Instead, she’d placed the phone on the charger and showered, determined to move beyond whatever discomfort they would face for the sake of The Sanctuary. Other than a tricky moment when he first arrived to pick her up—he’d hesitated before greeting her with a soft peck on the cheek—all had gone just fine.
Could it really be this easy? Could they fall back in love without having to go through the cringeworthy, uneasy phase of sussing out what worked and what didn’t?
God, I hope so.
It would make this transition from friends to something else… something more… a lot easier.
Evie peered out the window as they reached the crest of the bridge over Bayou Des Allemands. One could argue that the whole of South Louisiana was one big bayou, but the difference in the landscape of this marsh compared to what she was used to in New Orleans made it seem as if she’d crossed over into another world. Tall cattails—Evie always thought they resembled a corn dog—waved back and forth, the stems bending toward the water.
“It’s beautiful out here,” Evie said. “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever taken this drive before.”
“Have you ever had a reason to?” Bryson asked.
She frowned. “I’m not sure what you mean. Why would I?”
“Exactly,” he said. “Unless a person has something specific happening in Bayou Country, it’s hard to get any of you city folk out here to visit us.” He gave her an up-and-down glance from the driver’s side. “You don’t look like the type who would spend a day catching catfish on the lake, so I’m guessing that’s a no.”
“Excuse you,” she said, giving him a playful slap on the arm. “Judgmental much?”
“Just pointing out the obvious.”
“Should I also point out the obvious?” Evie asked.
“And that is?”
“That you’re also ‘city folk’?” She made air quotes.
“No.” He shook his head. “Ilivein the city, but I will always be a country boy. Make no mistake about that.”
She would love to point out how his tailored slacks and that camel-colored cashmere pullover that fit him to perfection was the opposite of what you’d see on a country boy, but he would come back with some excuse to fit his narrative. He was maddening. And irritably handsome as he steered the car with one hand, which was even more maddening.
“Now,” Bryson continued, “if you want the experience of a lifetime, you will let me bring you back here one weekend and go out with my dad’s old pirogue to Dulac or Chauvin.”
“I appreciate the offer, but I’ll pass,” Evie said. “I don’t do bugs, and I know enough about the bayou to know there are bugs. Big ones.”
“Coward.”
“Unapologetically.”
Their eyes met for a second and they both laughed.
“You’re so ridiculous,” Evie said.
“And yet you agreed to take this ride out to the bayou with me anyway,” Bryson said. “What does that say about you?”
“That I’m a glutton for punishment,” she returned.
“Ouch.” He slapped his left hand to his chest. “Speaking of you being a glutton for punishment, there’s something I’ve been wanting to ask, and now that I have your undivided attention, I can.”
“Uh-oh,” Evie said. “This sounds too serious for my liking.”
“I want to know what my asshole of an ex-lab partner did to finally make you see that he is and has always been an asshole.”
“Ah.” She nodded. “Just to be clear, who’s the glutton forpunishment here? Me for having to tell the story, or you for having to sit here and listen?”
“Definitely you, but for staying with him for so many years. I don’t know what you did in a former life to saddle yourself with that kind of a penance.”
“It wasn’t all bad,” Evie said. “And I am not defending Cameron in any way. Just pointing out that there weresomegood years sprinkled between the bullshit.”
