Drive Me on the Bayou – Sample

Drive Me on the Bayou

By Corilyn Holloway

Can a simple drive lead to something as crazy as love?

Lacey isn’t adventurous.  She’s not a wild child and crazy isn’t what she does. She’s certainly not the kind of girl who gets into a car with a total stranger to go off on a wild goose chase. But losing her dad changed things and she’s been on a mission to find out everything she can about her family’s heritage. So, if hitching a ride with a cute mechanic from Simoneaux Bayou is needed to track down the last mysterious piece of her genealogy… well, a girl’s gotta do at least one crazy thing in her life, right?

Luke is just a grease-under-the­-nails diesel mechanic.  A mechanic who just happens to be the favorite nephew of one Betty Ruth… as in Betty Ruth’s Country Store.  And if there’s one thing Betty Ruth loves, it’s to put her nephew to work.  In her eyes, he can fix just about anything, so it’s not that unusual for him to get a call from her about the “pretty little girl” whose car is broken down out at Simoneaux Bayou. But this girl is all woman and it’s hard to keep his eyes off of her long enough to get a good look at her busted transmission.  And when Aunt Betty tells him he has to drive the girl to Lafayette… well, he’s not gonna argue over getting to spend a few hours alone with the best-looking girl a mechanic like him has ever seen, is he?

Chapter 1

The Present

Lacey

“I took her in off the streets, I fed her, clothed her, bought her her first pair of shoes. Then I gave her three beautiful daughters.”

Leah, Lana, and Liberty were standing in age order, staring up at their daddy. Liberty had her hands on her hips; she was the littlest, but she always had just a teeny bit of attitude to her. Leah’s hands were behind her back, waiting patiently for his response. Lana looked half-interested, dividing her attention between the anticipated response and the movie playing on the television in the background.

The eldest looked at her father with wide-eyed suspicion, then she shook her head and lightly smacked him on the leg, “You always say stuff like that, Daddy.”

“’Cause that’s the way it happened,” Luke insisted, wiping his hand over his mouth and down his beard. “You don’t think your Daddy would lie to you, do you?

All three girls snapped their mouths shut, unwilling to even consider that their father would lie. A fib maybe, but never a lie.

After a moment’s pause, he raised his hand into a claw and reached to grab the closest daughter, Lana. She squealed and arched her back to keep his fingers from tickling her sides. Before long he was chasing them all in turn and the sounds of giggles and shrieks of excitement bounced off the walls of the cabin. I leaned forward at the kitchen bar, resting my chin in my hand as I watched them.

Luke had several jobs he was supposed to do this morning here at Simoneaux Bayou at several of the residents’ homes and cabins. It was well into fall, but temperate weather made it a good time for the locals to get upkeep done on their properties.  It was also good timing for us because after a less than stellar year for his business, Luke was determined to earn some extra money to give his girls a good holiday.

My guy had been just about to walk out of the door, dressed in his work clothes with a rag draped over his shoulder for the inevitable sweat of the day when Leah had stopped him with a question.  She did that often lately, running up to one of us to ask something incredibly important, or at least important in the mind of a preteen. 

Today it was: “How did you meet Mommy?”

I’d been in the back bedroom, about to intervene so that he could get going, but when our gazes met I saw a twinkle in his blue eyes. He’d slowly picked up his cooler, filled with water and other necessities, then he’d leaned one palm against the doorframe to face our girls.

Now, while they were all four running ‘round and ‘round the cabin and I found my mind drifting to my first time coming to Simoneaux Bayou, back long before these three little girls were even a twinkle in their daddy’s eye.

Their game around finally winding down, I pressed into the middle of the melee and scooped up little Liberty, my baby girl giggling with delight, “Okay, little ladies,” I said and winked at their father, “It’s time for Daddy to get to work.  We want him to be done early enough he can light the bonfire tonight, right?”

They all expressed their disappointed concession.  There was nothing they loved more than smores on the beach with all our friends at Simoneaux Bayou.  As Luke picked up his things and left our cabin, I fixed my gaze on Leah, “How about I tell you girls the real story about how daddy met mommy?”

Chapter 2

Fourteen years earlier – Summertime

Lacey

“Don’t worry, Mom. I’ll be fine.”

I had one wrist draped over the top of the steering wheel, the fingers of my other hand gripping the bottom.

“But I’d feel much better about this if you were on the interstate. Can’t you just wait for it to reopen?”

