Resisting Samantha (Hope Parish Novels Book 10) (12 page)

I forced a laugh,
and he gave me a cryptic look.

“Ah, no,”
I said. “Your Aunt Evie mentioned a friend of her granny’s
who knows something about voodoo. She sounded really creepy and
ominous. It freaked me out a little.”

He made an eerie
ooh-wee-ooh sound. “Because after seeing a ghost, that’s
what you really need, right?”

“You are so
astute. I still feel completely foolish and unsure about it. I guess
my eyes could have been playing tricks on me. I would be more
convinced of that if it wasn’t for the gris-gris bag, and the
fact that my pendant ended up inside. What other explanation can
there be? Either someone physically came into my home while I was
sleeping, removed my necklace, and placed it in the bag without me
being the wiser or waking up. Or AnnClaire’s ghost is haunting
me with a need to protect me like her mother was unable to protect
her.”

“I can’t
argue with that. But, Sam, there are plenty of things in this world
that can’t be explained away. Sometimes they just have to be
embraced. If you want to take a trip into the back of nowhere to see
someone who can give you some answers or insight, I will go with you
and hold your hand.” He shifted to face me. “You know,
AnnClaire could have a soft spot for you because you rescued her
mom’s beloved restaurant.”

His response both
surprised and delighted me, and I leaned over and kissed him soundly.
“You know, you’re pretty handy to have around.”

He stared at me,
then a glimmer of amusement appeared in his eyes, and he gave me a
heated, lopsided grin. The intimate look in his eyes making my heart
speed up, he said, “Wait until I get to use my hands…”

I shivered, thinking
he meant in a construction way, but hoping it meant more than that,
even as I tried to will away those feelings, working hard to not fall
just a bit deeper into Chase.

“You want to
go?” Reluctance underscored every word and tightened his body.

“No,” I
said, not ready to give him up to Suttontowne just yet.

We settled down and
I drifted off, snuggled to his firm chest.

When I woke up, the
sky was aglow with soft stripes of color above the still, calm ocean.
Orange the shade of a ripe peach, warm and estival. Pink as vibrant
and silken as the inside of a conch shell. Deep, velvet blue, the
last of the night, set with a diamond twinkling morning star.

I watched the colors
change and fade for a few minutes, then sat up. It was time to go,
and I couldn’t have chosen a more spectacular venue for my
first spontaneous act of rebellion.

Chase stirred.

Or a sweeter,
sexier, bad-boy black sheep to escape with.

His stubble was
heavier, making him look like a disreputable beach bum, even before
he opened the source of a bad boy’s hallmark of chaos and
rebellious energy: his eyes.

“Good
morning,” he said, his voice raspy. “Damn, I should have
brought coffee.”

“You should
have. You slacker.” He pulled me down to the blanket and rubbed
his stubble against my face.

“Stop sassing
me, darlin’, or you’ll get the beard burn treatment
again.” There was nothing but wry humor in his voice.

“You call that
a discouragement? Try again, handsome.”

After some more
horseplay, and a little kissing, we broke camp and packed everything
up. Chase kicked sand on the fire, and we were once again airborne.

A quick forty
minutes, and we landed smoothly back on the channel right outside
Chase’s business. I got out, pulling my car keys out of my
purse. “Do you need some help unloading?”

He shook his head.
“I got this covered. Can I see you tonight?”

I smiled. “Yeah,
come by after closing. I’ll make you a pecan pie.”

“My favorite.
Whipped cream?”

“Of course.
What do you take me for? An amateur?”

Out on the channel,
an aluminum bass boat motored past, a pair of fishermen going out for
a day in the swamp. They waved, and Chase waved back before the
buzzing of the motor faded into the distance. In the reeds along the
far bank a heron stood, watching them pass, still as a statue against
a backdrop of orange creeper vines and coffee weed.

He smiled. “Well,
hush my mouth,” he said, then winced a bit when he opened the
cargo hold. I walked over, grabbed up the duffel, and pulled out the
tube of ointment. Jerking up his T-shirt, I rubbed more cream into
his burn, then, unable to help myself, I went up on tiptoe and gently
kissed the back of his neck, just above the medicine, burying my nose
in his hair. He smelled like a windswept beach, salt mingled with
sand and virile man.

