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“I don’t know how I’m going to say goodbye to you,” Luke said, leading her to the kitchen.
“Please, I don’t want to think about it. I’m ready to go AWOL.”
Busying himself making coffee—he already knew she was a coffee fiend and he offered her a cup hourly—he thought about what she had just said.
“If I didn’t have any respect for you, I’d say go AWOL. But you can’t do that.”
“I know,” she said, stirring the coffee.
“Tell me about your cousins,” he asked, unable to think about her leaving any longer before he’d lose control and start begging her.
She told him all about the trip, that they would try to get together at Maggie and Justin’s once more before she had to leave.
“I’ll need to see my parents, too,” she said. “My flight leaves from New Orleans anyway.”
“Do you want me to take you?”
“Do you want to?” she asked. “You want tomeet the parents?”
“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I do, sort of.”
He reached for her hand. “I really like you, Bridget. I don’t like many women.”
“You don’t?”
“I really don’t. You can ask my friends; they say I’m impossible to fix up with a date.” Bridget laughed hearing this. “But the minute I saw you at Bayou Cottage, I knew.”
“I look like a glamour queen but I don’t date much. Nurses in the corp are in a strange position. I’m not sure how many meaningful relationships are forged in that environment. Atête-à-têteusually leads to a pointless one-night stand. It helps when you’re going nuts, but it’s unsatisfying. That’s why this is so nice. You seem like you’re interested in my brain.”
“I’m interested in your brain,” Luke said, wanting to drag her into bed again. “I need some physical exercise. Would you like to get the kayaks out?”
“I’d love it.”
Once they’d dropped Bridget off at Luke’s, the brothers Chastain could get down to business.
“We need to debrief,” Justin said. “Do you have time to get a coffee?”
“I agree, but we both have new babies at home so let’s do it another time.”
“I’ll drop you off,” Justin said.
Dave glanced at Justin. “Does Chris look more like you or me?”
Laughing, Justin shook his head. “I don’t think he looks a thing like me. I look more like Dad. Chris isn’t as big as you are, but you resemble each other.”
“You think so? I’m sure Katrina will ask.”
“We are definitely related,” Justin said. “I wish Mom were alive.”
Awash with sadness, the brothers thought of their mother, up on Dale in a beautifully hand-tooled saddle, wearing riding pants and a white western shirt, cowboy boots, and a leather hat.
“Yeah. She’d be so happy.”
“I think so, too.”
He pulled the truck into the driveway of Creole Cottage.
“The last thing I could have imagined, even after hooking up with Katrina and having a baby with her, was finding another brother.”
