Burning Love (Hell Yeah! Cajun Style), page 10
Harley was glad she hadn’t embarrassed herself. “Amos took me by surprise and I am nervous of ghosts and snakes – but not much else.”
After the reptile was secure, the bystanders came close and Beau got a couple of them to help him load the gator in the back of his truck. Leading her out, he put his arm around her. “I loved that you shared that with me, my Brave Girl,” he kissed her on the head.
“I think it’s time I told you what I do for a living,” she spoke slowly and evenly.
“I got the feeling I’m not going to like this,” he muttered.
As he helped her in the truck and buckled the seatbelt, she took the bull by the horns. “We need to talk about what happened to us both, after Brownwood. Come over tonight, and we’ll have confession time.” As he climbed in his side of the truck he faced her – looking anxious. She sought to reassure him; after all, she was the one with the secrets. “Don’t look like that – we don’t have to let the past matter.” God, she hoped that was true. When – no, if – she ever told him about the rapes – were he to reject her, she would die.
“You’re right,” he agreed. “I’ve found you again and that’s all that matters.”
Chapter Five
At her insistence, he took her home. “I have a lot to do,” she insisted with a smile as he peppered her face with kisses. “A neighbor lady is coming today; I’ve hired her to help me with the housework. Plus, I want to cook for you and get beautiful for you and cast a few spells so I can catch your eye,” she was teasing, but he stopped her words with a hot kiss.
“Honey, you’ve got the last two items on your list all buttoned up. There’s no way you can get more beautiful and I’m already enchanted. You have me under your spell as sure as if Marie Laveau herself was working her mojo on me.”
When he mentioned the voodoo queen, Harley giggled. “You don’t look hoodooed, Beau-ray, you look sexy.”
She was picking at him, but he went serious. “Do you know what you do to me when you call me Beau-ray? God, that’s got to be the sweetest sound in the world,” he picked her up and hugged her tight – “I’ll be back, Cher, at six-thirty, and the devil himself couldn’t keep me away.”
*****
With a duster and a can of lemon furniture polish, Harley made her way through the living room. Like most women, she didn’t want to be judged for her lack of housekeeping skills – not even with the housekeeper. Noting the irony, she hoped her house was clean enough to pass the white glove test of her neighbor. It had been a busy couple of hours since Beau had left – she had made the roux for her gumbo, baked six dozen chocolate chip cookies and washed her hair. Whew! She was already tired! Now, all she needed was for her new help to come and get everything spic and span. Right on cue, the doorbell rang and she hurried to let them in – she knew it was a ‘them’ because Mrs. Prescott had asked if it would be okay to bring her son along. Laura Prescott was about Harley’s age. She was very attractive and so was her son. Unable to resist, Harley knelt down to get eye to eye with the precious little boy. “Well, hello. I’m so glad you came with your mama. You’re going to brighten up my house quicker than Christmas lights.” He was precious with big brown eyes and freckles all across the bridge of his nose.
“Howdy, Lady,” he stuck out his hand like a big man and she shook it, solemnly. “My name’s Morris. I brought me a whole bag of goodies to play with.”
“I can see that. Morris is a fine name. I’m so pleased to meet you, I’d like for you and your mom to call me Harley.”
“That’s a deal, Harley.”
“This young man isn’t shy. Is he?” Both of the women laughed and Harley got up and stepped back to admit them. “I’m so glad you’re here. Totally unlike me, I’ve invited someone to dinner. So while you make yourself at home, I’m going to be in the kitchen.”
“Call me Laura, please. This is a beautiful home. I have to tell you, I’ve looked forward to exploring this old place for years.”
Harley walked her through the house, showing her where all the cleaning supplies and the vacuum cleaner were kept.
“Where can Morris play? I don’t want him to be in the way.”
“Believe me; I’ll enjoy having him around. There is one room he might like.” She led them into a large room she had set up as a sitting room. It was open, cheery and had a TV. “Will this do?”
“Sure thing, Harley,” Morris made himself at home. Squatting down on the floor, he dumped out his bag of treasures and went to work racing a car around and around on the braided rug.
“Good, I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me.”
