Kiss Me That Way: A Cottonbloom Novel (2 page)

Self-preservation had been his constant companion the last few years. Best all around if she didn’t see him. Then, there’d be no one to squeal to later. No one would believe a Louisiana swamp rat over a well-to-do ’Sip. He eased the reeds back together and took a step back, his boot squelching in mud.

“Don’t come any closer. I-I have a gun.” Any hint of bravado was gone from her voice. She sounded straight up terrified. He looked through the reeds again. She was half out of her seat, the skiff rocking slightly in the shallow water. The girl reminded Cade of a rabbit, half-trapped and ready to gnaw its foot off to escape.

What if Tally needed help and he wasn’t around? He looked up to the moon and mouthed a curse. The wave of protectiveness had him pulling off his ball cap and rising out of his crouch, his hands in front of him. Although he didn’t see any sign she actually had a gun, this was Mississippi.

“It’s all right. I’m not going to hurt you, girl. Name’s Cade Fournette.”

“D-don’t come any closer or I’ll…” She looked around her feet.

“I don’t keep any sort of weapons in my boat. Unless you want to hit me upside the head with a paddle.”

“This is your boat? I’m sorry. Do you need it?” The girl looked torn about what to do. Politely give up her hiding place or hunker back down.

A huffing laugh escaped him. “We can share for a while if you want. I have a sister named Tallulah. You two look about an age. What … Thirteen or so?”

“Yes.” The girl nodded like a bobblehead but still looked ready to throw herself over the side in a bid for escape.

“She loves to come out on the river with me. Sometimes I even let her drive the boat.” Lies. Tally hated the river. Said it reminded her of too many sad things. He tried on a smile.

Unlike Cade, the girl was used to trusting people. Her shoulders rounded with a shuddery sigh, and she plopped back onto the seat. Her hair appeared almost white in the moonlight, her features delicate, and when she tucked her hair behind ears that stuck out a little her face took on an elfish quality, cute and innocent.

He hauled himself onto the opposite seat, folding his legs into a modified crisscross-applesauce. He’d learned when to be big brother, father, uncle, or friend. This girl needed a big brother.

“What’s your name?”

“Kirby. Monroe Kirby.”

“Are you an international spy like … Bond, James Bond?” His joke was silly, but it worked. A giggle spurted out of her. “What’re you doing out here so late, Monroe?”

“What are
you
doing out here so late?”

He barely managed to keep his reaction contained to a quirk of his lips. He was glad that whatever had happened, the girl retained some spunk. The river that divided Mississippi from Louisiana also divided the town of Cottonbloom. At one time the town had been united, but for the past fifty years the sides faced off across the river like two sentinels on guard. And Cade, being a Louisiana swamp rat, shouldn’t be this far upriver.

“I asked first. Who is Sam and why are you scared of him?”

She tensed again, fear masking her face. Her knees and legs were scraped, her bare feet streaked brown with mud, her hands scratched and dirty. Her ruffled white nightgown looked childish—she was in eighth grade if she and Tally were the same age—but her finger- and toenails were painted hot pink.

“You can trust me. I promise,” he said softly.

A chorus of bullfrogs filled the silence. She didn’t flinch away from his gaze as some people did. Something passed between them, something almost electric that put Cade on alert. Not attraction—he wasn’t a pervert—but a sort-of understanding he couldn’t explain.

As if a door unlocked, words poured from her. Not just about what had happened that night, but about her mother’s descent into alcoholism, her parents’ divorce, her shame. The more she told him, the angrier he became. It seemed things on the Mississippi side of Cottonbloom weren’t always brighter than on the Louisiana side. Bigger houses, more money, same problems.

“What should I do?” She tucked her hands between her knees, the ruffles on the front of her nightgown waving in the breeze.

“Your mom is passed out?”

She nodded.

“This Sam fella has been sleeping over regular-like?”

She bit her bottom lip, but her chin wobbled. She nodded again.

“How about this? Let’s go up on the bank to get away from the skeeters, and I’ll clean up your scratches. When the sun comes up, I’ll see you home.”

“What about Sam?”

Innocence was fleeting, and Monroe was a kid. A kid who reminded Cade painfully of Tally, but as long as he was alive Tally would be safe. Monroe had no one.

