Welcome to Temptation: A Romantic Comedy Page 7

  Michelle didn’t quite know how to respond to his comment, so she said nothing. To respond would merely keep their argument alive, and that, in her opinion, was a waste of time. Let Gator think what he wanted. She was there for one thing—to see after her grandmother. The sooner she finished, the sooner she’d be on the highway to Baton Rouge.

  #

  They worked nonstop the rest of the day, halting only briefly to eat the lunch Reba had prepared that morning.

  It was still early when they packed the boat to head home, but Gator wanted to make sure they got in before dark. A man could get lost forever on the bayou at night, he knew.

  The house was, for the most part, habitable, although the grounds were still in bad shape, despite all Gator had done. They decided to come back the following day and try to finish up so Reba wouldn’t have to worry about it when she returned. While Gator loaded the boat, Michelle put out fresh food and water for the cats and changed the litter boxes. She was on her way out the back door when she spied Gator standing dead still, one arm rigidly extended toward the ground, his pistol aimed at something. She sucked her breath in sharply as she caught sight of his target, a large snake, poised and ready to strike, not more than ten feet from him. The gunshot was deafening, reverberating in the air as the snake fell to the ground in a macabre fashion.

  “Is it … dead?” Michelle asked breathlessly. Gator swung his head in her direction and saw the horrified look on her face. He walked over and kicked the snake with the toe of his boot. “Yeah, I’d say so.” He picked it up by the tail. “He’s fairly big. I’d say he was the granddaddy of the bunch.”

  “W-what kind of snake is it?” She realized suddenly that she was trembling.

  “Cottonmouth. I’m surprised we didn’t run into one sooner.”

  She glanced around anxiously, scanning the grass for others. “You think there are more around here?”

  “It wouldn’t surprise me.” At her frightened look, he added, “But don’t worry, they’re just as scared of us as we are of them. Most of the time they’ll run in the opposite direction if they hear you coming. I think I surprised this one.” He slung the snake in the water and it landed with a plop, sending ripples in every direction. Michelle shuddered.

  “Can we leave now?” she asked, determined to put as much distance as she could between herself and the possibility of more snakes. She was thankful now that Gator’s mother had insisted she and Reba spend the night at her place, with its wide, fern-filled front porch and wicker rockers. It seemed a bit more civilized than Reba’s home or Gator’s houseboat. Not only that, Mrs. Landry had promised to fill her bathtub with warm water so Michelle could take a real bath when she returned. The prospect of that luxury had been on Michelle’s mind all day.

  “Sure, hop in,” he said, motioning her over. He held the boat still while she climbed in. Once she’d settled herself in the bow, he cast the lines and started the motor. A minute later they were on their way. Michelle leaned back and closed her eyes, enjoying the light breeze on her face. It felt good to rest after a long day of hard work.

  They hadn’t gone more than a hundred feet from the dock before the motor started sputtering. They both glanced up in surprise, but before they could say anything, it died.

  Michelle straightened in her seat. “What’s wrong? Are we out of gas?”

  Gator shook his head. “I just changed gas tanks.” He shrugged. “It sounds like something is wrong with the gas, but it’s been awhile since I’ve worked on boats.”

  “What are we going to do?”

  Gator wasn’t listening. He’d already moved to the back of the boat, testing hoses, looking into the red gas tank, sniffing it. Finally, he raised up. “I think there is water in the gas line.”

  “Is it serious?”

  “No, but I’ll have to clean the gas lines.”

  “How long will it take?”

  “Shouldn’t take more than an hour, but that’s not our problem.”

  “Then what is our problem?” she asked, almost dreading his answer.

  “We don’t have any more gas. This was my last tank. It’s full, but it won’t do us a bit of good if it’s got water in it.”

  “Can’t you radio for help?”

  “We’re too far out.”

  “Well, don’t worry, Reba and your mother will send someone out here for us,” she said hopefully.

  “I wouldn’t count on it.”

  “Why?”

