“My dad was Creole,” he said, but that wasn’t where he’d learned the French. He had a very good ear for languages and had picked up enough conversational French to get by during the few months he’d worked in New Orleans at the Hotel Marchand.
“What about your mom?” Loretta asked as they all went inside.
“Definitely
“I’m very well, thank you for asking, Luc. How was your trip to New Orleans?”
“It went great,” Loretta said. “Melanie Marchand is so gracious. It’s going to be the most awesome dinner. Where’s Papa?”
“Out fighting the webworms. Some farmer two miles away reported seeing a few, so your father’s spraying every tree on our property. Those little critters can destroy a beehive in no time. Luc, would you like to stay for dinner?”
“Thanks, but I can’t,” he said automatically. He figured he and Loretta had seen quite enough of each other today. Not that he could ever get his fill of her, but he imagined she was ready to see the dust behind his car. “I really just came in to buy some honey. The guests love it.”
Just then a door opened somewhere in the back of the house, and Zara rushed toward the sound. “Granddaddy! Monsieur Luc Carter is here to buy honey but he’s not staying for dinner.”
Vincent Castille entered the living room from the kitchen, giving Luc a broad smile. He was a big bear of a man in overalls and a workshirt, with thick, dark hair slicked back from his face, and he was about as Cajun as they came.
“Well, Monsieur Luc.” He vigorously shook Luc’s hand. “You havin’ any problems with webworms?”
“I don’t think so. They’re bad, huh?”
“Bad? A webworm is purely evil, not to mention being the enemy of the beekeeper. That little ol’ worm gets inside the hive and you don’ know it. You can’ see it. The bees fly back and forth, looking busy as can be. But a few weeks later when you go to collect the honey, what happens, Zara?”
“There’s no honey,” she said, “only that li’l ol’ worm.”
“He’ll talk for hours about webworms,” Adele said in a loud stage whisper. “Come on, Luc, I’ll get you your honey.” She led him into what had once been a dining room, but was now the honey business office. Two large hutches were filled with jars of honey. Along another wall were packaging and mailing supplies, brochures and invoices. In the middle of the room was a large, well-used desk.
The Castilles blended their honey with various essences to give them unique flavors, and Luc picked out a variety until he had a dozen jars. Adele prepared his invoice, giving him a vendor’s discount. He paid her, then folded the receipt and put it in his wallet. He had to keep track of every penny he spent on behalf of the B and B, or Celeste would have his head.
“What are you doing for the festival?” Adele asked.
“I’m helping with the VIP dinner. The B and B will be packed all weekend, so I’ll be busy.”
“No, I mean, what are you doing to promote La Petite Maison? We’re renting a booth with Loretta in the food section. We’re going to pass out free samples and sell honey and baked goods. They’re expecting thousands of people to come through Indigo over the weekend. It’s an unparalleled chance for promotion.”
“I hadn’t really thought about it.” He’d just been glad for the extra business during the festival itself.
“You could share our booth,” Adele said, because that’s the kind of person she was. “In fact, we were thinking of getting two, because one isn’t that big. You could have extra brochures printed up, and give away ten-percent discount coupons. Or advertise your bayou cocktail cruises,” she added.
“My what?” Luc didn’t even own a boat, except for a pirogue, which he’d let the bird-watchers borrow.
“Lots of B and Bs do extra stuff like that as an additional revenue stream. Cruises, ghost tours, walking tours of the town.”
Luc was still pretty new at this entrepreneur stuff, but he had to admit, Adele had a point. She was the genius behind Indigo Honey’s success.
But he didn’t think he was up to sharing a crowded booth with Loretta for an entire weekend. He had enough trouble keeping his hands off her as it was. If she wasn’t interested in hooking up with him, he would respect her wishes. But that didn’t mean he wanted to torture himself by deliberately putting himself in her path.
“I don’t think so,” he said. “It sounds like a great idea, but I’m going to be really busy that weekend with guests.”
“Well, if you’d like us to set out some brochures, just let me know.” Adele seemed unruffled by his refusal, but Loretta looked troubled.
“You’re sure you won’t stay for dinner?” she asked as she walked him back to the car. “About the kiss and all…I overreacted. It was just a kiss.” Her face turned a becoming shade of pink.
Luc liked to think it wasn’t “just a kiss,” but a way-above-average, special, mind-blowing kiss. It had been for him, anyway. “I have to get back. Doc’s keeping an eye on the place, and I’m sure he’d like to get on home.”
“All right, then. Thanks for driving and…and, well, everything.”
He reached out and brushed his knuckle across her cheek, and she didn’t shy away from his touch. In fact, her changeable hazel eyes turned darker, and he saw hunger in them. “Don’t worry so much.”
“I’ll try not to.” The words came out barely a whisper.
LORETTA KNEW she’d done the right thing. But then why did it feel so awful? She had more on her plate right now than she could possible deal with. Maybe Luc was right and she
When her mother found her a few minutes later, she was still standing in the driveway, staring after Luc’s car, lost in thought.
“Loretta?”
She snapped to awareness. “Oh. Guess I was daydreaming.”
Adele put an arm around her daughter’s shoulders. “About Luc?” she asked hopefully. Adele would have been more than happy to see Loretta settled down with a nice son-in-law and a few more grandkids.
“No,” Loretta said quickly, then laughed at herself. “Okay, yes, I was thinking about Luc. What do you suppose it is about me that craves something
“Lord, Loretta, you can’t compare Luc to Jim. They’re like two different species. Luc is responsible, stable. A businessman. There’s nothing wrong with Luc.”
“Except that I don’t know anything about him. And he has a girlfriend.”
“He’s Celeste Robichaux’s- He has a girlfriend? Who?”
“Someone out of town. He says they’re not committed. He was all mysterious about her. I don’t need that. I don’t want mystery or intrigue or adventure. I don’t want a man, period. I have enough to keep me busy.”
Adele chuckled. “Sometimes what we want and what we get are two different things. He’s awfully handsome. And he’s very good with Zara. Not every man gets on with children, you know.”
“Mama! Don’t encourage me. I’ve only just made up my mind to leave it be, and you’re weakening my resolve.”
“I’m just saying, is all.”
WHEN LUC GOT BACK to the B and B, he found Doc on the veranda with his guests, two elderly sisters from Baton Rouge. They were all drinking mint juleps and seemed to be getting along very well.
“Luc,” said Isabel, the older sister. Or maybe it was Ernestine. He got the two mixed up. “You didn’t tell us about the complimentary cocktails on the veranda. What a delightful surprise!”
How did he tell Isabel, or Ernestine, that the mint juleps were as much a surprise to him as to the guests?
“And such delightful company,” said Ernestine, simpering a bit. “Are you and the doctor related?”
“Uh, no.”
“But I knew his grandmother quite well,” Doc said with obvious fondness. “She and I used to sit on this very veranda when we were hardly more than teenagers, and sip mint juleps just like these.”
“Those were different times,” said Isabel dreamily. “When men were gentlemen.”
“Speaking of being a gentleman…” Doc pushed up from his rocking chair. “Excuse me, ladies.” He motioned for Luc to follow him inside. They entered the parlor, but neither of them sat down. Doc gave Luc a hard stare. “How was your day?”
