Page 7 of His Brown-Eyed Girl

The woman didn’t say anything. Just studied him which made him uncomfortable. This is what he didn’t like about being back in New Orleans. People lurked around every corner, and there were so many things in his way—trees, bushes, grass, lushness. Yes, everything was so damn plush and suffocating.

Not like West Texas where a man could breathe. Where a man could stretch out and see for days what came toward him. There were no corners… and very few people. And those very few people left him the hell alone. Just as he wished.

Here in New Orleans, he drowned in all thestuffsurrounding him.

Mostly in dog piss because Kermit the yellow Labrador had bladder issues. The vet had been on the list for the next morning, but if he had to go to Home Depot….

She cleared her throat.

He glanced at her again. She hadn’t warmed up to him, but most people didn’t. There was something hard in his demeanor, something off-putting that sent people away from him rather than toward him. Probably his size. He stretched six foot four inches and filled up most doorways with his breadth. He wasn’t fat, but neither was he slim. Solid. Thick. And unlikely to smile. Charm was his antonym.

But he liked the look of her. Petite but not mousy. Brown hair that caught in the waning sunlight. Pleasant heart-shaped face. Very natural. No caked-on makeup or weirdly patterned shirts with spiky high heels. Just simplicity. Yeah, this woman looked simple. His fingers itched to shoot her. He’d use the new Nikon and catch the natural light falling soft against her golden skin. She’d look good against that light, her pensiveness, uncertainty, that vulnerability that haunted her eyes.

But then he remembered where he was.

“Courtney hasn’t told the kids what issues she and Ben are facing.” Damn. Even that was too much to say. He could tell Addy knew the situation wasn’t good, but he couldn’t take his words back. Yet, somehow he knew this woman wouldn’t spread them around.

She nodded, mink hair falling over slim shoulders. He wondered what she’d do if he reached over and felt it between his thumb and finger. Then he remembered the pepper spray on her key ring and shoved his hands in to his pockets.

“Okay, I’m smart enough to realize it’s something bad otherwise you wouldn’t be here. The children seem scared of you, likely perpetuated by Michael who is locked in a power struggle with you. So I’d say-”

“Are you a counselor?”

She smiled, and her face transformed into beauty. Not an overblown beauty, but the kind a person observes when a swan glides over the water on a still morn, the kind reflected in a pool sitting taciturn beneath a towering mountain pass. Serene beauty. Peaceful beauty. “No, I’m a floral designer.”

His face must have betrayed the question.

“Fine. It’s a fancy way of saying I’m a florist.”

At this he gave a rare smile. “So you arrange things. Pull apart, reassemble, and create something that makes sense… just as you’re doing now?”

She made a face. “I don’t think anyone has ever put it in such a way, but I suppose that’s weirdly accurate.”

A screech erupted from the house. Chris or Charlotte? He couldn’t tell.

“That’s my cue. Need to go, but I’ll send whichever child who’s not bleeding over for your list.” His long strides ate up the distance between her drive and the gap in the bushes. For some odd reason he didn’t want to leave her just yet.

Or maybe he merely tried to avoid the slap of reality awaiting him. He’d learned kids were fantastic at delivering those particular slaps.

Just before he disappeared, he remembered his manners. “Good to meet you and sorry about-”

Another scream.

Addy jerked her gaze to the faded blue house. “Go.”

So he did.

Of course when he saw what awaited him when he stepped through the front door, he wished he’d stayed a while longer basking in the serenity that was his brother’s next-door neighbor.

Charlotte stood in the middle of the living room screeching like a parrot, pointing at a huge puddle of something.

“What?” he shouted, stomping onto the area rug.

Charlotte froze.

“Where are your brothers?”

She didn’t say anything. Just looked at him like he had horns. Like he might be looking over the plumpest parts of her for his nighttime meal.

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