“And if we survive the Mississippi River Bridge, I’m going to want a sandwich,” he added. The summit of the cantilever bridge was coming intoview.
“You know,” she said with a good humor that surprised her. “I don’t list riding over bridges as one of my phobias, but after this trip, I might have to changethat.”
Jacques nodded. “I’m still going to want thatsandwich.”
This time she laughed. And her laugh came from deep in her gut. With Jacques, her fears seemed abstract and hypothetical, not immediate and threatening. Of course, being with him didn’t make her suddenly want to get behind the wheel of a car. She’d pretty much resigned herself to the fact that she’d never drive again. But now that she’d ridden with him a handful of times, she felt as safe as she did with Holi or Ash or her mom andKendall.
Maybe evensafer.
Because with him, she felt no judgment. No worry. No frustration or impatience. And when he teased her about swamps and bridges, Rainey knew he wasn’t making fun of the fears that kept her from driving. He was just trying to make herlaugh.
And she lovedit.
“Fine. I’ll give you a sandwich,” she said with mockirritation.
“Okay. And after that, I’m going to need you to make adecision.”
Rainey glanced at his profile with a frown. “Aboutwhat?”
“Which way we want to get to Kentucky,” he said, meeting her gaze for just a second. “We can take I-55 at Hammond through Memphis, or we can take I-59 in Slidell through Birmingham. Both will take us about ten and a halfhours.”
“I-59.”
“Through Birmingham?’ he asked, a strange light in hiseye.
“Yes. I don’t want to go near Memphis if we can avoidit.”
She saw the realization overtake his face, and he nodded. “In that case, I think we should make our first pit stop in Covington. There’s a Starbucks in a shopping center there with a pond and geese. I think Archie willapprove.”
Archie didapprove.
Jacques agreed to make a second lap with him around the pond while Rainey went into Starbucks for drinks since she insisted on buying. It was the most crowded Starbucks she’d ever seen, and when she emerged twenty-minutes later with his Grande Flat White and her Toffee Nut Latte Macchiato, she scanned the perimeter of the pond and saw no sign of Archie andJacques.
She walked back to the Impala to find the windows rolled down, Archie wagging at her as he stood on the armrest of the door, and Jacques fast asleep in the frontseat.
Chapter 19
“Istill can’t believeyou let me sleep that long,” Jacques groused. They’d just crossed the Mississippi state line — an hour after they shouldhave.
Beside him, Rainey just smiled. “Clearly, you needed it.” She quirked a brow at him. “Though I don’t know how someone your size managed to crash for an hour in the confines of your frontseat.”
“I blame Pal for that,” hegrumbled.
Her giggle reminded him of bicycle bells and daisy petals, joyful and summery. “What does your grandfather have to do withit?”
Jacques rolled his eyes. “Because he never lets me sleep in. If I sleep past eight, he wakes me up no matter how late I’ve worked.” As soon as he closed his mouth, Jacques felt a twinge of guilt about complaining. “But it’s alright. He’s just set in hisways.”
“What does he want you to do instead ofsleeping?”
He shrugged. “The same thing every day. I make his second pot of coffee. We talk. I eat something for breakfast. I drive, and he piddles around thehouse.”
“Maybe he wakes you up for the company,” Rainey said, her voice so gentle it tickled hisear.
Jacques thought of the way Pal stared at Grandma Lucille’s empty chair even now. “Yeah, you’re probably right,” he admitted, but then he pictured the look of mischief Pal wore every time he woke up Jacques with Cajun music. “But I also think he gets a kick out of waking meup.”
“Why’sthat?”
“Because he picks up his accordion, stands at the foot of the stairs, and plays traditional Cajun songs, singing at the top of hislungs.”
