His back stiffened, and he schooled his expression into an implacable mask. Oh hell, no. The woman couldn’t be related to Ondine Gauthier. And she couldn’t take possession of the house. The building sat in the center of sacred ground.
“Your purse?” He bit out.
He’d see her to dinner. And hope like hell one of the clan leaders was there to discuss this disaster. Something had to be done quickly to dissuade her from staying. That or they had to figure out a way to keep her away from the house and occupied during the full moon.
She slung her handbag over her shoulder and gave him a curious glance. “I say something wrong? Or do you know the place?”
“I know it. Do you want to change?” No way did he want to wait outside while all he could do was think about her stripping, but he had to ask.
To her credit, she glanced down her length and then shrugged. “We both look like hell. I don’t care if you don’t.”
He almost cracked a smile. “Let’s go.”
DiDi sat beside Mason as he pulled out of the parking lot. He’d stiffened when she’d mentioned the house. He hadn’t liked her mentioning it. Was it because he had a natural dislike for strangers, or did he have a personal interest in the property?
“My lawyer said the house is in pretty bad shape,” she murmured, fishing for more information.
“It’s fallin’ down,” he said bluntly. “You really should consider sellin’.”
“I’m not afraid of a challenge.”
“Miss Ondine was a recluse. She hoarded cats and junk. You’ll have to get a bulldozer in there to clear the rooms.”
DiDi wrinkled her nose, imagining the disgusting mess she might face. “Oh my. Maybe I could hire some locals to help.”
He stayed silent, not looking her way. He’d given her a hot once-over when she’d first entered his car, but must not have liked what he saw. She stifled her disappointment.
Maybe he could be the villain of her next story. The local sheriff with a secret past and bodies buried in his back yard.
In less than a minute, they reached the restaurant, which was really more of shack on stilts. But the smells emanating through the screen door made her belly rumble. The music drifting out was pure Cajun—guitars, accordion, and a tinny voice.
Mason held open the door, this time not touching her. Inside, the place looked like something dreamed up by a Hollywood set designer who wanted to create the quintessential redneck beer joint. The floors were bare wood and scuffed. The walls were plastered, but unevenly so, with large holes where the plaster had given up the ghost and dropped away. A string of Christmas lights was tacked along the edge of the bar, several bulbs missing.
But
the smell of whatever was cooking behind the small window above the back of the bar was heavenly.
“Mason,” the bartender called out, tossing the towel he’d been rubbing the counter with over his shoulder. He glanced at DiDi, and then his gaze lifted to Mason, a question in his eyes.
Mason tilted his head toward DiDi, “She ran her car into a ditch.”
The bartender’s eyes blinked, but then his expression warmed. “Don’t you worry none, Miss. Henri’ll get it out in da morning. Hungry?”
DiDi relaxed. Nothing strange was going on. These locals weren’t communicating telepathically or wary about her arrival. They weren’t alien body snatchers hiding their existence from the human population. More’s the pity. “I’m starved. What’s on the menu?”
The bartender laughed. “No menu, here, chère. Jus’ whatever Andy wants to cook.”
“I’ll have whatever then,” she said smiling then she turned to Mason. “Would you like to join me? I’d like to buy you dinner for all the trouble I’ve caused.”
She expected him to say no and hotfoot his way out the door, his duty by her done. But he motioned to an empty table and pulled out a chair.
Maybe he was more interested than she’d thought. Maybe he just tended to hide behind his stern policeman face and had forgotten how to lighten up.
Not that she minded the grim expression. Kind of turned her on. Made him more of a challenge as she tried to figure out how to crack him open. The man might have deep motivations for the way he acted—and they’d make for an interesting storyline.
They’d both taken a seat when the door behind her opened again, the screen door slapping loudly.
Mason’s eyes narrowed on the unlucky person who’d just entered, and she turned to find out who could get him to scowl like that.