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Oh, no. She surely smelled like an old gator’s breath. Won’t get close.
“Aunt Cat!” Jason yelled. “Aunt Cat, Mr. 8-Bit wants to talk to you!”
Talk to her! Little bayou born brat! “Coming,” she called, dashing to her body length mirror for a panicked look over.
I don’t care!
Right.
She marched her way into the living room and came to a brick wall halt at finding him towering there like a giant. Sacred cypress he wasmassivein person. Her mind and mouth ran in opposite directions as she got stuck in those eyes. Then on his mouth. Lord, his wholeface.
“I think she’s in shock.”
Jason’s loud whisper lassoed her senses.
“She’s not used to having men in the house,” he whispered on. “She don’t much like them.” The smile he gave put her right back on the corner of dumb and dumber while Jason's tongue grew a motor and went to town telling him all about this that and the—wait. What did the big fella just say?
“The Swamp Ball!” Jason cried, eyes huge and shining with some miracle on her. “You signed up and he picked you! Didn’t I say you’d win Aunt Cat!” He looked at the towering giant, nodding big. “I told her so!”
And did he not see her note at the end? Surely, he must’ve if he was there paying a visit. Unless… “You uh…got that note on the application, I take it?”
“I sure did,” he said, his deep voice adding distractions to her befuddled brain.
She eyed Jason, not about to let him know. “Jason, how about you go check the traps for supper. I want to make a fresh coubion.”
“For Mr. 8-Bit?” he asked, all wide-eyed astonishment.
“No, I…” She flicked her gaze at him. “He’s got hatches to tend to, I’m sure.”
“Actually, I don’t at this time.”
“Yes!” Jason yelled, running out the door before she could say a word. Lil shit.
“He gets ahead of himself,” she explained as the screen door banged shut. She crossed her arms over her chest in case his eyes decided to take a stroll where they didn’t belong. But they didn’t, they stayed on her face, all dark chocolate mixed with caramel. She couldn’t accuse him of womanizing like she did most men since he’d been celibate which left her with no defense against the magical pull they possessed. Authority. A man who never failed at anything he said or did. Which reminded her. “What’s this about the Swamp Ball?” She wasn’t about to make assumptions about it.
“Really, I came to discuss other matters.”
Oh. Good.
She stood rocking back and forth feeling silly in her own skin as he looked around. “You want some coffee?” she asked when his eyes paused at some of her paintings. “We can talk on the porch where it’s a little cooler.”
Getting his direct gaze and barely smile made her terribly sorry she’d distracted him. She wasn’t used to men that huge and…stuff, standing in her house was all.
“I’d like that.”
“Feel free to wait for me out there,” she said, turning for the kitchen side of the room.
At the sink, she instead found him standing before her paintings. Great. “Your nephew paints?”
Mother of moss! Heat spanked her cheeks as she set the kettle on the stove. “He does. With his muddy feet all over the place.” He moved on from her paintings and she cringed at his next stop. The mantle over the fireplace. She only displayed her art because Jason liked it, no other reason.
“So… who’s the artist?” he wondered.
Judge and jury, go outside, man!
“We do crafts on holidays for fun. No artists here.”
“Huh,” he said, slowly moving along the sticks, stones, and mud figures. “I’d have to kindly disagree, Miss Boone.”
