Page 8 of Cajuns. Love. Curves.

“That’s cold, Mama,” I call out.

Ava giggles again.

I turn to face her and find her features lit up with humor and damned if my heart doesn’t jump ship right then and there. Just leaps off the side and paddles across to her.

Before I can tell Ava how beautiful she is, my mother returns to the table with two bowls of gumbo, a basket of boudin balls and a pitcher of iced tea.

I wink at Ava. “I hope you like spicy food.”

“I love it.”

“Aren’t allergic to shellfish or anything, are you,cher?” Mama asks.

“No ma’am, I’m not. Everything looks and smells delicious.” She reaches for a boudin ball.

“Do you want to know what that is?” I ask.

Ava shrugs. “Is it mountain oysters?”

I laugh. “No.”

“Then I don’t care. It’s fried and we’re in a Cajun restaurant so I’m sure it’s yummy.”

“They’re boudin balls. Basically a rice, sausage mixture,” Mama says. “Then we fry it up and serve it with ranch because the good Lord knows Texans will dip anything in ranch dressing.” She pours us each a glass of iced tea. “Let me know if you need anything else.” Then she shoots me a glare before walking off.

“Oh my gosh, I love your mother,” Ava says.

“Yeah, I get that a lot. She’s amazing. Both my parents are, so I can’t complain.”

“Your father is in the kitchen?”

“Yeah, he does most of the cooking. Though Mama makes all the desserts.”

Ava takes a bite of the boudin ball and moans.

And now I’m rock hard at my parents’ restaurant.

We eat for a while in relative silence, though Ava continues to make yummy noises with most of her bites and I’m holding on by a thread. I’ve got to keep my head in the game though. I, of course, did some due-diligence after Wade sent me the original information that Ava’s father sent him.

I’m the intelligence guy in my SEAL team so if it’s got an electronic trail, I can find it. Eventually. But as best I could find, her father is clean. Retired four years ago, still does some recruiting events, but it looks like he’s turned his attention to politics.

There were no reports of domestic violence or anything like that. I know that Ava’s older sister, Rory moved here a few years ago. Bought that old petting zoo farm and transformed it and seems to be doing well. All of my research showed that Rory hasn’t been back to her family’s home since she moved here. According to her cell phone records though, she and Ava communicate regularly.

Once I’m done with my gumbo and my stomach isn’t screaming at me for food, I empty my tea glass and pour me another.

“Ava, I want to understand what’s going on between you and your father. I owe him no allegiance. So if it’s unsafe for you to return to your family, you say the word, and I’ll find somewhere safe for you.”

She looks up and visibly swallows. “You would believe me? Just like that?”

“Yeah, sugar, just like that.”

“Thank you, Remy. That means a lot to me. My parents aren’t unsafe. They just don’t understand me.”

“I’ll say. I was led to believe you were a young woman, unable to make her own decisions, and that you had run away and were a danger to yourself, which is clearly not the case. So let's talk, and I'll help you.”

She narrows her eyes at me. “Why should I trust you?”

“Because he was punished if he lied as a kid,” Mama says as she stops at the table and drops of a large portion of bread pudding for Ava and I to share. “Guidrys work hard, play hard and love hard. We never cheat and we never lie.” Mama nods her head as if that is a fact straight out of the Bible or the Constitution.

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