Chapter 4
Simon followed Holly’s directions through town and down a road that ran along the edge of the bayou. They turned onto a narrow gravel path lined by oak trees dripping with Spanish moss.
Creepy at night, Simon could imagine it wasn’t much better in daylight.
Eventually, they emerged into a small clearing.
Simon slowed to a stop. Straight ahead, the headlights glinted off the inky waters of the bayou.
Expecting a house, Simon was surprised to find only a houseboat moored to a dock, with a single light shining over the door onto the dock.
“You live on a houseboat?” he asked.
She smiled. “As of today. Do you know how hard it is to find a house to rent at this time of year?”
“Actually, I do,” he said. “Which reminds me, I have an appointment with a real estate agent tomorrow. I’ll need to cancel.”
Holly frowned across the console at him. “Why do you have to cancel?”
“I’m on assignment. I won’t leave you alone while I’m out house hunting.”
Her lips pressed together. “What time is your appointment?”
“Ten o’clock. I’m sure it won’t be a problem to push it off for a few weeks.”
“Good grief. I don’t have to be at work until tomorrow afternoon at five. Keep your appointment. I’ll go with you. Who knows? Maybe I’ll see something I like.”
Simon frowned as Holly shot down his excuse to cancel. He’d been in the small town since the Bayou Brotherhood Protectors had formed and had yet to look for a place to live. He hadn’t been entirely certain he wanted to stay. “Are you sure?”
“Positive. I didn’t relish spending the entire day cleaning or waiting to hear from my Mémère. I need to get out and see what’s changed in this town since I’ve been gone.”
Simon sighed. “Okay. We’ll go house hunting tomorrow morning.”
“After that, if she hasn’t contacted me, I’d like to see if my Mémère is home and ready to help.”
He nodded. “We can do that.” Though he didn’t believe in curses or Voodoo, he was interested in meeting Bayou Mambaloa’s very own Voodoo queen. He’d found the Louisiana bayous full of interesting characters. Most friendly. Some not so much.
Simon shifted into park and cut the engine. Then he dropped to the ground, grabbed the go-bag he kept behind the back seat and hurried around to open Holly’s door. She was already out and joined him in front of the truck.
For a moment, Holly stood staring at the houseboat.
Finally, she shrugged. “It needs a good cleaning and minor maintenance. The engine doesn’t actually work, but I don’t need it to go anywhere.
The best part was that it was in my budget and available.
” She shot a glance his way. “However, it only has one bed.” She grimaced. “You’ll have to camp out on the couch.”
“I’ll manage,” he said.
“You haven’t seen the couch,” she muttered beneath her breath and led the way to the dock.
They came to a stop on the dock, where a gangway led to the houseboat. An anchor lay on the dock next to a metal storage box. Simon held out his hand. “Let me have the key. I want to do a quick check before you go inside.”
She bent, tipped the anchor to the side, reached for something then straightened, handing him a key.
Simon closed his eyes for a second. “Please tell me this isn’t the key to the houseboat.”
“Okay,” she said. “I won’t tell you. But if you want to open the door, you’ll have to use whatever that is in your hand.”
He shook his head. “Tomorrow, we’re going to the hardware store for new locks.”
She sighed. “I’ll agree with you on that. Remember, I just moved in today.”
“Wherever you were staying before, perhaps we should stay there tonight.”
“That was at my Mémère’s. She’s been away for a few days helping others.”
“Why aren’t you staying there still?”
“Now that I have a job, I like to get there without taking a boat through the bayou at night after I get off work.” She crossed the gangway and stood beside the door.
Simon followed, stuck the key in the lock and pushed the door open.
Holly reached around him and flipped a light switch, illuminating the interior with soft, warm light.
“Give me a minute inside,” he said. “I just want to make sure it’s safe.”
“And standing out in the open is safer?” she asked with one eyebrow cocked.
He frowned. “Fine.” He leaned into the door, peered around and didn’t see anything moving. “Come in, but stand next to the door while I look around.”
