Bayou Sweetheart

Brenna tilted her head. “My sisters are my bridesmaids. Callie will be wearing a pretty blue dress.”

That got his attention. “Ah, Callie. I met her the other day. She was...in the garden.”

“She loves that job,” Brenna replied, a twinkle in her eye. “She told Alma and me about how you’d caught her playing in the rain.”

He was sure she’d told them more—that he was brooding and scary and that she had a total disdain for his lofty lifestyle.

“She’s a very...interesting woman.”

Nick grinned and winked. “These Blanchard sisters, Tomas. Have to watch them.”

Brenna didn’t even bat an eye. “It’s Callie Blanchard Moreau now, but she is the last Blanchard woman standing. The strongest of us. You need to ask her to dance at the wedding so she won’t feel like a wallflower. Okay?”

“I don’t dance,” Tomas replied, already imagining Callie in a blue dress, in his arms. Definitely not a wallflower.

Brenna shook her head at that. “You might change your mind.” She was about to shut the trunk when Tomas stopped her.

“Wait,” he said, spying a painting lying in the trunk underneath a blanket. The blanket had slipped away to reveal long blond hair and one sky-blue eye. “May I see that?”

Brenna pulled at the blanket. “I painted it.” She beamed and sent a glance to her amused fiancé. “For Callie’s birthday, last December. Papa and I have been working on the frame. Only Callie is a bit embarrassed about it. She didn’t want people to think she’s vain so she asked Papa to keep it.”

Tomas lifted the painting and held it up. It was a portrait of Callie laughing in a garden. It reminded him of the other day. The day his heart had beat faster. “How much?”

Brenna frowned over at him. “Excuse me?”

“I want to buy this. How much?”

Nick cleared his throat. “Uh, that’s not for sale. Brenna gave it to Callie as a gift.”

“But she refused to accept it.” Tomas held tight to the painting. Brenna had captured her sister’s essence, the same essence he’d seen when she was in the garden. “I understand that and I appreciate it. But I’d like to buy this painting.”

Brenna started to speak, then stopped, then started again.

“I...I don’t know what to say. I mean, I worked on it for months, sometimes right here in the sunroom, before the house was finished. Papa said he’d like to hang it by our mother’s portrait.”

“How much?” Tomas asked again. “Name your price.”

Brenna dropped the blanket into the trunk. “But...what will I tell Callie? And Papa? Have you met my papa?”

“No. But I’ve met your sister. Just quote me a price.”

Brenna walked over to Nick. “Will you please explain to your boss that this portrait is not for sale?”

Nick grinned again. “I think Tomas has finally met his match.” He leaned close to Brenna. “And I’m not talking about you and your papa.”

Brenna smiled at Nick, a gleam in her eyes. “Tomas, I can’t sell you the portrait. But I’m flattered that you like it.”

Tomas put the portrait back in the trunk. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make demands. It’s just that—”

“This would be perfect in one of the bedrooms,” Brenna replied, her eyes lighting up.

“I had thought the sunroom.” Tomas shouldn’t have said anything. He didn’t like the feelings Callie seemed to stir. And he did not like the way Brenna’s eyes were gleaming now. She obviously thought he’d gone mad, or she’d sensed his hard-to-explain interest in her older sister.

“The sunroom.” Brenna’s eyes filled with tears. “Perfect.”

“I’m sorry,” Tomas said again. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“No, no.” Brenna ran a finger over the painting. “Callie has been through so much. So much. I wanted to give her something that would make her smile. She was touched and embarrassed. So we compromised and agreed to display it at Papa’s house, maybe in her old room. But...you seem to see her as she is. She’s the sunshine in all of our lives.”

Tomas swallowed, wondered why he’d even suggested having the painting. “You have to give it back to her—to your family.”

Brenna took the painting out and ran her hand over the wooden frame. “My papa made this frame and Alma and I helped Julien and him mat it. Callie probably hasn’t even missed it.”

“You have to keep it. Because you’re family,” Tomas said again, a trace of regret in the words. “I understand. You all had a part in this gift.”

Brenna stared at Callie’s image. “Yes. But Callie would be so touched that you wanted it. She needs to know that someone wants—”

“I understand,” Tomas finished, feeling awkward now.

Brenna turned to Nick. “What should I do?”

Nick shrugged. He kissed her on the nose. “Remember you and me? Remember?”