He considered stalking to her house and de-nutting her mother’s boyfriend, but that would only scare Monroe worse and get him thrown in jail faster than a hiccup. Instead, he banked his rage, knowing it would be there when he needed it.

“I’ll handle him later. Make sure he doesn’t bother you again.”

Whether she heard the darkness in his voice or not, she didn’t ask him how he would accomplish it. She held on to that much innocence at least.

“Thank you, Cade.” She smiled, the action lighting her from the inside, turning her from cute into something beyond pretty, something like the flash of summer’s first firefly or a shooting star. Then, it was gone, and he blinked, wondering if it had been his imagination.

He tucked the first-aid kit from the skiff under his arm and helped her up the slippery bank with a hand under her knobby elbow. She sat with her back against a cottonwood tree and talked while he cleaned her knees and palms and dabbed on antiseptic. She was too young to edit herself, and by the time the first streaks of sun lit the sky he knew her favorite foods, bands, color. He also knew her dreams and goals and fears.

Shockingly, he shared a few of his secrets, too. Things he tried to protect Sawyer and Tally from. The charity Cade had been forced to accept at the food bank since his parents had been killed by a drunk driver. A different sort of shame than Monroe’s, but just as cutting. The medicine he’d stolen from the pharmacy when Tally’s cough got so bad over the winter. Even though Monroe couldn’t help him, she seemed to understand him, and in that simple act his burdens and shames were lessened.

With the branches of the tree swaying in the warm sea-infused breeze, he and Monroe watched the stars fade into predawn light. Handfuls of white bolls dotted the freshly harvested cotton field on the far side of the river. It wasn’t until pink streaked from the ground that she spoke again. “Cade, please don’t tell anyone.”

“You could go to the cops.” Even though he didn’t trust the law to treat him fairly, surely it would protect someone like her.

“I can’t. Then everyone would know.”

He wanted to tell her it wasn’t her fault, but he understood how hollow the words would sound. He’d heard enough platitudes like that to last a lifetime. “I won’t tell. And you won’t tell anyone about me, either?”

She took his hand and squeezed. “I would never.”

He’d never met a teen girl who could keep a secret, but he could only nod. They walked side by side through the grassy field, entering her yard through a narrow door in the back of her fence. Her house was enormous by his standards. The chlorine of the pool pungent but not unpleasant. He’d never played in water so blue and clean. The murky river was his swimming pool.

He wrapped a hand around her skinny upper arm, all bone and tendons and tender flesh. Heat flashed through his body at the thought of her trying to fight off a grown man. “Can you get in the house? Where’s your room?”

“Mama keeps a key under the flowerpot around front.” Monroe pointed to an open window on the second floor, the drapes swaying with the wind. “That’s my room. I think I can squeeze past my bureau.”

He stifled a curse. A miracle she hadn’t broken her neck. “Go around the front. Run straight to your room and give me a thumbs-up. Remember what I told you?”

“Jam the back of a chair under the door handle whenever Mama brings a man home.”

“Right. I know you’re tired, but you go to school today, you hear?”

“I will.” She took a step away, then whirled back and threw herself into his chest, startling him. His arms came around her automatically to return the hug. She felt as delicate as a baby bird. “Can you come back upriver sometime?”

He should say no for a multitude of reasons. No one would approve of their association for one thing. For another, getting caught would be catastrophic to his family. “Next full moon. Meet me under the cottonwood tree.”

“Thank you, Cade.” Her voice was muffled against his shirt.

“Go on, then.” He let her go and nudged her toward the house. She ran, looking over her shoulder several times. He waited until she came to her window and gave him the signal. After she’d closed her window and drapes, he stood there, nurturing his rage.

He was going to be late for work and lose out on precious wages. Not to mention the fact, he hadn’t actually gotten any poaching done. He circled to the front of the house and settled under an oak tree across the street, trying to stay hidden. Any of the snobby ’Sips along the street could call the police and accuse him of loitering.

An hour later, a man in a well-fitting suit came out the front door of Monroe’s house. Cade muttered a curse. He should have guessed Monroe’s “Sam” was in fact Sam Landry, a prominent insurance salesman with advertisements all over both sides of the river. He was good-looking in a smarmy Sears catalog model kind of way. Now Cade knew Sam’s toothy white smile and perfect hair hid a special kind of depravity.

