Under the Autumn Sky

Lou had learned long ago to wish differently didn’t do one damn bit of good. She wasn’t a martyr—just doing what had to be done by taking care of Waylon and Lori the only way she knew how. Fairness wasn’t up for consideration.

But she was here, shellacked with makeup and too tipsy to drive herself home. Might as well try to act her age. Which was younger than she felt. At the very least, she’d have a drink, watch Mary Belle act a fool over Bear Rodrigue, and then proclaim a headache. She could be home before—she looked at her watch—eleven o’clock easy.

Oh, come on, Lou. Let go a little. Flirt with being more than what you are for just one night.

Point made, voice in her head. “Okay. Ass in gear.”

Brenda pulled open the door to the bar. “In the words of Shania Twain, ‘let’s go, girls.’”

Lou smiled back. “Sure. No harm in that.”

* * *

ABRAM WATCHED THE BAND from his perch at the end of the bar. They were good, especially the drummer. Probably barely eighteen, but she could lay a lick.

The place rocked with rowdy rednecks and coonasses. He wasn’t much of a partier—tended to be a nose to grindstone sort—but he enjoyed watching others pass a good time. It was something easy to find in Louisiana. From Shreveport to New Orleans and every town in between, the natives liked a reason to get together and indulge in fun.

The patrons at Rendezvous were no exception. The dance floor was large, surrounded by tables with two bars anchoring each side of the stage. He’d chosen the bar closest to the bathrooms only because it was the first stool he’d spied after exiting the john. He nursed the icy Blue Moon and pretended to be an anthropologist studying the local wildlife.

His eyes moved over the crowd as they ebbed and flowed onto the dance floor. Several women tried catching his eye, but he looked past them, refusing to open himself to any conversation. Mostly, everyone left him alone, only occasionally eyeballing him curiously, before going about the business of getting drunk or getting lucky.

The door opened and four women entered.

The last one made him swallow. Hard.

Damn, she was gorgeous with straight blond hair, high full breasts and long, long legs. He watched as she crowded into the woman in front of her, who by his estimate was forty pounds too heavy to be wearing the clothes she wore. He watched the blonde—and so did almost every other man in the room.

If this were the ball, then Cinderella had just walked in.

He lifted his beer and took the last swig. He’d told himself he would leave when the bottle was empty. He glanced over at the bartender who’d raised himself onto the balls of his boots to get a look at the beauty. He raised his eyebrows and whistled in admiration.

“Can I get another one over here?” Abram called.

So much for an early night.

The bartender flung a towel over his shoulder. “Same?”

“Why not,” Abram said, moving his gaze back to the woman. He couldn’t find her, mostly because several rowdy-looking rednecks had blocked his view. Followed by a few more. Then a few more.

The bartender used a church key, cracking open the beer with a practiced motion, and setting it on the bar. “Wanna tab?”

Abram shook his head and placed a ten on the bar. “This will be my last. Keep the change.”

The man nodded his thanks. “She’s a beauty, ain’t she?”

So he’d seen him notice Cinderella. Figured. Bartenders didn’t miss a thing. “Yeah. Is she your local beauty queen?”

“Ain’t never seen her in my life. Must be a stranger. Like you.”

There was a subtle question in the statement. An invitation to state his business. He ignored it. “Maybe I’ll buy her a drink.”

“Better get in line.”

The bartender went back to work, mostly because money was being waggled at him. Lots of thirsty customers at Rendezvous. And Abram went back to watching the beauty dodge the advances of the men surrounding her and her friends. She looked like a dog he’d once seen trapped by animal control. Caught and not happy about it.

“I haven’t seen you here before.” The voice came from his left. He turned to find one of the women who’d walked in with Cinderella. She looked kind of pissy. Definitely mad.

“First timer,” he said, toasting her with the fresh beer. “Can I buy you one?”

Her gaze was fastened on someone behind him. He turned and saw the man she was trying to burn a hole through with her poisonous eyes. He stood in line for Cinderella. She looked back at Abram. “Well, honey, you’re the best-looking man in this place. Think I’m gonna turn that down?”

He smiled.

She smiled in return, but it didn’t reach her blue eyes.

“I’m Mary,” she said, elbowing the man next to him off his stool. “Move, Eddie. Can’t you see I’m a lady and I need to sit down?”

“That’s stretchin’ it by a mile,” the man said, but he grinned fondly at the woman who settled her rather plump butt on the bar stool. “How’s it going, Mary Belle?”

“It’s goin’,” she said, motioning the bartender over. “Hey, Butch, get me an Abita amber and put it on this fellow’s tab.”

Butch glanced over. “He ain’t gotta tab.”

She looked at Abram, who pulled out his wallet. “So whatcha doing here? We don’t get too many visitors. You with Wildlife and Fisheries? Over at Chicot?”

“Nah,” he said, sliding a bill toward the bartender. “Just traveling through.”

“Oh.” She turned to look at her friend and her bevy of admirers, including the Wrangler-clad guy she’d shot daggers at earlier. “Well, then you’re perfect to do me a little favor, aren’t you?”

Alarm bells clanged. He started shaking his head.

She grabbed the elbow of his shirt. “It’s easy as long as you aren’t married. You ain’t married, are you? I didn’t see a ring, but some guys don’t wear ’em, you know.”

“I’m not married, but I’m about to head out.”

“Won’t take long. I just need you to pretend to be my friend’s date.”

“Date?”

“Yeah, Louise over there. I didn’t realize the ruckus she’d cause. She’s pretty.”

That was an understatement. The woman she pointed at wasn’t merely pretty. She was sensationally gorgeous. “So I see.”

“You and every other man. It’s her birthday and I wanted her to come out with us and have a little fun, you know? But damn ol’ Bear Rodrigue don’t even know I’m in the room. He’s standing over there by her like a rutting buck.” She turned her blue eyes back to him. “And he’s supposed to be ruttin’ me.”

He didn’t know why or how this woman had found him in the sea of people stomping around Rendezvous, but she had. With a plan in mind.

“I’m not sure this is a good idea.”