Lulu's Recipe for Cajun Sass - Sandra Hill Page 0,18
chip on your shoulder about doctors is starting to irritate me, chère.”
She just grinned.
Which further irritated him. “Exactly what has your knickers in a twist?”
She exhaled on a long sigh. “You had no need to badmouth folk healing.”
“In my defense, there are quacks out there who—”
“Generalize much, my friend?”
He gritted his teeth. “Y’know, frogs have it easy. They just eat what bugs them.”
“Are you saying you want to eat me?” she asked, then cringed, hoping he wouldn’t get the inadvertent double entendre.
No chance! He was the one grinning now.
“No need for you to be grinnin’ like a cabbage-eatin’ skunk,” she sniped.
“Sorry,” he said. Not at all sorry, if that continuing grin was any indication. “You were saying that I acted in a professional manner. And…?”
“I meant that you didn’t hesitate. Just stepped in. Were decisive. And competent.”
“And that surprised you?”
“Well,” she smiled his way. “I admit, I was predisposed to not like you.”
“Because I behaved like an ass before.”
She arched her brows at him. “A little bit.”
“So, since you like me now—”
“I didn’t say that,” she interrupted him with a laugh.
“Since you approve of me now, does that mean I can come see you some time?”
“You are persistent.”
“Nothing ventured, nothing gained.” He waggled his eyebrows at her. “How about tomorrow afternoon?”
“I need to go out in the swamps to gather some herbs. My supplies are low.”
“Swell,” he said and trailed a fingertip lightly over her forearm, from elbow to wrist. The gesture might have been playful, but the expression in his dark Cajun eyes was hungry and lustful. Serious business, that.
The fine hairs stood out all over Louise’s body, coming to erotic attention, and she had to wonder if she was making a big mistake, or marking an important turning point in her barren life. She had only this past week taken steps to get her Cajun Sass back, thanks to some tips in her mother’s family herb journal. Maybe this was taking a giant step further in that direction when what she needed was baby steps.
“I feel as if I’ve opened the chicken coop door to a starving dog.”
“I don’t know about starving. Well, yes, you could say that.” He smiled that devastating smile of his.
“You are way out of my league,” she said before she had a chance to bite her tongue.
“If you don’t want to run with the big dogs, darlin’, you can always stay hidden under the porch.”
That was a challenge if she ever heard one.
She lifted her chin and said, “Bow wow!” Then she winked at him. Where she got the nerve, she had no idea. Must be some hidden reservoir of Cajun Sass.
To her immense satisfaction, he visibly gulped.
When Cajun Sass meets Cajun Brass…
Louise woke the next morning to what looked to be a beautiful day, not too hot, not too humid.
After a quick visit to the bathroom and whispered morning prayers, including a hello to St. Jude, she padded out to the kitchen where she turned on the coffeepot. She also flicked the knob on the small radio on the counter, already set to the Cajun station which played traditional French bayou music and the more raucous zydeco accented by the occasional “E ha ha!” The music was mixed in with local news and weather reports. She’d been right. The temperature was expected to be a balmy eighty this afternoon.
Much attention was being given that day to the musician Harry Choates who’d died suddenly at the age of only twenty-eight. Poor boy! His song “Jole Blon” was hugely successful, and the radio commentators were predicting that he would be known later as the godfather of Cajun music.
She took a couple sips of coffee. Then, since it was Monday, she went to the little room off her bathroom and started the weekly laundry, a tradition in Cajun country, though a much bigger deal in the old days when the families were large and the loads numerous. Even with just her and Adèle, there was plenty of dirty clothing. Probably because Louise was a little bit fussy about keeping her child clean and well-dressed and above reproach, the worry of many single mothers, who always felt they were under the gossipy eye of neighbors. Not that anyone knew she was a mother, but still…
While her first load was running, she went back to the kitchen and started a pot of red beans. She sautéed the Cajun Holy Trinity…onions, bell peppers, and celery…in some leftover bacon fat from the jar she kept in the ice box,