Page 10 of Xavier

“You walk all the way in those shoes?” he cocked an eyebrow and tipped his head toward her stilettos.

“No,” she answered as she arrived at the marina. Out of the side of her eye, she waited for Xavier’s reaction. She wasn’t disappointed.

His forehead creased. “Does your grandmother live in a houseboat?”

Again, she gave a one-word answer. “No.” The clack of her heels on the wooden dock gave her a satisfying feeling.

The marina store was closed for the night, and no one stirred on the dock or in any of the boats moored there. When she stopped at the end of the jetty, she couldn’t help but let a smirk lift the corners of her lips.

“I don’t understand,” Xavier said. “Are you just messing with me?”

“Why would I? I don’t even know you.” She bent to untie the line tied around the post and tossed it over the side of the dock.

Xavier’s frown deepened. He leaned over the edge of the dock and stared down at the ancient pirogue at the bottom of a rickety wooden ladder. His eyes widened. “You’re not getting in that, are you?”

She lifted the hem of her skirt, pulled it tight and tied it in a knot, exposing a significant expanse of her legs from her ankles to a little above halfway up her thigh.

Let him think about that, she thought.

She had great legs and knew how to use them to get a man’s interest.

The man’s jaw tightened, his gaze drifting down to the bare skin she’d exposed. His Adam’s apple bobbed. He cleared his throat. “I thought you said you were going to your grandmother’s house.”

“I am,” she said as she sank onto the wooden seat, turned and yanked the pull cord back. The engine chugged and died.

Well, damn.

She let the cord recoil and pulled again.

This time, the engine chugged, sputtered and engaged.

With a triumphant smile at the man on the dock, she put the pirogue in reverse and backed away from Xavier and the marina. Once she was clear of the dock, she switched to forward, gripped the tiller handle, and made a wide turn, sending the little boat into the bayou.

As she slipped through the inky-black waters with only the starlight to guide her, she shot a glance over her shoulder at the man still standing on the dock.

“Too bad.” She sighed. “He might’ve been good in bed.”

Lissette shook her head and focused on finding her way to the island where her grandmother had lived longer than she could remember.

Having been away from men, except for the prison guards, for a year, she wasn’t interested in getting tangled up with one now, not when she had work to do.

And not just at the Remedies and Roux shop. If she ever wanted to belong in Bayou Mambaloa again, she had to prove to the inhabitants she wasn’t a total fuck-up. She wanted to do something that would make them see she’d changed.

And she never wanted to go back to prison.

As she approached the little island where Madame Gautier’s cottage perched, she slowed the pirogue and slid the craft alongside the weathered dock. Several planks had been replaced at some point in the past, but though they weren’t as scruffy as the rest, they wore the dull gray patina of wood weathered by saltwater, storms and incessant humidity.

With her skirt still knotted, she easily climbed the ladder up onto the dock, tied the pirogue to a post and carried the hasp toward the cabin. Halfway across the yard, a shadowy specter shot out of the shadows beneath the trees and came to a fluttering stop a few feet from Lissette.

She swallowed a scream and stepped back, pressing a hand to her chest. When she realized it was just her grandmother’s one-eyed rooster, she let out a low chuckle. “Ah, Napoleon, I see you’re taking island security seriously tonight. Well done.” When she continued toward the house, the rooster fell in step beside her.

“It’s a good thing you’re not opposed to females of our species as much as you are males.”

She’d seen Napoleon attack one of her grandmother’s male customers who’d come calling in secrecy for a good luck talisman before he’d proposed to his sweetheart. He’d hightailed it back to his boat and waited until the next day when the shop opened to get that talisman, secrecy be damned. All had gone well with the proposal, even though word had spread and his sweetheart knew about his intentions before he’d picked her up that evening. Gossip spread fast in a town as small as Bayou Mambaloa.

As she climbed the steps, Napoleon faded back into the shadows to continue his mission of island surveillance and security.

A warm light shone through the window, casting a warm, yellow glow onto the porch.