“That won’t take long,” she murmured. “It’s not that big, and there aren’t many places for anyone to hide.”
“Humor me,” he said through clenched teeth.
She stepped into the house, closed the door behind her and leaned against the wall. “Go on. I’m humoring.”
He wanted to be mad at her, but her sassy smirk only made him want to kiss her. That thought made him mad at himself. He had no business kissing the client. And that was all she was to him. All she could be. A client.
Especially after his relapse on the PTSD front.
Whatever happened while he was with her, he had to focus on the present and not let anything transport him back to Syria.
He couldn’t change anything about the past. But if he kept his wits about him, he could have an impact on the future.
He’d do his best to make it a positive impact. His job was to protect Holly Hazard.
He dropped his go-bag by the door and performed his safety check.
As she’d predicted, it didn’t take him more than a minute to search the entire houseboat. No bad guys lay in wait to jump out in a surprise attack. There were no hiding places on board. Every inch of space was a testament to efficient storage.
The bottom floor had a cozy living space opening to a kitchenette with just enough of a stove and oven to make a meal.
An open door on the other side of the kitchenette led to a bathroom with a toilet and a tub-shower unit.
Thankfully, it was close to full size. Two people could manage an intimate shower in it.
Don’t go there, man. Hands and mind off the client.
“Downstairs is clear,” he said.
The only bedroom was more of a loft at the top of a narrow staircase. At least the ceiling was high enough that Simon could stand straight without bumping his head. A stack of sheets waited to be spread across the mattress. One more thing for Holly to do before she could call it a night.
A single closet was too small for a person to hide in, and the space beneath the bed had been fashioned into drawers. Windows all around looked out on the bayou, where starlight reflected like a blanket of diamonds on the dark water.
Simon hurried back down to find Holly pulling clothing out of a suitcase.
“I’d like to shower first, if you don’t mind,” she said. “I still feel sticky from the spilled beer.”
“Go for it. I can wait.”
After she disappeared into the bathroom, he climbed the stairs and made the bed, smoothing sheets over the mattress and topping it with a light comforter. The houseboat was equipped with an air conditioner. He adjusted the thermostat to a cooler setting to combat the humidity.
He fluffed the pillow in its freshly laundered pillowcase and leaned it against the headboard.
Housekeeping wasn’t part of the job, but his father had taught him that making a woman’s life easier was part of showing her respect.
His father had always helped his mother with household chores, as well as maintaining the yard and vehicles.
He grabbed one of the two pillows and a spare sheet he found in a drawer beneath the bed and carried them down the stairs.
Holly emerged from the bathroom, wearing short shorts and a loose T-shirt.
She’d combed her auburn hair straight back from her forehead.
Long, damp strands hung down to the middle of her back.
With her face shiny clean and free of makeup, she looked young and fresh, her green eyes bright, despite the shadows beneath.
“Feel better?” he asked.
She smiled. “Much. It’s all yours.”
“I’ll leave the door ajar. If you hear any noises outside the houseboat, let me know.” He frowned. “Maybe I should wait and ask one of the guys to spell me so you’re not compromised while I’m in the shower.”
Holly laughed. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’ll stand guard on my bodyguard, if it makes you feel better.”
He shook his head with a smile. “Or you could join me in the shower. That way, I’ll be with you should you be attacked.”
Her face flushed a pretty pink. “Nice try,” she said, her voice breathy, like she couldn’t quite get enough air in her lungs.
“Either way, I’m leaving the bathroom door open,” he said. “Don’t open the door to the houseboat for anyone. I’ll only be a minute.”
She waved him away. “Go on. I’ll be fine.”
For a moment, he hesitated. “Okay then.”
Simon ducked into the bathroom, fired up the shower and hurried to finish.
Still dripping wet, he stepped out of the shower less than three minutes later, flinging water from his hair.
She sat on the couch, a smile pulling at the corners of her lips. “Still here. No bad guys,” she said.
