Going Home (The Green Bayou Novels Book 1) Read online

  “I had no idea he was so bad off. This is all so terrifying. What was he going to do? Was he going to rob me? Hurt me? Kill me?” I ask, going weak-kneed and pale.

  “I’m not sure, but whatever it was, the intentions weren’t good. I’ll look around the boathouse in the morning for more evidence. I’d like to stay the night, if you’re okay with it,” he says.

  “Yes! Please. I’m a nervous wreck, and even though I know he’s in jail, I’m scared.”

  He pulls me to him and kisses the top of my head, so I nestle my face into his chest. He holds me tightly for quite some time and doesn’t pull away until he feels my body relax. I notice a sultry, smoldering look in his eyes.

  “Wait. What did I miss? What’s going on?” I ask cautiously. He gives me a suggestive grin.

  “Well, after calls where I get all pumped up on adrenaline, I always find myself wanting to... never mind. I’ll just show you.”

  He backs me against the wall and crushes his lips against mine. Pinning my wrists above my head, he runs his lips and tongue along the side of my neck, and I’m left writhing with desire. Without further explanation, he hoists me over his shoulder, carries me upstairs, and tosses me onto the bed. I don’t have to bother with undressing because he straddles me, ripping through the row of buttons that close the nightshirt I’m wearing. He lowers his head to nibble at my neck while his hands explore the newly exposed skin, and my skin puckers with goosebumps.

  My tongue tangles with his, and he moans when he feels it. I tell myself to slow this down, but my body refuses to listen. I want him, and I want him now! It doesn’t take much pleading on my behalf for him to fulfill my innermost desires.

  After an amazing round of love making, we lie sweaty and exhausted in each other’s arms. Before drifting off to sleep, I smile and think to myself that if he likes hot sex after an adrenaline rush, I just might have to arrange for more excitement around here. I jinxed myself.

  We wake early the next morning, and after quick showers, we inspect the area around the boathouse. Pete finds a rusty kitchen knife discarded in the grass near Brad’s hiding spot and bags it up.

  “I’ll bring this down to the station later. It probably won’t stick as evidence, but at least it’ll be there just in case,” Pete says.

  A chill runs through me when I think of Brad lurking in the darkness, knife wielded and ready to commit any myriad of crimes. I’m not sure I’ll feel safe in my own home ever again. A flood of worst-case scenarios torment me, and I find myself close to panic.

  “Pete, this is sudden, and I don’t mean to put you on the spot, but would you mind staying here with me at Greenleaf?”

  “Of course not, Em. That Brad guy is really nasty, so I understand your fear. The department will step up patrols around here. We won’t let anything happen to you,” he says. I shake my head.

  “Uh, this is kind of embarrassing, but I don’t think you get my meaning,” I say, nervously chewing on my thumbnail.

  “Okay, what are you thinking?”

  “I was thinking more along the lines of you moving in.”

  He guffaws. “Move in? Are you really that scared?”

  I let out a pent up breath. “Actually, that’s just a small part of it,” I start, looking at my feet. “The main reason is because I love you, and I like having you around. A lot.”

  He doesn’t answer right away, so I kick the grass around as I try to come up with a plan to back paddle while saving some dignity. I’m scared to look up, convinced that whatever shows on his face will surely break my heart. He lifts my chin and forces me to look him in the eye.

  “Emily, I’ve adored you for years, and ever since we reconnected, it’s felt right. I don’t know about you, but I regret all the time we’ve lost. I love you and want to be here with you, for you. Let’s go pack my things,” he excitedly proclaims, grabbing my hand. “First, we’ll stop by the department to drop off this.” He raises the bag with the knife. I nearly knock him over when I jump up to wrap my hands around his neck, and he laughs while thrusting his arms out to keep his balance.

  “You’ve just made me a very happy woman, Pete Bergeron.”

  “I’m going to spend the rest of my life making you happy, Emily. Just you wait and see.” My heart skips a beat because I absolutely believe him.

  We arrive at the Green Bayou substation of the Atchafalaya Parish Sheriff’s Department and enter through a set of dark-tinted glass doors. Once inside, we approach a window of thicker bulletproof glass where a pleasant looking woman sits inside the cordoned off area.