“Yes.” She took his hand. “We’re so blessed.”

Tomas could see their love. But he wasn’t sure what they were saying. “Obviously, I’ve upset you.”

Nick held out a hand. “The Blanchard sisters lost their mother to breast cancer. They get emotional about things.”

“I’m sorry.” Tomas wished he’d never suggested buying the painting. He was usually better at handling negotiations. “Put it away, Brenna.”

“I don’t mind you having it,” Brenna said. “I think it’s a beautiful idea. But...Callie’s been hurt badly by a horrible divorce. Her ex-husband couldn’t handle it when she got sick.”

Tomas lifted his head and stared at Brenna, his heart hammering as realization hit him like a hot wind. “Callie? She was...sick?”

“She’s a cancer survivor,” Brenna replied. “But...”

“But you don’t want anyone to hurt her ever again,” Tomas finished. “I understand. That’s a family thing, too.”

“Yes. We’re close. Tight-knit. I’d have to explain.”

And he’d have to promise to honor that gift and the woman he’d met the other day. Callie...with cancer. He didn’t like thinking about that. He wasn’t sure he was ready for something so strong, so tightly woven.

How could he even begin to understand what Brenna was saying to him? She didn’t want him to make a mess of her sister’s life. He didn’t want to be in anyone’s life anyway.

“Take it back to your father.”

Brenna wrapped the painting and placed it in the trunk. “Thanks for understanding.”

Tomas usually liked a good challenge. But this was a matter of the heart, and it had been a very long time since he’d given his heart to anything that truly mattered. “Don’t tell her I asked to buy it.”

“Of course not,” Brenna replied, her eyes full of hope and understanding. “If this portrait of my sister ever does wind up in your home, you’ll have to be the one to tell her. But you need to know—she likes surprises. The good kind, that is.”

“Thank you,” Tomas said. “It was good to see both of you.”

Then he turned and headed toward his big, lonely house.

* * *

“Surprise!”

Callie clapped her hands and beamed with glee. They’d planned a special shower for Brenna, the last one before her wedding, at Alma’s little cottage on the bayou.

“What is all of this?” Brenna asked as she moved through the dainty living room. “I already have so much from my other showers.”

“We know,” Alma said, smiling. “This is from us—your sisters and your close friends.”

Callie pulled Brenna close. “See—Winnie’s here and Pretty Mollie and—”

“And the other waitresses from the café and Mrs. LeBlanc and Mrs. Laborde,” Brenna finished. “So thoughtful. What do you two have up your sleeve?”

“Wait until you see your gifts,” Callie said, her heart bursting. After going through a bad breakup and losing her dream job in Baton Rouge, Brenna had found Nick—a wonderful man—to spend her life with, a man who recognized her talents and her temperamental, creative nature. Callie’s heart pierced at the thought of her sisters finding happiness. She’d thought she had it. Once. Long ago. But Dewayne Moreau was nowhere to be seen in Louisiana. He was long gone.

But she was here. She’d survived a divorce and breast cancer. Now she was grateful for each breath she took. Her prayers were sweeter, deeper, with more meaning. Because she’d been given a true second chance. Every minute had to count.

She missed their mother, Lola. “Mom would be so happy for you,” she told Brenna.

“I know. I know.” Brenna went around, looking at the presents scattered here and there. “What kind of shower is this, anyway?”

Callie and Alma both laughed. “It’s an artist type shower. Your husband-to-be has big plans for that new house he’s building you.”

Brenna’s expression went soft. “He’s so sweet. I can’t believe he decided we could live here part-time.”

“He loves you. And...you will be going back and forth between here and San Antonio,” Callie said.

“And he does have that adorable little hacienda in Texas,” Alma reminded her sister. “You are blessed.”

Brenna’s eyes grew bright. “But really, what kind of shower is this?”

“Oh, all right, impatient,” Callie retorted. “We bought you art supplies for that new studio Nick’s including in your house.”

Brenna burst into tears.

“Drama queen,” Callie said, grabbing her little sister close. “Why are you crying?”

“I...I just never dreamed I’d be so happy,” Brenna said through gulps. “I...I want all of us to be this happy.” She looked at Callie. “I want you—”

“Shh,” Callie said, her own tears hot against her cheek. “I’m always happy. Always. I get to see both of you married to good men. I get to design the garden of my dreams at Fleur House. I have Elvis. He’s the perfect companion.”

