Chapter 4
Chloe
Crap.
An hour later, I laid in my childhood bed, staring up at the ceiling. I should be next to Saint.
Or maybe beneath him. Possibly on top.
I rolled over and snuggled down in my pillow. Lying to him had been a stupid idea. Of course, he didn’t want me. Why would he? He used to look at me with a mixture of pity and bemusement. Evidently, that hadn’t changed.
Wincing all the while, I imagined the fallout. Would he tell the other bikers? Rumors flew around the town almost as fast as the ridiculous superstitions.
Speaking of spooky things, I heard every little creak and groan as the house settled around me. Sleeping here, by myself, was scary. Somehow, it hadn’t seemed so foreign and empty when Mamie and I had been together.
It’s just the wind. And yet, I didn’t believe the comforting thought.
I yanked the covers up as though somehow, they would protect me from ghosts or whatever else my imagination conjured from the shadows.
Come to think of it, how many people have died here? This place was at least two hundred years old.
Ugh. Don’t think about it. You’re a grown woman and you don’t have time to worry about imaginary threats. You’ve got plenty of real problems to deal with, so snap out of it.
Since sleep wasn’t an option, I got up and turned on the light. I checked the time on my phone—it was nearly one.
I decided to take another survey of the house. Back in the day, it used to be a mansion. My bedroom was on the second floor at the end of the hall. It was much too big for one person, but Mamie loved it anyway. And it must have cost her a fortune to heat and cool. Luckily, I hadn’t had to turn on the heat quite yet.
Damn. I miss her. It was an ache, a wound that wouldn’t heal.
On chilly nights like this, she'd make palmiers, simple cookies made out of frozen puff pastry, cinnamon, and sugar. We’d eat the entire batch, giggling like two conspirators. She always knew how to make me feel better.
There was a knock on the front door.
A prickle of unease slid up my spine. It was late, and I wasn’t expecting visitors. After all, I didn’t have any friends here, except for Nettie, and she was in bed by now. Nettie got up at dawn every morning, so she went to bed early in the evening.
Another knock.
I headed for the door and peeled the curtain back from the window near the entrance. I saw a tall dark-haired man on my front porch. I couldn’t help but notice his gorgeous blue eyes, even in the meager moonlight. His shoulders were broad, and he was undeniably handsome.
Out front, he’d parked his motorcycle. Since I’d grown up around the Cajun Demons, I knew a thing or two about them. It was a candy apple red Ducati, which must have cost a pretty penny.
Any woman would be happy to see him on her doorstep. Except for me.
I lived by myself and a strange man was a cause for concern. For a split second, I considered pretending not to be home.
But he turned and grinned at me.
Shit.
After flipping the light on, I opened the door a crack but kept the chain on.
“Can I help you?”
“Actually, I’m here to help you.”
Weird. It sounded like he was selling something.
“Sorry. I’m not interested.” I started to slam it shut, but his voice forestalled me.
“You’re Chloe, aren’t you? I’m Xavier Richelieu.” It was an unusual first name, which sounded like Za-Vi-Ay. He pointed down the road. “We’re neighbors.”
The Richelieus. Hmm. I recalled the name. Mamie mentioned the family, but they’d been abroad, living in France when I was in town.
His folks owned Richelieu Shipping, but Xavier looked too rough and tumble to be a businessman. He had a thick layer of stubble along the lean planes of his face and covering his square jaw. His hair brushed the edge of his collar. Weren’t businessmen supposed to be clean cut and spit-polished?
I sighed. “What brings you by, Mr. Richelieu?” I wasn’t wild about inviting a stranger inside, even if he happened to be a neighbor. After all, serial killers lived next to people, too.
“Please, call me Xav. And may I call you Chloe?” His age was difficult to pin down. Xav could be in his late twenties, or maybe his early thirties. I didn’t notice any telltale lines on his face or gray hair.
“Suit yourself.” My tone was cool, but polite.
“Mind if I come in and we’ll discuss it?”
I frowned. “Do you always visit folks in the middle of the night?”
He lifted a shoulder. “My family owns a shipping business, so I’m used to keeping odd hours, and I saw your light on. May I…?” He lifted a foot expectantly.
Damn. He’s persistent.
Xavier held up his hands. “Don’t worry, ma souris, I mean you no harm.” That’s when I noticed his slight accent, a hint of French.
“Ma souris?” I repeated. “If I’m a mouse, does that make you a cat?” Mamie had been fluent in the language, and I’d only learned a bit. Yet another regret of mine. French was part of my heritage and I should’ve made it a priority.
Louisiana was a strange place in many ways. There’s a bit of French, a dash of Spanish, and a whole lot of southern thrown into the culture. You can see it in people’s accents, the food, and the music.
