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“May I sit here?”
Madeline hid her surprise and moved over to make room for Sam at the long, planked table set underneath a jasmine arbor that would become lush with fragrant flowers this spring.
Her Uncle Jaybo gave her a wink and tipped his straw hat at her. He was her dad’s older brother and the patriarch of the Sonnier family, and he owned the beach house where Michelle had stayed in Driftwood Bay. He lived around the corner but hung out with her family since his wife had died years ago and they’d never had children. He’d question her about Sam later. Everyone in her family held out hope that she’d either go back to her husband or find someone new.
“Of course,” she said to Sam, wishing he would sit anywhere but here. Using her manners, she smiled over at him. “I see you found the food.”
He slumped down beside her, causing the old bench to creak and groan. The scent of clean soap and manly sweat surrounded her and pierced her heart with longing.
She hadn’t been this physically close to a man in a long time. Her daddy and her uncle both hugged her on a daily basis and she loved that sweet affection, but Madeline missed the intimacy of having a man with her. A man with her who was interested in her as a woman.
Especially in the middle of the night, under the covers, all snuggled and safe. She couldn’t admit it, even to her sisters, but she’d loved being married. Loved being married but had to give up on having Evan Parker as a husband. Come to think of it, she’d given up on feeling safe with Evan, too.
“You aren’t hungry?”
She glanced over at Sam and noticed his eyes. A misty, ethereal green that warred with his rough-and-tough exterior. Then she noticed his hair. Thick waves that changed from light to dark brown, streaked and sun-washed, and slightly longish.
Drat. Melissa was right. He had the brooding thing going on and it was working for him. The man was gorgeous in that don’t-touch-me-emotionally kind of way.
“What do you mean?” she asked, her breath catching in her throat.
He pointed his fork toward her plate. “You aren’t eating your food.”
Madeline managed to tear her eyes away from him long enough to nab a fingerling of fried catfish. “Just waiting on one of our honored guests. I can dig in now that you’ve found a seat.”
He chuckled, which only made his face change from intimidating to downright perfect. “You mean me? I’m nobody, trust me. So eat up.”
Surprised at that comment, she kept her eyes on him. “You’re the best man, right?”
“So they tell me.”
“So you have certain duties, same as me.”
He looked confused. “I’m just standing up at the altar with them.”
“And you might have to make a toast at the reception.”
“What?” He dropped his fork and stared out into the trees in a way that seemed kind of predatory to her. The night wind lifted a fistful of curls away from his neck, allowing Madeline an up-close view of his bronzed skin.
Trying to focus on the worry cresting in his eyes, she sipped her tea. “So you don’t like giving the toast?”
“I’ve never done that before.”
So he didn’t like speaking in front of people?
“Are you shy, Sam?”
His expression turned macho, affronted. “Of course not.”
“But you don’t want to make a toast?”
“I ... I don’t want to ... make a fool of myself.”
Madeline could tell how much that admission had cost him.
“I don’t think you’ll do that. Just speak from the heart.”
He studied her face, those green eyes going smoky. “I don’t have a heart.”
Then he got up and took his plate of food and walked off to a bench near her mother’s favorite live oak.
“What are you doing, man?”
Sam lifted another spoonful of the amazing gumbo to his mouth and enjoyed it while Brodie stood staring down at him.
“That is not gonna work,” Brodie said. “Answer me, Sam. Or I’ll go get Michelle and let her talk some sense into you.”
Sam believed him. “I’m minding my own business,” he retorted. “And you should do the same.”
“Why are you over here when the fun is over there?” Brodie asked, pointing toward the big outdoor kitchen where the fifty or so people, all intimate friends of the Sonnier family, were having the time of their lives.
“Hey, you know I don’t like crowds and you also know I didn’t want to come here in the first place.”
“Yeah, I know all that,” Brodie agreed, his gray eyes flaring with amusement and frustration. “But I also know you, Sam, and you wouldn’t have come if you didn’t want to at least stand up for me at my wedding. So quit being anti-social and smile the way you do when you’re tending bar at the Surf Shack. It’s not that hard.”
“Easy for you to say.”
He knew Brodie was right, but Sam just wanted to get through this weekend and get back on the road to Florida. He needed that sea breeze in his hair and that blue water at his feet.
But Brodie was his best friend.
“Let me finish my gumbo in peace and I’ll come over there and be the life of the party,” he said.
Brodie nodded. “That’s some good grub, huh?”
“Yes, especially this gumbo,” Sam said. “I could package this stuff and sell it at the Shack.”