  The dispatcher is a very pretty and voluptuous lady somewhere in her early thirties and wears the same brown uniform as the guys. With all of her curves in just the right places, she fills it out like nobody’s business. Her long black hair is streaked with caramel highlights, and it’s tied back in a series of intricate braids. Her beautiful mocha face and stunning hazel eyes light up when she smiles, which she does quite broadly when Pete and I arrive at the window. The magnetic door locks buzz, and Pete pulls on the door so we can join her.

  “Hi ya, Pete!” she says, looking towards me. “Now, who might this be?” she questions. Her smile is as big as ever when she reaches out to take my hand.

  “Marla, this is Emily,” Pete answers.

  Marla’s eyes widen. “So, this is Emily?” she asks, her eyebrows raised and her lips curled in a knowing grin. I realize Pete must talk about me to his co-workers, so I blush.

  “Don’t you go doin’ that now!” Marla chuckles loudly. “Ain’t no need for gettin’ embarrassed. Girl, it’s been nothin’ but good stuff comin’ outta that boy’s mouth. Lordy jeez boy, you don’t let that girl know you been braggin’ on her? What I’m gonna do with you? I gotta…” She’s interrupted by the sound of a deputy’s voice coming over the speaker in front of her. “Ah, shit. Been quiet all day. I finally get visitors and look what they do. Y’all hold on a second. Go ahead, Green Bayou 1-2-7,” she directs.

  The deputy mumbles off a list of numbers, and she steadily jots some notes while raising her index finger to indicate we should stay silent. I’m absolutely fascinated by her fingernails because they are the longest I’ve ever seen and are painted with a glittery polish that sparkles in the fluorescent lighting. I wonder how she manages to type with them.

  “10-4, Green Bayou 1-2-7,” she says into the speaker. “Where you at, Bienville 1-3-4?”

  Silence dominates the radio for a few seconds before another voice comes over the speaker. “At Jerry’s Gas and More getting some coffee,” the deputy answers.

  “Not anymore you not,” she teases. “I need you to get yourself to T-Jack’s Landing. Curtis needs you to pick up a Signal S on the double, so you best drop that coffee and get your tail headed that way.”

  “10-4. I’m on my way,” the deputy answers with a touch of disdain in his voice. Marla bursts into peals of laughter.

  “Did ya hear that! He ain’t mad about no coffee or nothing like that. He’s mad ‘cause I done tore him away from that big-boobed bimbo down at the gas station. Coffee my ass! I know what them boys do at Jerry’s. Oh well! He’ll just have to get over it before he comes back into my dispatch center! I’ll fix his scrawny ass if he dares come at me with attitude. Uh huh. Marla don’t play!” Another round of cackles ensues.

  “You are a vicious, evil, yet extraordinarily lovely woman, Marla,” Pete teases as he gives her a peck on the cheek.

  “Don’t ya go teasin’ me like that Pete! I’ll send yo ass down to T-Jack’s too if ya keep messin’ with me,” she threatens.

  “I would never do such a thing, but you know, Kent was telling me just the other day that he really misses riding out there. Something about it being tranquil or fun or something.”

  “All right, sugar cookie. I hear ya. Next Signal S on your shift goes to Kent. I gotta take care of my sweet cheeks. No disrespect to you, Emily.”

  “None taken.” I smile. “So, what’s a Signal S?”

  “Oh, that�
��s just a package for the sheriff,” Marla answers.

  “Why in the world would you guys have to go pick stuff up way the heck out there?” I question. “Is old man Jack even alive anymore? That’s a long ride for a deputy…” I’m cut off from further questioning by Marla’s loud squeals.

  “Honey child! Your man will have to explain that one to you. I’m not touching that one with a dead coon’s ass!” More laughter comes from a very tickled Marla.

  Pete squints his eyes and shakes his head to indicate my line of questioning should stop. He logs the plastic bag into evidence, and we wave to Marla on our way out the door.

  “I’m working your next shift, so I’ll be seeing ya, sweet cheeks!” she yells.

  He shakes his head. “See ya then, Marla!” She’s still cackling when the door swings shut. Once we’re in the truck, I give Pete a look.