  “Because folks don’t like coming way out here on the bayou at night. For one thing, the bayou is always changing, especially after a storm. A person could get lost and never be found out here.”

  “Then they’ll just have to take the road, for heaven’s sake. I know it is much farther that way, but we could walk to the nearest—” She stopped speaking when Gator glanced away. “What’s wrong?”

  Gator didn’t answer right away. “One of the bridges was washed out by the storm.” He heard her gasp and looked up. “I didn’t want to tell you, because I knew you’d get upset, what with your car still buried under that tree and all. I figured it would only be a couple of days before the bridge was fixed, and I didn’t want to bother you with it.”

  “Oh, well, that’s just dandy,” she said, feeling her chest swell with anger. “You knew all this time and didn’t bother to tell me.”

  “What good would it have done?”

  “I could have … maybe made arrangements to have someone drive down from Baton Rouge to get me. I just thought it was a matter of having a tree pulled from my car.”

  “I hope you don’t expect the good doctor to leave his pregnant wife to come down and rescue you,” he said dryly.

  Michelle could not believe he was still harping on Jeffrey. “What is wrong with you?” she demanded. “You’re obsessed with Jeffrey. I should never have told you about him.”

  “He’s the reason you’re so anxious to get back.”

  “No, he’s not!” she almost shouted. “I have a job I need to get back to. You might be able to toss your badge aside and walk away, but that’s not the way I do things. I take my responsibilities seriously.”

  “I don’t have to explain myself to you or anyone else,” he said.

  “That is exactly how I feel, but you constantly badger me about things that are none of your business. I’m sick of it. I’m sick of this whole mess, and I am damn sick of you meddling in my business. So back off! Just leave me the hell alone because I have reached my limit and can’t take anymore, especially from you.”

  Gator reached for the oars.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I’m going to beat you with this paddle,” he said matter-of-factly, “if you don’t stop ranting and raving at me. While you’ve been throwing your temper tantrum, we’ve drifted farther from the house.”

  Michelle crossed her arms over her breasts and pressed her lips together in a firm line. She was too tired and angry to speak at the moment.

  Twenty minutes later, Gator docked the boat at Reba’s backyard once more. Michelle hadn’t so much as uttered a word to him in that time, and she clambered out of the boat before he had a chance to put the oars away and assist. She stalked up to the house and slammed inside, wishing the bayou would open up and swallow Gator whole so that she never had to look at him again.

  Chapter Five

  Michelle busied herself inside for the next couple of hours, trying to make use of what light was left for the day. Gator came in once looking for rubbing alcohol, which he planned to use to flush out the fuel line. Once she found it for him, he thanked her abruptly and left. Her mood was so bleak; she decided it best not to say anything.

  Gator glanced at the house from time to time as he worked, but Michelle hadn’t budged from the place. He thought about walking to Reba’s nearest neighbor, several miles away, but he knew he’d be wasting his time, since that very neighbor was probably still sitting in one of the shelters in town. Besides, he and Michelle were no worse off than the res
t of the town at the moment.

  Gator knew his mother would not grow concerned right away. He had told her they might drop by City Hall before returning, so she wouldn’t expect them back anytime soon. He knew she had every confidence that he could find his way around the bayou, but then she had always trusted his judgment, even in his rebellious days when everything he did sent his father into a frenzy.

  Gator frowned. His father had never given an inch. He had expected his son to be a man at ten years old, as he’d watched their house burn to the ground with everything in it—his Hardy Boys mysteries, video games, and all the treasures he’d accumulated in his short life. Even so, while his father had ruled with an iron fist, his mother had raised him with unconditional love. It was uncanny that the man was admired and respected by those he served, because Gator and his mom dreaded the end of the work day when he would pull into the driveway. Gator had decided long ago that if he ever had children, he would not hold back his affection.

  But none of that was important right now, he reminded himself. Besides, it was unlikely that he would marry and have children at this point in his life, with all he wanted to see and do. What mattered to him at the moment was getting Michelle and himself back to town. He felt helpless. For someone who was accustomed to being in control, it was not a comfortable feeling. But the damn hurricane had fouled up everything!

