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Either way, his time at Bayou le Jardin surely wouldn’t be boring. Not one little bit.
“We’ve still got a little bit of cleaning up to do in the rear gardens,” Mick told Lorna hours later, as they stood beneath the remaining live oaks in the backyard. “Then tomorrow we can start on that big one by the back gallery. I’m afraid there’s not much to do for that one but cut it down and break up as much of that massive stump as possible. Even your expert landscaper Mr. Hayes agrees with me there.”
Lorna placed her hands on her hips, then looked over at the tree that had clipped part of the roof during the storm. The tree looked as if someone had taken its trunk and twisted it around until it had reached the breaking point. “Yes, I suppose if you did try to salvage what’s left, it would only be misshapen and mainly a stump with twigs sprouting from it.” She shook her head. “That tree has been there for centuries.”
“I know,” Mick said, taking her by the arm to guide her around broken limbs and torn roof tiles. “I’ve always loved trees.”
Lorna glanced over at him. He was filthy dirty from stomping around in mud and bushes all day, but he still had an air of authority about him that dirt and sweat couldn’t mask. He’d worked side by side with the ten or so men on his crew, issuing orders in a clear, precise way without ever raising his voice or exerting power. She certainly couldn’t fault him—he’d done a good job of clearing up the debris.
But he sure could use a shower.
Glad she’d had one herself and even more glad she’d changed into a flowing denim skirt and printed cotton scoop-neck T-shirt, Lorna told herself to stop being silly. It had been a very long time since she’d taken time to dress for a man. She wasn’t about to start now. But she had washed her hair, just in case.
Just in case of what?
Wanting to get her mind off Mick Love and back on business, she asked, “Is that why you became a forester, because you like trees?”
Mick shook the dust and dirt out of his tousled hair, then smiled over at her. “Yeah, I guess so. I grew up in rural Mississippi—nothing but trees and kudzu. I used to climb way up high in this great big live oak out in the woods behind our house and pretend I was Tarzan.”
Lorna laughed out loud. “Did you swing through the kudzu vines and yell like Tarzan?”
He actually blushed, just a faint tinge of pink against tanned skin and dirt smudges. “Yeah, and I beat my chest, too.” Then he demonstrated, his fist hitting his broad chest as he made a strange and rather loud call.
“Hey, boss, stop trying to impress that pretty woman and tell us it’s time to call it a day, please.”
Mick and Lorna turned to find Josh Simmons, Mick’s assistant and crew foreman, laughing at them from the corner of the house.
Josh stepped forward, his hard hat in his hands, a big grin on his chocolate-colored face. “Miz Dorsette, that’s the only way he knows how to attract females.”
Mick groaned. “Yeah, and sometimes it only brings out the wrong kind.”
Lorna could understand that. Even pretending to be a savage, Mick Love made her shudder and wonder. He was definitely all male, and every bit as tempting as any Tarzan she’d ever seen at the movies. And he was as tanned and muscular as any outdoorsman she’d ever been around.
Stop it, Lorna, she told herself. Then to bring her simmering heart back under control, she asked, “Where are you and your crew staying?”
Mick looked surprised. “Hadn’t really thought about that. Is there a hotel around here?”
Lorna scoffed, then waved a hand. “We are a bed-and-breakfast, Mick. Why don’t you stay here?” And wondered immediately why she’d just invited the man to stay at her home.
“But that would be way too much trouble,” Mick replied, his blue eyes skimming over her face, her hair. “I don’t want to be a bother.”
“Nonsense,” Lorna exclaimed. “Most of our guests have checked out because of the storm, anyway.” Trying to hide the fact that his eyes moving over her made her feel like a delicate flower lifting to find the sun, she turned to Josh, instead. “We have several guest cottages around the bend in the lane. The storm missed them—just some minor repairs. They sleep six to a cottage, so you and your men can take the first two. They’re clean and waiting, and they have bathrooms and everything you need to be comfortable. Breakfast is at the main house, and the restaurant should be open again in a day or so. We’ll furnish all of your other meals there, free of charge. And if we can’t open up again, don’t worry. Rosie Lee and I will see to it that you’re fed properly.”
