Free Sandra Hill - [Jinx 03] by Wild Jinx

Other than the hydroplane, the only way to reach René’s cabin was by pirogue, flat-bottomed canoes that could ride even in shallow waters, but that would take days.
    After that, they toasted the new venture with Tante Lulu’s dandelion wine.
    “Here’s to the Pirate Project, maties.” Veronica raised a St. Jude glass.
    “Aye, aye, cap’n,” Jake said, winking at Veronica. “Want me to show you how I bury
my
treasure, lass?”
    “Behave, you scallywag.” Veronica winked back.
    “
Merci.”
Tante Lulu bowed, thinking he had meant her when he referred to “cap’n.”
    “God help us all,” John murmured.
    “St. Jude help us all,” Tante Lulu corrected. “God, too, of course.”
    Note to self: Make sure Tante Lulu doesn’t put St. Jude figureheads on the prows on the pirogues.
And then the other shoe dropped . . .
    John stood at Tante Lulu’s kitchen sink, his arms in soap suds up to his elbows, washing dishes. How he got stuck hanging around was a puzzle. He’d gone into the bedroom to make a phone call, and when he came out, everyone had left. Oh, it wasn’t that they hadn’t offered to help clean up, but Tante Lulu, bless her heart, had volunteered him.
    She was setting him up.
    “Tee-John,” she said in that honey-sweet voice that had every fine hair standing to attention on his body.
    “What?” he asked, even though his common sense told him to run.
    “I mighta done sumpin’ today that yer not gonna like.” She had this mock sorrowful look on her face, like she wasn’t at all sorry about whatever she had done.
    Uh-oh.
“Mighta?”
    “Sorta?”
    “Exactly what did you mighta sorta do today, Auntie?”
    “Doan be mad.”
    This is gonna be bad. Real bad. That look on her face . . . reminds me of the time she nominated me for
People Magazine
’s Sexiest Man of the Year . . . and I wasn’t even a finalist.
He took his hands out of the soap suds, dried them on a St. Jude dish towel, then placed his hands squarely on his hips. “Okay, spill.”
    “I jist happened ta be talkin’ ta my ol’ friend Cletus ‘the snake’ LaFonte. He’s called ‘the snake’ ’cause of the way he kin flick his tongue. Whooee! The stories I could tell ya.”
    Oh, please don’t.
    “Cletus usta be an editor. Actually, I was over Houma way healin’ his grandson’s colic, which was the worstest case I ever—”
    “Aaarrgh! An editor of what?”
    Her face flushed. It took a lot to make his aunt be flushed. “A newspaper.”
    Oh, this was not good. “Did you mention the Pirate Project?”
    “Of course not. Whatcha think I am? Stoopid?”
    That question did not warrant an answer.
    “I was jist askin’ Cletus if he knew any reporters on the
Times-Tribune.
”
    “Like Celine Arseneaux?” He groaned.
    “
Oui
. See, that wasn’t so bad.” She beamed. “And the best part is that I found out she ain’t married, but—”
    “I already knew that.”
    “Doan be interruptin’ me. She ain’t married, but yer gonna have a real uphill battle with that gal.”
    “Tante Lulu,” he said on a long sigh, “there is not going to be a battle with me and Celine of any kind. Would you get that out of your head?”
    “Will ya let me finish? Cletus tol’ me that Celine moved back ta Houma a few months back ta live with her grandfather James Arseneaux after he had a stroke. What I learned from Cletus is that James Arseneaux hates all the LeDeuxs ’cause of somethin’ yer daddy done to James’s cousin Josie Lynn.”
    John’s eyes about rolled up in his head. “Just about everyone in southern Louisiana has a gripe against my father. What else is new? Besides, what does any of this have to do with me?”
    “Doan be dense, boy. I gotta find out if she’s
the one
.”
    “She’s not.”
    “We’ll see.”
    “We will not see. Forget about it. I mean it.”
    She must have sensed his fraying temper. “Doan go gettin’ yer skivvies in a twist. What will be will be.”
    That’s what he was afraid of.

Chapter