Page 8 of Sweet Home Louisiana

She looked like the Maddie he’d always known.And loved.

“It’s been twelve years.Surely you’ve gained a little self-control,” he said.He sincerely hoped not.

She frowned at him.“I don’t need self-control in California.I have crazy urges that need to be controlled when I’m here.Hence why I love itthere.”

“So not just the wine then,” he said.

Maddie took another sip of her grandfather’s recipe.“Not just the wine, no.”

He’d bet his last twenty bucks that she didn’t even really like wine.

Maddie was a moonshine kind of girl.Bold and down-home with deep roots and a long history in the area.As a kid, she’d thrown herself into everything they all did.Running, climbing, swimming.When she’d gotten older, she’d insisted that her father teach her to ride a motorcycle when he was teaching Tommy.She swore.She drank cheap beer.She’d gotten a fake ID so she could get a tattoo.She could shoot a gun.She could take apart a transmission.She loved to dance and laugh and play pranks and sneak cookies from the kitchen and cigarettes from Leo’s truck, all just for the thrill of maybe getting caught.Just as Cora would have happily given her cookies if she’d asked, Leo would have probably given her the hand-rolled cigarettes that he smoked.Hell, he would have just handed over the tobacco and paper and let her roll her own.She knew how.They’d all watched Leo do it enough times.

Maddie had always been right there, having fun, living large, taking risks, pushing boundaries.And he’d known by the time he was twelve that he was going to date her someday.Then she’d started wearing a bra and shaving her legs, and he’d figured he was going to marry her someday.Marrying a girl who could help him rebuild an engine, clean a catfish, and smelled as good as she did seemed like averygood idea.

“Haveyougained some self-control?”she asked.

He’d really like to think so.Truth be told, his control wasn’t tested very often.He had a laid-back lifestyle, a laid-back job, a laid-back attitude about pretty much everything.

“I haven’t broken a nose or any china for…about twelve years.”

He let that sink in.He watched her as it did.She took a little breath but didn’t say anything about the fact that he hadn’t lost his cool since she’d left town.Then her eyes drifted to the scar that came out of the bottom of his right shirt sleeve and traveled to his elbow.

That scar was because of her.And looking at her, now he knew he would still do anything for her.Even if it meant twenty-nine stitches and risking not being able to throw a football that fall, a police record, almost losing a lifelong friendship, and threatening the future of the business that meant the world to his entire family.

“We should probably go to Ellie’s,” she finally said.

He nodded.He was feeling lighter than he had when he’d first seen her and had felt that familiar, scary mix of affection and adrenaline.“Okay.”He pivoted to put the bottle of booze back in the bottom file cabinet drawer.

She glanced at the cups they’d been using.“Don’t we need to wash those?”

He looked down at the cups.He didn’t even know how long they’d been in here.“Most people who need a shot of bayou whiskey aren’t picky about what they drink it from.”

She held out a hand.“I’m going tonotthink about just drinking out of cups that you don’t feel strongly about washing.”

“Probably for the best.”He handed the cups over.

She grabbed her big red purse and tucked them inside, then headed for the door.He followed, keeping his eyes off her legs.But not off her ass.Even in that flared skirt, it was a fine view.

2

Owen and Maddie rounded the building and crossed the narrow dirt road that dead-ended at the Boys of the Bayou main dock.Ellie’s sat baking in the June sun across the road.The bar was a mainstay in the tiny town.It had long served hard liquor, beer, and fried seafood to the fishermen, roughnecks from the oil rigs, and any number of other blue-collar guys in the area.It also served as a down-home taste of real Louisiana cuisine for tourists who came for the tours or even the hunting and fishing packages Boys of the Bayou offered.Ellie’s Hurricanes were ten times better than those served in the Quarter in New Orleans, and she often gave visitors their first taste of alligator.Usually it was fried, but she sometimes talked people into trying it in her gator and shrimp jambalaya and, every once in a while, someone would try her blackened alligator filets.

Ellie’s food and drinks were famous locally and she did very well in online reviews.

Which was good, because the decor of the place was very…backyard-shed-converted-into-a-bar, with some crap-collected-over-the-years hung on the walls.The structure had stood, exactly as it was, inside and out, for over forty years and those years showed.

People didn’t come to Ellie’s for the ambiance.They came to get full and tipsy.Sometimes more than tipsy.So Ellie and Cora focused on giving people those things and didn’t worry so much about the fact that their light fixtures didn’t match—they just replaced them as needed and got whatever was cheapest—and that people had to shove a wooden wedge against the bathroom door to “lock” it.But hey, they’d written “wedge this under the door” on it in black sharpie, so it worked.Kind of.Good enough, anyway.

Owen reached around Maddie and grabbed the door handle, but just as he started to pull, she slapped her palm against it.

“Hang on,” she said.

He looked at her.They were standing really close now.His chest was millimeters from her shoulder.Her expensive perfume didn’t smell like peaches, but that didn’t mean he didn’t want to lean in and put his nose against her neck and sniff.

“You okay?”he asked her.

“They’reallin there, huh?”

---