had lessened when he’d blended in by losing his accent.
Of course, Louise ruined the whole effect when she admitted, with a sly grin, that she also gathered herbs which Madame LeSeur packaged into mojo bags to be sold in her French Quarter voodoo shop,. Things like mugwort, bloodroot, skull cap, pennyroyal, and good old valerian, which has been around since the beginning of time.
He was shocked that she would unapologetically mix her folk healing with voodoo nonsense. “See, and you wonder why some people don’t take your folk healing work seriously!”
“Don’t get cross-legged over such a piddly matter,” she advised him with a laugh. “The things I sell Sally LeSeur are harmless. And the tourists who buy them…well, they’re dumb as dirt if they think a stinky bag hung by a string around their fool necks will help their peach pie win first place at the state fair, or prevent dandruff, or cause the town tart to suddenly fall in love with them. Talk about! Most of them are probably Yankees.”
He laughed then, too.
Heat still shimmered over the bayou stream when they decided to call it a day in the mid-afternoon. The ride back to Louise’s cottage was mostly quiet, but it was a deceptive calm. They saw a large water moccasin lying on the bank waiting for some easy prey, followed by the sudden flight of white egrets up up up out of the swamp. And gators were known to slide quietly with barely a splash into the waters, only their snouts and beady eyes visible. No wonder the early French settlers called it “sleeping waters.”
He and Louise didn’t say much, both of them exhausted. Not so much from their activity, but the intense heat had a way of draining a body of energy. He helped her beach the pirogue and tied the mooring line to a tree while she carried her bag of herbs and tools up to the house. He knew that she had to go pick up her niece soon.
“I had a great time today, Louise,” he said, following her up to the porch. “Unfortunately, I need to hit the books. I have about five hours of study for my boards to get through yet today.”
“I sympathize,” she said.
“Maybe we can get together again some time before I return to Boston.”
“Maybe,” she replied, eyeing him warily.
What? Did she think he was going to jump her bones and take her right here on the back porch? Not that he wasn’t tempted, even smelly and sweaty as they both were. They had to know each other a whole lot better for that kind of desperate gotta-have-you-now dirty sex.
On the other hand…
No, no, no! Timing is everything, and this is not the time. Yet.
But what about that fire in his belly? And lower?
Take a Tums, he advised himself. He was a doctor, or almost-doctor, after all. He had to smile at his inner humor. It was either laugh or cry of horniess. Is horniess a legitimate malady? Sure feels like it. “Okay. See you,” he called out with a wave as he walked to his vehicle.
She was surprised…and probably a little disappointed, he hoped…that he didn’t kiss her good-bye, not even a peck on the cheek. Especially with his comments throughout the day about the tally of kisses she was chalking up for her sarcasm.
She sighed.
Yep, she was disappointed.
But she was even more surprised when he showed up at her door later that evening. And hopefully the opposite of disappointed.
Now that is timing!
Chapter 5
Is sassy just another name for sexy?…
For a moment…a long moment, Louise stared after Justin, her heart heavy with longing, but not longing for him, per se. No, what she’d been thinking when he mentioned having to go back to his apartment to study and questioning whether he could see her again was, This should have been Phillipe, who wanted to be a doctor, too. He would be at the same stage of his career. If he’d survived the war. Would we have been married while he went to medical school? Surely we wouldn’t have waited. No, we couldn’t have waited. There was a baby on the way. Oh, if only...
She sighed. Again.
Justin had misinterpreted her sigh before he left. That’s why he’d been optimistic enough to mention seeing her again. Not that he’d been specific about when she’d see him again. Darn him!
Should she? See him again, as in a real date?
She could think of a hundred reasons why that would be a bad idea.
And