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“No, he did not.” He places his elbows on his knees and continues to look out the window. “He said that I should know him better than that, and if I don’t, I should… fuck myself. The little crotte.”

I burst out laughing.

“You think that’s real funny?” He looks over his shoulder at me.

“Very.”

“Get your laugh out, and when you’re done, I’ll take you fishing.”

“Are you asking or telling?”

“Whichever works for you.”

“You know I don’t like to torture innocent fish.”

“Yeah.” He stands and offers me his hand. “That’s why I rigged a pole with a new pink bobber just for you.”

Some men bring a girl flowers. Simon brings a new pink bobber. I take his hand and rise to my feet. I can’t think of anything better than a pink bobber. “Same alligator deal as before?”

“Same deal.” He keeps my hand in his and we walk from the library. “I’ll wrestle gators, but it’s going to cost you.”

“How much?”

“You know I’m not cheap, tee Lou.”

“Is it going to cost me an arm and a leg and a few other body parts?”

He laughs and drops my hand to open the front door. “We can probably barter something.”

It’s good to hear his laugh again. “Are you going to take advantage of me because I’m a woman?”

He raises a brow as we step outside and into the Louisiana sunlight. “Are you coming on to me, cher?”

I walk past him and say over my shoulder, “If you have to ask, I must be getting old.”


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Tags: Rachel Gibson Fiction