Four Weddings and a Swamp Boat Tour - Erin Nicholas Page 0,21
wrangler of everyone, from employees to visiting kids to otters and the occasional snake and even a gator a time or two.
Yeah, he was going to have to mention the alligators and snakes to Paige. And how to get rid of them if they showed up.
And he would. Eventually.
Ellie and Cora owned and operated the bar across the road. They served locals and tourists alike and had everything from gumbo and fried alligator balls to Hurricanes and beer on the menu. They even hosted a crawfish boil every Friday night.
The rest of the family were regulars at the bar and did a lot of “popping in” at the tour company office.
Aunts, uncles, cousins, even Mitch’s dad, showed up for food and drink, but more for the gossip and laughter.
His dad, Sean, was a shrimp boat captain. He’d worked for others for a long time but had finally bought his own boat. He worked long hours and didn’t make the trip to Autre daily, but he definitely stopped in whenever he could, and Mitch talked to him every day.
Mitch’s cousins, Fletcher, Zeke, and Zander, all worked in Autre too.
Fletcher was a teacher. He’d always been into books, and the other guys had called him Einstein even as they begged to copy off his papers and tried to bribe him to do their homework. Which he only ever did once. Incorrectly. After his brothers had failed their English assignments because of him, they’d stopped asking.
Zeke and Zander, his twin brothers, also worked locally.
Zeke owned his own construction company and was an accountant on the side. Which was hilarious. Especially, considering all the shit he’d given Fletcher about being a nerd. Zeke just kept his geek tendencies hidden underneath his long hair, tattoos, and penchant for motorcycles.
Zander was the local cop. He’d been a detective in New Orleans for a couple of years, but as soon as the long-time town cop retired, Zander stepped in. He claimed he’d always wanted to serve and protect his hometown. The truth was, the gig here was a lot easier and gave him more fishing time than his job in New Orleans had.
So, yeah, Paige was going to “get” to meet a lot of people. In fact, the moment they all heard she was in the Boys of the Bayou office, he wasn’t going to be able to keep them away.
“I’ll be back soon,” he said, kissing Paige on top of the head. “Soon-ish,” he amended.
She smiled up at him. “I’ll eat and unpack and hang with the cats. I’m very good at being alone.”
Yeah, and she liked it.
That was definitely going to be a problem around here.
Mitch headed for Ellie’s. It was nearing dinner time—the best time to catch as many family members as possible—though he couldn’t be sure who would be there.
Josh, Owen, Maddie, and Sawyer often had evening tours—sunset over the bayou was something to see—and even a few night-time tours a week. The swamp was nice and spooky at night, and those tours were popular.
But business was a little slower this time of year. In part because fewer people traveled in January, in part because there were much cooler temperatures, even in Louisiana, and in part because the animals—particularly the gators that so many came to see—were much less active in the cold.
He grinned. Cold was definitely a relative term. After his time in Iowa, he wasn’t sure he’d ever call any temperatures in Louisiana cold. Paige was in a t-shirt and capris today, for fuck’s sake. And he’d been able to get her out of those clothes outdoors, and neither of them had felt the least bit chilled.
He couldn’t wait to show her all of the fun ways their home states were different. And yet, their hometowns weren’t all that different. They were small, and everyone knew everyone else and helped each other, and there was history and roots. Paige had some mixed feelings about all of that, he knew, but seven months was a nice chunk of time. Plenty of time for her to get to know Autre. And him. And maybe change her mind.
He parked on the side of Ellie’s. There wasn’t really a parking lot. The bar sat along a dirt road on a lot that was also mostly dirt. And some straggling grass. People often walked to the bar. Autre wasn’t very big. A lot of his relatives lived not just walking distance to the bar, but yelling distance from their front porches to one another.