Down on the Bayou by Erika Chase

Author:Erika Chase
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: erotic romance, louisiana, romance series, rocker romance, cajun country romance, bayou romance, erika chase

CHAPTER EIGHT

When I opened my eyes the room was hot and bright. I dragged myself out to the kitchen, passing through my aunt’s tidy bedroom on the way. Her bed had been made, the sheets drawn so tight that not even a single wrinkle had survived to crease the floral spread. When I got to the kitchen, blearily wondering what I’d do for breakfast, I saw a covered plate and a brewing pot of coffee. The coffee had chicory in it and smelled delicious; just a whiff of it had my nervous system sighing in pleasure. Jubilee’s note on the fridge said she’d be home after church and we’d go visit the family.

Family? I wasn’t sure what that meant. But if Jubilee was anything to go by, I wanted to find out.

It took two cups of java to jolt me into action. Then I bathed, hoovered up the eggs with gravy my aunt had left for me, and checked in with Jamey. She texted back that she’d gone to bed early the night before and when she woke this morning Boston was icy and overcast and the weatherman said that one big bitch of a storm was on its way (Jamey might have been paraphrasing).

So I wasn’t missing anything.

I was drinking more coffee on the front porch when a huge black truck pulled up out front. My aunt hopped out of the passenger side, looking all the tinier for coming out of such a monster. Her feet hit the ground and scared up dust with the force of her impact, but she didn’t even notice, she was too busy hurrying up the dirt walkway. The truck eased away, the driver double-tapping a farewell on the horn. I waved, but the tinted windows were up so I couldn’t see who was driving.

“Who dat?” I asked my aunt, imitating the local vernacular. Maybe I hasn’t gotten it yet, but… I wasn’t giving up without a fight.

She was dressed up, in a long blue dress that looked like it was from the 1950s, and a matching hat with a veil.

“Luke. He drive me to church ever’ Sunday. He don’t come in, just wait and drive me back home again.”

“Wow. Nice boyfriend you got there,” I told her, and gave her a wink.

She laughed.

“No, cher. Luke your type a boy. Not mine.”

Right. Like I’d be interested in some shit-stomping, moonshine-swilling, nightcrawler-swinging, truck-driving, Backflats guy? Not likely.

But I grinned at her.

“You always did have a mess of hot men on your tail, Aunt Jubilee.”

She laughed again.

“You gonna go meet your relatives dressed like that? On a Sunday?” she teased.

It was only eleven and already hotter than hell, so I’d made do with a pair of indecently short cutoffs and a tight baby tee. It was probably for the best I hadn’t made it to church with Aunt Jubilee.

“Should I dress up?” I asked, rubbing at the back of my neck like I was always did when I was embarrassed but didn’t want to show it.

She shook her head.

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