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He nodded, loving the pink in her cheeks and the playful spark in her eyes. “A whole pie.”
“I’m a lotta slices?”
He lowered his gaze on her. “I don’t slice my pie. I eat it from the very center. One, slow bite at a time. A little every day till its entirely consumed by me.”
She covered her face with both hands with a squeak and, “You win. I can’t play this game with you, you’re too good at it.” She lowered her hands, her face redder than ever as she looked around. “You said you had questions for me. You can ask if you want.” She moved her gaze to her lap where she twirled her wedding ring on her finger.
****
After his shower, Patches decided to text Miss Tegan Texas back, remembering the Hurricane.Not sure if you know but there’s that Hurricane due here Tuesday evening. If you want to wait till after that blows over to do this, I’d understand.
He angled his head, hearing mumbling. He made his way to the noise then remembered Nitro and Felix were down there.
His phone buzzed and he looked.
Doesn’t take but an hour to set up and an hour tops to demonstrate. If you’re game, I’m game. Life don’t care about the wind and the rain no matter how mean they howl. I can always stay at a hotel if need be.
If there was one available.
Not about to talk her out of it. If push came to shove, she could bunk at one of their community shelters.Sounds good.
You mentioned a gator-trader. Got any names I can run down? Would like to conduct business while there.
He made his way to the screened porch on the backside of the hospital and took a seat in one of the rocking chairs. He texted,We have an alligator wrangler that can help you. She knows the scoop on that kind of thing.
She???
Juliette Bishop. Only daughter of the Bishops, the family that runs these swamps.
Wow. That’s really cool. Need any boot shops out there by any chance?
She added a worried-face emoji and he let a half snort go.We have every manner of Swamp Stop out here but I can’t recall one that majored in boots only.
Swamp Stop?
What we call the stores we have scattered in our swamp.
I like that. But be straight with me. What kind of profit do I stand to make if I was to set up a shop around there?
In the swamp itself, enough to earn bread to eat I’d say. We have twelve communities out here with about three thousand bodies per. We’re a simple people. The fancy things are mostly trinkets for tourists.
I’m not sold on exactly what sort of shop I want. I’m willing to bend with the market.
The swamps get plenty of tourists, that’s for sure. Closer to the mainland, you could do well since this is Mardis Gras and Crawfish Capital. With the right product and location, you wouldn’t need to work more than twice a year.
Now, that's good to know. What kind of work you do out there if I can ask?
I’m a doctor in my Hatch.
Your Hatch?
Just what we call the communities out here.He pulled out his pack of rolled joints from his front shirt coat pocket, nibbling one out with his lips.
Interesting. Would you mind if I call, I suddenly have a lot more questions and I frikn hate texting. A no would be entirely understandable.
You can.
He set his phone on his leg and drew out his zippo, flicking it twice. He put the joint tip in the frame and sucked as his phone buzzed.
