Lane
gave her one last concerned glance and then eased into the spot in front of the house. The lantern-style light above the front door was on even though it was daytime. Other than that, the house looked postcard pristine—every bush pruned, the crepe myrtles winter-naked but still pretty with their smooth, pale bark, and the steps leading up to the porch free of debris. Perfect as always. Her stomach knotted.
Lane looked over. “You ready?”
“No.”
“Want to go to the French Quarter and get hammered on hurricanes instead?”
“Yes.”
His mouth kicked up at the corner. “Don’t say that. I’ll do it.”
She sighed and reached for her door handle. “How about we go in and do this, and if I say my safe word, you immediately haul me out of there and we’ll go do exactly that.”
He smiled fully. “That’s a deal, doc.”
“You can safe word, too,” she said gravely.
He laughed. “That bad?”
“Worse.”
They climbed out of the car and headed for the front door. The silver garden sign stabbed beneath a large English boxwood said Bienvenue. Welcome.
Elle filled in the rest: to your personal nightmare.
Chapter 17
Lane kept Elle in the corner of his vision as she prepared to ring the doorbell. She took a deep breath and seemed to grow two inches as she made her spine poker straight and tilted her chin up—Elle’s armored stance. He’d seen it from time to time, had witnessed how intimidating and unflappable she could look. But he knew her too well now, could almost hear the pounding of her heart. This was taking everything she had.
He reached out and grabbed her hand, linking his fingers with hers, feeling the ring he’d given her press into his skin. She glanced over as if surprised to see him still standing there, like she’d forgotten she didn’t have to face this alone. He squeezed her hand and her steely expression softened a bit.
“Want me to knock?” he asked.
She shook her head and peered back at the door, burning a hole through it. Her grip tightened on his hand and she raised her other to push the bell. Some elaborate chiming song started up that reminded Lane of church bells, and a yipping dog joined in with the tune. Elle frowned. “They got a dog?”
“Sounds like it,” he said. “And sounds like it’s on fire.”
She smirked. “My dad always said dogs make too much mess. I guess Mom didn’t feel the same way.”
Clicking footsteps sounded on wood floors and Elle’s lips flattened into a line. The door swung open and a small ball of black fur and purple ribbons launched through the gap and barreled into the yard. A squirrel who’d been gathering pecans that’d fallen off one of the trees raced through the gaps in the iron fence with a slew of get-the-fuck-away-from-me noises.
“Dammit, Roux, get your butt back inside,” Nina yelled.
The dog barked at her and then spun in circles, trying to catch the ribbon that had come loose at her ear.
Lane smiled. That seemed like the dog’s version of Screw you, lady. I’m busy.
Nina sighed and gave Elle and Lane a cutting smile. “Sorry. Mom got a dog a few months ago because she’d heard they can be stress relieving, but Roux is a menace and doesn’t listen to anything anyone says. She already peed on the ring pillow for the wedding.”
Elle glanced back at the dog and smiled. “I like her already.”
Lane coughed, choking back the laugh that tried to come out.
Nina’s pretend smile dropped. “Really, Elle?”
Elle shrugged, coolly unapologetic.