Bayou Bishops Box Set: Books 1-12

CHAPTER 3

“You think it’s coming this way?” Jason yelled from the porch as the sound of one of them godawful swamp dragons grew ever louder.

“No, I do not,” Cat called, rinsing her final dish.

Ever since she’d applied to that stupid swamp ball, he’d been hawking the waterways. Worst thing she’d done was tell him she’d put in a special request for a birthday visit. Since then, he”d harassed every kind of boat noise that passed nearby. She hadn’t told him her other note and sure didn’t plan on it.

Marry one of the Twelve. She shook her head for the fiftieth time. As if she’d up and marry at her age. Wreck her pristine man-less record of fifteen years. She was Queen Bayou-Self and she held that title with a gator-fierce grip.

Mercy, that boat was getting louder by the second.

“I see it, I see it! It’s coming here!”

She snatched a dishtowel from the counter and made her way to the door.

“It’s 8-Bit’s Swamp Dragon!” he screeched, sending her heart to her toes while he jumped up and down.

“Aunt Cat! He’s here!”

“Almighty alligators,” she whispered when the giant leader came to a graceful stop in his swamp-colored ear-killer. He jumped onto their dock in blue jeans and black t-shirt and her hands flew to her hair. “Swamp-shit!”

She ran for the bathroom and found a nightmare in the mirror. “Holymoss shit!” Her hair!

She wrenched the faucet handles, blasting the tap as the sound of talking and laughing reached her. Ten seconds of water splashing panic added sopping wet to the catastrophe. She snatched a towel from the bar and patted herself down, already out of breath.

Wait a marsh minute! She didn’t care about appearances!

Orthe men who may or may not approve.

She shot the towel in the corner and scooped up her courage, pausing with hand on the door at hearing his deep laugh. Marsh miracles and mercies. She looked down at her dirty overalls. Shit. Wasn’t a crime to be presentable. Simply manners. She still had those.

Sneaking quick-like to her room, she clawed the one dress she had for church off its hanger and stripped out of her clothes like they’d caught fire.

Oh, no. She surely smelled like an old gator’s breath. Won’t get close.

“Aunt Cat!” Jason yelled. “Aunt Cat, Mr. 8-Bit wants to talk to you!”

Talk to her! Little bayou born brat! “Coming,” she called, dashing to her body length mirror for a panicked look over.

I don’t care!

Right.

She marched her way into the living room and came to a brick wall halt at finding him towering there like a giant. Sacred cypress he was massive in person. Her mind and mouth ran in opposite directions as she got stuck in those eyes. Then on his mouth. Lord, his whole face.

“I think she’s in shock.”

Jason’s loud whisper lassoed her senses.

“She’s not used to having men in the house,” he whispered on. “She don’t much like them.” The smile he gave put her right back on the corner of dumb and dumber while Jason”s tongue grew a motor and went to town telling him all about this that and the—wait. What did the big fella just say?

“The Swamp Ball!” Jason cried, eyes huge and shining with some miracle on her. “You signed up and he picked you! Didn’t I say you’d win Aunt Cat!” He looked at the towering giant, nodding big. “I told her so!”

And did he not see her note at the end? Surely, he must’ve if he was there paying a visit. Unless… “You uh…got that note on the application, I take it?”

“I sure did,” he said, his deep voice adding distractions to her befuddled brain.

She eyed Jason, not about to let him know. “Jason, how about you go check the traps for supper. I want to make a fresh coubion.”

“For Mr. 8-Bit?” he asked, all wide-eyed astonishment.

“No, I…” She flicked her gaze at him. “He’s got hatches to tend to, I’m sure.”

“Actually, I don’t at this time.”

“Yes!” Jason yelled, running out the door before she could say a word. Lil shit.

“He gets ahead of himself,” she explained as the screen door banged shut. She crossed her arms over her chest in case his eyes decided to take a stroll where they didn’t belong. But they didn’t, they stayed on her face, all dark chocolate mixed with caramel. She couldn’t accuse him of womanizing like she did most men since he’d been celibate which left her with no defense against the magical pull they possessed. Authority. A man who never failed at anything he said or did. Which reminded her. “What’s this about the Swamp Ball?” She wasn’t about to make assumptions about it.

“Really, I came to discuss other matters.”

Oh. Good.

She stood rocking back and forth feeling silly in her own skin as he looked around. “You want some coffee?” she asked when his eyes paused at some of her paintings. “We can talk on the porch where it’s a little cooler.”

Getting his direct gaze and barely smile made her terribly sorry she’d distracted him. She wasn’t used to men that huge and…stuff, standing in her house was all.