He made a soft, sexy
male sound deep in his chest. “You’re killing me, Sam,”
he whispered as I ran my hand up his chest, rubbing over his
pectorals.

I pulled away and
backed down the dock. “That makes two of us. Ugh. This is your
fault,” I whined.

“Mine?”
he said, whipping around and prowling down the dock after me. “How
so? You accosted me.”

“You are too
irresistible.” I turned and bolted with a sharp squeal as he
lunged after me. I made it to my car, but Chase caught me between
warm metal and even hotter man and kissed me soundly.

“Go on now,
git, you troublemaker,” he murmured after he pulled away.

I had turned to
unlocked the door when he slapped me on the backside. “Ooh,
you’re going to pay for that.”

“Sure, sure,”
he said, not at all afraid of my repercussions.

“No whipped
cream for you.”

He opened his mouth
and I slammed my car door and started the engine. I blew him a kiss.

Realizing he was
watching me with a steady, unreadable look, I gave myself a mental
shake and looked away, my pulse suddenly uneven. My heart suddenly
hammering, I glanced back at him, the clamor in my chest making it
hard for me to think.

He turned then,
breaking eye contact, and I felt as if I’d been branded,
burned, changed by this isolated, lonely man who needed more from me
than I could give.

What was I doing?

I couldn’t
seem to help myself.

I was getting in
over my head, and I was afraid it was Chase who would drown.

***

Two days later, I
opened up Imogene’s and froze immediately. The sign wasn’t
on the pie safe. I searched frantically behind it, worried that it
had fallen and been damaged. When it wasn’t there, I turned,
distraught at the thought of losing a piece of history from this
place. Then I spied it.

It was leaning
against the back of the vintage register. I noticed as I looked
around that my tables had been rearranged. Uneasy, I went into the
kitchen.

Were these
supernatural things? Was AnnClaire trying to tell me she didn’t
like where I’d placed the sign? Could she have rearranged the
tables? I’d heard somewhere that ghosts did strange things,
including moving furniture.

I expected to see
her again, all the time. It was like a constant pressure on the back
of my neck. There was also this sense of being watched, and I wasn’t
one to ignore my instincts. On the New York streets, instincts were
often what ended up saving you. I relaxed some when the kitchen
seemed the same as I’d left it, even as that feeling sat on the
back of my neck. No gris-gris bag, no AnnClaire. I relaxed a little
and got to work, because I had a busy day ahead.

I planned to go look
for a bed and stuff for my bedroom…end tables, prints,
“folderol,” as my dad used to call my mom’s
decorative touches. I wanted to have everything ready once the master
bathroom went in. Saturday night I would be sleeping on a real bed,
in a fully decorated room.

When the morning
rush was over, I turned Imogene’s over to Beth.

Lafayette was about
thirty minutes away, midway between Beaumont and New Orleans, and
known for its strong Cajun culture, the perfect place to find
furnishings for my new bedroom, and browse for ideas to tackle the
downstairs and patio.

I pulled up to a
graceful, French-style building with beautiful statues and fountains.
Drawn to the kitchenware store right off the bat, I indulged myself
with a set of recycled paper cutting boards, an amazing
quintuple-bladed herb scissor, and a rolling pin custom-engraved with
many tiny fleurs-de-lis. It would make interesting pie crust, and it
sparked the idea for a long pastry filled with something fruity and
cut up into squares, with the tiny fleurs-de-lis embossed into the
crust of each square. It would make a pie cookie of sorts. I would
call them pie crisps.

Then I got down to
business and found a beautiful, dark wood canopy bed, and the set to
go with it. I bought all the trappings, sheets, curtains, rug,
towels, and mosquito netting. The room would be decorated in cream
and pale green.

After arranging with
the owner to have everything delivered to me, I browsed the area.
When I noticed an art gallery, I went inside, and discovered two
whimsical gator pen and ink pieces that would fit perfectly with the
room décor, and an exquisite painting of the bayou with white
water lilies. I leaned forward and my breath caught when I saw the
artist’s name right before I heard, “Samantha?”

