Bayou Beauty (Butterfly Bayou 4)

And then he would have to concentrate on finding the spy in his organization. He would way rather be worried about warmth and food. He would definitely rather worry about taking care of her. “I don’t know that I would call my office warm or cozy.”

Oh, but her eyes were warm. “If you don’t like your office, we should talk about renovating it. It doesn’t look like you’ve redone it. And honestly, it’s not so bad being stuck here with you.”

“I haven’t. But then neither have you.” He would love to take on that project with her. He took a chance and cupped her cheeks. “There is no one I would rather be stuck with.”

One brow cocked, a definite challenge. “Not even my brother?”

“I can’t do this to your brother.” He leaned over and brushed his lips against hers. “I don’t even want to try. I don’t think Dre would be half as fun to kiss as you are.”

She grinned. “He would argue with you on that.” She went up on her toes and kissed him again. “Go and get the lights on. I want that fire as soon as possible. I’m cold.”

He handed her the flashlight. There was still some light outside, but in here it was pretty dark. Luckily his boat had a stash of emergency tools, like the flashlight. “There’s some dry clothes in the bedroom, though they’re going to be big on you. And if no one moved it, there should be a battery-operated lantern on the nightstand. It could take me a minute to get the generator going. And there are towels in the bathroom.”

“Good.” She was shivering, and he wanted nothing more than to drag her into his arms. It wasn’t the best idea since he was drenched, too.

He moved back outside and slogged across the yard to the small shed where they kept fishing supplies and the generator that powered the cabin. It didn’t take him more than a few minutes to figure out that the asshole who’d stayed at the cabin last had used up all the gas and not bothered to replace it.

He really hated Charles in that moment, because it had been his cousin who cavalierly left the next person in the dark.

He cursed and searched the whole shed, but there wasn’t a drop of gas to be had, and he couldn’t siphon it off from the boat. They would need it to get back to the marina.

He checked his cell, but he knew what he would find.

No bars.

They were stuck, and if the rain kept up, they might be stuck here all night. There wasn’t a landline. They were on their own.

Should he view this whole thing as the universe’s answer? No, Rene. You don’t get the girl. You get the money and the power and privilege, but you don’t get the one thing you actually want.

Or maybe she would think the whole debacle was a charming adventure. Cold and wet, but somewhat romantic. He could still build a fire, and there were candles inside. Sure, they would end up eating whatever was in the pantry, but the housekeeper came out once a month and made sure there were staples. He hoped Sylvie didn’t mind canned chili.

Of course, if this storm had happened two days from now, the gas would have been restocked.

All the bad things in his life lately seemed to go right back to his cousin.

He shook off the irritation. The last thing Sylvie needed was to be bombarded by his anger. He intended to carefully hide that from her. She never needed to know he was a walking ball of rage.

He ran back across the yard but stopped when he saw a big hulking reptile at the water’s edge. He’d lived in Papillon most of his life, but he still stopped at the sight of those big gators. Even through the downpour he could see the stubby tail that marked the gator as Otis, the town mascot. Otis was known for basking in the worst places, but he wasn’t known for eating people.

He was actually known for bringing good luck. It was a silly thing, but many of the residents of Papillon believed that if Otis showed up on your doorstep, something good was going to happen.

Rene stood there, the rain pouring down on him, and watched as the gator lumbered across the mud, his tail swinging like he didn’t mind the storm at all. Like this storm was his natural state and everyone else should learn from him. The storm could be wonderful if one had the right mindset. Otis’s clawed feet splashed mud all around him and he stopped, putting his face up as though enjoying the feel, as though the gator could live in the moment.

“Rene!”

He turned and Sylvie was standing in the doorway, wearing nothing but a pair of socks and his old Tulane T-shirt, though it hit her right at her knees and made a somewhat respectable dress.