“Ma, please,” I whined into the phone, though my lips were curled into a smile. On my way to Lafayette, Louisiana from Texas, I’d gotten an alert on my phone’s GPS app about a major accident that had shut down the interstate. Stopping at a little service station, I’d fueled up and then located an alternate route that hugged the coast. It was a little out of the way and somewhat off the beaten path, but I was feeling nothing less than adventurous on this trip. I decided, what the heck? I would only be young once, and it was time I did something a little crazy.

“You could get lost, though. All those twists and turns on the back roads. And it isn’t safe for a woman traveling by herself. Darn your brother for canceling on you.”

I giggled, covering my mouth so she wouldn’t hear me. My mother was a true prude, and the use of the word “darn” was pretty strong language for her. And that meant I would be in big trouble if she knew I was laughing at her. I bit my lip until I could recover enough to speak.

“Really, Mom. I’m fine. My phone is going to give me each and every turn, and I’ll be in Lafayette before you know it. What could possibly go wrong?”

And then, almost as if by providence, something went wrong. My car suddenly felt as if it were changing gears on its own. There was a vibration, then a loud whirring and whining noise unlike anything I’d ever heard. I gasped, taking my foot off the gas and hoping everything would right itself, but there was clearly something wrong with my beloved Chevy.

“Lacey? Are you listening to me? I have to go to water aerobics now, but you call me as soon as you get there, okay?”

I muttered a promise and a goodbye to her while I eased my car into a nearby parking lot. Not immediately opening the door, I said a little prayer of thanks that she wouldn’t know—at least immediately—that I was pulled over on the side of the road practically in the middle of nowhere.

Well, not totally in the middle of nowhere, since there was at least a place I could get safely out of traffic.

With a frustrated breath, I leaned my forehead against the steering wheel. I didn’t need another delay. The timing of my appointment had been pinched by the accident, but even with the detour, I figured I had at least three or so hours to spare. But car trouble was not something I’d expected.

By the time I lifted my head and started to get out of the car, I noticed the “check engine” light had come on. I knew virtually nothing about cars so it seemed like a stupid idea to pop the hood, but I reached down and pulled the lever just the same. I heard it unlatch, then opened my door and walked around to the front. I’d propped the hood up by the time I heard a voice calling out to me.

“Yoohoo! Are you okay over there?”

Over my shoulder, I peeked through the tall beach grasses to see a little country store. Whereas the lot I’d pulled into was concrete but without a single building, the woman was standing on the long porch in front of a strip of little shops in the middle of a gravel lot. She had dark blonde hair, pulled back with a headband. One hand was held against her brow to block the sun as she squinted in my direction.

“Now you leave your car right there, and come on up here,” she called out to me. I considered her words, chewing my lip in indecision. I should just call AAA and have them come tow me somewhere. “You coming?”

I smiled and waved, then reached into the car to grab my purse before running across several feet of tall grass and the rocky parking lot to get to her. She was a short woman, but her smile was as big as her face. She might have been fifty or even sixty, but she had a sparkle in her eyes that spoke of a youthful soul.

 “M’name’s Betty,” she put out her hand to me, and I shook it. “Too hot to stand out there.” She placed a hand on my back and led me with a soft pressure into the store.

“I’m Lacey. Lacey Sinclair. I guess this is your place, then.” I pointed to the sign on the front door that read “Betty Ruth’s Country Store.”

“Yep, that’s me. Been working this old place since I was ‘bout ten years old. Back then, it was called Boudreaux’s Country Store.”

“Your last name’s Boudreaux then?”

She cackled, and I wondered what was so funny, but all I could do was wait for her to catch her breath. Finally, she wiped at her eyes and shook her head. “I always get a kick out of that. Betty Ruth Boudreaux? As if. I had a hard enough time with a name like Betty Ruth, but if my last name had been Boudreaux? Can you even imagine?”

“Yeah, I can’t.” I offered a weak smile, still not entirely sure what was hilarious about that. We were in Cajun country. Betty Ruth Boudreaux sounded all right to me.

“Boudreaux is the name some marketer thought would be a good idea back when the place was owned by a chain out of Dallas. They were barely making enough to keep this little store going, then they changed the name thinking it would attract folks because it was Cajun. Worked okay with the tourists, but not the locals. Everyone kept tryin’ to figure out who Boudreaux was and whether he was related to Teddy Boudreaux or John Boudreaux or that girl Cathy Boudreaux. It was exhausting, let me tell you. And it certainly didn’t help with business. So, do you know what’s the problem?”

