Resisting Samantha (Hope Parish Novels Book 10) (2 page)

“Are you
kidding? I’ve seen people fight for the last piece of your
apple, and rightly so.” She blushed and fiddled with the handle
of the tray. “It was no hardship.”

“Flattery will
get you everywhere, Chase Sutton.”

“I could walk
you home…if you like,” I blurted. I still was getting
some uneasy vibes, and didn’t want to leave her alone. Right. I
had other thoughts that I shut down firmly. I didn’t want her
to think I offered my escort just to get dibs on some pie.

I liked seeing that
my offer knocked her a bit off balance, but she recovered pretty
quickly. “Oh. That’s really sweet. It’s not out of
your way?” There was a flash of longing in her eyes, but when
she blinked, it was gone.

“No, not at
all.”

She stood there for
a moment staring at me as if I was a ticking time bomb. I knew the
feeling. But this was about keeping her safe, not about getting into
her pants.
Yeah,
right.
Good
job snowing yourself, Sutton.

“Okay. Bring
in those pies for me, then.”

I made a couple of
trips back outside to get them all, while Samantha washed, dried and
put the plates and cups away. Her kitchen was spotless, organized,
and every surface gleamed. It was clear she also was a hard worker.

She turned off all
the interior lights except for a fluorescent over the sink. “We’ll
go out the back, but I just want to check the doors. Habit.”

After she was
satisfied everything was secure, we headed to the back door, where
she paused to turn off the twinkly lights over the umbrellas. As we
went down the porch steps, I automatically set my hand on the small
of her slender back. My momma would be proud of my manners.

We stepped down onto
the fieldstone path that led around to the front and the crushed
shell parking lot. But instead of trekking in that direction, we
headed off at an angle to catch the road that would lead to her
house.

“I heard a
rumor recently that you bought the Gainey slave quarters. I’d
heard they were going to sell off parcels of the plantation.”

“I did. So far
I’ve bolstered beams, rebuilt sills, new windows and doors,
gutted the inside. I’ve also converted the crawl space into a
basement. I will admit, I had someone come out and lift the ceiling
twenty feet, adding skylights.

“I love the
old wood and living in a place steeped in history. I found some books
and letters in one of the walls. Looks like some of the occupants
were learning to read and write. I’ve contacted a museum, and
they’re interested in the materials.”

I slowed and touched
her elbow. “Wait, you did this construction on your own?”

She stopped and
faced me “Yes, I’m a DIYer.” I must have had a
skeptical look on my face, because she set her hands on her hips and
gave me an exasperated look. “What? Don’t you think a
woman can handle construction? I assure you, I make certain I extend
my pinky while using my tools.”

That surprised a
laugh out of me, and it felt rusty as hell. I had been alone in the
bayou for a long time. It felt good to be talking to her. “
Touché
,
sugar.”

Her breath caught at
my sugar tag. I was trying to stay away from it, but it had slipped
out.

“This look,”
I pointed to my face. “It’s more of an interest in
discovering a different side of you. So did you do the majority of
the work on Imogene’s?”

“Sure did,”
she said with pride, and we started walking again. “And a damn
fine job I did, too. That place is exactly how I envisioned it. Your
Aunt Evie helped me find a lot of the antique pieces.”

Her enthusiasm
reached out and grabbed me by the throat, my interest in her piqued
even more. “Before the trouble with Imogene’s daughter,
AnnClaire, she ran a successful and profitable business back in the
1860’s. Talk about bucking the system.”

“She did. I
find it compelling to know that she’d been born to a wealthy
Creole family in New Orleans, spent her formative years palling
around with Marie Laveau’s daughter, and was privy to all the
secrets and rituals of the practice of voodoo.”

The hum of June bugs
was louder here, away from the water, and it peaked, then leveled out
and quieted, only to start up a few minutes later. The paved road
dipped down, and I could see the Gainey place, a modest plantation
house that was now occupied by Jessica and her husband Prejean
Archambault. They had a four-year-old son, Sage.

We passed the house,
completely dark except for the porch lamp’s wan light spilling
across their lawn.