“I’d like that.”

“Feel free to wait for me out there,” she said, turning for the kitchen side of the room.

At the sink, she instead found him standing before her paintings. Great. “Your nephew paints?”

Mother of moss! Heat spanked her cheeks as she set the kettle on the stove. “He does. With his muddy feet all over the place.” He moved on from her paintings and she cringed at his next stop. The mantle over the fireplace. She only displayed her art because Jason liked it, no other reason.

“So… who’s the artist?” he wondered.

Judge and jury, go outside, man!

“We do crafts on holidays for fun. No artists here.”

“Huh,” he said, slowly moving along the sticks, stones, and mud figures. “I’d have to kindly disagree, Miss Boone.”

A different kind of heat showered her face as she fought with the lid on the coffee can. It suddenly cut loose and flew across the blankin’ room. He turned at the clatter. “Sorry, this darn lid’s got the bite of an ornery piss-ant.”

Hurrying back to the drip pot, she dumped scoops in the basket and paused. How many was that? She eyed the pile and added another lump of grinds then replaced the lid while wondering what he was looking at now.

The screen door opened, and she glanced over her shoulder as he went onto the porch, thank the good lord. She let out several breaths, ready for this little visit to be over. He had other business besides that silly ball. What on earth was it? Could be anything while under war time codes. Any hatch leader could make requests of other hatch members if it served the cause. Which of course she didn’t mind unless it kept her from her responsibilities, which were her nephew and brother.

The kettle whistled a little too quickly and she filled the top half of the drip pot with it. She angled her head, seeing him through the window, hands braced on the two porch posts at the top of the steps. Lord, those muscles. Those arms. What on earth kind of wires was he twisting? Even a blind person could see those luscious lumps went on and on beneath that black t-shirt. That lucky material held on to him like an unhealthy obsession.

Her antique phone let out its obnoxious ring and she hurried to it. Receiver in hand, she glanced over her shoulder. “Hello?” she answered, quiet as she could.

“You still coming tonight, right?”

Dammit, she forgot about their booray game later! Bad enough they rarely had time for them anymore. Everybody was married with piles of kids. Everybody but her, thank the good Lord. She stole a glance behind her again. “I may have to cancel.”

“What?! But we need four players!”

“I’m sorry! Something came up!”

“Why are you whispering?”

Her eyes rolled at Michelle’s suspicious tone. “Because what came up is still up.”

“You got company?”

“Gasps and shock,” Cat went on quietly, stealing peeks behind her.

“Who is it? Male?”

“Not your business. I gotta go!”

“Is he single?”

She hung up and headed back to the kitchen, getting her good coffee cups out only to second guess herself. She always used them for company. He was company, same as anybody.

“You take any fixins?” she called.

“Fixings?”

“Cream or sugar.”

“Nah,” he called back.

She nodded, happy to be excused from the extra task as she brought their cups out. “Here you go.”

The second he reached for the cup she realized she held it wrong and attempted to set hers on the railing, so he didn’t burn himself. While she did, his large hand covered hers and the shock of it made her miss the railing.

“Shit!”

“Sorry, I was trying to steady your hand, so you didn’t burn yourself,” he explained.

“And I was trying to set mine down, so you didn’t burn yourself.”

He glanced at his cup and handed it to her. “You can have mine.”

She took it only because her brain was still processing the whole touch thing. Highly, highly inappropriate!

He hopped over the porch rail and fetched her cup before climbing back over with it. “My celibacy lifestyle is shining through,” he muttered, holding the empty cup in his hand, and looking around.

That’s right. She needed to remember that before judging him too harshly. “Well, we’re twins in that regard.”

He eyed her. “You’re celibate?”

“Oh, no, I mean in social skills. I have little practice.” With the opposite sex, that was.

“So… you’re not celibate?”

She regarded him then leaned against the porch post. “Trying to figure out why you’d ask that,” she decided to say right out.

“Sorry,” he chuckled, setting the empty cup on the rail.

“What kind of business you need to discuss?” she remembered, helping him past what looked like embarrassment.

“Yeah,” he sighed, palming the railing as he faced the swamp.

She tore her eyes off the bulge of muscles the casual position produced. “If it’s in regard to needing something for this war, I’m happy to help however I can outside my commitments. My brother and nephew are my world and I’m the only one they have to look after them.”

“It’s…well it’s definitely for the war,” he said, seeming to realize. “And you know we’re taking wives.”

