Sweet Persuasion (Sweet #2)(67)

Jo grinned. “A few. Damon used to go hunting them when he was a teenager. Always swore he’d get one. He and his father spent many hours up and down these swamps. They caught plenty of catfish, but never any gators.”

“You’re not telling all my secrets are you, Mom?” Damon asked as he came to stand behind Serena.

He put his arm around her waist and dropped a kiss on top of her head. Serena tensed, not entirely comfortable with the display of affection in front of a woman she’d just met, but Jo smiled openly in delight.

“I thought we could eat out on the deck this evening. We can watch the sun go down and look for fireflies over the bayou,” Jo said.

Damon stilled against her and she turned around to see a sad smile crossing his face. “Just like old times.”

Serena glanced back at Jo, whose face reflected a sad poignancy even though she too smiled. She reached out and squeezed Damon’s hand. “Yes, just like old times.”

Then she turned and reached to squeeze Serena’s hand. “Why don’t you let Damon show you around while I set the gumbo back on to warm. I’ll call you two when it’s time to set the table.”

“Still a slave driver, I see,” Damon said.

“Damn right. I cook it. You can at least set the table and clear up afterward.”

He leaned over and brushed a kiss across his mother’s forehead. “With the way you cook, I’m getting the best end of the bargain.”

“You always were a charmer. Just like your father.”

The two exchanged sorrowful glances before Damon took Serena’s elbow and urged her toward the triple-glass French doors that overlooked the deck.

“I’ll take you to see my favorite fishing holes,” he said as he opened the door.

Warm, muggy air stifled Serena’s breathing as she followed Damon outside. It was a good hour before sunset, and the temperature was near its highest point of the day.

“My father built this,” Damon said as he ran his hand along the cedar railing of the porch.

“It’s beautiful.” She observed him for a long moment before biting the bullet and taking the plunge. “I take it your father passed away?”

Damon slowly nodded. “Two years ago. He was fishing.” He turned and pointed to a bend in the bayou. “Right over there. My mother found him slumped over. He had a massive heart attack and died on the spot. He never had a chance.”

She touched his arm. “I’m sorry.”

“He was the best,” Damon said quietly. Though he didn’t overtly acknowledge her gesture, he put his hand over hers and left it there.

“You haven’t been home since?” she asked. He appeared to be so close to his mother. It seemed odd that he’d stay away so long.

A sad, weary look entered his eyes, dulling them to a drab brown. “No. I tried. But it was too painful. I got all the way to the driveway, and I turned around and drove back to Houston. Pretty cowardly.”

He moved to the railing and rested both hands on the wood, leaning out over it as he stared over the cypress clogged bayou. “It hurt my mom. I knew it, but still, I couldn’t make myself come back. I couldn’t face being here without him.”

“Why now?” she asked softly. Why with her?

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I’ve missed my mom. I’ve needed to face her, this house. Needed to realize that my staying away doesn’t alter the fact that he’s gone. And maybe it seemed easier with you.”

She inhaled sharply, unable to control her surprise at his statement.

He touched her cheekbone then slid his hand behind her head and pulled her toward him. She rocked against him as he tilted her upward to meet his kiss.

It was gentle, it was soft. In a word, it was exquisite. It shook her to her core.

“Thank you for coming with me,” he whispered against her lips. “It means a lot.”

She smiled as she drew away. “I’m glad you wanted me with you.”

He took her to the banks of the bayou and they watched the catfish surface as if expecting to be fed.

“My mom feeds them every evening,” he explained. “They’re spoiled rotten.”

They continued along the edge as it wound through the rolling terrain of his mother’s property. A rickety dock was situated in the crook of one of the bends, and an old johnboat was tied up. It rocked gently with the ripples of the water. The green paint was faded and peeling. Stenciled with black paint on the side was Roche.

“My father’s boat,” Damon said. “It belonged to his grand-father. Old as Methuselah but it still runs. Mom takes it out every now and again just to keep it going.”

“She misses him too,” Serena said, remembering the sadness in her eyes.

Damon sighed. He turned to face the water and shoved his hands into his pockets. For a long moment he was silent. His lips moved as though he had difficulty forming the words.

“It was hard on her and even harder when I stayed away even though she understood.”

He glanced down at his feet, and his shoulders sagged.

“It was selfish of me and it’s something I regret. They were . . . they were so in love. They were high school sweethearts, and she married him when she was sixteen. Folks around here didn’t give them a chance of lasting or ever amounting to anything, but they proved them wrong. He built this house for mom when she was pregnant with me. I grew up here. It’s the only home I ever knew.”