Free Galahad in Jeans (Louisiana Knights Book 2) by Jennifer Blake Page A

Merry Lou threw back her curly head and hooted with laughter. “But come on. Let’s go put on a waltz that will make him think he’d better tend the home fires before I burn the place down!”
    It took the best part of two hours to run through the whole series of skits, and another one to get the waltz right, which was to say as dreamily romantic as the gray-haired, iron-hearted director wanted. Regardless, the rain was still falling in relentless monotony when the players were released and Beau was free to find Carla.
    She was not alone, but stood talking to Merry Lou’s husband a few feet inside the entrance. Beau would have given a lot to know whether good old Jim had cornered her or if Carla had waylaid his cousin’s husband. Either way, it was time to break it up.
    “Ready?” The question came out flatter than he’d intended, as he moved in behind her.
    “Long ago.” She barely glanced at him before she went on. “I almost left with Granny Chauvin.”
    Before Beau could answer, Jim put in his two cents. “Good thing you didn’t. Granny’s 90 if she’s a day, and blind as a bat. She’ll be lucky to get home in that old car of hers in this infernal rain. Besides, I’d have missed getting to know you.”
    “Granny Chauvin,” Beau said in hard tones, “has owned a total of four cars in her seven-plus decades of driving. Far as I know, she’s never put a scratch on any of them. And neither has anyone else.”
    It was probably a low blow, that reminder of the damage done at Jim’s dealership, but Beau didn’t appreciate his slur about Miss Myrtle Chauvin’s driving when she was still sharp as the needles she used to quilt with, and safer than most behind the wheel.
    Jim scowled. “How did you hear about—never mind. Lance told you, I guess. Unless you have a personal source of info?”
    He meant information from Merry Lou. Beau didn’t bother to reply as he turned back to Carla and gestured toward the parking lot.
    “Shall we? We can drive by Granny Chauvin’s place on the way home, be sure she made it okay.”
    She went with him, which was gratifying; he’d thought she might refuse. He handed her the umbrella he’d left at the door earlier and took her arm. That turned out to be a good thing, since she slipped on the steps in her strappy heels he’d noticed earlier. With a single glance toward the rain-speckled lake where the parking lot was supposed to be, he swung her toward him, leaned down, and scooped her high against his chest.
    “Don’t,” she exclaimed. “Put me down.”
    He shifted her higher, his hold tightening around her in unconscious reaction to the matching tightness below his belt. “What? And let you break your neck in those heels? Not on my watch.”
    “It’s my neck.”
    She was unyielding in his grasp. He couldn’t help wondering what it might take to make her go soft and pliant against him. And wasn’t that exactly what he needed, to be mindlessly attracted to a female who despised him right now and would probably be gone tomorrow?
    He splashed deliberately through the parking lot, kicking water as he went. Reaching the truck, he stowed her inside and closed the passenger door with care. Moments later, they were rolling down the highway.
    Silence hung between them, backed only by the engine’s grumble, the hiss of the tires on the wet road, and the steady clack of the windshield wipers. In the dashboard’s glow and headlights of passing cars, Carla’s face appeared set, enduring. Beau figured he could let the strain grow or try to do something about it. He chose the latter.
    “So what did you think?”
    She flung him a quick look. “About what? Oh, you mean the pageant? It seemed well done, if you like that kind of thing.”
    “It ought to be, since it’s been done for almost eighty years.”
    “A raving success then. Actually, it was nice.”
    She’d caught the defensive note in his voice. He shouldn’t be surprised since she was quicker than average on