BayouBabe99er (BookStrand Publishing Romance) (6 page)

“I’m aware who’s at fault, Mr. Palmer,” she interrupted, her mind swinging to Drake and back to the problem at hand. “I hope you and I can bring this to a reasonable conclusion that benefits everyone involved.”

“I can see your point,” he admitted. “Let me see what can be done to correct this.” He rose and started to the doorway.

“My papers, please.” She wasn’t about to lose the only proof she had.

“Wait here.”

Watching him go, Sharlene’s mind traipsed back to the real culprits.

* * * *

Drake held down a seat at the impromptu meeting in the conference room. Getting summoned at the end of his day was just what he needed on a Friday evening. Voices droned on and on with insignificant complaints directed at media bias. According to the public-relations officer speaking, the oil company was getting hammered, not only by print and visual, but by the blogosphere, as well.

Drake squirmed in his chair, disinterested.

“Who is this BayouBaby, anyway?”

A member corrected, “BayouBabe99er.”

The tone of the question held such animosity it got Drake’s undivided attention. Still, it was the screen name that jerked his thoughts elsewhere.

“This blogger is singlehandedly stoking the fires with posts critical of our management of this problem. Like we controlled the mechanical operations of that rig! There was a failure. But it wasn’t ours!” The speaker’s jowls sagged. “Find her. Now!”

“Do we know she’s really a
she
?” Drake pitched out his theory. “Could be a male hiding behind the name to avoid detection.” All in the room seemed to consider the possibility, evident by their thoughtful stares and shaking heads.

“He…she, I don’t care! Put a stop to it!” The man in charge punctuated the command by stomping out of the room.

Everyone took his departure as a dismissal, except Drake. He propped his elbows on the table as he sieved through the tidbits that mattered to him. Typing in the name provided, his cell phone’s browser came back with a surprising list of results. He spent the next few minutes reading the posts and subsequent comments. In the midst of his concern was laughter at her thinly disguised referral to him.

His broad view narrowed. He was on his feet, practically running to his office for the mad dash to the village. From what he read, there was nothing libelous in the posts. Basically, they were simply uncomplimentary. His keys rattled as he swept his office with his eyes before leaving.

* * * *

Sharlene sat, victorious, and scanned the countryside from her bus seat. She felt like she could take on the world. A plan formed in her mind based on the success of her venture. Empowerment flowed in her veins. Maybe, it was her calling to help residents navigate the red tape. It paid zero in monetary benefits. On the other hand, the payment yielded was the potential for a humongous euphoric dividend.

Drake missed Sharlene the other day, which was why he waited his turn in line for an audience. People milled outside of Clyde’s to have their turn at her expertise. She reviewed documents with true diligence to recommend a course of action. Simply put, a large number of the public wasn’t aware the consumers had added protection against the overreach of some in the lending community. She provided them a starting point to have loans reevaluated.

Finally, it was his turn to stand at her table. She graced him with the smile she shared so freely. It dismantled all of his defenses. The course he charted to call her out became difficult to maintain.

“Got a few minutes to take a break?”

“Why not?” I’m finished for the day.” Stuffing her case, she invited, “Walk with me.”

They left Clyde’s to stroll the quiet street to Moot’s truck. Sharlene stored her things and led him down to the water’s edge. “You look troubled, Drake. Have you gotten the results back?”

“Not yet.” He guided her to another area lined with benches where he brushed at the dust with his hands before she sat.

“It’s beautiful out here today. Wish I was on the boat with Uncle Moot.”

Drake claimed Sharlene’s hand. The contact triggered a rush in his bloodstream. “I’m concerned about you.”

“Me?” She wiggled her hand free. “Why?”

“BayouBabe99er.”

“What?” Her shock was undeniable.

“Are you BayouBabe99er?”

“What’s a—what was it? Bayou babe—”

Drake saw skills in the way she smiled at him while keeping the surprise off her face, even if it did come across in her question.

“Don’t act innocent with me, Sharlene.” Drake’s expression was stern. “Okay. If that’s the way you want to play,” he began. “Whoever
she
is…they’re launching a crusade to stop the blogging.”

* * * *

What Drake shared was very interesting to her. “Should this bayou booby be worried?” She snickered.

“This isn’t a joke.” His eyes were coal black and hard-looking. “They’ll devour you faster than any alligator in the swamp.” He left her sitting with a stunned expression when he stomped to the railing.

“Last time I looked…this was still a free country.” Sharlene missed when their conversation took such a personal turn. She approached him while noting the darkening clouds on the horizon rolling their way. “I believe you’ve veered from the true reason you’re in the village, Drake. And that’s to help the people here.”

He faced her.

“That includes you.” Drake’s voice was low and husky, hinting at intimacy.

She looked up at him. “You didn’t think that a few days ago.”

“I was wrong for that. I apologize.” A stray raindrop landed on her cheek. He took it upon himself to smooth it away with his pointer finger.

The gentleness of his touch tripped her heart. The time for a man to make her knees tremble was in the past. She refused to get trapped into falling for that tingly feeling, especially when someone who looked to be only several years older than her daughters brought it on. Sharlene pretended indifference.

“You guessed right,” she admitted. “I’m BayouBabe99er.” She threw that smile on him. “What gave me away?”

Drake grunted. “Moot’s boat is named—what? BayouBabe, right? How long have you been unemployed?”

“Too much?”

“Just a bit.”

They spent quite awhile on the dock—just talking. The longer they shared stories, the deeper the infatuation that took hold. It took nature to break up their little tête-à-tête with a sudden deluge that sent them running for cover. Once up the hill, Drake broke toward Clyde’s. Sharlene took off in the opposite direction, heading for the truck.