“We couldn’t—”
“Mick, you drove for hours to come here and help us—I insist.”
They stood there, staring at each other. Lorna knew she’d just issued more than an invitation for a place to stay. And so did Mick Love. At least, the expectant look in his eyes gave her that impression.
“Well, what’s it gonna be, boss?” Josh said, a questioning gaze widening his face. “These fellows are dirty and hungry and about to fall asleep in their boots.”
Mick looked back at the trucks, where the men sat gathered and waiting for his next order. Then he turned back to Lorna. “Are you sure?”
“Very sure,” she told him, wishing that were true. Having Mick Love underfoot day and night meant having a big complication in her life. And she didn’t need any complications right now. As far as men were concerned, anyway. She’d had enough of those to last a lifetime. But then, she couldn’t send the man away. Not after the hard work he’d put in cleaning up the gardens. And there was still lots of work ahead.
“It just makes sense,” she said aloud, but more to convince herself than Mick. “How long do you think you’ll be here?”
Mick wrinkled his nose, which made him only look more adorable. “At least a couple of days, maybe all week.”
“Then it’s settled. I’ll have Rosie Lee get the keys and some fresh towels, and Tobbie can show you to the cottages.”
“Okay,” Mick said. “Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it. We owe you our own thanks.”
After finding Rosie Lee and telling her what needed to be done, Lorna watched as Mick and his men followed Tobbie to the cottages. She could handle this. She could handle having him around for a couple of days. Soon, this mess would be cleaned up, and he’d be gone, and life would return to normal.
Then Lucas came strolling up, a lopsided grin on his handsome face. “Ch?re, you look tired. Long day?”
Lorna nodded her head, then frowned up at him. “Yes, long day. And where have you been?”
Her brother shrugged, tipped his black curly haired head. “Never you mind. I had things to see about.”
Lorna knew she wouldn’t get anything more from Lucas. He was either playful or moody, depending on which way the tide was flowing.
She hurried ahead of him. “I want to survey the damage once more before dusk. Since you didn’t take the time this morning to see for yourself, you can come with me or not. It doesn’t matter to me.”
“Little sister isn’t pleased with Lucas,” he said, his long fingers, touching her on her chin, trying to tickle a smile out of her.
Lorna refused to give in to her brother’s charms. She was furious with him for staying away all day. Just like Lucas to slink off and hide from his responsibilities. Or maybe he just couldn’t face the natural disaster that had almost destroyed his beloved Bayou le Jardin. He’d been up before any of the rest of them, and gone by sunrise.
Lucas was always full of surprises, so she wouldn’t put it past him to have been off helping someone else get through the devastation of the storm, rather than face his own close brush with mortality. Lucas laughed at death, had stood out on the gallery in the wee hours, daring the storm to pass over Bayou le Jardin. And had probably been just as scared and worried as any of them. But he’d never come out and admit that, of course.
Well, this storm had rattled all of them. Lorna offered a prayer for peace and calm. She just wanted things fixed and back to normal. After everything she’d been through leading up to her return to Bayou le Jardin, she now liked “normal.”
But then Lucas grabbed her by the hand, his next words really taking her by surprise. “Oh, by the way, I just ran into Mick Love. Seems like a nice enough fellow. I invited him up to the house for supper.”
And that’s when Lorna Dorsette realized her life might never return to normal again.
Chapter Three
“I can’t believe Lucas asked the man up here for supper. I was fully prepared to send something down to Mick and the rest of his crew.”
Lorna flounced around in the big kitchen, worrying over the thick, dark shrimp-and-sausage gumbo she and Rosie Lee had been preparing all afternoon. After stirring the gumbo yet again, she opened the door of one of the two industrial-sized ovens to make sure her French bread was browning to perfection.
“Will you relax,” Lacey told her from her spot across the kitchen. “Lucas probably heard about the ruckus between Mr. Love and you this morning, that’s all. Knowing Lucas, he deliberately invited Mick here just to get on your nerves.”
Lorna whirled to glare at her sister. Why did Lacey always looked so pulled together, when Lorna felt like a limp, overcooked noodle? In spite of the cool night, the spring humidity and the heat from the ovens was making her sweat like a sugar-cane farmer, while it only made her older sister glisten like a lady.
