The Road to Bayou Bridge. Liz Talley

sorry I couldn’t come to the wedding.” Darby had felt guilty about missing his brother tie the knot, but could do nothing except send a nice gift since he hadn’t had enough leave to head stateside.

      “He missed having you there, but he understands. That’s the good thing about Nate. He’s reasonable, otherwise, he wouldn’t be here at Beau Soleil.”

      “Mother?”

      Annie laughed. “She’s hard to live next door to at times, but we love her. She’s a good mother even if a bit, um, managing.”

      “You mean Attila the Hun tries to control your life?” Darby shook his head. “Give her an inch of rope, she’ll take a mile, truss you up and drag you screaming and kicking behind her.”

      “She’s not that bad. Just always at war with herself. She professes to allow life to take its course, but like those engineers who control the Mississippi River levee, she wears herself out trying to steer it to come out the way she wishes.”

      Darby shifted in the recliner and took another slug of beer. His brother’s wife had Picou pegged, but she seemed remarkably tolerant of the interfering woman. He glanced at his sister-in-law and she stared back, an almost odd probing in her gaze. She shoved a brown curl behind her ear and sighed. “You’re her logjam in that river.”

      “Huh?”

      Annie shook her head. “Nothing. Never mind. Tell me about Spain. Did you enjoy living there?”

      He didn’t want to talk about Spain. He wanted to talk about what Annie meant, but she’d closed that chapter. Something told him not to try and go backward with this woman. So he didn’t. Instead he chatted about the country he’d left behind—the food, the culture, the really bad drivers.

      Nate walked back into the room during a story about getting lost when out on his motorcycle. He was Pax-free.

      “Where’s the kid?” Annie interrupted.

      “Left him in his crib gumming that toy you bought him. Turned on music to stimulate him.”

      “Classical?”

      Nate smiled. “Classic rock.”

      Darby vaguely heard Eddie Van Halen’s infamous guitar licks coming from the hallway. “Nice.”

      “We want a well-rounded kid,” Annie said, patting the spot next to her. Like a spaniel, Nate went to her. Bet she scratched his belly regularly. Of course, Darby understood the appeal of belly-scratching from a woman who had a vibe like Annie—that sort of vibe would have a man happily doing as bidden.

      It made him think of Renny.

      She had that vibe. Or she had at one time. Beautiful golden skin, tumbling caramel hair and a soft laugh that made a man twitch thinking about her hands on him. But she’d changed. Her laugh wasn’t easy, her disposition more guarded...even if some remnant of the past lurked in her eyes, in her voice. It was like a promised resurgence.

      He wanted to make her laugh again. To watch her glow in the light of the sun sinking over the Atchafalaya. To tangle his hands in that hair and make love to her under the full moon just as he’d done so many times.

      Hunger clawed at him.

      “Darby?”

      He blinked. “Huh?”

      “Want another beer?”

      “Sure.”

      Nate stared blankly at him. “Grab me one, too, when you come back.”

      Checkmate. Older brothers always had the last laugh. Darby huffed and got to his feet, heading toward the kitchen. “Annie?”

      “Me, too.” She nodded. Nate hooked her around her neck and kissed the side of her mouth. Darby made a face but smiled as he turned toward the kitchen. Seeing his brother happy satisfied him on a lot of levels. Nate had suffered through so much guilt regarding Della and had shouldered much of the burden of dealing with the estate and their mother that Darby figured the man deserved some peace with his woman.

      The kitchen was clean and modern with the smell of rich wood and laundry soap, and it had a specialty fridge built in for beer and wine. He grabbed three Abita Turbodogs and started back toward the den, wondering if he should confide in Annie and Nate about his strange marriage and ensuing divorce.

      Nice to share a burden, but did he want the drama?

      Because Picou would find out.

      Maybe.

      If he could keep it under wraps that would be best. Picou wanted a reason to keep him in Louisiana under her thumb. What better way to chain him here than to encourage some sort of romance between him and Renny?

      He knew that’s what she’d do.

      And there was a tiny part of him that wanted it, too.

      But the grown-up part of him knew he needed to forget his past and move toward a future. In Seattle. With Shelby.

      Damn it.

      He couldn’t summon Shelby’s face. She had blond hair, a nice pair of blue eyes to match a nice pair of breasts that filled out tight sweaters, but her face escaped him at the moment. His thoughts were full of sun-kissed skin and golden-flecked eyes. God, he had to stop thinking of her.

      “Lucille said you went to see Renny. Did you get to have that talk you wanted to have?” Nate held out an expectant hand.

      Ah, there it was. The best reason to head to Seattle—nosy kinfolk. “Yeah, just some things from the past. An apology and all that.”

      “For what?” Annie asked, accepting the cold bottle from him. “And we’re talking about Renny Latioles? The woman who lives in that restored gatehouse on the outskirts of town?”

      “Yeah. Darby and Renny were an item in high school. In fact, they tried to run off and get married when they turned eighteen. They were seniors and Dad blew a gasket. Only thing that saved Darby’s ass was that wreck. Of course it screwed him, too, since he got sent to military school.”

      “You tried to get married? At eighteen?”

      Darby shrugged. “We were young and in love. When you’re eighteen you think anything is possible...even getting out of being sent away.”

      “I thought I was in love with Lily Bamburg. We were going to get married and then breed and train lab puppies for hunters.” Nate ignored the bitterness in Darby’s voice, obviously not wanting to travel down that path of discord.

      “The waitress at Marmalades?” Annie’s eyebrows arched into her bangs.

      Nate laughed. “Two hundred pounds ago and before she had five kids, Lily was a looker. Plus she had an eye for a good retriever.”

      Darby didn’t like the direction the conversation took. He didn’t want to talk about his father, marriage or past loves—it was all too close for comfort. “So tell me about Della. What’s the deal?”

      Nate shrugged as Annie shifted her eyes away for a moment, growing contemplative as the conversation took a serious turn. “She’s scared...and she’s still grieving for Enola Cheramie.”

      Nate nodded. “It’s been more difficult than I thought it would be to reconcile her to this family, and some of that might be because your twin sister is a Dufrene through and through. Nothing done the easy way.” Nate took another pull on his beer and curled his arm around his wife again. Annie settled against him, but not in a girlish way, merely in a comfortable way. Nothing girlish about Annie except for her size. She was barely five foot two.

      Darby knew the MO of his family. They weren’t an easy lot. Fiercely loyal, insufferably headstrong and irrevocably passionate, the children of Martin and Picou Dufrene got their temperament honestly. Though his sister had been kidnapped and raised by an old bayou woman, she’d be no different. It was in her blood. “I guess I’m not good with understanding women,