Out on the porch, Elvis barked in agreement.

Brenna’s tears disappeared. “What do you think of Tomas? Isn’t he so...mysterious?”

And so the conversation turned to the man who’d been centered in Callie’s mind for over two weeks. She’d been out to the house a couple more times, but he’d been away on business or off doing whatever a mysterious man did. Or maybe he’d been there, but he’d studied her from that lofty view up above the tree line, where people who didn’t want to be seen lived. Maybe he was some sort of superhero who fought crime by night and built empires by day.

“So...?”

She looked up to find several big-eyed women staring at her. “Oh, the punch. Yes, it’s almost ready.”

“We weren’t talking about punch,” Alma retorted with a wry grin. “Have you been doing any more dancing?”

“Oh, hush.” Callie busied herself with getting ice and mixing the creamy concoction of standard shower punch.

Winnie raised her hand. “I hear he reminds you of Heathcliff.”

Pretty Mollie, one of the younger waitresses at the Fleur Café located in front of Alma’s cottage, giggled. “Heathcliff, as in Wuthering Heights?”

“That Heathcliff, yes,” Alma replied. Mollie dated her husband, Julien’s, younger brother, Pierre.

“Can’t you ever keep the things I tell you to yourself?” Callie asked, blood rushing to her cheeks.

“It’s payback time,” Brenna said, still sniffing. “You’ve been teasing us about men for years now. It’s our turn.”

“But that was about men you were involved with,” Callie said. She stirred the lime sherbet into the lemon-lime fizzing soda with a vengeance, then added some fruit juice. “This is different.”

“Is it really?” Brenna asked. “He seems keen on you.”

“What makes you think that?” Callie asked, her heart pounding just as much as the wooden spoon she used to attack the sherbet. She wasn’t sure what “keen on you” actually meant.

Brenna put a hand over her mouth. “Oh, nothing. He just mentioned how he’d met you and that you were...interesting.”

Pretty Mollie put on a dreamy smile. “Isn’t it romantic? A handsome stranger who lives in a big old house all by himself. What’s his story anyway?”

A sigh moved through the roomful of women.

Brenna glanced from Alma to Callie. “I’ve heard things.”

“What things?” Callie asked. Brenna remained silent. “What things, Brenna?”

“Nick told me not to tell.”

“You can’t just throw that out there and expect us to accept that,” Callie replied, worry clouding over her annoyance at her sister’s teasing. “Is there something I should know about the man?”

Brenna studied the faces in the room, drawing out the anticipation until Callie thought she’d scream. “Brenna?”

Brenna shook her head. “I don’t know if it’s true but...I think he was married before.”

“And?” Callie closed her eyes, the answer already forming in her brain.

“And she died. Mysteriously.”

“Of course,” Callie replied, hope melting into a puddle right along with the sherbet. She’d figured divorced. But this was tragic, just like the man. It explained a lot, however.

“Define mysteriously,” Alma said.

“No one knows what happened,” Brenna replied. “He took her away and then he came back to Texas without her. He doesn’t talk about it.” She turned stern, her gaze sweeping the room. “And we can’t talk about it. We all know how closemouthed men can be.”

“No wonder,” Mrs. Laborde, who loved to pass on tall tales, said on a low whisper. “Callie, be careful when you go out there.”

Callie stood up straight. “This is ridiculous. Brenna, remember we wondered what the deal was with Nick? Now we know he lost a family member. That’s why he was so standoffish and mysterious. It could be the same with Tomas. He loved his wife and he tried to save her.”

“Maybe,” Alma said. “Or maybe...”

Callie held up a hand. “Maybe he couldn’t handle things and he bolted. I know all about that, don’t I?”

She looked at her sisters, saw the sympathy and the fear in their eyes. “I’m working for the man. That’s all. I’ll be okay.”

But she had to wonder, as she poured punch into pretty blue cups, if she’d made a fatal mistake in accepting this job.

Not if you keep to yourself and guard your heart, she thought. Not if you stay busy doing what you were hired to do and never enter that beautiful house again.

She wouldn’t think about Tomas Delacorte as a lonely, brooding man who might need a friend. She wouldn’t.

But of course, she was just the kind of person who befriended everyone anyway. Even if they didn’t want her around.

Chapter Three

“So the sale is final and all the paperwork is in place. We can finally announce our plans to the public.”