The time passed swiftly. Harley loved to cook and gumbo was one of her special dishes. She made hers with chicken, sausage and shrimp and lots of spices. The recipe had come from one of the premier New Orleans chefs. He had his own restaurant in the French Quarter, but once a week he would patronize the restaurant where she worked and he always ordered the same thing - a muffalata. He had been as wide as he was tall, but Harley grew to love him and as a reward for the extra attention she gave him, he passed on his world-class recipe for gumbo.
Stirring the big pot of soup, Harley imagined cooking this for her own family someday. Talking to Morris had tugged at her heartstrings. Never before had she seriously missed being a mother, but she was feeling the urge today. Forcing her mind elsewhere, she put that impossible hope aside. Right now, she had a dangerous job and no assurance she could even have sex with a man – not even Beau.
Out of nowhere, the phone rang and she nearly jumped out of her skin. Dashing to it, she reminded herself that it wouldn’t be for Socorro. Calls for her unique services only came through the red cell phone in her pocket. “Hello? This is Harley Montoya speaking.”
“Ms. Montoya, it’s good to speak with you. My name is Dane Wagner with the Touch Institute. I received a referral from Dr. Young. She asked me to call you and confirm your appointment.”
Uncomfortable niggles of doubt inched their way up her spine. Just the thought of opening up to a stranger about her sexual shortcomings terrified her. “Thank you for calling, Dr. Dane.”
A friendly laugh from her caller made Harley smile, “Please, call me Dane. Dr. Dane makes me sound like the star of a poorly written sitcom.”
“Okay, Dane. And you can call me Harley.” She let out a shaky sigh. “I’m considering coming to see you. Frankly, this is a huge step for me and I’m not sure I’m ready to take it.”
“Of course, Harley. I’m here to help you, not force you into anything. Dr. Young only told me a bit about you, I prefer to find out the details from my patient.”
“You seem very kind. She told me the date, but could you confirm it please? Just in case, I don’t chicken out.” She took a pen and a pad to write down the information.
He confirmed what she had been told. “I tell you what; I’ll pencil you in and hold it for you – no pressure. You think about it, and give me a call in two weeks, either way. And if you decide you need to come in earlier, just let me know. I can always work you in.”
“How generous of you, Dane, thank you.” She hung up the phone and went back to stir the gumbo. Could she open up to a stranger? And would it help her if she did?
“Lady! Lady!” Morris came tearing through the house, skidded into the kitchen and wrapped his arms around her knees. “Me and that little girl up there, we sure would like some cookies!”
Harley laughed as she steadied herself. “Cookies? I have cookies. Do you think your mom would mind?”
“I don’t think so,” he smiled a toothless grin at her. Apparently, the tooth fairy had been by to visit. “That little girl, she said for me to come ask you. She said you made chocolate chip cookies this morning.”
Wait! What? “You have a good nose. Those cookies are sealed up in plastic containers.” And then she realized what he had said – “What little girl?” Goosebumps swept up her arms as she waited for his answer.
“That little girl with yeller hair that’s sitting on the light thingy in your room, she told me all about you.”
“What light thingy?” What little girl?
“You know the thing high up that has lights on it. Come see,” he pulled. “And bring the cookies.” She grabbed the canister and let herself be pulled along.
“Are you talking about the chandelier?” Surely not. How would a child get in the chandelier? Her mind was whirling - - - unless. . . . Nah!
“Yep, I think so. Come see, she said you heard her laughing yesterday. She thinks you’re funny.”
By the time they made it to the sitting room, every hair was standing up on the back of Harley’s neck. “There she is!” he pointed up at the ceiling. Harley looked in the direction Morris was pointing, but she saw nothing – only the light fixture.
“What’s going on?” Laura Prescott asked; broom in hand. “Morris what are you yelling about?”
“If I’m not mistaken,” Harley spoke in a hushed tone, over the little boy’s head. “I think Morris saw a ghost.”
Laura Prescott’s reaction wasn’t exactly what Harley had been expecting. Instead of snatching up her child and pooh-poohing her way down the stairs – Laura went to her car after a camera and when she returned, she began to take picture after picture. “You need to get Savannah over here. She might be able to pick up some EVP’s.”
