Chapter 9
Bright light pressed against Holly’s eyelids, forcing her to open them and blink.
Sunlight streamed in through the bedroom windows, a definitive indication that it was morning.
Having stayed up through most of the night, she groaned, pulled her pillow over her head and tried to go back to sleep.
Events of the night before flooded her thoughts, bringing her fully awake and aware of the warm body taking up more than half the bed beside her.
She shoved the pillow aside, rolled onto her side and stared at the man who’d absolutely ruined her. Well, ruined her for sex with anyone else ever again.
She drank her fill of his gorgeous face and sexy body while he slept peacefully.
She loved the shadow of his beard that had scraped deliciously along her inner thighs as he’d gone down on her during the wee hours of the morning.
When the sky had remained dark, fireworks had lit her world in the small bedroom.
Her pulse quickened. Was it too soon to wake him and ask for a repeat? She didn’t want him to think she was needy.
But she was. Now that they’d taken things to the next level, she couldn’t seem to get enough.
The next level.
What exactly was that level? Lust? Sex without commitment? Was there any hope of a level beyond the purely physical stage?
Neither one of them had promised anything. With things as uncertain as they were, it would be foolish to entertain the idea of a future together. Not to mention, they barely knew each other.
How long did someone need to know someone else before she knew he was the one?
And if Simon was her one, would that certainty only be on her side? What if she wasn’t his one?
Throw in the potential curse she was carrying around with her, and he might not survive for her to find out if she was his one. Was he doomed because of the fake relationship they’d led everyone to believe?
“Why are you frowning?” Simon whispered.
While she’d been running increasingly disastrous scenarios through her head, Simon had opened his eyes and was now staring at her.
“We shouldn’t have told everyone you’re my boyfriend,” she blurted as she rolled out of the bed, pulled a T-shirt over her head and stood at the window.
“Too late. It’s a small town. By now, we’re practically married. We’re even house hunting together.” Simon sat up. “Why? What brought that up?”
“Paul was murdered. And my parents...” She swallowed hard on a sob, forcing it back. Crying wouldn’t bring them back. “Whoever did that might come after you next.”
“I’ll take my chances,” Simon said and came to stand behind her, his arms encircling her belly. “They might not have known what was coming. We have the advantage now because we’re looking for something to happen.”
Holly stared out at the bayou. “Something isn’t right,” she murmured.
“A lot isn’t right. But we’re going to figure this out. Swede’s working on it from his end. We need to go find people close to what happened and ask the right questions.”
Holly raised her hand. “No. Something isn’t right with the view.”
“What do you mean?”
Holly pulled on her jeans from the night before and darted for the stairs.
Simon rammed his legs into his jeans and hurried after her. “Slow down.”
She didn’t stop until she reached the door and flung it open.
The gangway was there. The dock wasn’t. In fact, it was nowhere in sight.
Simon came to a halt behind her. “What the hell?”
Holly snorted. “The houseboat broke free of its mooring. That wind we felt last night must’ve pushed us out into the bayou—way out.”
“Can’t we fire up the engines and drive it back?”
Holly shook her head. “They don’t work. The owners said they haven’t worked for years. They never intended to move the boat.”
Simon went back up the stairs and came back down with his cell phone.
“Who are you calling?” Holly asked.
“Mitchell at the marina.”
Holly nodded.
Simon held the phone to his ear for longer than Holly thought necessary. Ultimately, he lowered the phone, a frown creasing his brow. “He isn’t answering.”
“Mitch can be really busy early in the morning, getting fishermen outfitted for their day on the bayou. We might have to wait a bit to try again.”
Simon glanced at his phone. “We’re supposed to meet with the realtor at ten, and then we were supposed to drive over to Bayou Miste to see your grandmother’s nutria seer.”
Holly shook her head. “We might need to call and postpone on all counts.”
“How the hell does a houseboat break loose of its mooring?” Simon asked. He stepped back out on the deck, looked right and left, and back to the right, before taking off in that direction.
Holly watched as he lifted something, let it drop and then passed in front of her to inspect the other end of the boat in the same way. Holly joined him at that end of the houseboat. Simon held up a neatly cut length of rope, his mouth pressed in a thin line. “Someone cut the lines.”
“Wouldn’t we have heard it?” Holly asked.
Simon’s lips twisted. “We were busy.”
“Those aren’t small lines. Surely, they would’ve had to saw through them. It’s not like they could have used scissors to cut them. It would’ve taken time.”