Drake stopped. “Where are you going?” he called over his shoulder.

“Home.” Sharlene thought it best to call it a day. Drake was dangerous to her well-being, for he awakened feelings she had managed to subdue for years.

“But we need to decide what—”

“Drake, there is no
we
. I can take care of myself.” She took off again as the raindrops got bigger. Her voice drifted on the breeze. “You just take care of the people.”

She threw herself under the wheel to quickly turn the key in the ignition for the getaway. It finally happened. The truck refused to start. Not a whine or even a groan from the engine. Sharlene looked at the heavy rain sheeting the windshield. “Great!”

A horn tooted.

It was Drake. The passenger-side window of his car glided down. “Hop in.” Amusement crossed his face at her perturbed expression. “Come on, Sharlene. I don’t bite.”

She rolled her window down.

“Let me try it once more.” The rain nearly soaked her. So, she took cover behind the glass once again. Sharlene’s insides quivered as her wrist twisted to turn the key. “Shoot!” Could she bear the ride beside him? She lowered the window again. “I’ll just wait at Clyde’s for Uncle Moot.”

Woman power sent the window flying back up.

Drake was out in the downpour and next to her door before her lips shut. “That’s crazy. You don’t know how long he’ll be gone.”

She gazed through the glass.

“This liquid sunshine is mighty wet.” He opened the door without her permission. “Grab your things.”

Here she was—acting like a bashful schoolgirl. The insistent hand on her elbow goaded her out of the truck. She held on to all of her paraphernalia as she made the dash from plastic to leather. Sharlene peered at Drake’s profile when he joined her and took off.

The rain didn’t let up during the twenty-minute ride. As a matter of fact, the sky opened up, pouring out buckets of water. Drake parked across the walkway directly in front of the steps. Sharlene took that as her cue and bailed from the car.

“Thanks, Drake.” She hustled up the steps trying to dodge the wet drops. “See you later.” Sharlene heard the motor purr as he headed off. Then the slam of his car door jerked her around. Big mistake, for her foot skidded on the slippery surface.

His rush to the rescue landed both of them on
his
back, flat out in the mud. Air whooshed from his lungs as he squeezed out, “Are you hurt?”

Her breath caught in her throat. But it wasn’t from the blow of the landing. She lay spread-eagle on his rock solid frame. Every time his chest rose, her intake of breath failed from the force.

However, she managed a breathy murmur. “No. Are you?”

Neither moved a muscle as the rain continued to pelt them. “You forgot your purse,” he explained as the reason for his delay.

Sharlene relished the feel of his taut body as her softness draped all over him. She delighted when his muddy hands cupped her cheeks to draw her lips to his. Offering no resistance, she first tasted the watery grit before the sweet flavor of his seeking tongue. She lost herself in the moment, reciprocating his actions with fervor. There was no doubt about it. He broke down barriers she’d erected to maintain her sanity after her divorce. So what was she to do now that the natural urges suppressed for an eternity were unleashed?

The question rattling around in Sharlene’s head soon had an answer. Drake’s hands slid from her face to her shoulders, from her shoulders to the small of her back. He cradled her gently while shifting his weight until they lay side by side on the saturated earth. The kiss shared got longer—deeper. She didn’t shy away from feelings heated to the boiling point. The loud thunderclap warned of lightning that struck too close for comfort. The sky briefly illuminated. Yet, that was no comparison to the explosions she experienced.

Water poured from the sky like the clouds ripped open at the seams.

She couldn’t help herself. He filled her to capacity as she wallowed in his masculine hold. The only reason she broke away was to allow space due to the unexpected, heady contact. And—also, she had to give her body time to recover from the obvious distress of being so close to him.

The torrential rainstorm nearly drowned them.

Now untangled from his body, Sharlene endured Drake’s grip under her arms that lifted her to her feet. She started up the steps to the porch at his nudge. Debris was flicked from her hands before she nervously searched her purse for the keys and unlocked the door. A look over her shoulder at the clapping sound Drake made as he shook off the excess mud let her see him begin to retrace his steps to the yard. Her voice stopped him.

“Where’re you going?”

“Get out of these wet clothes.”

He was filthy all because of her clumsiness. “I caused the mess. I’ll clean it up.” She opened the door wider. “Come on in.”

Both dripped their way inside where she turned on a soft light to shoo away the dimness. Sharlene kept on to the back of the house returning with a robe held by her fingertips. Drake responded to the handoff as she skirted him to take the adjacent hall that swallowed her up in darkness. “Help yourself to a shower,” she yelled. “Towels are in the overhead cabinet.”

The way that exchange went baffled him. Why didn’t she make the offer face-to-face? Was she angry? Was he mistaken about her reaction to that mind-blowing kiss? Drake mumbled loud enough for his voice to carry as he stepped into the bathroom. “Thanks.”

Sharlene reappeared just as he shut himself in. “You’re welcome. Toss your things out, and I’ll start the washer.”

“You don’t have to do that,” he called through the closed door.

“I know.” She hung out on the other side.

“Show me to the washroom when I’m finished.” He began to disrobe.

“Just do as I ask, please, Drake. The sooner the wash is done, the faster your clothes will be dry and you on your way.”

His head peeped out at Sharlene, who now wore a cinched robe that did little to disguise her curvaceous, mature figure. Their eyes locked. Drake dropped his bundle at her feet. His rapid retreat put him in reach of the shower faucets.

When she heard the water running, Sharlene thought it best to put distance between them. The storm’s tempest was evident from her vantage in front of the window. Tree limbs bowed under the gale force winds. The howling sound invaded her space. Yet it wasn’t enough to eclipse the beating water from Drake’s shower.