Brodie waited until Sam had taken another big spoonful of the rich blend of shrimp, andouille sausage and venison meat, and then he added, “Madeline made that, by the way. She’s a really good cook.”
Sam almost choked, but he managed to swallow.
He didn’t care that Madeline had made the gumbo. It was good and she was a pretty, interesting woman.
But he did care that Brodie had noticed him noticing Madeline. That could become a real problem, really fast.
The music was lively and upbeat. Madeline stood by the fire pit, swaying to the slow country rock. She watched Brodie and Michelle as they went from fast dancing to a slow waltz that didn’t match the music at all.
And yet, they were in perfect rhythm with each other.
She wanted that again.
But she had to pretend that everything was all right and that she liked being single. Well, she did like being her own boss and she did like not feeling like a failure as a wife and a woman. She was free, but she was also by herself. An independent woman.
But she hated the loneliness of it all.
Especially tonight, when the moon was high in the sky and the Mardi Gras beads her mom had strung here and there across the porches and around the trees sparkled like lost jewels and made her want to dance.
And then, she felt a tap on her shoulder.
“Let’s dance.”
Sam.
He didn’t give her time to decline. Instead, he gave her a gentle shove in the direction of the deck that had become an impromptu dance floor.
“What if I don’t want to dance?”
“You’d be lying,” he said into her ear as he tugged her close.
Madeline swallowed the strange lump of need filling her throat. Sam’s big body radiated heat and comfort, like a soft, worn blanket. He was a teddy bear kind of man underneath all that brawn.
“And how would you know that?” she asked, the sensation of flowers blooming inside her stomach making her weak.
“I’ve been watching you,” he whispered, his warm breath tickling and teasing at her ear. “Your hips sure want to dance.”
Madeline stared into his eyes, her need to flirt kicking into overdrive. This man wasn’t comfortable being here, and he’d only be around for a few more days. But he sure knew how to get her attention.
She could at least enjoy having a little fun with him. There wasn’t a law against that, even though Louisiana still had some archaic laws on the official books. What would be the harm?
And then he looked down at her. Really looked at her. As if he had seen the challenge and accepted it.
And that could be harmful to her.
Very harmful. Downright dangerous.
“Don’t change your mind now,” he said, a soft smile curling over his interesting, tempting lips.
She played coy. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Yes, you do. We’re stuck together for the duration of this wedding. Might as well become best buds, don’t you think?”
“That would be silly.”
She wanted that, so much.
“Then let’s be silly,” he suggested. “But I have rules.”
“Rules?” Was he serious?
“Yeah. I’m not good at making speeches, but I didn’t want you to know that.”
She drew back to stare into his eyes. “I would have never guessed.”
“I need you to help me.”
“Help you ... what?”
“Write a great speech for the toast, look good for the wedding. You know, train me up in the ways of gumbo.”
“The ways of gumbo?” She leaned back and gave him a thorough grin. “Have you been in my daddy’s muscadine wine?”
“No. Where does he keep that?”
She laughed and slapped at his rock-solid arm. “I’ll show you later.” Then she got back to business. “So you want me to be your official wedding guide?”
“Yes.” He whirled her around and bobbed his head. “It’s like a mine field. I don’t want to mess it up. I care about Michelle, and Brodie’s a good friend in spite of roping me into this.”
Madeline thought about his request. “You know, this could work for both of us.”
“Good,” he replied. Then his expression changed. “Wait. You agreed a little too quickly. What’s the catch?”
“The catch?” She grinned, but her eyes looked serious. “My ex-husband is raising the rent on my apartment since he owns the building. If I hang with you all weekend, I’ll have such fun irritating him.”
“What’s your ex got to do with anything?”
“My daddy and Uncle Jaybo invited him to the wedding. Daddy thinks if he throws us together, we’ll play nice and make up. But that ain’t gonna happen.” She glanced around and then whispered, “My parents don’t know what really went on in my marriage so I try to be civil to Evan for their sake.”
Sam stopped their dance in the middle of the deck. “So ... you want to use me to get even with some jerk that broke your heart?”
“Yes,” she said, proud of herself. “A mutual agreement. You help me and I’ll help you. Everybody wins.”
“No,” he retorted. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”
The music ended and he gave her a bittersweet smile while his whisper moved over her like a long kiss. “If you and I agree to any mutual type thing, I don’t want your ex-husband crowding in there between us.”
And then he turned and strolled back to his bench underneath the great oak tree.