Her stomach had multiple spasms at those words. Taking wives. Coming from him, it felt very literal. He was surely capable of taking anything he wanted. “I heard,” she nodded, fighting to keep her opinion out of her tone but it was hard. She thought it was dumb, forcing grown men to pick wives when they’d learned not to need them. She could identify.

“I know your reasons for signing up for the Ball, which…I found admirable. I also know you don’t need a husband and don’t want one.” He shifted on his feet and the slight move sent a ripple through the muscles in his arms as he surveyed the swamps. “Turns out that is exactly the kind of woman I’m looking for and was hoping to talk to you about teaming up with me, seeing as we both have the same needs or lack of them.”

Her head drew back all on its own with that bit. “You don’t want a wife?”

“I want to do my job. You want to do yours. You don’t want or need a man. I don’t want or need a woman. You’d want for nothing of course. I’d take care of you financially.”

She faced the swamp too now, just so she could have something besides his endless muscles to look at. Mercy of mercies, what a proposition! “So, you’d provide for everything but…the…intimate stuff is what you’re saying?”

“Well,” he said, his low tone tying up her guts. “It’s simple biology. If you need it, as your husband I would provide it.”

Her pulse was ringing in her ears with that bit. “And if you need it?”

“I’ve been celibate for twelve years. I know how not to need it.”

“Same here.”

She felt his gaze on her as she pretended to study the trees. “Is that a yes? You can think about it,” he added.

Oh, she was, all while stunned in disbelief. Why me, kept jumping on her tongue. Because you signed up, dummy. And he picked you because of your clever answers that would never get you picked. “Can I say no?” she wondered, since he mentioned it was war related.

“Yes,” he chuckled.

She nodded but sure didn’t feel any less trapped. “You said this was war related. How so?”

He turned and put his butt on the rail, crossing his arms with a deep breath. “We voted to take wives. I agreed. And…there’s a war,” he said simply with a shrug. “That’s how it’s related.”

She watched his face, and he assaulted her with his swampy gaze, her poor lungs taking the direct hit. Marry. That man standing right there.

Wasn’t just any man, he was the leader of one of their hatches. Nobody considered the unthinkable when wanting this, that or another in their life. Did she want to be married? Hell no. Did she want to be married to the leader of the Tech Hatch? Completely different question.

“Think about it,” he repeated quietly. “I know it’s a lot to ask.”

It damn well was. The more she considered a yes answer, the more questions popped up in her head. What if he was wrong about wanting or not wanting the intimacy thing? And what if kids cropped up out of that? What then? A father that visited every Saturday? That was one bad thing about being single. No kids. And while she didn’t want a gaggle of them like her friends, she had often dreamed of a daughter to dote on.

The image of a raven-haired Cajun beauty—all compliments of Sir Gorgeous—formed in her mind. He wasn’t attracted to her in any marital way and that was actually no bother. He mentioned the sex stuff as biological. A sometimes-necessary human need. Like for having kids. She could like that idea. Unless he didn’t.

Wait a minute. She had leverage in this. She could…request things just as he had.

“So…what if there’s something I want out of it? Would you consider it?”

“Of course. Like what?”

She turned and sat on the rail like him, also taking a breath for courage. “I would like one child to raise for myself. Of course, you could spend as much time with her as you want but I’d want her majority of the time.”

“Her, huh?”

She regarded him at the hint of humor. “I want a girl but would be happy with a son.”

“This would require sex as I’m sure you’re aware,” he said, stating the obvious like it was high stakes now.

“Biology, yes. As you said. No big deal.”

“Could take more than one try,” he said after a moment.

Her guts bat-tied her breakfast with those particulars. “I know,” she said simply, sure it would be anything but with somebody like him. But she could do it. Just had to put her mind to it.

“If you’re aware of this and still want it, then I agree to giving you one child.”

The absolution in his tone brought a whole lotta mischief to her brain. What if she decided having kids was fun? And wanted more?

Then renegotiate at that bridge.

“I’m aware and still want the one child.”

“And when would you want this one child?”

The burdensome sigh that carried his question filled her with mucky mud. The dreaded sex chore. With the woman he wasn’t attracted to. That was suddenly a massive pill going down the hatch sideways. “After all this war mess, for sure,” she managed.

“Glad to hear that.”

“I’m not an emotional female, Mr….”

“Ethan. Sorry, I should’ve introduced myself and not assumed you knew.”

She nodded a little and crossed her arms over her waist. Ethan. Nice name. She liked it. “I mean… I get the hardships of life and know things are to be done in their proper seasons. Including having children. The doorway to that scenario will remain locked tight until we both agree it’s time.”

