CHAPTER NINE

Aimee

Diving into the bayou had done a number on Corbin’s clothes and hot body. The man needed a shower, and bad. And to have his clothes washed, if not downright burned. At least Earl had let me off work early, shutting down the tours for the day after the accident. Corbin had followed me in his car back to Miss Cecily’s. We’d get that boy cleaned up, but good.

And after that?

My body practically hummed at the thought of him. Even smelling like a swamp, he could set me on fire.

“See,” I said, turning on the overhead light and easing my way down the steep steps. “You have to really know where you’re going in Miss Cecily’s basement. I have this theory it hasn’t been cleaned out since the Civil War.” I emphasized my point by stepping around a set of shelves stuffed high with jars of a variety of herbs.

Whistling, Corbin kept following me, barely avoiding a collision with her supply shelf in the dim, flickering light. “She has quite the supply set, doesn’t she?” Before I could reply, he added, “That voodoo stuff, it’s not real, right?”

“Now that I can’t answer,” I said. “But I’ve always tried to be respectful of Miss Cecily’s beliefs, whatever they may be. You can’t know her and not love her. But she is a powerful force, that’s for sure. She commands respect.”

I continued down the hall and came to the far corner where an ancient washer and dryer lay. The outside of the dryer was rusted on the bottom and, frankly, I had an idea they were older than I was. They got the job done, but sometimes I had to run my laundry over again in order to make sure it got dry. I’d once lost a load of whites assuming they’d been fully dried. A late shift and a twenty-four-hour delay revealed otherwise. By the time I retrieved them, they had smelled like mildew even after two additional runs through the washer. I’d had to throw in a half-bottle of vinegar to kill the smell, finally.

“She did say something about this, uh…necklace, I guess you’d call it, when she gave it to me,” Corbin said. “Claimed it would help me see beyond old black veils, or something like that. That sounded a bit, you know, woo-woo.”

I laughed. “Woo-woo? Who says that? And it’s a talisman, not a necklace. No, I promise you, no matter what some of the people in Pontmaison say, she doesn’t do stuff like make potions or poke dolls with needles. Although I think she gets a kick out of it when any of the Lamell family crosses the street to walk on the other side when they see her coming down the walk. Superstitious lot, them.” Even Tallulah, bless her heart, shivered when Miss Cecily came along.

An idea struck me—if Brad asked me to Tallulah’s wedding again, I’d tell him I’d go with him so long as I could bring Miss Cecily. He’d retract his invitation in a second.

Corbin pointed to a row of neatly stacked jars, filled to the brim with a variety of dried herbs. “So what’s all that for? I know,” he added quickly, “no woo-woo stuff.”

“She has an extensive herb garden she still maintains. She harvests and dries the herbs, and sells them online to gourmet markets. Packages them up and either Lisa or I ship them out for her. I use quite a few of her products for my baking, too. Dried lavender for my lavender cupcakes, sage for my bacon and sage biscuits, and anise when I make my own licorice. I love using her ingredients.”

“Of course you would,” he said gently. “Because she cared for the plants with love. And you only put love into your cooking.”

Again, Corbin had shocked me with his observation, both of me and of Miss Cecily. “I guess you’re right.”

Shrugging, he pulled off his soaked t-shirt and shoved it into the washer. Before I could regain my breath at seeing him shirtless, he said, “And you love Miss Cecily, too. That’s pretty clear.”

“True,” I said absently as he stripped off his jeans. Focus, Aimee, I reminded myself. Focus. “That’s probably another reason I live out here. She makes me feel…” I wasn’t sure how to finish that sentence, not even sure where I was going with the thought. She makes me feel safe? Loved? Wanted? Did Miss Cecily, even in her distinctly old age, somehow provide a mother figure that I’d yearned for when my own mother couldn’t give it to me? I twisted my lips to the side, letting the thought sink into me, then noticed Corbin was staring at me intently, jeans still in his hand, boxer-briefs molded around his—

I jerked my gaze upright. “Sorry,” I muttered. “Got a little lost in thought, there.”

“I got the impression from Miss Cecily that you were living out here because you needed your space from the town. Something about people judging you about some sort of a secret.”

I blanched. This flirtation with a near stranger was fun, and I was becoming more and more open to the idea of a harmless summer fling with Corbin, but I didn’t much want him knowing my family’s dirty laundry. Corbin would be in town for two months and then gone. During that time, I wanted to be just Aimee, the girl from the bar, his housemate, and maybe his bedmate. I didn’t want to be Aimee Bodine, daughter of the town’s drunken floozy who abandoned her daughter every time she found a new musician to let use her up and toss her aside.

“Hey,” he said quickly, tossing the jeans in the washer, “no worries. She didn’t say anything other than that. And I’m all for not digging into secrets. I won’t ask. Not my business.” He held up both hands in front of him, palms out, a placating gesture. “And about that judgment thing? You’re incredibly hardworking, passionate about your cooking, and you look out for an elderly woman whom you obviously love. If anyone judges you, they’d be stupid.”

What he said touched me, maybe more than it should. But I didn’t respond. How could I? What would I say?

Corbin let my silence settle as he pulled off his socks. I handed him a towel I’d found in the dryer. I should have turned my back, given the man some decency as he tugged off his boxer-briefs, but instead I watched, admiring his muscled thighs, tight abs leading to a v, right above his cock, which I’d already seen this morning and wanted desperately to see again.