Nick sat across from Tomas’s antique walnut desk, taking notes on his tablet. “Good. Do you want to see the preliminary plans for the updated factory? The main office blueprints are included.”

Tomas took the rolled-up blueprints and spread them out on the desk. “They’re finished?”

“As of last night. I had to get them done or risk upsetting my bride. She decided she does want to go on a honeymoon, after all. We’re still trying to decide where however, since we’ve both been so busy we’ve held off until the last minute.”

Tomas smiled at that. “Brenna is a forceful female.”

“And don’t I know it,” Nick replied, his eyes bright with contentment. “She amazes me.”

Tomas swallowed his envy and let the lump settle in his stomach. He’d given up on the love thing long ago. “You’re blessed.” He reached inside the desk drawer and pulled out an envelope. “I want to go ahead and give you this now. In case your forceful bride doesn’t approve of my gift.”

“What’s this?” Nick took the big envelope and opened it. After skimming the contents, he looked up at Tomas. “A trip to Paris? Are you kidding me?”

“I hope not,” Tomas replied. “You can schedule it, but your honeymoon is on me.”

“I...I don’t know what to say.” Nick stared down at the itinerary. “Brenna had hoped we’d get to do this one day. But for our honeymoon, we’d thought a quick trip to Florida or maybe California. But Paris... She’ll be thrilled.”

Tomas enjoyed seeing the glee in his friend’s dark eyes. “I know it seems extravagant, but I pretty much depended on both of you, and your aunt Serena, too, to put this house together for me. You did a great job and then you went right into renovating plans for the other property. This is my way of thanking you.”

“What did you give my aunt?” Nick quipped.

“Serena, well, she’s hard to please. She only wanted to bid on my next project. She’ll be decorating the offices at the business property here, for starters.”

“Oh, she’ll like that,” Nick said, grinning. “You know, she and Brenna’s father have a thing.”

“A thing? As in, a relationship thing?”

“Sí.” Nick shook his head. “It was awkward at first, but Brenna and I have accepted it. They’re good for each other and they both agree it’s for companionship—for now.”

Tomas stood and turned to stare out the ceiling-to-floor window behind his desk. He could see part of the bayou from this viewpoint. Banana fronds and palmetto palms waved back at him as they danced in the spring breeze. A snowy white egret standing down in the shallows lifted her head in a pose. “This place seems to bring out the romantic in everyone.”

“You, too?” Nick asked, getting up to gather his papers.

Tomas turned around. “You know I’m not wired that way.”

“You might change that tune.” Nick came around the desk and shook Tomas’s hand. “Thank you, Tomas. For the trip. Brenna will be beside herself.”

“I want you to enjoy being newlyweds,” Tomas replied. “I mean that.”

“We will. See you later.” Nick turned and headed out of the room.

Tomas pivoted back to the window and saw a flash of something big and gangly moving through the backyard.

What kind of beast was that?

He shifted to see around the corner. There it was again.

A horse? No, a dog. A big, splotchy black-and-white dog that had paws the size of a Clydesdale’s hooves. The animal starting barking, then took off to chase a hapless squirrel. The squirrel rushed up the nearest live oak while the dog stood waiting and woofing.

Then Tomas heard a feminine voice calling. “Elvis, hush up. We don’t want to disturb Himself.”

“Himself?” Tomas actually chuckled. “Is that what she calls me now?”

He tried hard to frown, but his mood immediately lightened and his feet moved without any logic toward the nearest door to the outside.

Callie was back in his garden. And apparently she’d brought her guard dog with her. He’d have to insist that she put that animal away. He silently practiced what would be a stern lecture as he hurried toward the sunny backyard.

* * *

Callie laughed at Elvis, thinking he should have figured out by now that squirrels always got away. The big dog turned and stared at her, as if to say “Hey, a little help here.”

“C’mon over here,” she said, slapping a hand against her jeans. “We’ve got work to do.”

Elvis looked offended by that statement, but he finally gave a grudging, low bark and galloped back toward her. When he was about a foot away, however, he skidded to a stop, his big brown eyes moving beyond Callie.

“What do you see now?” she asked, turning.

Tomas Delacorte stood on the back terrace, staring down at them with that lord-of-the-manor frown.

“Hello.” Callie waved and Elvis took that as his cue to head on up and greet the interloper.