My head was spinning, and I shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess people wanted the place to be named after a real person maybe?”

Betty started laughing again, a low in the chest wheezing sort of chortle that made me worry she might give herself a heart attack.

“No, doll. Your car. Do you know what’s the problem with your car?”

“Oh! No, I have no idea. It just started running funny and made a crazy noise. But it’s okay.” I grabbed my phone from my purse and held it out in front of me. “I’ll call AAA and get it towed to a shop.” I bit my lip with worry. “And maybe I can rent a car, too.”

Mentally, I considered how long it would take AAA to dispatch someone out here into the boonies. Probably an hour at least. Then I’d have to deal with a shop and a rental. I’d be lucky if I got to my destination by nightfall.

“Where you headed?”

“Lafayette. I’ve got an appointment this afternoon, but…” I glanced at the clock on my phone with worry.

“Oh, yeah? Job interview?”

I smiled. “No, not a job interview. Um, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll just make the call…”

“Mary!” Betty called out so loud that I physically jumped a few feet off the floor. “Mary, get your skinny little butt in here!”

There was a noise behind me, then a pretty red head made her way from the back of the store, a big box filling her arms. She offered me a bright grin before she turned her attention to Betty.

“Yes, ma’am?”

“Is Luke still here on the bayou?”

“Oh.” The girl, probably about seventeen or so, shrugged her shoulders. “I think so, but I’m not sure. I didn’t see him drive by, but I wasn’t watching.”

“All right, all right. And good Lord, girl. That box looks heavier than you are. What are you doing, standin’ there holdin’ it? Go stock those shelves.”

Clearly the only reason Mary was standing there was because Betty had called her, but I bit my tongue and looked at the girl. Her cheeks turned pink, but she only peered at me in amusement as she hurried off to do her boss’s bidding.

“Okay, you put that phone away. We’re gonna get you all fixed up,” Betty said to me as she rounded the front counter and grabbed a corded phone from under the register. She flipped through a little personal phone directory, found what she was looking for and dialed.

“Lukey! Lukey, you still up there workin’ on that A/C for Our Lady?” She raised her eyes and flashed her teeth at me, covering the receiver with her hand. “Don’t worry. We’ll get you taken care of …”

Chapter 3

Luke

My phone started ringing as I was tightening the last bolt. I reached one-handed into my back pocket. “Y-hello.”

“Lukey! Lukey, are you still here up there workin’ on the A/C for Our Lady?”

I cringed a little when I heard Aunt Betty use that nickname. No matter how many times I politely reminded her I wasn’t the same ten-year-old kid who used to have sleepovers in the attic above her store, I couldn’t seem to get through to her. But then there was really no use telling Aunt Betty anything.

“No, ma’am. Down in the belly of one of Cap’n Manny’s boats trying to get him back out.”

“Well, drat! I have a pretty little girl here who needs some help. Her car’s broken down.”

I tucked the phone between my shoulder and ear, and wiped at the sweat dripping into my eyes, smearing grease and dirt across my brow. “I should be done in a bit, then I’m heading back. I still have to recharge the system at the church.”

“That’s perfect! You can stop by here on your way.”

Grunting, I grabbed the wrench with both hands and gave a sharp tug. “Sure, Aunt Betty. Whatever you say. I’ll drop everything for you.”

“You gettin’ cheeky with me, young man? You finish up there and get your butt over here.”

I hung up the phone and put it back into my pocket, dropping the wrench into my toolbox as I backed away from the engine.

“Okay, start ‘er up!” I called out to Manny, the owner of the Peggy II.

Most people wouldn’t think so, but there was something sweet to me about the roar of a diesel engine. I listened for any problems while I wiped my hands on the back of my uniform.

“Sounds good, Luke!” I heard Cap’n Manny’s voice just before he shut the engine down again.

Back up on deck, Cap’n and a few of his guys were popping open beers. Normally, I would have one or two with them, but I knew good and well that Aunt Betty was counting the seconds until I got back to Simoneaux Bayou. If I was late and she smelled alcohol on my breath…well, Katy bar the door. I didn’t like to think of the fit she would throw. So, I said my goodbyes and jumped into my diesel truck to head back to Louisiana.