When I fanned myself, he laughed. “Like what you see, sweetheart?”

I tipped one shoulder upward and gave him a coy look. “I’m not complaining.”

He wrapped the towel around his waist, and put powdered detergent in the pull out drawer and started the wash. With a loud crash, the ancient washer sprang to life. Corbin jumped back. “Whoa. Not too quiet, is it?”

“You’re in Pontmaison now, sugah, and we don’t have new anything. It costs too much.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude.”

“Nah, you weren’t being rude, just truthful. Out here, you just learn to deal with loud washers and dryers that need a second or third time around.”

“I’m not complaining. And I won’t say a word to Miss Cecily.”

“Oh, you can complain about the washer, I do all the time. Just don’t complain about Miss Cecily’s cooking.”

He crossed his arms over his muscular chest and I almost pouted at the obscured view of his chiseled chest. “Anyone who tells her she can’t cook is a liar on top of being dumb as an ox. I just had her bacon and eggs today and they were amazing.”

“She can definitely cook.” I bent over and tugged out more laundry from the dryer. “It must be nice to get home cooking after being on the road. Where you headed at summer’s end?”

He hesitated, then scratched at his thick brown beard. “I’m not sure yet.”

I’d never wanted to rub my cheek against scruff so badly. Just looking at Corbin made me want to rush over and climb him, wrap my legs around his waist and have him right there in the middle of Miss Cecily’s basement.

I’d always had a healthy sexual appetite, and paired that with a healthy approach to safe sex. I wasn’t my mom, and I wasn’t going to get pregnant until I wanted a child, so I’d gone on birth control early on, and had stashes of condoms all over my bedroom, in my purse, and at work. If Corbin was half as good as my fantasy last night had made him out to be, I’d be in heaven. Besides, he’d been so kind to wear Miss Cecily’s charm, even though that rock on an old leather strand was far from a fashion statement. Then he’d risked his life and chanced losing a limb or more to a gator to save that unpleasant woman who’d fallen overboard. Corbin was the kind of guy who dove into certain danger and befriended old women.

Who was I fooling? I didn’t want to wait a minute longer to get Corbin into my bed. I wanted to do everything that had gone through my mind last night, and anything else he could come up with.

I wanted to do all of it with Corbin.

“What?” he asked. “You’re staring at me like you want to eat me.”

The next thing I knew, I had my arms wrapped around his neck and my mouth was over his, my tongue dancing back and forth with his at a frantic pace. Both of us were hungry, and we had waited long enough to satiate the fire burning between us.

Good, for me it had been too damn long, and I was tired of being afraid.

His scruff felt rough against my neck as I kissed him, my lips devouring his. I’d hopped onto him, my legs wrapping eagerly around his waist. He was still in nothing more than the towel wrapped around his waist, and his skin was hot where it came into contact with mine. Clearly Corbin was still as eager as he’d been this morning to make out with me and, frankly, do a lot more. I could feel the hardness of his erection, and that hunger was bursting through me. I felt like a wolf, let loose on a rabbit, but Corbin was no hapless bit of prey.

He was every bit as eager as I was.

He held me in his hands, even as he dragged me through the basement and back up the stairs. Eventually, he stumbled to a wall and set me down. Bringing a finger to his mouth, he waited for me to be quiet.

“Shhh, I don’t know where Miss Cecily is. I don’t want her to catch me making out with her favorite boarder, wearing only a towel.”

I giggled. “I’m pretty sure she’s with Cindy, trying to set us up. Otherwise, she would have put you on the first floor. That one has a better bathroom and bigger rooms.”

“Still, though…plus, I’m still covered in swamp water. Let’s go back to the shower and finish what I wanted to start this morning,” he said, grabbing my hand and hurrying up the stairs. He took the risers two at a time, and I knew that feeling, that urgency. In the shower, he didn’t waste time—just stripped me bare and lathered the two of us in soap, then entwined my fingers with his, then pinned me to the wall as the hot water sluiced over our bodies, washing us clean.

When the water started to run cold, he pulled me out and toweled me dry, then let me do the same to him, before we headed to his bedroom. This man was gorgeous, and I took him in as we stood by the bed—from the soft yet not too long beard on his chin that scraped me in all the right ways to the ridges of his perfect eight pack—there was no part of Corbin that wasn’t a work of art. He was everything a girl could want in those soulful brown eyes as well as in his kindness and bravery. There wasn’t anyone I could think of who would just jump in with gators. But he had.

Corbin the Brave.

Corbin the ungodly attractive.

Corbin who was mine if only for a while.

“Please,” I said, barely recognizing the mewling sounds coming from my own throat. I was nervous, and I hoped he’d interpret my goosebumps as a chill and not nervousness. Looking up into his deep chocolate eyes, I felt wetness pool between my legs and my heart thump harder in my chest. I stood there for him, moaning as his hands came to play with my pussy, making sure I was primed and wet and ready for him.

Soon his lips were over my nipple, his tongue flicking fast against it until it had risen into a rigid peak, all while his hands were stroking me, making me wetter than I ever thought I could be. The heat was no longer flaring through my gut, it was a forest fire, raging through me, and making love to him was the only way to put it out.