  Michelle had counted on him to get her back, and he’d let her down. She had every right to be angry. Her entire life was waiting for her back in Baton Rouge, but she was spinning her wheels in the boonies simply because of him. He should have thought to bring another gas tank. He should have checked the progress on the bridge. He should have insisted someone pull that damn tree off her car. But he hadn’t, simply because he hadn’t wanted to see her go. Once again, he was proving to be a selfish bastard. He promised himself he would do something about it as soon as he reached town, even if he had to repair the bridge with his own bare hands, even if it meant driving Michelle back to Baton Rouge personally.

  Michelle stood in the living room gazing out the window at Gator, who had not budged from his place in the boat for almost two hours. She could barely make him out in the diminishing light, but he looked deep in thought as he stared out at the water. What could he be thinking? Guilt stabbed her. She’d had no right to say the things she had to him, even if he had deserved it at times. She should have been more patient. After all, he’d done everything he could for her grandmother and her, even risking his life to remain with them when the hurricane had hit, instead of taking shelter in City Hall, where it was safer. He’d opened his own home to them, slept on the couch so they could have his bed, and not once had he complained. He’d gone out of his way once again by cleaning up Reba’s place, and look what she’d given him in return. She took a deep breath and headed outside toward the boat.

  If Gator heard her walk up, he didn’t give any indication. Instead, he merely stared at the gently moving bayou, as though it held some great secret. Michelle picked her way cautiously across the grass, her eyes scanning the area for long, slithery creatures. She stopped at the water’s edge.

  “I made dinner,” she said, her voice hopeful. A light breeze ruffled her hair, and she pushed aside a few strands. “Tuna fish and pork and beans,” she added, “which I believe are favorites of yours.”

  Gator swung his head around slowly. The smile he offered was faint. “I don’t believe I’ve ever had tuna fish and pork and beans in the same meal.”

  She nodded. “And if you’re lucky, you won’t ever have to do it again after tonight.”

  He chuckled and turned away.

  She sighed heavily, clasping her hands in front of her. “Gator, I feel crummy about the things I said to you. I’m sorry.”

  “I had it coming,” he said.

  She figured that was as close to an apology that she would receive, but she was grateful nonetheless. “I know I haven’t been easy to get along with at times,” she went on. “I don’t know what’s gotten into me except … well, I’m tired of eating canned food and washing up out of a sink. There’s not much I wouldn’t give for a hot bubble bath and clean hair, not to mention a bit of makeup. I never thought of myself as a vain person until this happened, but—” She paused. “None of that really matters. What’s important here is that we work at getting along because I don’t know how long we’ll be stranded.”

  When Gator faced her again, he was grinning. He hadn’t expected the apology, but he appreciated it just the same, and he had to admit he had pushed her. “So what exactly would you do for a bubble bath, Mic?”

  She laughed. He was back to his old self again, thank goodness. She only hoped they could stay on friendly terms until help arrived. “I have maybe fifty dollars total in my purse,” she said. “I think, at this point I’d be willing to part with some of that cash for a real, honest-to-goodness bubble bath. That’s one reason I was looking forward to going to your mom’s house.”

  Gator did not come in for dinner, which surprised Michelle, so she dined alone. She felt hot and gritty and tired, and there wasn’t a muscle in her body that did not ache from all the hard work she had done the past couple of days. Perhaps if she rested a bit, but she was half afraid she would not wake up until morning, and she still had a few things she wanted to do before going to bed. Maybe if she closed her eyes for twenty minutes she would catch her second wind.

  She curled up on the sofa and rested her eyes. Several times, she heard Gator come into the house, heard his footsteps on the stairs leading to the second floor, but she was too exhausted to get up and see if he needed her help with anything.

