Bayou Sunset (Agents of HIS #4)

Chapter Nine

“ MERDE . OF ALL the egotistical things ta do!” Daisy Mae still fumed on the boat ride back to Bayou Junction. She'd allowed Steve to remain on the boat, but only at her brother's pleading. Okay, so she wouldn't have left him stranded on the island, but the desire had flittered through her to do so.

Daisy Mae hated treasure hunting. Look what had happened. Her boat had been riddled with bullets, leaving holes in numerous places. Fortunately, the damage appeared to be above the waterline, but the repairs would be time-consuming. She had to fix them before taking out another charter, as no passenger would feel safe seeing the damage.

She wondered who had shot at her. It had to be another treasure hunter, but which one? Where had her big-mouthed brothers spouted off about their map? There are too many places to know them.

“ Deyzee Mè ,” Pierre asked. “What did da other bateau look like?”

Like he cared. The twins wanted to return to the island and continue searching for the treasure, but she overrode their desire. She would not sit there and wait for the other boat to return.

“Why do it matter?” she asked, turning the wheel and slowing the engine, bringing them into the channel surrounding the docks.

Pierre shrugged. “Jus’ curious.”

With narrowed eyes, Daisy Mae swore. He had an idea who it was. “ Mon Dieu! Spill.”

Suddenly, Pierre looked all innocent. “What do ya mean?”

“Who shot at me bateau ?”

Pierre shook his head. “No idea.”

She didn't believe him but let it go for now. She knew JP was the weaker of her brothers, so she'd get him alone another time and find out the truth about everything—including where they acquired the map.

Could it be the stolen map, and the owner wanted it back in any way he could, including violence? She had to know before she put herself in danger again. She wouldn't even put her asshole brothers in danger if she could help it.

“Thanks for allowing me to go with ya today.”

When had Steve learned to sneak up on people so stealthily? That was an eerie habit. “Thank mon frères ,” she snapped.

Daisy Mae knew she needed to calm herself. She was becoming a downright bitch, but hell, she'd been shot at today. Steve only did what solid and alpha men did. He took control of the situation.

Only Steve hadn't been a strong, alpha male when she'd known him before. He'd been polite and never made fun of her when her brothers did. Steve would take up for her and include her in their activities most of the time. Or, he'd spend extra time with her when her brothers wouldn't.

As soon as she understood that feeling, she was fascinated with him. As a young girl, she fantasized about marrying him. As Daisy Mae had grown into a teenager, she'd continued that fantasy. He’d left without a backward glance when she’d tried to turn it into reality. Her dream had burned to ashes.

“I be sorry,” Steve said softly.

Knowing she should accept his apology, she sighed. “ Bien .” Then she spun on him. “Just don't do it again.” Circling back to guide the boat to the dock, Daisy Mae realized she'd left a chance for him to do it again.

Next thing she knew, Steve stood on the dock, tying off the boat. How had he moved so fast? What did they teach at the FBI academy that honed his skills and confidence? It only made him sexier than before. Merde. She had to get him out of her mind.

The twins grabbed their gear and exited the boat. “ Au revoir , Deyzee Mè ,” they said in unison.

Daisy Mae almost exploded at them. Au revoir , Deyzee Mè? Not, I be sorry I got ya bateau shot up, and ya nearly killed, Deyzee Mè?

Steve jumped back on the boat. Grabbing his gear, he turned to her. “I be willing to help ya repair the bateau .”

If she didn't have a charter in the morning, she'd tell him where to put his offer of help, but as it was, she needed the assistance. She needed help patching the holes enough to make them look presentable tomorrow. The boat would require professional repair, but they could make it work now.

Daisy Mae sighed in relent. “ Merci .”

Growing up where Steve had, Daisy Mae hadn't needed to show him what to do. Only, they'd shared the same materials, sometimes touching hands. Each time that happened, a spark shot through her.

She still wanted him, and it irked her beyond all reason.

“I be sorry da twins no help ya.”

Daisy Mae wasn't sure when, in her lifetime, everyone had stopped referring to her brothers as JP and Pierre but as “ da twins.” Maybe because they had been the only twins in their tiny town while growing up.

“ Mais ,”—she pushed the bill of her cap up—”it be expected.”

Steve stopped sanding a spot he'd just filled. “So, dey treat ya da same as before?”

Before what? Before you abandoned us? Me? She shrugged. “Dey be who dey be.”

“Why haven't ya left this town and settled in a bigger fishing community?” Steve asked. “Ya could build a fleet of charters somewhere else and make a mint.”

Her heart said, “Because I've waited for ya to come home,” while her tongue lashed out, “ Mais , ya leaving don’t mean everyone wants to leave.”

“ Touché !” Steve touched his chest in mock pain. “I always thought ya wanted ta leave.”

I had. With you. “Schoolgirl fancy. I no need a bigger town to rebuild the fleet.”

“True.” Steve set down his supplies. “Done. Want to inspect my work?”

Mais, oui . She needed to ensure it would suffice for tomorrow. While they'd learned to care for a boat growing up, they'd never had to fill bullet holes.

Daisy Mae strode over to him. Steve didn't move back. She felt…crowded…hot…wanting. Merde!

“It be fine,” she finally choked out after being so near him and his shirtless self. She'd been avoiding looking at him for that reason. His artfully designed chest drew her anyhow. Childhood fantasies….

Steve smiled. “ Bien . How ’bout a drink ta cool down?”

“ Non ” would have been her first response, but she wanted to be near him. This confused her. She wanted him but didn’t want to like him because he’d broken her heart once, and she didn’t want it to happen again. Good grief. She sounded like a girl still in love with the boy who always rescued her from her brothers—or a girl in a romance novel. Mon Dieu! Not that .

“ Non, merci ,” she said, knowing it was the correct answer—not the answer she wanted, but the right one.

“Come on. Are ya chicken ta be wit me?”

That set off her ire. “ Oui , I have a drink wit ya,” she ultimately said. Why not? Maybe she would learn enough about him to douse the flames licking inside her for him. Just maybe….

His resulting grin shot that idea all to hell. She was in trouble.