Mercy, his smile was gonna be a problem. “And, if I may,” he said, “I have some requirements.”

She nodded, back to nervous enough to puke. “Alright.”

“As my wife, I need to be able to protect you. I’d want you to wear a tracking device at all times. Would be embedded in the ring I give you.”

Ring. My wife. Protect. She needed to pinch herself. Was he talking about a wedding ring? What other ring, dummy?

“I can do that,” she said, not seeing a problem with it.

“And tracking for your nephew. He’d also be my nephew. A bracelet he wears at all times.”

She realized how blazing happy he was going to be about all of this. “Pretty sure he’d trade his teeth for gator ones if you asked him to.”

Ohhh, heck-a-hooey, his laugh. Maybe a son by him wouldn’t be the worst thing. “Not sure how to take all that attention.”

“Like a privilege,” she assured him. “A gift.”

He nodded and gave her a double whammy with his eyes and smile. “I can manage that. Also, as my wife, there would be protocol with other males.”

The predatory shift in his stance and tone was noted by every cell in her body as she waited for particulars.

“What’s mine is entirely mine. If you need or want male company, you’ll have it with me.”

A million gatorbumps covered her body at his words and tone. Without a doubt, it was a warning, and all the hairs on her body heeded it loud and clear. She realized her muscles were quivering just like when she’d rescued Jason from the jaws of a hungry gator in hot pursuit. He felt just like that. A hungry gator in hot pursuit.

But he ain’t hungry for you. So, calm your jets.

“I have no male friends. Except for Daniel. I work with him at Marsh and Muck. We grew up together.” She’d better be fully honest. “I did date him in my younger years but that lasted all of six weeks. We’ve been just friends since.”

“Good. I may also need you for certain public functions.” His gaze lowered to her chest, sending her pulse in a frenzy before it returned to hers. “I’ll buy anything and everything you might require for those things. So, I’ll need all your measurements and basic tastes.”

She fought back embarrassment at realizing he didn’t think her capable in matters of fashion. He’d be right but that didn’t make it any easier to swallow.

“So far so good?” he asked, angling a look at her.

Did that mean he knew things about fashion? How would he? “Who’d be buying my clothes?”

“I would.”

“You,” she muttered.

“I may not want a woman but that doesn’t mean I don’t know how I’d want her dressed.”

She fixed her gaze on the wall before her. “Now you have me curious.”

“About what?”

“About how you want a woman dressed. I have modesty standards.”

“Good to hear.”

“But I don’t want to be choking on fabric in the dead of summer either.”

“Just so the parts of you that belong to a husband are fully hidden.”

She managed a snort as her body did the jitter bug at the return of his cocky…possessiveness. He didn’t seem the jealous type, but he was damn sure the stingy type. “There’s a sale on drapes at the Hurricane Hole.”

His laugh made another appearance, stomping all over her guts. “I like your sense of humor.”

Guess it was good he liked something other than her not needing or wanting a man. “And do these uh…rules work in reverse? No female company? No showing off the parts that belong to a wife? Do I get to dress you?”

“I have a dress code already with The Twelve that I’m obligated to follow. And trust me, it’s tailored to ensure zero temptation.”

A single laugh shot out. “That why ninety percent of the Hoard’s women signed up for that ball?”

He crossed his legs and her gaze landed on the massive bulge between them, putting her dangling from Mt. Lust. “Fair point,” he conceded with a chuckle as she zoomed her eyes back to the wall, locking them on the first pine knot she could find. Even then, she reverted to her Barbie days with her raven-haired Swamp Ken stripped down and naked. What sort of underwear did he like? Then came the dizzying wonder of what he’d be packing in them. Judging by the size of that crotch-knot, a lot more than she could ever handle.

She rode a wave of boiling dizziness that had her needing to escape her own skin.

“I’m open to any requirements you may have for me as your husband. I’ll accommodate any that I can.”

She bit her tongue on offering the same, knowing it wasn’t a two-way street due to their different positions in life. As your husband.

“I’d also want you to go to the ball as one of the five women I select to choose from. Just so I’m following their plan.”

Ball? “Oh mercy,” she muttered, shaking her head. “That’s a tall order.”

“No taller than it is for me, this I can promise.”

Interesting. Everything he said was interesting. Made her want to stare at him, study him. Then get lost in the fall-out. She cleared her throat, turning plumb around and focusing on the trees again. “So, we also share the same anti-social proclivities I see.”

“Pretty confident I hate social functions more than you do.”

“Ha! I’m willing to share that platform, but you’re not owning it.”

“Fair enough. And I do have questions I need to ask to verify our match.”

