Close Cover (Masters and Mercenaries #16)(80)

Sera’s hand waved. “It’s okay. Otis is a sweetheart. He’s only eaten a couple of tourists. As long as he’s well fed, he’s harmless.”

Lisa watched in perfect horror as Remy obviously gave up on his brother and took that gator by the tail, hauling him back.

Damn that man was fine.

And she had a big decision to make.





After he handled their reptilian interloper, Remy strode back toward the bar. Otis was an old visitor. He dealt with that gator the same way his pop-pop had.

“You are going to wash your hands, right?” Zep asked, falling in line beside him. “Because all the signs say you have to wash your hands before you go back to work after using the bathroom, and I think that should also apply to after you’ve handled dangerous reptiles. You don’t know where that damn thing has been, Remy.”

His brother had been no help at all. Zep had mostly looked like he was going to be sick. “I know where he was going. He was headed up to the parking lot. Having a massive gator in the parking lot tends to scare off customers, and then where would you get your tips? He likes to sun himself out there. The rocks are reflective.”

“I’m only saying you should be more careful.” Zep opened the door for him. “I know Pop-Pop used to do that all the time, but I think gators are meaner now.”

“It was Otis.” Otis was damn near a pet in some ways, and he was seriously getting on up there in years, but every now and again he got it in his lizard brain to make friends with the tourists. Tossing him back in the bayou usually worked because Otis was also pretty damn lazy, and the walk in was almost always a one-way trip. “I’m not a poodle, therefore I’m fairly safe around Otis.”

But he would definitely wash his hands. He pressed through the kitchen, forcing himself not to look into the dining room where Lisa was sitting with his sister. He hoped she was passing a good time in there, but the image was too sweet for him. If he stared too long, he would find himself trying to sit down with them, to run his hand over hers, and he didn’t have the right. But that in there—it was everything he wanted—Lisa taking her place with his family.

No, it was better he got back to work. It was hard to sleep next to her and not roll her over and take her. He thought she would welcome him, but he knew it wasn’t forever, and suddenly sex wasn’t enough for him. He needed to make love to her, needed to know she wanted him for more than an orgasm. Every night he worked later than he needed to, trying to ensure she was asleep before he came to bed and got in beside her.

He wasn’t sure how long he was going to be able to hold out. And he knew every time he slept with her would make it exponentially harder to leave her.

He stopped at the sight of his momma holding a cigarette and stirring a pot of gumbo. God, he needed Lisa to take control of his damn family. He had forgotten exactly how crazy they were. Beyond crazy.

He washed his hands in the sink while trying to get a leash on his temper. “Momma, you can’t smoke in here.”

She simply smiled his way. “I’m just holding it for Michel. Apparently he heard that Otis was out there and that someone had called the sheriff. Michel’s papers aren’t exactly up to date. Now I tried to tell him ICE wouldn’t come out for an Otis sighting, but he ran anyway. He’ll be back soon. I suspect he’s hiding in the bushes by the mechanic shop.”

And now he needed a lawyer for his chef. And maybe a shrink, definitely someone who could help him stop smoking. He’d inherited a big old mess. Inherited? No. It was way worse. He’d paid for this sucker. Paid handsomely, and with maybe more than mere money since Lisa didn’t seem to be coming around.

He might have come home only to lose the one woman who could have made it all worthwhile, because he was rapidly coming to the conclusion that she was the only woman in the world for him. How had he ever thought Josette could make him happy? He hadn’t been thinking at all. He’d been certain it was time to settle down and she’d been pretty and willing.

Now he knew that wasn’t nearly enough.

He looked at the kitchen. Someone was serious about salad. There were roughly twenty bowls of perfectly done salads ready to be delivered. Who the hell thought they would need that many salads?

His cell phone trilled. He pulled it out and sighed. It wasn’t someone he could put off or drag by the tail back to the swamp. “I have to take this. Momma, put that cigarette out and go find Chef. Zep, stir the gumbo. You know how pissy he’ll be if the bottom scorches.”

Zep grumbled, but he was stirring when Remy stepped into his office.

Here he could see Lisa’s handiwork. She’d already left an indelible impression on Guidry’s. Everything in the office was neat and in its place. Jean-Claude hadn’t been very organized, so making file folders and cleaning up in here had been Lisa’s first task. She’d brought in nice curtains to frame the window and found him a much more comfortable chair. She’d even found some old framed pictures of his mom-mom and pop-pop, and photos of what Guidry’s looked like decade by decade, and had made something she called a memorial wall.

His heart did a little flip-flop every time he looked at those pictures of his family over the years. He wanted a new picture up there on that wall. One of him and Lisa. Later, some of their kiddos.

He slid his finger across the screen. “Hello, Maia. Thanks for getting back to me.”