His grin was wolfish. “I was referring to your size.”
The nickname rang true. I’m only 5’3 and he was about a foot taller than me. Although I’m not his anything.
Xav winked. “But I don’t mind the chase…”
I frowned.
“If you don’t mind…?” Xav made as if to step inside but stopped short of crossing the threshold.
I stepped back. “I guess, but there won’t be any chasing.”
I self-consciously wrapped my arms around myself because I was underdressed. Since I’d just gotten out of bed, I wore a pair of black leggings, a rumpled red t-shirt, socks, and hoodie. I didn’t even have a bra on.
“Understood.” And yet, he hovered in the doorway, tapping the briefcase in his grip. What the hell? Did he need an engraved invitation or something?
“Well, what are you waiting for? Come in.” Yikes. My tone was a little impatient, but he didn’t seem offended. Instead, his eyes danced with mirth. Mamie would’ve been appalled by my lack of manners.
He followed me into the living room. Xav sat at the opposite end of my threadbare sofa.
“Can I get you something to drink?” I asked politely, even if I said the words through gritted teeth.
“No, I’m fine.”
Good. Because I’ve got tap water and that’s it.
Since my budget had been tight, I’d been living off water and peanut butter sandwiches the past couple of days. When I got my first paycheck, I’d be going to the grocery store and buying all the things.
“I was hoping we could talk business?”
At this hour? I was expecting some welcome wagon type speech, like maybe he was going to invite me to a barbecue.
Okay, maybe my rumbling stomach is doing the thinking for me.
I fixed him with a look. “Since this is a business meeting, perhaps you should have called ahead and made an appointment.”
His lips curled and somehow, he looked even more handsome. Seriously, he could put Saint to shame, and that’s saying something.
Not that Saint wanted to get near me ever again. He’d practically ran away from me tonight.
“Touché. Then we'll consider this a social call.”
I studied him, cocking my head to one side. “When did you get back into town?”
Xav leaned back on the sofa, completely at ease. “A few months ago. Before that, I was living in Nice. We have holdings in France as well. “
Holdings. Must be nice. I have one run-down house on a couple of weedy acres.
“And you haven’t been around the past few years, either.”
Suddenly, I was all suspicious. “How do you know?”
Xav winked. “Trust me, I would’ve remembered seeing you.”
Is he flirting with me? Again? Admittedly, I found him attractive. Who wouldn’t? Unfortunately, I’m still hung up on Saint. It’s the crush that won’t die.
“I suppose, and this is a small town. We would’ve run into one another.”
“See? We have much in common. We’re both come back after a long time away. From what I heard, you were in college, somewhere on the east coast, right?”
“University of Pennsylvania. I just graduated.”
“Congratulations.”
“Thank you.”
There was an awkward lull in the conversation. Xav glanced around the room and then back at me, assessing.
“And what are your plans?”
I’m not really comfortable discussing them with a stranger. And I’m not really sure what the future holds for me. I wanted to find Mamie’s killer, get a real job using my degree, and I hadn’t planned anything beyond that. At one point, I’d considered law school, but it was on the back burner for now.
Before graduation, I’d had a roadmap. I focused on getting good grades and impressing my professors. Now, there was a big vacuum. For a planner like me, it was a terrifying turn of events.
“Things are fluid at the moment.” It was a vague but truthful answer.
“I see.” Xav stroked the back of the couch and I idly wondered what those long fingers might feel like running the length of my arm.
When I didn’t offer any more information, he spoke again. “My property sits up against yours.”
“Yes, it does.” So, where’s this going?
“Did you know my great grandfather sold this place to your family after the Civil War, when money was tight?”
“I didn’t.”
“Yes, and I've been working on restoring our ancestral home to its former majesty. Take a look.”
He reached inside his briefcase and pulled out a long, folded piece of paper. That’s when I noticed a tattoo on the inside of his forearm. The words were written in two neat lines in a flowing script.
And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side
Of my darling--my darling--my life and my bride
I recognized the words instantly from my American Lit class. It was Edgar Allan Poe’s poem about a dead lover, Annabel Lee. What a strange thing to have tattooed on your skin forever. Had he lost someone special? A fiancé? A girlfriend? I wanted to know everything, but I was much too polite to ask.
Xav spread the plans out on the dusty coffee table. There were a series of architectural sketches, featuring stables, a fountain, and what looked like a cottage. Maybe a guest house?
“Impressive.”
“Thank you. I’ve approached the Jacksons about purchasing wooded acres of their property, as well, which also used to belong to my family. They agreed. And I’d been trying to coax your grandmother into selling to me, but she…” He didn’t finish the sentence.
“Died,” I said softly.