Callie stood up to stop the meeting of dog and man, but she was too late. “Elvis, no!”

Elvis barked with glee and went right on up the terrace steps and lifted up for a paw-hug. Tomas stepped back, his frown increasing, his hands up in the air. Elvis lifted, grabbed hold, pawed and left mud stains on Tomas’s expensive-looking gray suit.

“Elvis, get down,” Callie called as she rushed up toward the house. This wouldn’t be pretty. Tomas would probably tell her he hated dogs. Elvis would be banished from ever coming here again. And...so would she.

By the time she’d made it to the terrace, breathless and winded and wondering why she’d brought the dog in the first place, Tomas had Elvis by his collar.

“What is this?” he asked, his eyes flashing anger.

“My dog,” she said, her tone defensive. “Let him go.”

Tomas held Elvis at arm’s length. “Get him out of my yard.”

“He goes where I go,” she replied. “For protection.”

Tomas dropped his hand. Elvis immediately leaped back up against him. “He doesn’t exactly act like a guard dog.”

“He...alerts me,” she replied on a weak note.

This man made her so nervous. She wasn’t used to dealing with such a dour, unpleasant person.

Tomas gave her a pointed look and held Elvis by his paws so he could push the big dog off of his suit.

“Elvis, down,” Callie said, grabbing the dog to tug him away. “I’m sorry. Once he gets used to you, he won’t do that.”

“I don’t want him to get used to me. I want him away.”

Callie shooed Elvis out into the yard and dug in her heels for a fight. “Listen, this dog goes where I go. Sometimes I’m out in a garden alone until almost dark. He at least barks and lets me know when someone is approaching.”

Tomas brushed at his ruined suit. “And attacks.”

“I’ll have that cleaned for you.”

“No need. Just...keep him off the porch.”

“He usually sleeps or chases squirrels.”

“Fine.”

She took a breath. “We’re not sure what breed—or breeds—he is. He showed up at the nursery one day and wouldn’t leave. So he’s mine now.”

Tomas shot her a look that encompassed the meaning of that phrase. “You take in strays?”

“Not normally. Only the really good-looking ones.”

He gave her another look, surprise on his face. Did he consider himself a stray? Did he consider letting her take him in?

“You named him Elvis?”

“Yeah, ’cause he’s a hunk, a hunk of burnin’ love.”

Tomas didn’t laugh, but she saw that sparkle in the dark blue of his eyes. Okay, now they were getting down to business. She’d been reprimanded and Elvis had been banished.

Yet she had to defend her dog. “I like his company. He’s playful, watchful and he doesn’t ask a lot of questions.”

His eyebrows quirked upward. “You don’t like questions?”

“Who does?”

Tomas walked down to where she stood on the bottom step. Elvis hurried back then sniffed and took off after something that moved. Probably the wind.

Tomas surprised her by sitting back on the terrace edge. Shocked yet again, Callie thought she should tell him she had work to do. She should call her dog and leave. She should be aloof and unattainable, mysterious and standoffish.

But no, here she stood waiting for his next words. Pathetic, really. “Did you need something else?” she asked, as if she really meant it. “I did come here to work.”

He stared off into the distance. “I don’t get out in the garden much.”

“You work a lot. It’s understandable. And speaking of that, what exactly do you do?”

He loosened his tie then put his hands between his knees and stared out toward the bayou. “I buy things.”

“I can see that,” she said, lifting her hand toward the house. “You buy big expensive things.”

“Yes. Buildings, companies, factories, mostly commercial real estate.”

“People? Do you try to buy people?”

His frown turned stoic, but she saw a trace of tenderness in his eyes. “I’ve found most people can’t be bought.”

“But you’ve tried?”

“Are you asking me this because you’re curious, or because you think I’m that kind of man?”

“Maybe both.”

“What would you like to know about me, Callie?”

She had to be her usual blunt self. “Everything. Nothing. It’s not my business, after all.”

“But you’ve heard things? You want to know why I’m here.”

“We’d all like to know that.”

She wanted to shout that she needed to know about his wife. About what had happened with his wife. Did he love her? Or did he abandon her? Was she still alive and hiding in some attic somewhere far away?

Her gaze drifted up to the oval second-story balcony. Maybe he’d brought his wife here.

He got up. “I’m holding a meeting with the city council on Thursday. Of course, the public is welcome to come.”