“Bolt cutters?” Simon suggested.
“Would bolt cutters work on rope and make a clean cut like that?” She shook her head. “I never thought to check the lines mooring the boat to the dock. Could they have cut them while we were away?”
Simon nodded. “That’s a possibility.”
“Why?”
“A threat? Or warning?”
“It’s not like we’re at risk of dying out here,” Holly waved a hand. “Sooner or later, someone would come along and tow us back to the dock.”
An explosion ripped through the air. The boat shook with enough force Holly fell to her knees and held on while the houseboat rocked in the water.
Moments later, smoke rose from the rear of the houseboat.
“Fire!” Holly shouted.
“Where’s the fire extinguisher?” Simon asked.
“Attached to the wall in the kitchen,” Holly said. “I’ll get it.”
She ran into the houseboat, heading straight for the extinguisher mounted on the wall.
The bracket that held it was there, but the extinguisher was gone.
She spent a few precious seconds looking for it, thinking the explosion had knocked it from its holding.
When she couldn’t find it, she grabbed a folded quilt off the back of the couch and ran back out on the deck.
Simon had found a hose on the deck. Thankfully, the water pump ran on a generator that kicked in when the electricity went out. Simon aimed the hose at the source of the fire on the back patio, though the narrow stream did little to extinguish the growing flame.
Holly ran past Simon and threw the quilted blanket onto the fire.
Simon aimed the hose at the blanket, soaking the fabric before the fire could consume it. In a few minutes of applying water to the blanket, the flames were effectively smothered, keeping them from spreading further.
Standing with the hose in one hand, still pouring water over the blanket, Simon spread his other arm wide.
Holly leaned into him, taking refuge in his embrace. “Okay then,” she said. “That was a bit more than a warning.”
Simon glanced past the deck to the bayou beyond. “Had the fire spread, we would’ve had to abandon the houseboat.”
Holly stared at the reeds not far from where the houseboat had drifted. “See the brown pile of dead grass between the green marsh grass?”
Simon nodded.
“Look closer,” Holly pointed. “See something dark moving between the nest and us? Looks like a log floating on the surface?”
Again, Simon nodded. “Is that what I think it is?”
She nodded. “It’s a mama alligator, and that’s her nest. They’re extremely protective of their eggs and young.”
“It’s a good thing we were able to put out the fire,” Simon said. “I’m a good swimmer but...”
“Not as good as she is.” Holly drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly, wondering how long it would be before they’d get someone out to tow them back to the dock.
“Ahoy, there,” a voice called out.
Holly looked out at the shadows of the morning bayou and spotted a boat floating nearby with a grizzled older man holding the handle of the till.
“J.D.?” she called out.
“That’s me,” the old man called out. “J.D. LaDue at your service.” He tipped his fisherman’s hat and bowed his head. “That you, Holly?”
Holly leaned over the rail. “Yes, it is.”
“Aren’t you a little far out in the bayou in that thing?” J.D. pointed a finger at the houseboat.
Holly gave the older man a crooked smile. “Hadn’t planned on a morning tour. Someone cut the mooring lines.”
J.D.’s bushy white eyebrows winged upward. “Ya don’t say.” He shook his head. “What’s the world comin’ to?”
Holly bit back an impatient comment and smiled at the man who understood the bayou like no other. “We could use a little help getting the houseboat back to the dock. Think you could let Mitchell Marceau know we’re out here, drifting?”
J.D. lifted his chin. “I can do better than that.” He turned his boat toward the houseboat. “I can get you back. Won’t take long.”
Holly frowned. “You think your little boat will tow this big ol’ girl all the way back?”
J.D. patted the outboard engine. “This here is the little engine that could,” he declared. “Toss me a line.”
Simon leaned close to Holly. “Does he really think that little boat of his can tow this massive house on pontoons?”
Holly shrugged. “J.D. has been a fixture in the bayou since before I can remember. If he says he can tow us, I’m sure he can.
” She hurried to the front of the houseboat and found a line long enough to reach J.D.
’s boat. After tying it to a cleat on the bow, she tossed the other end of the line to J.D.
He missed the catch.
Holly gathered the line in.
Simon held out his hands. “Let me.”
Holly handed the rope to Simon and stood back.
Simon whirled the line like a lasso several times before he released his hold. The line landed in front of J.D.
The old man grabbed the end, tied it to the rear of his skiff and lifted his chin toward Simon and Holly. “Ready?”