Samantha nodded as a
slope-roofed, rectangle structure materialized in the distance. “What
I love about Imogene’s is it was a place where people could get
a home-cooked meal. There is something satisfying about providing
something so basic. I like to think I’ve done her proud. As far
as her use of voodoo arts to help or hinder the people in the
community is concerned, I’m afraid I’m lacking in that
department.”

“I think she
would be proud, and I’m sure she is content to remain the only
legendary voodoo priestess in these parts.”

“She’s
safe there,” Samantha said with a chuckle. “It seems such
a tragedy that, even her husband passed, she continued with her
business, her practice of voodoo, and the raising of her
daughter—clearly busy and immersed in her life—until that
fateful day when AnnClaire was brutally raped and murdered.”

“And the
biggest irony is that, like the Outlaws’ ancestor, Duel,
Imogene was hanged, in her case for supposedly causing that hurricane
over on Bayou Berangere and killing all those fishermen.”

“Do you think
she actually did that? Called on the spirits to change the weather
and punish the men who were responsible for debasing her daughter?”

“So it’s
told. AnnClaire supposedly haunts Imogene’s. Ever seen her
ghost?”

“Seriously? I
hadn’t heard that one, but, no, I’ve never seen her
ghost.”

“It’s
also said that AnnClaire was a more powerful priestess than her
mother. Maybe it was she who summoned the hurricane from the grave.”

“Maybe. I
never thought about her exacting her own revenge. But would she have
let her mother take the fall?”

“I guess we’ll
never know.”

We turned onto a
dirt path. “I still have to put in flagstones and plants and
shrubs, and a driveway, so I don’t have to park my car in the
street. A garage would be nice, but that’s in my phase two
plan.”

“Ambitious.”
When she stumbled, I steadied her, my hand lingering for a few
unnecessary moments until it dropped away. “You know, Boone
Outlaw is a genius with landscaping. If you bribe him with pie, I’m
sure you could get the work done for a discount. The Outlaws are like
that. They are happy to do things for their neighbors.”

“Don’t I
know it.” She smiled, and I found myself wishing she’d
smile like that when she thought of me. Boone was charming, though.

Samantha’s
face lit up. “I love those boys, and their wives are some of my
most favorite people. I met Aubree first, when she was still in high
school. She came around when I moved in to check me out. She’s
grown into a beautiful woman, and it’s exciting that she’s
going to become a doctor.”

I nodded, but
couldn’t think of anything to say. The Outlaws were a sore
subject for me when I thought about how I had kept my ancestor’s
secret to their detriment. But I couldn’t deny the affection I
had for them. We’d been friends as kids, and Braxton Outlaw, my
sister River Pearl’s husband, saved my life two years ago. I
wouldn’t easily forget that.

We got to Samantha’s
front door, and I could see that there was a lot of work still left
to do, but the windows and doors were a good choice, blending well
with the flavor of the place.

“Thank you for
walking me home. It was nice,” she said. Then, before I knew
it, she went up on tiptoe, placing her hand on my shoulder for
balance, and kissed my cheek. As the moment spun out, she paused, her
breath soft and sweet against my skin, her mouth warm against my
face.

“You’re
welcome,” my response was raspy, and she tugged at my heart
when she leaned back and gave me a honeyed look before turning and
entering the house.

“Good night,
Chase,” she murmured.

“Good night,”
I said wishing it was anything but a good-bye.

She closed the door,
and a chill made me freeze in place, as if a bony finger had run down
my spine. I wasn’t a voodoo priestess, but I knew Samantha
Wharton was vulnerable.

Whether it was to me
or some kind of unseen and unexpected danger wasn’t clear.

She was definitely
running from something.

All I knew was I
wanted to stick close, and it had everything and nothing to do with
keeping her safe.

***

I had already been
up for hours before the sun rose, getting a head start on Braxton’s
order, because it was an unusually big one.

My thoughts drifted
back to last night. I really didn’t want to get involved in
anyone else’s mess, since I had plenty of my own to deal with.
But I couldn’t stay away from Samantha. It would be stupid to
even try.

I dumped in a load
of snapping and hissing crawfish into a potato sack and tied up the
end. My brother-in-law’s eighty pounds of catfish was my next
stop after I collected the three bags of crawfish.

