop being so damn hardheaded for just one damn moment, you could see straight. You’re not wearing proper shoes, any idiot can see that.”

“So now I’m an idiot?” She lifted the tray in front of her like a shield. “You’re one to be talking—a man who couldn’t see the nose on his own face!”

Ben’s brows twisted into a frown. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“If you ever bothered to look past it, maybe you’d know. Now, move!”

“Lucie, you’re talking in riddles and I’m not in the mood to figure them out.”

Before she could emit another scathing retort, Ben scooped her up into his arms and marched across the floor to the bar, plunking her down on an empty seat. “Stay, or else.”

She started to push off the stool only to bump into his chest. “Or else what? You’ll turn me into a toad?”

He leaned close and whispered loud enough for only her to hear, “Stay, or I’ll kiss you in front of God and everybody.”

Her breath caught and she almost choked on how much she wanted just that. Until she realized he’d only meant it as a threat. But she didn’t want to tempt him. No telling how she’d respond. And wouldn’t that be a pretty sight. Kissing Ben when she was supposed to marry Eric—not good.

She shut up and let him clean up the glass. That was the least he could do for rattling her. Besides, if he hadn’t sneaked up on her, she wouldn’t have dropped the bottles in the first place.

If she were honest with herself, she’d admit she was a little on edge. Had been all day. And who wouldn’t be, with the kinds of decisions she had to make?

Alex and Calliope showed up out of nowhere and slid into the seats on either side of her. Ganging up on her, no doubt.

“Hey, girlfriend,” Calliope said. “Takin’ a break?”

Lucie harrumphed her answer.

Alex squinted through the smoky haze. “Is that my big brother cleaning the floor? I’ll be damned. Never saw him do that at home.”

“Damn right,” she answered.

“Isn’t that your job?” Calliope asked.

“Up until a minute or two ago, I’d have agreed.” Lucie turned her back to the room. “Jean, I’m on break for the next five minutes. Could you hand me a Miller Lite?”

“You know I don’t like my girls to drink while they’re on duty.”

“I’m on break, so technically I’m not on duty. Are you going to give me that beer, or am I gonna have to crawl across the counter and get it myself?” Her voice rose with each word she uttered until she sounded like a nagging housewife.

“Okay, okay. You don’t have to bite my head off.” Jean slammed a mug frothing with foam on the counter.

“My, my. Aren’t we the growly bitch tonight?” Alex said.

“I’m not in the mood, Alex.” She downed half the contents of her mug in one long swallow.

“I noticed.” Alex gave her a long, penetrating look. “Along with practically everyone else in the bar.”

“If you’re here to promote your brother’s cause, save it.” She tipped her mug and poured the rest of the icy liquid down her throat. “I don’t need another person questioning my decisions tonight.”

“Jean, Miller Lite, please.” When Jean set the mug in front of her, Alex lifted it and turned toward Lucie, a sly smile slipping across her face. “And have you made any?”

“Any what?” Lucie eyed her empty mug and pushed it away, almost sending it over the opposite edge of the bar.

“Decisions?”

She closed her eyes and tilted her head back. “If you were my friend, you wouldn’t ask.”

“I am your friend,” Alex said. “And as your friend, I’m worried about you.”

“Don’t be. I can take care of myself.”

“I’m not so sure lately.” Alex laid a hand on her arm. “You’re really tense, you’ve got circles under your eyes, and you’re as cross as a trapped ringtail.”

“Yeah,” Calliope said. “You haven’t been as much fun to hang around lately.” She smiled and patted Lucie’s arm. “But I’ll hang around you no matter how bitchy you get. That’s what friends are for.”

Lucie looked from Calliope to Alex, then groaned. “Am I getting that bad?” She dropped her forehead to the edge of the bar and banged it twice. “I’m so confused, and feeling guilty and, well, I don’t know what to do!”

Alex pulled her into her arms and hugged her tight. Calliope hugged her from behind.

“We love, you sweetie.” Alex smoothed her hand over Lucie’s hair. “Everything will be okay.”

“First there was Ben, then Eric, and…and that damned bug!” She sobbed into Alex’s shirt.

“I know, sweetie.” Alex pushed Lucie’s hair out of her face. “Shh. It’s okay.”

“And now, my mother’s moved back to Bayou Miste!” She leaned back and stared into Alex’s eyes, her own filling with tears. “What am I supposed to do?”

“Dry your eyes, honey. You’re a tough ol’ bird. God never gives us more than we can handle. You’ll see.” She pulled a tissue from her purse and dabbed at Lucie’s eyes, then handed her the tissue.

“I’m not handling this very well.” She blew her nose and straightened.

“No, you’re not.”