“EV – what’s?”
“Electronic Voice Phenomenon, the voices of the dead caught on a digital recorder. Savannah does that all the time. She caught one over in the old cemetery at Lafayette that will blow your mind.”
“It’s pretty much already blown,” she murmured.
“Oh, this is incredible.” Laura talked as she snapped. “I didn’t ask you if I could do this – take pictures, I mean? Is it okay?”
“Sure,” Harley had no real problem with it. It just made her nervous, but she did live in an old plantation house . . . and they purportedly came with former inhabitants intact. It reminded her of the old joke about the woman who had a house full of potted plants. One day the husband came home and found her atop a chair with her hair standing straight up - and the caption read – “I told you so, Dear. When you live in a jungle, you have to expect snakes.” At the thought, she shivered. Harley was no fonder of snakes than she was of ghosts. “What happened at the Lafayette cemetery?” Did she really want to know?
Laura was into the story; she practically salivated as she told it. “Savannah was investigating in the oldest part of the cemetery where some Civil War soldiers were buried. They came upon the grave of a man named William Joseph Sheets. It said he died at Antietam. We had all known of that battle and had visited there and the battlefield of Gettysburg several times. Savannah asked him about the war and – I swear to God – I was there and while we didn’t hear it with our naked ears . . .” Harley got tickled about the naked ears part. “When we played the tape back there was a very clear and distinctive voice on in – that wasn’t one of us. The question she had asked was simple, but the answer he gave was chilling. She asked who he fought with and a southern voice clearly replied, “with the Louisiana 14th Infantry, Sharpsburg, Ma’am.” At first, that didn’t make sense to us - later, we checked the historical records and his name was listed as having fought and died with the 14th Infantry at Sharpsburg, Maryland - also known as the battle of Antietam.”
A tug on Harley’s skirt made her jump, “Lady, I sure would like some of them cookies.”
Ah, a voice of reason. Harley sank down and opened the container and placed two cookies in a chubby waiting hand. “Here you go.” Harley had fought enough battles in her life – this time her philosophy was ‘if you can’t beat them, join them’. “How many cookies will your little friend have?”
*****
He had time to grab a shower, if he hurried. The smell of gator musk was not known to be an aphrodisiac, so he turned the water on as hot as he could stand it – stripped and stepped beneath the spray. Holding his head up and letting the water hit him in the face, he began to fantasize. It wasn’t his hands rubbing soap over his body – it was Nada. God, she was gorgeous. He couldn’t help but wonder what her nipples looked like, what they tasted like. Would they be coral colored or cocoa brown – what would her pussy look like? When he got the chance, he was going to spread her out on his bed and make a meal. He could just imagine laying her on his bed and covering her, like the big panthers of the swamp over their prey. He would suck on her neck – scrape his teeth on that sensitive cord and lick his way down to her nipples. God, he loved to suck tit. Like most men, he loved everything about a woman’s breasts, but thinking about Harley’s lushness. . . shit, he wanted to suckle at her like he was starving for her milk. As he lived it out in his mind, his hand was pumping his cock. God, he was engorged – full, thick, throbbing with the need to fuck.
Leaning back against the shower wall, he spread his legs and fisted himself. Precum was leaking, his balls were tight and his hips bucked sympathetically. They were aching to be pushing against the cushion of her ass. God, he wanted her. He wanted her in every way imaginable – his cock in her mouth, his mouth on her pussy, buried hilt deep from the rear, her impaled and on top – and yes, his favorite – he wanted to hold her down, dominate, fill her pussy so full of cock that she’d wrap herself around him like a vine and beg for more. Shit! Hot streams of cum splashed across the dark green marble. It looked like somebody was trying to be artistically inclined with cake glaze. Helplessly, his hips still pumped and he rubbed his aching cock until every last drop was dispensed. Lord, he needed to fuck. He needed to fuck Harley – and he didn’t know how much longer he could wait.