  Gator finished what he was doing and walked over to the sofa where Michelle was sleeping. For a moment, all he could do was stare at the fetching picture she presented, her hair falling softly across her face, one hand tucked beneath her cheek. Her shorts gave him an unobstructed view of the loveliest legs he’d ever seen—trim ankles, shapely calves and thighs. Her blouse had worked its way up her rib cage again, exposing a wide band of silky-looking skin. Something stirred in his body, and he realized he’d become aroused simply by watching her sleep. He gently nudged her. “Wake up sleepyhead,” he said.

  Michelle opened her eyes and blinked several times. Gator was standing over her, a grin lighting his face. She sat up. “How long have I been asleep?”

  “An hour. Maybe longer.” His grin broadened. “I believe you mentioned wanting a bubble bath?”

  She blinked again. “Uh-huh, but—”

  “You’re all set, kiddo. I couldn’t find bubble bath, so I used dish detergent instead.” He handed her a flashlight. “Just follow me.”

  Michelle stood and, still half asleep, followed him up the flight of stairs. He led her inside the old-fashioned bathroom, where a large decorative candle placed on the back of the toilet provided a cozy light. The tub was more than half filled with water. She touched it tentatively. “It’s hot,” she said in disbelief. “Where’d you get hot water?”

  “I found an iron pot in one of the sheds,” he said, “and I heated the water over a camp fire. It ought to be just right so you’d better hop in.” He paused and pointed to a towel and a bottle of shampoo that he’d placed on the closed toilet lid. “I figured you’d need that. Call me after you wash your hair, and I’ll rinse it for you.” He reached for Reba’s bathrobe, which was hanging on the back of the bathroom door. “I figure you can put this on and lean over the sink.”

  Having lived with no luxuries the past few days, Michelle was genuinely touched. “I don’t know what to say,” she confessed. “Thank you, Gator.”

  “Just don’t let the water out when you’re finished,” he said. “I want to get in after you.” He turned for the door. “Call me when you want me to rinse your hair.” He disappeared, closing the bathroom door behind him.

  Michelle stepped out of her clothes eagerly and left them in a neat pile on the bathroom floor. She sank slowly into the hot bathwater, filling the room with sighs
of pleasure. At first she just lay there, allowing her aching muscles to soak in the heat. Gator Landry had outdone himself this time. She wondered how long it had taken him to heat the water in an old iron pot and carry it up the stairs. She could not have appreciated it more.

  Once she had washed, she reached for a bucket beside the tub, wet her hair, and applied the shampoo. She took great joy working up a thick lather, scrubbing her hair and scalp thoroughly. Finally, she piled the long soapy strands on top of her head and stepped out of the tub. She dried herself briskly, mopping her face and neck where the shampoo trickled down. She pulled on Reba’s robe.

  Gator came into the bathroom as soon as she called to him, carrying another bucket of steaming water. He smiled at the sight of her in Reba’s robe, a towel draped around her neck. Her skin glowed a healthy color. “Ready to rinse, ma’am?” he asked, testing the water in the bucket to make sure it wasn’t too hot.

  “Yes sir,” she replied, leaning over the old pedestal sink. Gator poured the water over her head slowly and watched the shampoo bubbles wash down the drain. Although it took several buckets of water to rinse her long hair, Gator did not mind in the least. There was something very intimate about washing a woman’s hair, he decided, and he liked it. The back of her neck was long and white and sprinkled with downy blond hairs that beckoned a man’s lips. He tried to push the thought aside and concentrate on rinsing her golden mane. Afterward, Michelle dried it with a towel and let it fall wet against her shoulders. Gator pondered if she knew how sexy she looked to him, or how sweet she smelled.

  “This is the nicest thing anybody has ever done for me,” she said, touching his arm gently.

  Gator swallowed. Her touch was light, but he felt something inside him quicken at the feel of her hand on his bare arm, and her green eyes with their soft expression, told him how much she appreciated his efforts. “You didn’t stay in very long,” he said, his voice sounding strange to his own ears. “I figured you’d be in here awhile.”