Blowing hair off her face, she said, “Well, you’re all getting on my nerves. You with your smirks and teasing remarks, Lucas with his shenanigans—and now I’ve got to sit through supper with Mick Love hovering around. I just want to curl up with a good book and then sleep for twelve hours, but I’ve got the restaurant repairs to worry about and a million other things to keep me awake.” Never mind Mick Love, she thought to herself.
Lacey finished putting ice in the tall goblets Rosie Lee had lined up on a serving cart, then turned to her sister. “Well, you can prove Lucas wrong, you know. He just likes to shake things up, then sit back and watch the fireworks. So, don’t give him anything to watch.”
Lorna lifted her chin a notch. “You might be right there. If I act like a perfect lady, using the impeccable manners Aunt Hilda instilled in all of us, then Lucas will be sorely disappointed and Mick Love will be put in his place.”
“And just what is his place?” Lacey said, lifting her perfectly arched brows. “I think Lucas is right, if he did figure this out. I think Mick Love gets to you.”
“Don’t be a dolt,” Lorna retorted. “I simply meant that Mick Love is here to do a job, and that should be that.”
“You’d think.”
“And what’s that supposed to mean?”
“If the man has no effect on you, why are you so nervous? You’re jumping around like a barn cat.”
“I’m perfectly fine,” Lorna retorted again. “And if everyone around here would just mind their own business—”
“Have we ever?” Lacey shot her a tranquil smile, then took the tea tray. Pushing through the swinging door from the kitchen to the formal dining room, she called over her shoulder. “Better take a deep breath, sister. Mr. Love just walked in the back door.”
“Easy for you to say,” Lorna mumbled, after her sister was well out of earshot. “Nothing ever ruffles your feathers. Smooth as glass, calm as a backwater bayou. That’s our Lacey.”
She’d often wondered how her sister got away with it. Lacey held it all together, no matter what. She was the oldest, had witnessed the death of their parents. Lacey had saved Lucas and Lorna from a similar fate by hiding them away, but none of them ever talked about that. Ever.
Especially Lacey. She kept it all inside, hidden beneath that calm countenance. And she’d done the same thing when she’d become a widow at an early age, and through all the other tragedies in her life since. She’d even remained calm during the thrashing of the storm, never once moaning or whining or worrying.
Lacey had herded the few terrified guests—an older couple staying in the downstairs blue bedroom and a set of newlyweds staying in the honeymoon suite on the second floor—down into the kitchen root cellar along with the family, soothing them with soft words all the while, telling them not to worry.
Lorna had done enough of that for all of them, she supposed. But she hadn’t whined aloud. She’d pleaded and prayed with God to spare her home and guests, to spare her town, from any death or destruction brought on by the wailing tornado bearing down on them.
Even now, she could hear the wind moaning, grinding around the house…. Wind that only reminded her of that other night so long ago.
“Hey, need any help here?”
Lorna pivoted so fast, she knocked a wooden spoon off the counter. She turned to find Mick standing there in clean jeans and a faded red polo shirt, a lopsided smile on his interesting, little-boy face.
He pushed still-wet hair off his forehead. “Guess I shoulda knocked.”
Lorna held up a hand, willing it not to shake. “It’s okay. You just startled me. I was thinking about the storm and remembering—”
He was across the spacious room in three long strides. “Are you sure you’re all right?”
Anger at her brother for putting her in the position of polite hostess, and a need to find control, brought Lorna out of her stupor. “I’m fine. It was just…so scary. I was concerned for our guests, of course. I’m not really afraid of the weather—they say the weather in Louisiana changes every thirty minutes and that does hold some truth—but this storm was different. It was so powerful, so all-consuming. And I just keep remembering—”
She just kept remembering another night, another dark, storm-tossed night long ago. A night she had buried in that secret place in her mind and soul. Was she confusing the two?
“I just can’t get it out of my mind,” she said, completely unaware that she’d spoken.
Until Mick took her trembling hand in his. “You survived a major catastrophe, Lorna. It’s understandable that you might have some sort of post-traumatic reaction.”
