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I looked over at Isa when she picked her head up, the wind from the helicopter going all the way into the cab of the truck and ruffling her hair despite me standing in front of her to block most of the wind.
My hair was going crazy as well.
Then I heard Isa laugh.
Smiling, I turned to look at her over my shoulder.
The smile on her face took my breath away.
I turned to catch Bayou’s attention, wanting to share this moment with him, only to find him already staring.
Grinning like a loon at the happy baby sounds coming out of Isa’s mouth, and seeing Bayou smile at his daughter so tenderly, I pulled my phone from Isa’s hold and started to record the moment.
It broke my heart that Bayou didn’t have any baby photos of Isa. That was huge for a parent, to have something to refer back to, to remember the good times. And Bayou wouldn’t have any of that.
Not unless the grandmother decided to share what she had, and I honestly didn’t see that happening.
I had this feeling that the farthest we stayed away from Ilsa, the better it would be for us all.
And I knew that Bayou felt the same.
It wasn’t until the helicopter was high in the sky that Isa dropped her gaze to mine, giving me those eyes so much like her father’s.
“You ready to go, pretty girl?” I asked.
“Yes.”
My heart skipped a beat, and I dropped my phone. “You are?”
“Yes,” she repeated again.
I whipped my head around to see if Bayou caught that, too, only to see him standing directly behind me.
“Are you hungry?” he asked.
“No.”
If I wouldn’t have looked like a complete dork, I would’ve jumped up and down.
The moment, however, was lost when Brielle walked up to our sides. “Shotgun.”
Isa turned her head away and studied the opposite window, likely not seeing a thing thanks to the darkness that had settled over us while we’d been out here over the last two hours.
Bayou sighed into my ear. “I don’t have room for you, Brielle. I have to take Fancy home, and I have all my bunker gear and crap in the truck with me. I’m sorry.”
Brielle huffed and walked away. Well, more like stomped.
“One day she’s going to shank me,” I told him bluntly.
Bayou shrugged. “She’ll get over it.”
“Why Fancy?”
His soft, rumbled reply had me smiling.
“Because you just look like a Fancy,” he answered. “It suits you.”
I scrunched up my nose. “So…are we boyfriend and girlfriend? I’m not sure that suits us.”
He was silent for a few long seconds as he contemplated my words. “Yeah. If that’s what you want to call it. You’re mine.”
Then I threw my arms around his neck.
And later, when I fell asleep in the truck right along with his daughter, it was with a satisfied smile on my face.Chapter 12Why do people say it’s 5 o’clock somewhere? Grow up. You’re an adult. It doesn’t matter if it’s 8 in the morning. Adults don’t need excuses to get drunk.
-Beer Mug
Phoebe
It was the voices that woke me.
I rolled over, feeling the delicious soreness of my body, soreness that only came in one way, and one way only, and stretched my arms up high over my head.
That was when I realized that I wasn’t in my bed.
I was sleeping on a cloud.
A cloud that was so soft and perfect that I knew it didn’t belong to me.
Peeking my eyes open, I took a glance around the room.
I wasn’t in my room.
Not even the new one that I moved into just yesterday.
I was in a different room, one that was decorated in masculine colors and bold, not-feminine-at-all décor. Hell, even the furniture screamed manly.
It was big, bulky and sturdy. If a tornado came through right now and ripped the house around it to pieces, I had no doubt in my mind that the furniture could be salvaged to be used another day.
A soft, feminine voice had me stiffening.
Brielle.
I was in Bayou’s house.
In Bayou’s bed.
Sore from Bayou pushing his big dick inside of me and reminding me that I’ve never had a man like him before.
My cheeks flushed and I covered them with my hands, groaning into my hands.
What had I done?
I’d slept with my boss!
And, not only that, I’d agreed that we were boyfriend and girlfriend…or something like that, according to him.
Holy shit!
Bayou was my man!
The giddy feeling inside of me felt like a hundred thousand butterflies had taken flight, swirling around my stomach and reminding me that I was definitely falling for the guy.
Hell, if I was being honest with myself, I’d already fallen.
Deep and irrevocably.
And it wasn’t recently, either.
It was when I was fifteen and saw him for the first time. It was also again at sixteen when I’d witnessed the change in him.
Sitting up in bed, I took new stock to my surroundings.