With a pout, Lucie said, “Hey, you’re supposed to be supportive.”

“I am, when I think it’s right. And some of the stuff you’ve been doing lately just isn’t right.”

She crossed her arms over her chest, bracing herself. “All right. Go ahead, say it.”

“Say what?” Calliope asked.

“I told you so,” Lucie said. “I can tell Alex is dying to.”

“I’m not going to rub your nose in your big, fat mistake. I love you, Lucie. I want you to be happy. I just don’t think you’ve gone about it the right way.”

“And you would have done it better?” she asked, some of her hurt pushing her to add, “And how long has it been since you’ve had a decent date?”

Alex stiffened. “That’s hitting below the belt.”

“Do you like your mother picking your men for you?” She felt compelled to go there.

“No. But we weren’t talking about me, were we?” Alex poked a finger to her chest. “We were talking about you, Lucie. You got this ball rolling. Or should I say, bug flying? Now, you have to make the big decisions.”

“Wait, whoa!” She raised her hand. “Did anyone ever tell you you’re a freakin’ bulldozer, Alex?”

Alex had the grace to blush. “Well, yeah, but—“

“No ‘buts.’ However, you’re right. I got this bug flying. I have to make the tough decisions.”

“Lucie, are you going to marry Eric?” Calliope asked.

“I don’t know!” Overwhelmed, Lucie jumped off the stool. “Jean, my break’s over. If you need me, I’ll be waiting tables.” Without another word to her friends, she snatched up her tray and dove into the crowd.

Avoiding Ben and the bottle mess, she headed toward the entrance, debating a quick escape, yet knowing she couldn’t leave Jean without a waitress. Just when she thought she might catch her breath, a strikingly beautiful older woman stepped through the doorway.

Holy swamp gas, her world was blowing up in her face! Of all nights, why did her mother have to go and show up at the Raccoon Saloon?

…

Ben scraped fragments of glass into the dustpan Jean had provided, keeping one eye on Lucie and the other on the guy in the dark corner. If he wasn’t mistaken, the man in the back was the same one who’d tossed paint on him and Eric in the jewelry store in Morgan City.

What was he doing here? And why was he watching Lucie?

His blood boiled on high heat. He was used to all the guys in Bayou Miste ogling the swamp princess. Not that he liked it. But a complete stranger had better keep his distance. After the man’s performance the other day, he deserved close scrutiny. The man had been arrested, but must have been let out on bail.

As he carried the broken bottles to the trash can, Ben glanced at the clock over the bar. Midnight. The place didn’t close till two, and the crowd looked as though they were settling in for the long haul. Smoke hung heavy and stale in the air, the music and laughter loud enough to damage eardrums.

Half a dozen guys stood around the bar, shouting for beer. As the only waitress on duty, Lucie couldn’t be expected to keep up with everyone.

She looked dead tired.

He wished he could whisk her away from the smell of spilled alcohol and cigarettes. Out into the fresh night air to hold her under the moonlight. Maybe if he kissed her, and this time told her he loved her, she’d tell Eric to get lost.

When he noticed a woman, who could have been Lucie’s clone, step through the door , his heart squeezed hard in his chest. She was older, but every bit as beautiful as her daughter.

Lucie’s face blanched and her mouth tightened, but she didn’t so much as acknowledge her mother.

She had to be hurting. He could have wrung Lynette’s pretty neck for waiting all these years and then having the gall to show up and expect Lucie to welcome her home.

He wanted to go to Lucie and hold her in his arms, kiss away her heartache. With that in mind, he stepped toward her, only to stop when another person entered the bar.

Eric Littington.

Too late
. He should have stolen her away earlier. Now he was obligated to let her make up her own mind about his friend. Damn! Once again, his timing was off. He’d do well to keep his focus on the stranger and make sure he didn’t pull another stupid stunt with Eric. His desire to make things right for Lucie would have to wait.

“Ben!” Eric strode across the room and settled into the chair opposite him. He was all smiles and in a good mood.

Ben wanted to snarl his greeting. Instead, he stuck out his hand. “Hey, Eric.”

“Didn’t expect to see you here.” He glanced around the room, his gaze following Lucie’s every move.

The blood in Ben’s veins moved like molten lava on a slow crawl. He wanted to hate Eric for everything he had, for everything he was. But he couldn’t hate him. He’d been his friend for years. Yet how much was a guy supposed to suck up before he exploded?

“So, tonight’s the big night, huh?” It took every ounce of his determination to speak the words out loud. He held his breath waiting for Eric’s answer, hoping by some stroke of fate, Eric had changed his mind.

“Yes, sir!” Eric patted his trouser pocket. “Made it back to the jewelry store in Morgan City today to pick up the ring. I’m ready.”