Right now, I was a
one-man operation, and I was busy from before sunrise until sundown.
I had to seriously think about getting some help soon.

When I finished and
drove the bags of catfish home, I swung out of my small, beat-up
truck, I froze. There was a Mercedes in my parking lot. I was closed
on Mondays so I could do the fishing, but I recognized the car a
split second before I heard, “Chase?”

I looked over the
hood to find my sister standing on the porch, her hand poised to
knock. “River,” I said, coming around the truck. She went
to hug me and I shook my head. She looked so put together in her
summer dress. “I don’t want to get you all fishy.”

“Oh, all
right,” she said, leaning forward and bussing my cheek without
touching me. The memory of Samantha’s warm mouth sent me
spinning a bit.

We walked up the
porch, where I unlocked the store and she followed me inside. I went
immediately to my walk-in cooler, and deposited the crawfish inside.
“Something to drink?”

“Coffee would
be great.”

“Okay, come on
back with me, and you can make it.”

She backhanded my
shoulder with a laugh. “That’s some hospitality, Chase.”

I just chuckled,
toed off my boots at the entrance to my living quarters, and went
into my bedroom as she entered the kitchen. “How’s Brax
and the little guys?”

“Different
levels of commotion,” she said over the sound of water running.
I pulled my shirt off over my head, did a quick sponge bath in the
sink, and donned a fresh shirt and jeans.

When I emerged from
my bedroom, she was pulling down two mugs from the cabinet.

“What brings
you all the way out here?”

“First, before
I get to that, how have you been?”

“Busy,”
I said, getting the feeling that I wasn’t going to like what
she had to say. It was River’s way. Soften up the mark, then
drop the bomb. It was usually about something she wanted and my
sister usually got her way. No wasn’t in her vocabulary.

“You should
really hire some employees, Chase. I can help you with that.”

I raised a brow.
“When? Between the gallery, your husband, and three newborns,
when do you find the time to even breathe?”

“I got a
nanny.”

I snorted. “I
can imagine what kind of battle that was with Brax.”

She flipped back her
shoulder-length blond hair and rolled her eyes. “Don’t
get me started. I swear if we don’t argue, he’s not
happy.”

“Then I expect
he’s a happy man.”

She smacked my arm
again. “Bless your heart,” she said, sweet as pie.

Which made me think
of the delectable Samantha once again. “What is the Huckleberry
Chef up to lately?”

“Juggling
things well. Brax is very take-it-in-stride these days. He still uses
the bag to let off steam, but he’s a different man. He loves
those boys, and if I think I have my hands full with them now? Well,
just wait until they’ve grown a bit, and their daddy gets them
into all kinds of shenanigans.”

“Frogging, air
boats, rock and roll.”

“Oh, Lord,
don’t start.”

“River, what’s
on your mind?”

“My boys are
going to be christened next week. I want you to attend.”

I worked at keeping
my face neutral. “You could have sent me an invitation.”
I hadn’t been to a family function since my Uncle Win’s
wedding, and before that, River Pearl’s. I made a brief church
appearance in each case, but didn’t attend the receptions.
Didn’t want to ruin their big day by being there.

“Oh, no,”
she said as the coffee finished dripping and she stepped into the
kitchen and poured us each a cup. Coming back into the room, she set
one cup in my hand. “I want you there, Chase. I don’t
want you to miss out on their lives. You’ve barely seen them
since they were born. It’s been a month.”

Guilt twisted in my
gut. “River…you know what it’s like when I get
into the same room with Daddy and Jake. Daddy is disappointed in me,
and Jake is never going to forgive me. There’s tension and bad
blood, and it upsets Momma. All I do is disrupt family gatherings,
and you know it.”

“I don’t
care!” she said, firmly, her eyes going moist. Dammit. I
couldn’t resist her. I never could. “You’re my
brother, and this is a family gathering, and you’ll be there.
Am I clear?”

“Yes, ma’am,”
I said.

Her face and her
voice softened. “Promise me you’ll come.” She
leaned down and pulled a card out of her purse. “There’s
going to be a reception afterwards at Outlaws, and you’re
attending that, too.”