Cade was on him before he had a chance to unlock the blue BMW in the driveway.

“What the—?” The man’s voice was more outraged than fearful.

Cade looked up and down the street. Deserted. He slid a knife out of his boot, the handle worn to fit his hand. With an arm across Sam’s chest, he set the tip at the crotch of the other man and pushed him against the car door.

“You messed with the wrong girl, Mr. Landry.”

The man’s mouth went slack, his eyes bloodshot, his pores still exuding the scent of liquor.

“Monroe is a friend of mine. You hurt her, and I’ll take it personal. Real personal. You want to go to jail for molesting a child?”

“I didn’t touch that girl.” Sam shoved at Cade’s arm, only managing to move it a couple of inches.

While Cade was only seventeen, he’d physically gained a man’s muscles and had conditioned himself to harness his fear. He couldn’t afford to back down from anyone. “Only ’cause she ran off.”

The man stopped fighting him, his voice oozing charm and good humor. “You got it all wrong, boy. She’s trying to get me in trouble. Doesn’t want me to marry her mama. Plus, she’s got a little crush on me. Bad combination. You know how these young girls can be. Silly and impressionable.”

Monroe hadn’t seemed either to him. “I’m more inclined to believe her than you, mister. Especially considering I can still smell liquor on you.”

The man’s face tightened and his body jerked against Cade’s arm. “I know you. You’re a Louisiana swamp rat. You think the police will believe you over me?” This man was used to being in charge, used to being heard, while Cade did his business in the shadows.

“Probably not.” Cade held the man’s gaze and let the tension build in the silence. “How about I dish out swamp rat justice then? I’ll cut your shriveled little balls off and feed them to a wild hog. You’ll be singing soprano in the church choir the rest of your days.”

“You wouldn’t touch me.”

Cade bared his teeth in the mimicry of a smile. He pushed the tip of his knife through the wool fabric of the man’s suit pants, twisting and sliding the blade until a gaping foot-long hole revealed a pair of pink-and-blue-striped boxers.

Cade amped up his redneck accent. “I’d enjoy guttin’ you and throwin’ you to the gators.”

Sam’s throat worked, but no sound emerged. A man walking a high-stepping white poodle with a ridiculous pink bow came into view two houses down. Cade needed to wrap this up before the ’Sip called the law.

“Let me tell you how this is going to go down. You’re going to break it off with Monroe’s mama. You’re going to move out of this house. And if I ever see you hanging around, you and I are going to take a little trip out to the swamps. Got me?”

Sam jerked his head, his mouth twisted. Cade removed his arm, slid the knife back into his boot, and walked away in one smooth motion. In the light of day, he couldn’t traipse over other people’s property back to his boat. It would be a hot, hour-long walk back to where he’d left his truck. At best, he’d miss half his shift and half his pay. At worst, he’d get fired and come home empty-handed.

Looking over his shoulder at the grand white house, he smiled. Either way, it had been worth it.

Chapter Two

JUNE, PRESENT DAY …

Standing at a high counter, Monroe Kirby made notes in her last client’s chart and rotated her ankles. It had been a long day. Ms. June, the office scheduler, bustled over, her nursing clogs squeaking. “I have a walk-in patient. Can one of you take him?”

Monroe propped herself on her elbows and massaged the back of her neck. “It’s nearly five, and I have to meet my girls at the gym. Can you take him, Bart?”

Bartholomew Jones rubbed a hand over his cropped Afro and smiled one of his 120-watt smiles. “I would, Monroe, but it’s Dana’s birthday. If I’m late, I’ll be one of your clients tomorrow. With a wrung neck.”

Monroe returned his smile in spite of the inconvenience. No matter how stressful or busy they were, Bartholomew brightened everyone’s day and made working as a physical therapist at Cottonbloom Therapeutics fun. It was his gift, and she’d never regretted coming back home to join his practice. She was tired, but any client deserved to be put through their paces with a smile on her face and encouragement in her voice.

“I’ll shoot Tally a text and let her get the girls started. Hopefully this guy is cooperative. Records?”

“Doesn’t have any.”

“Paperwork?”

“He’s filling it out in room two. Although he didn’t look happy about it. Mr. Fournette brought him in, and they were arguing like two polecats in a sack.”