"You're charming." I said, taking pity on him, stepping close and rising on my toes to press a kiss to his wet cheek. "That's different. And Gumbo doesn't respond to charm." I patted his chest, feeling his heart finally slowing to something approaching normal.
"Maybe I should try being more menacing." Remy mused, his amber eyes thoughtful. "Grow a beard. Stop smiling. Lurk in shadows like Boudreaux." He glanced at Silas, who regarded him with flat disinterest.
"Please don't." I said, laughing despite myself. "I like you charming. Besides, Gumbo will come around eventually. You just need to be patient." I assured him, though privately I wasn't entirely sure that was true.
"And bring fish." Harper added, his deep voice carrying a hint of humor, his massive arms crossing over his soaked chest. "Good fish. You promised." He reminded Remy, his dark eyes warm despite his drenched state, water still dripping from his beard.
"Right. Fish." Remy nodded, something like determination settling into his expression. "I can do fish. I'm excellent at fish. I will become the fish master. Gumbo will bow before my superior fish-providing abilities." He declared, his usual confidence slowly returning.
"He doesn't bow." I said, glancing at my prehistoric companion, who had closed his eyes completely, dismissing us all as uninteresting. "He tolerates. If you're lucky." I explained.
"Tolerance." Remy repeated, nodding seriously. "I can work with tolerance. Tolerance is the first step toward grudging acceptance. Grudging acceptance is the first step toward mutual respect. Mutual respect is the first step toward—" he paused, frowning, "—what comes after mutual respect?" He asked, looking genuinely puzzled.
"Friendship?" I suggested, my lips twitching with amusement, watching his face scrunch in concentration.
"Friendship." Remy pointed at me, his face lighting up. "Yes. Friendship with the murder lizard. That's my goal. Within the year." He declared, holding up a finger. "Mark my words. By this time next year, Gumbo and I will be best friends.We'll have inside jokes. He'll let me scratch his head. We'll take cute pictures together." His amber eyes were bright with determination.
"I'll believe it when I see it." Harper rumbled from where he stood, water still dripping from his dark hair, but there was warmth in his voice, fondness for Remy's ridiculous optimism softening the skepticism.
"Same." Silas agreed, his arms crossed over his chest, his pale eyes glinting with amusement beneath his wet hair. "Though I'd pay good money to see you try to take a selfie with that thing." He added, jerking his chin toward Gumbo, the ghost of a smile playing at the corner of his mouth.
"When, not if." Remy insisted, jabbing a finger at both of them, his competitive spirit flaring despite the soggy state of his clothes. "When. You'll see. You'll all see." He turned to me, his expression softening, water droplets catching the afternoon light as they fell from his curls. "Right, chere? Tell them I can do it." He pleaded, his amber eyes hopeful.
I looked at Gumbo—ancient, patient, utterly indifferent to human drama—and then back at Remy, whose wet clothes were dripping on my dock and whose eyes held the desperate hope of a man who really, really wanted to not be eaten by an alligator.
"I think," I said slowly, reaching up to brush a wet curl from his forehead, "that stranger things have happened." I smiled, feeling something warm settle in my chest. "Now everyone get inside before you catch cold. I'll make coffee." I ordered, turning toward the cabin.
"Cold?" Remy sputtered, falling into step beside me, his wet shoes squelching. "It's ninety degrees and a hundred percent humidity. I don't think cold is the problem, chere." He pointed out.
"Then come inside before you drip on everything I own." I amended, throwing him a look over my shoulder.
"Better." He grinned, his dimples appearing despite his bedraggled state, his amber eyes bright with that irrepressible charm that nothing—not even near-death experiences—could fully dim.
Harper and Silas followed, two massive predators trailing behind me like particularly dangerous ducklings. Behind us, Gumbo watched with those ancient, knowing eyes, his tail flicking once against the rock before going still.
I had a feeling he approved.
Of some of them, at least.
Chapter Seventeen
Artemis
The distillery looked different at night.
During my first visit, it had been alive with activity—workers moving between copper stills, the hum of machinery, the bustle of a business in full swing. But now, with the sun setting behind the cypress trees and the parking lot empty except for Harper's truck and my old Chevy.
This wasn't like our Thursday meetings. Those had become a weekly ritual now—all four of us gathering at my cabin to share a meal, check my property boundaries for new stakes, and plan our next moves against the developers. Last Thursday, we'd found eight more markers on the eastern edge, and Harper had added them to his growing documentation file while Silas and Remy pulled them from the mud. Pack business. Pack time.
Tonight was different. Tonight was just us.
Harper met me at the door, his massive frame silhouetted against the dim light from within, his dark eyes warm when they found mine. He was wearing his usual flannel, sleeves rolled up to reveal those forearms that made my mouth go dry, but therewas something softer about him tonight. Something almost nervous, though I'd never have said that word aloud to his face.
"Hey." He reached out to take my hand as I climbed the steps to meet him, his calloused fingers wrapping around mine like they belonged there, his thumb already tracing familiar circles against my skin.
"Hey yourself." I let him pull me closer, tilting my head back to look up at him, my free hand coming to rest against his chest, feeling the steady thump of his heart beneath my palm. "You going to invite me in, or are we having our date on the porch?" I teased, watching the corner of his mouth twitch.
"Thought about it." He rumbled, his dark eyes crinkling at the corners, his free hand coming up to brush a strand of hair from my face. "But I've got something better in mind." He added, his voice dropping lower, something warm and promising in his gaze.