  “Ok, explain,” I demand. “What in the world are deputies doing transporting packages from T-Jack’s Landing?”

  “Obviously, no one likes to go out there because it’s in the middle of nowhere, and you can basically count on losing most of your shift if you happen to be called to pick up the package from the swamps. Em, you can’t breathe a word of this to anyone because my job would be on the line, but the package is the sheriff. He and T-Jack are old friends, and that’s where he gets his, how should I say this, relaxation time.”

  I look mortified at first, but after thinking about it for a while, I find myself slightly amused.

  “So the sheriff goes down to T-Jack’s to get plastered and laid, and he’s in such bad shape when leaving he needs a deputy to drive him home?” I deduce.

  “Yep. Pretty much,” Pete says, pulling the truck onto the highway. “We do it because he wrecked his unit on the way home from one of his escapades, so now we take turns picking him up. Usually, it’s the person who pisses off the dispatcher the most who gets stuck with the job.”

  “Wow, some things never change. Didn’t the guy before him get busted for something similar?” I chuckle.

  “Yeah. Just remember not to say anything, okay? It’s like an unwritten code. No talk of the sheriff’s escapades or else,” Pete says sternly. I nod.

  We make a quick stop at the gas station Marla shooed the coffee-grabbing deputy from, and Pete fills up his tank. I follow him into the station for a soda. Marla is right about the cashier being big-breasted, but even more accurately, she nailed the bimbo description.

  Roberta sports over-processed platinum blonde hair that hangs to her shoulder blades. Her makeup is about an inch thick, and except for her bright red lips, she’s as close to neon as I have ever seen on a person. Her top is barely there and hangs way off one shoulder; it’s paired with skin tight cut-offs and red stiletto pumps.

  “Hey, handsome. I sure have missed seeing you. Watching you walk in here just made my day,” she breathes in a babyish voice.

  I roll my eyes as I pick a soft drink from the cooler and bite the inside of my lip to keep from spewing something rude.

  “Hey, Roberta,” Pete answers, totally unaffected by her chest thrusts, hair flips, and other attempts to be flirtatious. “You wouldn’t happen to have some empty boxes?” he asks, throwing some money onto the counter.

  “Of course I do, Pete. Anything for you. They’re in the back storeroom right over there. You go on over and help yourself,” she says, pulling the gum wrapped around her finger back into her mouth so she can point.

  “Thanks.” He walks toward the room. She smiles broadly as he passes her, but her smile disappears when she throws her hand out to stop me from following.

  “Uhm, excuse me. That area is for employees only. I’m afraid you’ll have to wait right here,” she says smugly. Pete looks back at Roberta.

  “She’s with me, and you know it,” he says, his tone clipped.

  “Oh! Sorry, Pete. She doesn’t look anything like your type so I thought maybe she’s just a customer who followed you in. Is she like a matronly sister or older cousin or something?” she asks. Her voice is sweet and innocent, but her words are laced with venom.

  “That’s enough, Roberta,” Pete scolds. “Cut the crap right now!”

  “Oh, Pete. I don’t mean no offense. Oh, I made you upset. Will you ever forgive me?” She tries to look wounded, but one of her fake eyelashes comes unglued and resembles a hairy caterpillar trying to escape down her face. Her extra-plump lips angle downwards into a frown as she scrunches her drawn-on eyebrows together tightly. She looks like a big-breasted, deranged clown.

  I turn my head to hide my smile while Pete silently hands me empty boxes. Since they’re already broken down, I’m able to carry a good-sized load. Pete carries out a couple of arms full, and then we go back inside to buy some packing tape and a few more soft drinks.

  While Pete is waiting for his change, he startles me by snaking his arm around my waist and pulling me very close to him. He dips me, planting a long, toe-curling kiss on my lips. Laughing, I press against his chest so he’ll stand me upright again.

  “Do you still think she’s my sister?” he directs to a shocked Roberta. She stands there with both her mouth and cash register drawer wide open. All baby talk disappears when she tells Pete to take his change.

  “You’re horrible,” I say to Pete when he joins me outside.

  “Do you want me to go in and apologize?”

  “NO!” I exclaim, and he shoots me a wink before climbing into the truck. Within five minutes, we’re at Pete’s apartment packing.