*****
He was right on time – in fact, he was five minutes early. She had been standing at the dining table looking at two of the photos that Laura Prescott had printed for her. The woman was prepared. She had not only had a digital camera, but a portable photo printer as well. And one of the images was haunting; there was no other word for it. It showed a swirl of mist, about the same height as Morris. Intriguing, very intriguing.
A tap on the kitchen door made her heart jump, for several reasons. As soon as she opened it, she was captured in a hug. “Man, it smells good in here. I’m starving – for you.” She barely got to focus on his face before he began eating at her lips. This time a wave of longing hit Harley, so hard. Gone was the fear, she needed more.
Beau held her face in both of his hands, smooching and teasing. She joined in the game, darting her tongue out to draw him in. A whimper of longing disappeared into his mouth, and he answered it with a groan. Pushing her back against the door, his big body pressed against her – holding her immobile – and she panicked. “Stop, stop” she pushed against him. “Wait, Beau. I need a minute.” Harley wasn’t screaming, she was speaking fairly softly, but her heart was pounding – not from excitement, but from an unreasonable feeling of being trapped. Flashes of Pell and Fox Crocker holding her down overwhelmed her mind’s eye.
“What’s wrong? You’re trembling!” Instead of backing up and letting her go, he cradled her to him and she fought the urge to bolt. This was Beau. This was Beau. Then it seemed to hit him – he separated them a fraction and looked down at her, stunned. “Are you afraid of me? My God, don’t you know I’d cut off my arm before I’d ever hurt you?”
His heartfelt disbelief only made her feel worse. “No, I’m not afraid of you – per se - sometimes I just can’t make my body understand.” With that confession, she tore away and ran from the kitchen to the living room. She didn’t get very far, because he caught up with her. “Easy, Precious. Just stop. You are safer with me than you are anywhere in the world. Now, explain to me what you meant before I go crazy.” He tried to lead her in the living room.
“I don’t want to sit down. I’m too tense.”
“No problem, we’ll stand.” He gentled her by rubbing her arms, her shoulders. “Just relax. In my arms is where you belong. I never should have let you out of them to start with.” She didn’t move toward him, so he moved toward her – just barely touching – just enough so she could feel the heat of his presence. “Now, we talk. There’s something going on with you and I want to know what it is.”
“I don’t know how to say it.”
Taking her chin, he waited until she met his gaze. “Somebody hurt you. Who was it?”
Shame immediately filled her chest. Harley found it nearly impossible to form the words.
“Nada,” he whispered. “Don’t you trust me?”
Something broke free in her heart, “Yes, I do. And I’m not afraid of you, really I’m not. It’s just that when you held me so that I couldn’t move – it reminded me of . . .” Closing her eyes, she didn’t want to see his reaction – not yet. She might be making the biggest mistake of her life. Twice she had been rejected. Would this be the third time? “Pell raped me the night you left.”
“What?” Beau’s whole body stiffened, and then he walked away from her. Exactly as she figured he would.
Pure black rage boiled up inside of Beau. It was his fault, “Dammit,” he hit the doorjamb with his fist, bringing blood. “Why didn’t you tell me before? Didn’t you think I’d want to know?”
His voice was hoarse with emotion. This was worse than she thought. “You don’t have to explain,” she offered, trying to at least save their friendship. “I understand why you would feel the way you do. It’s very common.”
“What way?” Raking his hand through his hair, he stared at her almost blankly.
“Disgusted with me,” she stated simply as if she believed what she spoke was the gospel truth. She stood stiff, her fingernails digging into her palms. The play of his muscles under his tight black t-shirt reminded her of his strength. Yet, she had no fear of him. The only way he could ever hurt her was by walking away.
“What?” He looked so angry and hurt – yes, he looked hurt. “God, no, Baby. O God, no. I’m not disgusted with you! How could I ever be disgusted with you? I’m disgusted with me and the stupid fuckin’ circumstances that put you in danger in the first place!” He was yelling, but it wasn’t at her, she realized. He was yelling for her. “I should have been there for you!” In two steps he was there – about to sweep her up in his arms. “Can I hold you?” He waited, his arms outstretched until she walked into them. Clasping her close, he repeated brokenly. “I came back for you. I came back for you. I was just too late. I’m so sorry, so goddamn sorry.”
