Page 24 of About That Night

“I’m Hank Young, and this is Chastity DuBois,” I say, shaking hands. I use last names so they don’t assume we’re married and say something that will embarrass Chastity. I realize my mistake immediately. Everyone around here knows of my brother.

“Hank Young?” Bill asks. “Cash’s brother?”

“Yes, sir.” Cash is definitely a local celebrity, which is highly entertaining. My brother may be a pro football player, but he hates the spotlight and small talk. I love football and am proud of my brother and can talk stats for hours, but that’s not how I want to spend the afternoon with Chastity.

We’re getting loaded up into our two-person couples kayaks. Chastity stands in front of the kayak designated for us, just staring at it.

I hold my hand out for her. She shifts her gaze to my hand, takes a deep breath, and accepts it. The minute we touch, she sucks in another breath, and I know she feels exactly what I feel. Chemistry. We have it, and always have. It makes my shoulders tense and my dick hard as I fight the urge to wrap her hand in mine and tug her right on into the cypress trees and peel those denim shorts off.

The second she’s safely in the kayak and on the bench, Chastity drops my hand like it’s scorched her. The other kayakers are chattering around us about my brother.

“Seems like he’s playing alright this season,” Red says. “Though it’s a damn shame he isn’t here playing for us.”

Us means the Saints. I’m not going to point out that my brother seems pretty damn happy where he is. He fits in well with his team and loves his ranch outside of Nashville. His family is growing with his baby due in two weeks, and I don’t expect he’ll ever move back to Louisiana.

But no one here wants to hear any of that. This is Geaux Saints territory, plain and simple.

“Amen to that,” Corky says.

“You played ball in high school, right?” Red says.

“Huh?” I’ve lost track of the conversation because Chastity has peeled her sweater off, and I have my answer. The swimsuit is a bikini, and it doesn’t fit her. It looks like a holdover from a younger Chastity because that is a whole lot of flesh falling out on either side of that hot pink fabric.

“You were the quarterback.”

“Oh, right. Yes, I was. I was good enough for high school, but I didn’t play in college.” I manage to cough up the appropriate social response, but my eyes are still locked on Chastity.

The triangle cups look at overcapacity, and the strings are straining to hold it all up. She tries to adjust it, but the shifting just exposes different areas.

“I don’t think this fits me anymore,” she says, looking flustered as I pick up a paddle and shove us off from the shore. “I’ve gained weight in the last two years. I snack too much. Potato chips are my downfall.”

“Then thank God for the chip industry, because I think you look amazing.” She does.

She stops tugging long enough to make a face at me. “I guess I shouldn’t bring up my weight on dates, should I?”

“Probably not. But you can say anything around me, you know that, right?” I ask. I mean that sincerely. “We’re friends.” I have a real soft spot for Chastity. Yes, I want to take her up against the nearest tree, but I also want to take care of her. She seems vulnerable, like she could use an ear to listen to her and a hand carrying in the grocery bags, because she really does seem tired.

She is doing it all, and that isn’t easy.

She nods in response to me. “Thanks,” she murmurs.

“I’m serious, you know. You look gorgeous.” Her body is all full, feminine curves that make my mouth water. “Feel free to take your shorts off, too. I don’t mind.”

Chastity laughs. “You have a one-track mind.”

“Guilty as charged.”

“Are you Art and Trixie’s daughter?” Betty asks Chastity suddenly.

The smile falls off Chastity’s face. “Yes.”

I’m trying to imagine how a woman named Trixie has the nerve to condemn her daughter for premarital sex.

“Oh. I see.” Betty’s expression is knowing. “I remember you now.”

Chastity clears her throat.

Betty looks like she’s going to say something further, but then we’re getting instructions from Janie, our kayak guide, and Betty clearly values safety over making other people uncomfortable with judgmental stares, so that’s something. We get our life vests, warnings about which way to travel given the current wind direction, and cheerful descriptions of the wildlife we might see.

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