She turned a little toward him, debating. “Alright.”

“I already know you’re prone to living by logic and not by feelings.”

She nodded, back to second guessing herself on that front. “Correct.”

“Is there anything you currently do that might conflict with our arrangement so far?”

She considered then lifted her shoulders a little. “Other than play booray with my three girlfriends when they’re not tied to domestic duties, no. I do like to fish and hunt,” she remembered. “Fresh game is one of my favorites.”

She eyed him as he crossed his massive arms, seeming to consider. “And how often you do this?”

She pursed her lips, thinking. “Bout once a month, sometimes less. Depends on how much I catch, really.”

“Would you consider letting me accompany you?”

Huh. She felt like that needed a good long thinking on. “Can’t imagine why I might mind that. So long as you realize it’s not a social event.”

“Merci Dieu.”

He was proving to be a lot more like her than she imagined. Merci Dieu indeed. The sound of the little motorboat brought Jason in view. “I don’t want him knowing yet,” she said to him.

“Sure.”

“And I’m sure I have questions for you too still.”

“That reminds me. I brought a phone I’d like you to have so I can always communicate with you. That’s a war-time request,” he said, his tone leaving no room for refusal.

She nodded, happy to escape that internal debate. “Alright.”

“You can text me your questions. Or call me.”

“Okay.”

“Also, I want you to wear the tracking jewelry starting today. Wartime request as well.”

Convenient little bossy card. “Fine.” Wait. “You have it now?”

“I brought both since they are not negotiable at this time.”

“You giving rings and phones to all the eligible maidens?”

“No, just to you.”

Her heart swapped places with her stomach. “But I didn’t technically say yes yet.”

“And while you’re deciding, I want you to wear it.”

But he’d assumed she’d say yes. She wanted to be bothered but her body and mind wouldn’t hear of it.

“I got supper!” Jason called as he docked the boat. “Three sacalait and two catfish! Fat ones too!”

This was where she offered him to stay for supper. Mercy. “Sounds like a meal for three,” she muttered.

She felt his gaze and smile on her. “Indeed, it does. Are you inviting me to dinner?”

“In a roundabout way,” she said, flicking him a look.

“I accept. If you let me cook.”

She nearly choked on her own lungs, looking at him. “Hard rule. My kitchen. Not yours.”

His gorgeous laugh filed her fight claws down to the nub. “I have the same rule at my swamp palace.”

“And if I ever in all my life go there, I’ll be sure and honor it.”

“Yes, you will,” he agreed his feral authority burning a lot more than her buns.

“Come see!” Jason called, racing down the dock with water sloshing out of the bucket.

“Meh-no, I’ll see it when you get here,” she laughed, eyeing Ethan as he headed toward him, not missing that Cajun cocky swagger he wore like an iron hide. She pried her eyes off his ass, shocked with herself. She never looked at men. But then there hadn’t ever been a god-like one on her porch asking her to marry him. Nothing wrong with examining the goods. The second she thought it, she did just that as he crouched down on the peer making a big deal out of Jason’s catch.

“I bet it sure is nice having a man around the house,” Ethan said, angling a smile over his shoulder with a wink that noodleized her legs.

“Oh, Aunt Cat don’t need no man,” he said with grave assurance before leaning and whispering something that made Ethan throw his head back and laugh.

“I don’t even wanna know what he said,” she muttered, crossing her arms over her chest, and cocking her hip.

“No, I doubt you wouldn’t,” Ethan said,

She made her way to the door, shaking her head. “It ain’t nice to tease people, boy.”

“It’s not teasing!” Jason said behind her. “I just said you remind me every day.”

“And why?” she countered over her shoulder, catching Mr. Sexy Grins eyeing her. “Cause you started nagging me every day!” She paused with the screen half opened, needing to explain. “Ever since they put those eligible maiden flyers up, he’s had me married off to all the twelve!”

“Did not!” he argued sharply.

“Did too,” she snapped right back. “You had them all in a neat row for me to pick from.”

“But I had Mr. 8-Bit right at the front!”

Oh mercy. Cat hurried into the house.

“But I’m happy for a visit,” she heard him say to Ethan real quiet. “No marriage needed.” Then a hot whisper, “But it would sure be amazing if you did marry her!”

“Jason!” Cat yelled. “Go clean those fish before I skin your tail!”

His face lit up with a grin as he held his bucket up. “That’s what I’m doin’!”

He hurried around her, leaving her floundering for something to do while Ethan’s sexy grin ate up all the oxygen in the room.

Lord help her survive this without making a fool of herself.