I turned to find
River Pearl and I tried not to groan. “Oh, hi. This is your
place?”

“Yes. Are you
interested in those prints?”

“Please. I’d
like to buy them and the bayou painting. You really are quite
talented.”

“Excellent and
thanks.” She looked at her watch and said, “Have you
eaten yet? I would really like to talk to you.”

I wanted to run for
the hills. Either way, this was going to be a discussion I didn’t
want to have. If it was about me dating her brother, I didn’t
want to get into any details, and if this was about his family, I
really didn’t want to get involved, especially behind Chase’s
back.

“River, I…”

“Please,
Samantha.”

I really liked
Chase’s sister. She and her friends had been instrumental in my
restaurant’s success, and my acceptance by a small town
community. When River Pearl Sutton ate or shopped at your place of
business, it was like getting free publicity.

“All right.”

We settled in a
small bistro not far from her gallery. As soon as the waiter left
with our orders, she leaned forward. “Thank you for what you
said to Brax last week. That must have been awful for Chase. I was so
damn mad at him, but how can I chastise my husband when he can’t
stand to see me cry?”

“I’d say
that was a tough one.” I leaned forward and said, “I
shouldn’t have said anything or butted in, but…”

“You care
about my brother.” She smiled when my face closed down. “You
might as well admit it, Samantha. We’ve known for some time.
The way you two look at each other, we knew it was just a matter of
time.”

“Oh, all
right. I think he’s amazing and sweet and downright sexy. Are
you happy?” I groused.

“Yes, quite
happy. He deserves to find someone wonderful.”

Her words made my
insides go all squirmy. I wasn’t sure she was quite correct.
“We’re just hanging out right now, and I really don’t
feel comfortable talking about Chase’s personal matters.”

“I understand
completely. It’s just I want him to come home so badly, reunite
with my parents…and for my brother Jake to stop being an ass.”

“That’s
family,” I said, feeling jittery even discussing this much.

“It would help
if we knew what was wrong.” She started telling me about how
amazing he was when he was a kid, and, as she talked, I couldn’t
shake the annoyance that grew until it was a ball of anger in my
stomach.

“I just wish
he would—”

“Maybe you
should listen more to Chase and what he has to say. He went through a
lot when he was a kid, and since your ancestor’s terrible
betrayal, he just needs for you all to understand.” Shocked I
covered my mouth. Then closed my eyes and took a breath.

She stared at me,
looking almost as shell-shocked as Chase had in Outlaws. She opened
her mouth, then closed it. “Wow. You’re right. I’ve
just been mouthing off about how he should come home and stop letting
the past rule him, and that’s exactly what I have been doing. I
just wanted everything to go back to the way it was before…before
he left. But that’s not going to happen. Is it?”

“No, River.
I’m sorry. But it isn’t. You can’t push him. He has
to do this in his own time. If you do keep pushing, he might retreat
further, and then he’ll never find his way back. Give him space
to figure this out for himself.”

Her smile was a bit
wan. She insisted on paying for lunch, and she promised my purchases
would be there before Saturday. As we stood outside the bistro, she
hugged me and said. “You’re good for him. You’re
good for us. Always have been. Thank you, Samantha.” The little
knot of nerves eased just a bit. “Whatever happens between
you—and you know what I hope for—I wish you the best of
luck.”

I hugged her tight,
thinking how much I cared about my adopted town and these people who
lived there. I didn’t want to care that much because of the
possibility of losing it. But in this instance, I couldn’t help
it.

***

Chase called me that
night to let me know that, because of the weather forecast, he wasn’t
going to be able to see me. With the kind of rain that was predicted,
he wouldn’t be able to fish, so he was working around the clock
to fill his orders.

I was missing him by
the time the storm hit Thursday night and was forecast to continue
into the morning, and was worried when I couldn’t reach him,
but figured the weather was interfering with cell reception.

By Friday morning,
everything was sodden, with ditches full. The good news was that
parts of the Mississippi and Atchafalaya rivers were listed as minor
flooding, with some threat to the public, but little or no property
damage. Flooding was a big concern for me, since Imogene’s was
right on the water, but it was slightly elevated, so it should be all
right.