Simon released the breath he’d held throughout the brief shower. “Good.” He tipped his chin toward the staircase. “Goodnight then.”
Holly placed her foot on the bottom step. “Goodnight, Simon Sevier.” Her brief smile warmed him. “Thank you for coming to my rescue tonight.”
“It was my pleasure.”
“You’re a good guy,” she said.
“I don’t know about that.”
“Trust me,” she said. “You are. I just hope that helping me doesn’t make you the next target of my curse.”
“As I don’t believe in magic, Voodoo, luck or curses, I think I’ll be all right. Don’t worry about me. I’m here to take care of you.”
She stared at him for a long moment before she nodded. “Curses can be complicated. I’ll do my best to take care of you as well.”
“Thank you.” He didn’t bother to refute her offer to look out for him.
If it made her feel better to think she could help with her belief in Voodoo and magic, it wasn’t up to him to burst her bubble or pooh-pooh her ideology.
Instead, he held up his hand for a high-five.
“I’ll have your back, and you’ll have mine. Teamwork.”
“Teamwork,” she echoed as she clapped her palm to his. Her brow furrowed. “You’ll be okay on the couch?” Her gaze focused on the small sofa in the cozy but tight living area. “There’s no way you’ll be able to stretch out on that.”
“I’ll be fine,” he insisted. He’d probably have to drape his legs over the armrests, but it was still better than sleeping in a foxhole or nodding off in the back of an armored personnel carrier. “Go to sleep. We have a busy day tomorrow.”
She nodded. “House hunting.”
“Then a visit to the Voodoo queen.”
“And I have to work tomorrow evening,” Holly added.
“I can cancel the house hunting,” he reminded her.
“No. That’s the one thing I’m looking forward to.” She went up another step. “Good night, Simon. Thanks for a memorable evening.”
He gave her a mock salute. “My pleasure.”
Holly disappeared into the loft bedroom.
Simon checked all the windows and the door one more time before he settled on the sofa.
It had been an interesting day, from welding seams on a jon boat to reliving the worst day of his life in Syria, to coming to the rescue of a beautiful woman who believed in magic.
Simon punched the pillow several times, then lay back, his legs hanging over the arms of the sofa. He reminded himself he’d slept in worse places in the many years he’d been a Delta Force soldier. But damn, he wasn’t getting any younger.
Sounds of Holly moving about in the loft bedroom drifted to him.
He didn’t care that he couldn’t get comfortable. The woman in the bed at the top of the stairs had been threatened. Her life could very well be in danger.
Simon was on the hook for seeing to her safety. He couldn’t drop the ball. Couldn’t let anyone get past him to her. He was her last line of defense. He’d failed Johnny back in Syria. He couldn’t fail Holly in Bayou Mambaloa.
Though he closed his eyes and lay his head on the soft pillow, he opened his senses and remained on alert, listening and feeling the motion of the boat. He vowed to himself, and silently to Holly, that he would be ready to defend.
The rustling of bed sheets had him imagining Holly settling into the bed.
“Simon?” her voice called out.
“Yeah.”
“Thank you for making the bed,” she said softly.
He smiled in the darkness. “You’re welcome.”
Silence stretched between them.
“Simon?”
“Yeah.”
“This is a big bed. It’s big enough we could share it,” she said. “No need to suffer on the couch.”
Oh, he was tempted. “I’m fine, Holly.”
“Seriously. It doesn’t have to mean anything other than a good night’s sleep.”
“I’m fine,” he said, though his voice was tight as he fought to maintain control of his desire to climb the ridiculously narrow stairs to the loft over his head. “Go to sleep, Holly.”
“Simon?”
He counted to five before responding. “Yeah.”
“Your mama taught you well.”
If Holly only knew how much he wanted to take her up on the offer to share her bed...
It was just as well, she didn’t.
She was the client.
He was a damaged ex-soldier with PTSD issues.
It would be best to keep his distance from the pretty bayou babe who believed in Voodoo and magic.