miss fortune mystery (ff) - bayou bubba Read Online Free PDF Page B

We locked gazes for a beat and then I couldn’t help asking, “Did you grow up around here, Fortune?”
    She smiled but it didn’t make it all the way to her eyes. Tucking a strand of platinum blonde hair behind her ear, the other woman shook her head. “I’m a transplant. My aunt Margie died a few weeks ago and I came down to close up her house.”
    “Oh. I’m sorry for your loss.”
    Fortune shrugged, frowning slightly.
    “Where’s your handsome shadow?” Ida Belle asked.
    “He’s inside. We’re going to rent a boat and search Number Two.” I must have grimaced a little because the other women nodded pityingly.
    Fortune stuck her hands into the pockets of her cut off jean shorts. “Make sure you ask Walter for some Mentholatum to put under your noses. It helps drown out the stink.”
    Ida Belle nodded.
    “Yeah.” I grimaced again. “Thanks. I’m really looking forward to this.”
    “Oh, you got one of Lena Borne’s purses!” Ida Bella smiled. “She’s in the SLS.”
    I grinned. “Yes! I’m so excited. I love it. Does she do any other animals? I’d like to get my BFF in Indiana one. She’s just gonna die when she sees this.”
    Fortune snorted and then looked alarmed. “Did I say that out loud?”
    Ida Belle glared at her friend. “Lena feeds her family with those purses. She’s a genius with beads. You know that’s a real alligator tooth on the pull.”
    “I didn’t know that—”
    The door opened and Cal stuck his head out. “You ready?” He gave Ida Belle and Fortune a brisk wave.
    I slipped my new bag over my shoulder and closed the door of the Jeep. “I’ll see you two later.”
    “If you want I’ll take you out to Lena’s place tomorrow.”
    I turned, walking backward toward the store. “I’d love that!” My heel hit the bottom step and I fell backward, slamming into the second step with my butt. My new bag hit the wood next to my hip with a thud.
    “You got bricks in that thing?” Fortune asked.
    “Ha. Ha, ha.” I shoved to my feet before Cal spotted me and hurried up the steps, intending to tell him we needed Mentho-something for the stench.
    I was hoping it would help me enjoy the trip up the Bayou. If not our stint on the turd scented island.
    ###
    I lay back against the wood platform at the front of the low-slung metal boat, trailing my fingers through the water and soaking up the sun.
    Cal didn’t speak for several minutes, his mind seemingly on guiding the boat down the narrow, winding waterway.
    The water was mud brown and still, dotted with tall, knobby stumps that Cal was busily working to avoid. They were rounded at the tops and usually found in clusters. “Those don’t look like any tree stumps I’ve ever seen before.”
    “Swamp cypress knees. The root of a swamp cypress grows straight down into the bayou, as long as the tree is tall. But since they’re under water most of the time, they sprout these knees, which are really outgrowths of the roots, so they can catch air.”
    “Hmm, who knew?”
    Cal’s gaze slid in my direction. I noted the soft crinkling in the corners of his eyes. The sun off the water was blinding.
    “You should have gotten sunglasses,” I told him.
    I’d dug sunglasses out of my gator purse and slathered sunscreen over my exposed parts. The perks of carrying around a large bag. I always had room for emergency supplies.
    “Don’t like ’em. Never have.”
    Alrighty then. I lay back and trailed my fingers for a couple more minutes.
    Cal shifted a little on his bench and jerked his chin upward. “You might want to pull your hand in.”
    I glanced where he was looking and gave a little squeal as the inspiration for my new purse slithered by not more than five feet from the boat. The gator had to be ten feet long. “Holy crap!”
    When I looked at Cal he was grinning. “You should see your face.”
    He laughed and something thumped warmly in my stomach. “Ha. Smart guy.” But I grinned back, happy that the stick in his ass