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

the uptake.
    The thing was, he’d wanted her to enjoy tonight with its hint of what was to come. He knew it wasn’t everyone’s idea of high entertainment, but all involved tried so damned hard. “The nightly performances during pilgrimage week coming up are actually impressive when it all comes together.”
    “I’m sure.”
    He glanced at her again, but she was staring out at the rain that pelted toward them in the headlights. She was also cradling her wrist with her good hand. “You okay? Your wrist not hurting?”
    “I’m good.”
    Sure she was. And he was a monkey’s uncle.
    They passed Granny Chauvin’s house a short time later. The older model Mercury she drove sat under her carport, and a light was on where the bedrooms were located at the end of the 1950s rancher.
    “Looks as if Granny made it okay.”
    “Good.” She glanced in that direction for an instant, but went back to staring out the windshield.
    Distant thunder rumbled and lightning flashed above the tree line. The rain grew stronger, hammering against the truck. Beau flipped the wipers up as fast as they would go. He could barely see the road, not that it mattered; he knew every inch, could have driven it blindfolded.
    At least the soil would be settled around the seedlings he’d planted, he thought, his gaze on the wind driven sheets of rain. He only hoped rainwater didn’t stand in the rows until the plants rotted in the ground.
    The tension inside the truck, not to mention the disapproval he could feel radiating off his passenger, was beginning to get to him. He should probably keep his mouth shut, since he didn’t care what Carla thought of him, would be just as happy if she’d go away. Well, he had been, anyway, until he’d cradled her on his lap after dumping her off the back of the ATV, felt her warm curves against him as he’d carried her in his arms both yesterday and tonight. But he hated feeling in the wrong when things could be cleared up with a few words.
    “Look, if you’re bothered by what happened with Merry Lou—”
    “Bothered?” Her voice was cold enough to quick-freeze an elephant, but at least she looked at him.
    “Disturbed. Whatever. I wanted to tell you—”
    “Your private life is none of my concern.”
    “No, but what happened back there wasn’t about my private life. Merry Lou is actually my cousin.”
    “How very Southern Gothic.”
    “What?” He’d heard her well enough; he just couldn’t believe she’d actually think such a thing. He could almost feel the steam coming out of his ears. It wasn’t helped by the revulsion he saw on her face.
    She turned away again. “Let’s forget it, shall we?”
    He’d been about to apologize and explain, but that wasn’t happening now. Let her think whatever she wanted. She would anyway.
    “Fine, then.”
    “Fine.”
    He should have known she’d have the last word.

Chapter 6

    Carla lay staring up into the tester above her, listening to the ceaseless murmur and splatter of the rain. She couldn’t sleep. Her brain kept playing the scene at the rehearsal over and over. The way that woman, Merry Lou, had thrown herself at Beau, plastering her whole body against him. Her noisy kiss. The affectionate warmth in Beau’s eyes as he smiled down at her. The whispered exchange between them.
    They seemed so close, so intimate, in spite of the diamonds in the wedding ring on Merry Lou’s finger. Yes, and regardless of the gleeful triumph in the smile she’d given her poor husband from across the gym.
    It was so disappointing. It was more than disappointing; it was disgusting.
    She’d almost let herself be convinced Robert Galahad Beauregard Benedict was a real gentleman, almost accepted that he had all the fine qualities his Great-Aunt Tillie, Miss Myrtle Chauvin and his housekeeper claimed for him.
    She should have known he was too good to be true.
    She felt like a fool. Gentlemen of the kind those older women extolled no longer existed. This was a fact