She had to laugh at that. Placing a hand over her mouth, she tried to stifle the giggles. Sometimes, she thought her whole life since her parents’ death had been one big post-traumatic reaction.
Mick looked down at her as if she’d lost her senses. And she supposed she did look quite mad laughing at his very serious observation. “I’m sorry,” she said, sobering and becoming quiet. And becoming so very aware of the man standing in front of her. He sure cleaned up nicely. And smelled like a fresh forest after a gentle rain.
To make amends for acting like an idiot, she said, “It’s just been a rather long day, and I’m exhausted. We’ve had to cancel guest reservations for the weekend and send others away. None of us has had any rest since the storm hit, and it’s only going to continue until we get this place cleaned up and open to the public again.”
He guided her to a nearby high-backed chair, gently pushing her down on the thickly hewn straw bottom. “And it’s understandable if you don’t feel up to having company for dinner.”
He rose to leave, but Lorna’s hand on his arm stopped him. “No, stay.” Then she jumped up, rushing past him to check on the bread. “I mean, we’ve set a place for you and Aunt Hilda is looking forward to talking with you. You can’t leave now.”
He leaned on the long wooden counter in the middle of the room, then looked at her in a way that left her senses reeling, in a way that made her think he could easily read her deepest secrets. Then he smiled again. “I guess that would be rude.”
“Yes, it would. Just ignore me. I’m all right, really.” Pushing at his arm, she said, “Why don’t you go into the front parlor with Aunt Hilda and Lacey. I think my brother Lucas is there, too. I’ll be out just as soon as I cut the bread.”
“And you’ll be okay?”
Lorna ignored the little spot in her heart that longed to shout for help, for someone to soothe all the pain and make her feel better. She didn’t need, didn’t want, pity or sympathy. And she couldn’t bring herself to ask for comfort.
“I’m a big girl, Mick. I think I can manage through supper.” She pointed a finger toward the swinging door. “But if you could tell Rosie Lee I’m ready to serve now…”
“Sure,” Mick said, backing toward the door. “I saw her and Tobbie in the dining room. I’ll get her for you.”
“Thank you.” Lorna watched him leave, then turned to the stove, letting out a long breath that she hadn’t even realized she’d been holding.
She didn’t understand why being around Mick seemed to turn her into a bubbling, blathering mess. She’d been in charge of her senses early this morning, even when he’d landed smack on top of her. Even when he’d saved her from that tree limb.
Saved her.
Lorna saw her distorted reflection in one of the wide, paned kitchen windows, and knew instantly what was the matter with her.
Mick had saved her life, or had, at least, thrown himself between her and danger. These strange, erratic stirrings deep inside her were only gut reactions to what he’d done. She felt gratitude toward him, and she didn’t know how to express that gratitude.
“That’s all it is,” she told herself. “The man protected me from that giant oak limb.” And I didn’t even bother to thank him.
A voice rang as clear as a dinner bell inside her head. And maybe…Mick Love saved you from yourself.
It had been a long, long time since Lorna had allowed anyone else to be her protector. She’d never accepted that she needed rescuing, had never allowed anyone other than her immediate family close enough to see her fear. But because of what could have been a freak accident, because she’d been in the wrong place at the wrong time, Mick had gotten way too close.
Had he seen her fear? Was that why he seemed so solicitous of her? Was that why she felt so vulnerable around him?
“Leave it to me to do a foolish thing like stand underneath a broken limb.” But then, she reminded herself, she always somehow managed to be in the wrong place when things turned from bad to worse.
Or maybe she’d been in the right place at the right time. Aunt Hilda always said God put people in certain circumstances to get them where they needed to be.
And Lorna had been in that place at that time, praying for something, someone to help her understand. She’d told Mick that God had answered her prayers by sending him. That much was the truth, at least. He’d come along exactly when she needed him.
That was a debt Lorna wasn’t ready to accept or repay. Yet somehow, she knew she’d have to find a way to do just that.
Mick found Rosie Lee and Tobbie Babineaux busily setting up the dining room, little Tobias at their feet playing with a hand-held computer game. Mick watched as the couple laughed and worked together, side by side. He envied their easy banter and loving closeness. They were married with six children, yet the radiant smiles on their faces showed how much they enjoyed being together.