“Yes.” His shoulders stiffened. “I’m sorry for your loss. Camille was a lovely woman.”
I bit my lower lip. There was a little hint of something I couldn’t quite place in his voice. Was there relationship more than neighborly?
Mamie died relatively young. She had my mother at age 13, and my mom had me when she was 14. So, Mamie was only fifty and she’d taken good care of herself. Mamie made her own soaps, night creams, and salves. She exercised, ate well, and Mamie should’ve had another thirty years left, at least. I shouldn’t have lost her so soon. I hadn’t been ready.
“Did you two know each other well?”
Xav shook his head. “No, but I would’ve liked to have known her better.”
Hmm. I couldn’t tell if he was lying or not. One thing was for sure, he was a potential suspect. He’d wanted something from Mamie and she hadn’t given it to him.
Whoops. Maybe inviting him in hadn’t been such a hot idea after all.
He cleared his throat. “Anyway, Camille was resistant to the idea. When I made my first offer, she wasn’t, uh, impressed, shall we say?”
I could read between those lines. A laugh escaped my lips and Xav glanced up sharply, his gaze lingering on my mouth.
“Told you to go straight to hell, didn’t she?”
She’d loved this place. When I was growing up here, Mamie used to tell me family stories about the home and how it would be mine someday. I used to daydream about painting the walls and buying new furniture, making it my own.
But I hadn’t wanted to inherit it this soon.
He smiled ruefully. “Yes, that about sums it up. And I thought perhaps I'd have better luck with you.”
“I’m sorry to break it to you.” Actually, I’m not. Sorry, not sorry. “But you thought wrong. This piece of land is the only thing I have left of my grandmother. No one is taking it from me. Ever.” I didn’t mean for it to come out so harshly, but I didn’t want any misunderstandings.
Xav frowned and his body stiffened. “Duly noted.”
“I hate to cut this social call short,” I said, leaning into the sarcasm. “But I should really be getting to bed. I have to work the breakfast shift at Carrefore tomorrow.” I stood, ready to show him to the door.
“And there’s nothing I can say to persuade you otherwise? About selling, I mean.”
“No.”
Clearly, Xav wasn’t used to dealing with refusals, not with his good looks and wealth. I bet the French girls were all over him. Hell, American ones, too. He had to be the most eligible bachelor in this parish. Along with Saint, of course.
“What about your mother? Your father?”
“My father has never been in the picture and my mom’s dead, too.”
If Xav had grown up here, he would’ve known the story. Everyone else did. According to Mamie, they’d done an emergency C-section on my mom after I went into distress and she’d bled out on the table. The pregnancy had been very hard on her, probably because she was still a child at the time.
It’s one of the reasons, I’d been very careful with my love life. Teenage pregnancy was the family curse and I’d done everything to avoid it. No wonder I hadn’t lost my virginity until college. Although it had been an epic fail.
“I’m so sorry. How did it happen?”
“Childbirth.” I swallowed. “My grandmother was the only family I had left.” It was ridiculous. I’m 22 years old, hardly a child, but I still felt like an orphan.
Xav winced and I glimpsed the compassion in his eyes. Was it genuine? Or just for show?
“I have another proposition for you, ma souris. Since we won't be having a business arrangement, maybe we can have a social one.”
The change of topic made me dizzy. “What do you mean?”
“What are you doing this weekend?”
“I'm busy working.” Actually, I hadn’t seen the schedule yet, but I needed more hours.
“Surely, you aren’t waiting tables the entire weekend. You could squeeze me in somewhere.”
I faltered for an answer. Part of me wanted to accept, so I had another opportunity to study him, ask him some questions. My sensible side wanted to shove him out the door and pull out my great grandfather’s shotgun. It was around here somewhere. I just had to find it.
“Um, I don’t know…”
“This is just an observation, but you don't like me, do you?”
“Correction. I don't know you. I haven't formed an opinion yet.” But I wasn’t impressed so far.
His lips twitched. “Then allow me to take you to dinner so you can decide.”
“Thanks for asking, but I’m—”
Xav held up a hand. “No pressure. Just consider the offer.”
Was this another negotiating tactic? If Xav thought he could sweet talk me into selling, he had another thing coming.
“I will.” It would be rude to refuse again so soon.
“Pleasure meeting you, Chloe.” He offered me his hand, and I grasped it. But he surprised me by bringing my fingers to his mouth to kiss, instead of the handshake I’d anticipated.
“Likewise.” Although it hadn’t been. Not entirely.
His touch lingered. Strange. There was something almost mesmerizing about him. I didn’t want to let go of him, see him walk out the door.
Xav grinned. “You’re going to say yes to me. Eventually.”
“Which offer?”
“Both.”
And somehow? I believed him.