Renny had not changed much—still as rare and earthy as the Louisiana wetlands she now protected. Oh, he knew she was a biologist, because his mother dropped in little asides about her during their rare conversations. But he’d not anticipated how her very presence, hell, her very scent, would affect him. Renny smelled exotic, like rainforest sunrises and Indian marketplaces. Good Lord. What had he put in his coffee that morning? Or maybe all that weird music his mother had on when he left was making him loopy. “Renny,” he said, unable to keep the pleasure at seeing her out of his voice. He’d come to Beau Soleil to find her and here she was. “What are you doing here?” The tension around her mouth spoke more than her words. Okay. Not very happy to see him. “Home for a visit.” She swallowed and glanced over his shoulder. “You have a permit to shoot gators?”
What do You think about The Road To Bayou Bridge (2012)?
