Bayou Baby (Butterfly Bayou 2) - Page 57

She hadn’t expected the shuddering pleasure to start up again. She’d been more than content, but he seemed to find some magical place deep inside, and he knew exactly how to stroke her. It was happening again. She strained with him, bringing her hips up to meet his thrusts. For the second time that night, she went limp under his expert handling. Then Harry was groaning loudly, his big body shaking as he came inside her. He fell on her, gasping for air. She stroked his back and hair, loving the feel of his weight on top of her.

When she could finally speak again, she said the only word she could find to describe what she had found with Harry.

“Wow,” she whispered.

Harry laughed and kissed her tenderly. “That goes double for me.”

She settled in and knew there was no going back.chapter eightCeleste paced the floor as the rain kept coming down.

“Mom, I’m sure he’s fine,” Angie said from her place on the sofa. “He went to New Orleans to get the wood he ordered. He must have taken longer than he thought and he got caught in the storm.”

“According to Annemarie, he left early this morning.” She’d been surprised by the amount of anxiety she’d felt the minute she’d realized she couldn’t get in touch with Harry. “There’s no reason he couldn’t have gotten back before the storm hit. Have you called Armie?”

“No,” Angie replied. “I assume the sheriff is busy this evening. I heard he’s already had to rescue a couple of people from the flash flood. And before you ask, none of those people was Harry.”

The previous week had gone by in a whirl of activity. There had been plenty to do at the office, and she’d even had to make a trip into New Orleans to clean up some issues with human resources. Between dealing with that problem and handling the catering for the wedding, she’d almost been able to completely forget about the situation with Guidry Place.

Ninety days wasn’t so long when she thought about it, and according to the rumors she’d heard, Irene had left explicit instructions on how the money she’d left Seraphina had to be spent. There was no way she would live there. The house was far too large for her, and even if Delphine and that wastrel of a brother of hers decided to move in, they likely couldn’t afford the taxes and the upkeep.

It didn’t make any sense for her to keep it, and Seraphina was a girl who knew how to survive. It might cost her a bit more, but Celeste would be able to buy the place, then Sera would have the money to leave Papillon and go to a city. She would be made to understand that was the absolute only way this ended.

Celeste had actually felt fairly calm until the moment she realized Harry hadn’t come home from his errand.

It had been raining the night she found out about Wes. The officers who’d come to explain what had happened to her son had carried umbrellas, and the wind had been fierce.

She shook off the horrific memory. “He’s not answering his cell phone. Shouldn’t he have called?”

“I think Harry’s used to being on his own,” Angela said. “And he’s been complaining about his cell losing charge. It’s pretty old.”

She would buy him a new one immediately.

The door came open and Cal rushed inside, handing his umbrella to the maid and shrugging out of his rain jacket. “I talked to LaTonya Nichols at the Feed Store. Harry rented the largest of their trucks and it’s got a tracker on it. It’s parked outside town. From what we could tell, it’s in a motel parking lot.”

She breathed a sigh of relief. He’d gotten caught in the storm. He’d probably taken the chance to enjoy New Orleans for the afternoon, and he’d tried to come back too late to get past the storm waters. The road into town often flooded this time of year and Harry was a sensible man. “Do you know the name of that motel? Surely they still have phones in the rooms, right?”

It had been decades since she’d stayed at anything but a luxury hotel.

Cal sighed and moved toward her. “Mom, stop. He’s okay. I know you’re worried about him, but he’s a grown man.”

“He should call his family,” she insisted.

“I don’t know that he considers us family just yet,” Cal said quietly. “At least not the kind who he needs to call when he’s staying out all night. Give Harry some space. I know you want him to stay here, and giving a grown man a curfew probably won’t help your cause.”

“I wasn’t saying that.”

He stared at her.

“I only gave you a curfew because it was starting to affect your performance.” At least she’d tried to. Naturally Cal had told her if she didn’t like how he performed, he could perform somewhere else. In another company. In another state, perhaps.

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