My family had started spending time on Simoneaux Bayou when my aunt bought the little country store, now called Betty Ruth’s. I was only seven years old then, and as a kid, I’d loved to spend time with her, so the beach had become my second home. Since Aunt Betty was unmarried with no kids of her own, that meant she’d felt free to dote on me during my younger years. And by the time I had entered my teens, I’d learned how much of the fun stuff I could get away with under her watch.

Heck, there were times she even joined in on some of my antics. I grinned as I recalled when I’d once set off a string of cherry bombs under the stairs leading up to Perry Davis’ cabin. Aunt Betty, realizing my mischief, had helped distract him when he came out onto his deck. It wasn’t really Perry I had been looking to frighten, but the skittish “lady friend” he’d started bringing to the bayou. Gaye was an excellent cook, according to Mr. Davis, but she worried and whined about nearly everything. She drove everyone—including Perry, to an extent—crazy with her nagging episodes of panic.

When she’d come running down the deck stairs, the sound of firecrackers exploding almost as loud as her screams, I’d nearly died laughing. Oddly enough, Perry had just leaned over his deck railing and narrowed his eyes at me. He never did tell my parents. Later he confessed to me, “I was pretty darned afraid I might miss her chicken pot pie more than the peace and quiet of my cabin, but so far I’ve learned to live without that pie.”

When my parents moved off to Arkansas for Dad’s retirement, I’d decided to stay behind in their old house across the bridge in Texas. Even so, the bayou was still a second home to me, and I spent most of my weekends there, fishing and carousing with my friends and Aunt Betty’s. And it wasn’t unusual for my aunt to call on me out of the blue to repair a car or an appliance or even an A/C unit for the local church. According to her, I could fix just about anything.

I spotted the car with the hood up in the lot next door to Betty Ruth’s, so I pulled in beside it instead of going directly to the store. On the phone she’d said, “pretty little girl,” so I figured the chances were good it was some high schooler with a dead battery, and I might as well be prepared to give her a jump.

I’d started checking things out when I heard footsteps behind me. “I hope you’re Lukey,” a female voice called to me.

“It’s Luke, not Lukey. You know how aunts can be.” I pulled the oil dipstick, replacing it when I saw it had plenty of clean oil. Apparently the “pretty little girl” was good about getting oil changes.

“I get it serviced regularly.”

There was a touch of defensiveness in her tone, and I grinned a little to myself. “Yeah, that’s good. So, what was it doing it exactly?”

“Started shifting funny. And making a kind of whizzing sound. I don’t know. Just didn’t feel right.”

“Hmm,” I grunted, head still under the hood. “Might be the transmission. Is this a ‘99? They had some problems with that model. How many miles do you have on it?”

“About a hundred fifty thousand,” she said, and this time her voice was closer. She’d inched in beside me, and a pair of manicured hands took hold of the edge of the car as she bent over to peer inside. I caught the scent of something flowery, like one of the lotions Aunt Betty liked to get at the mall in Port Arthur. Sweet, but not overpowering. I studied her hands, how slender and long her fingers were, how soft I thought they would probably feel.

As I backed a step away from the vehicle, I looked down and caught sight of her legs. Long, slender, yet shapely legs that went on and on. My gaze followed her bare arms up until I caught sight of her face.

This “pretty little girl” was all woman.

Her eyes were dark brown against flawless honeyed skin. There was a sprinkling of freckles across her nose, though I figured she tried to hide them with the little bit of makeup I firmly believed she didn’t need. Her lips were shaped like a heart, darkened a reddish tone by lipstick.

When our eyes met, she let her mouth drop open a little, smiling and stepping away as if she thought she was intruding on something. I instinctively reached into my back pocket for a rag, thinking of how dirty I probably looked. I wiped my hands on that scrap of material that was as blackened with oil and dirt as my skin was, making any attempt to clean up pretty much pointless.

I was just a diesel mechanic. And this woman was an absolute knockout, with long blonde hair, straight as a board and so fine it reflected the sun in waves. Yeah, she was a looker and out of my league, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t enjoy the view.

My eyes took all of her in, from the tight little pink tank top to her black shorts and her strappy shoes. I didn’t hurry, lingering as I absorbed every curve and angle. When I found her gaze again, she had a slightly annoyed expression on her face. She tilted her head to the side. “Are you going to check out my car now or what?”

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