  “I guess I’ll put most of this stuff in storage,” he thinks aloud while scanning the living room and kitchen areas. I simply nod.

  “Would you like me to help?” I ask.

  “That would be great. How about you work on the living room while I do the bedroom?”

  I walk over to a set of built-in bookshelves and begin putting stacks of DVDs inside a box. After they’re sealed in their container, I pull down a variety of trinkets: a few trophies from high school, some collector beer steins, and a few decorative boxes that sit atop the highest shelf.

  I strain on my tip-toes to reach the box furthest from the edge and knock it off of the shelf. Mortified, I watch the box tumble through the air and desperately try to catch it before it shatters. Fortunately, I’m able regain control of it right before it hits the floor, but all of the contents spill out. I quickly fall to my hands and knees to shove the items back into the box.

  I toss in a few medals that look like commendations Pete earned while in law enforcement, some old coins, and some ticket stubs. Something sparkly shines from the floor, and I realize it’s a diamond ring. I twirl it in my fingers to get a good look at all sides, and then hold it to the light to check for an inscription on the band. Pete comes out of the bedroom, and I know my face teems with guilt.

  “I’m sorry, Pete,” I apologize, tossing the ring back into the box. “I knocked it over by accident. I was…”

  I stop speaking and turn my eyes downward because I feel like I’ve invaded his privacy.

  Pete takes the box from me and picks the ring out of it. “I bought this for Sarah,” he begins.

  “Pete, you don’t have to…”

  “Come sit with me,” he says, pointing to the sofa.

  “Really, Pete. It’s okay.”

  “No, you need to know this. I want to tell you.” I sit as Pete requests, and he joins me. “You see, the day she left me, this ring was found with her note. The crew who relieved her shift found it on the kitchen table of the station, and they saved it for me,” he says, his gaze now focusing past me to a spot on the wall.

  “Pete, just stop,” I say softly.

  He shakes his head. “There’s really not much more to tell because you know the rest of the story. I don’t want any secrets. After I got the ring back, I wasn’t sure what to do with it, so I threw it in there and forgot about it.”

  I nod, and he puts the ring back in the box then grips my hand. “I’m almost done in the bedroom,” he says. “You about r
eady to head home?”

  “I love hearing you say that,” I say, kissing him.

  “What? That I’m almost done in the bedroom?” he jokes.

  I laugh. “No, that you’re ready to head home—our home.”

  He lugs two packed boxes from the apartment and puts them with the others in the bed of the truck. The drive back to Greenleaf is pretty quiet. We make a quick stop at the local drive-in, and then unload the truck, setting the boxes in the front parlor. After we finish, I’m exhausted.

  “Ready for bed?” I question with a yawn.

  “You know it,” Pete says with a smile. “Race you!” he yells, halfway to the staircase. I muster enough energy to stay on his heels, but I’m all pooped out by the time we make it to the bedroom. Collapsing onto the bed, we exchange kisses between spurts of laughter. After a little while, Pete gets serious.

  “Thank you,” he says, the sincerity of his words apparent in his eyes.

  “For what?” I question.

  “For everything. For helping me pack. For moving back to Green Bayou. For coming back into my life. For letting me move in here.”

  “You don’t have to thank me. I feel the same way about…,” I start, but Pete interrupts by holding his finger to my lips while making a faint shushing sound.

  “And thank you for these lips.” He kisses them, and my smile returns.

  “And these legs.” I playfully roll my eyes, and he runs his hands up and down the length of my thighs.

  “And this stomach,” he says, raising my shirt to expose the skin underneath so he can place soft, short kisses along my abdomen.

  “And these breasts! Oh these breasts!” he says, slowly shaking his head from side to side. Instinctively, I cross my arms over my chest and try to roll away from him.

  “Oh, no you don’t!” he says, stopping me. “I’m going to be taking my time tonight.” And that he did!

  8

  Christmas is right around the corner, and I’m overjoyed that things are going even better with Pete than I imagined. As for Jacob and me, we have our work routine, and we stick to it. He’s kept his promise and hasn’t made any moves or passes since that night I’d fallen ill. Actually, he does an incredible job of pretending the incident in the bedroom never happened, and we are back to wagering cheesy bets and having movie nights.