Must Love Alligators: A Boys of the Bayou Christmas Page 6

  Bailey Wilcox was very easy to talk to.

  “I was a lot younger than my brothers so I didn’t have much to do with them. When it came to me and my sister, she needed a lot of extra attention and time. My mother insists I wasn’t an accident, but I have my suspicions.”

  Bailey smiled. “Accidents can turn out way better than the things we intend sometimes.”

  That was for sure.

  “Well, then I kind of struggled to figure out where to fit as I got older. I didn’t want to go into business with my dad and brothers. I went into medicine with my mom and sister’s blessings and my dad’s general acceptance. But I wondered if that was where I should be or if it was something I chose because I didn’t have a better idea, or just because I was interested because of Juliet, and if it was just a way to rebel against my dad.”

  “Do you still feel that way now that you’re there?”

  He shook his head. That was a great question and one he was very happy to have an answer to. “No. I think I’m finally in the right place.”

  She just looked at him for several heartbeats. “I’m glad.” It seemed that she wanted to say more. But in the end she just looked down at the wreath. “This stuff is pretty great.”

  “I’m guessing there are stories that go with all this stuff.”

  She nodded. “Why did they send it all out here? They don’t use it at home?”

  Chase shrugged. “I stopped in at Ellie’s bar the other night and it was decorated. I’m sure their houses are, too.” He pulled a Santa statue out of the box. Except this Santa was sitting in a wooden boat that looked like a long canoe that was being pulled by eight alligators. “Maybe they have two of everything?”

  “They probably have more than two of those,” she said with a grin. “That’s Papa Noel.”

  “Papa Noel?”

  “Well, kind of the French version of Santa Claus,” she said. “Though lots of cultures have some form of Santa Claus or Saint Nicholas. But in the Cajun culture here in Louisiana, he comes in a pirogue—that type of boat, which came from the French who settled here—that’s pulled by alligators.”

  He looked at the statue. “You know a lot about the Cajun culture?”

  “I’ve been down here for two years,” she said. “It’s hard to not pick up. I love it. And I looked up some stuff about Christmas since I was hoping…” She trailed off.

  Chase lifted a brow. “You were hoping what?”

  “Nothing.” She was now studying the ornament she held. An alligator dressed in a Hawaiian shirt and holding a candy cane.

  “Bailey,” he said, low and firm. “What were you hoping?”

  “To see you and have hot sex under the Christmas tree.”

  He’d love to believe that. His body definitely liked the idea. A shaft of heat went through him. But it was bullshit. She still wasn’t looking at him.

  “Bailey.”

  She blew out a breath and looked up.

  “What were you hoping?”

  “To maybe get a Christmas dinner invite from the Landrys,” she confessed. “I know that’s a little pathetic.”

  He sat up straighter. “Oh. That’s not pathetic at all.” That would be so easy to get. “I have no idea what Cajuns eat for Christmas, but I can tell you that if Ellie Landry and Cora Allain are making it, then it’s gonna be some of the best stuff you ever tasted and if you didn’t want a chance at it, you’d be crazy.” The Landrys loved only one thing more than food. Feeding people. Lots of people. Any people. But he narrowed his eyes. “Are you using my attraction to you to get Christmas dinner?” he teased.

  “I didn’t know you were attracted to me.”

  “Bullshit,” he chided.

  Finally, she gave him a half-smile. “Okay, maybe I thought you were a little. But I think I thought that I was just the first girl who hadn’t fallen at your feet and you were determined to figure out what that was about.”

  He nodded slowly. Interesting that she’d realized that about him. “That was part of it. At first.”

  “I knew it.”

  “But just at first,” he said. He thought about his next words and decided that this confession was important. “I haven’t been with anyone since that crazy night when I made a total ass of myself with you and we had the most awkward non-kiss ever.”

  She blushed, but still looked intrigued. “You haven’t?” she asked softly. “Really?”

  “Really. And, trust me, that’s unusual.”

  She arched an eyebrow. “Oh, I trust you on that.”

  He chuckled. “You’re not my type. I didn’t even kiss you. But I can’t stop thinking about you. So I’m pretty glad you’re here and pretty glad you were hoping to see me. Even if Christmas dinner was part of that.”

  “You’re not my type either,” she said. But she sounded just puzzled by that. “But maybe that’s why I wanted to come and see if that feeling was still here.”

  “What feeling?” His voice was a little gruff without him even trying.

  “The feeling of I-want-more-of-that in spite of knowing that didn’t make any sense,” she said. “I’m a scientist. I like things to make sense. But I also like studying anomalies.”

  Hell, he was a scientist too. He just studied humans instead of swamp creatures. “Sometimes anomalies are what make things survive, what helps them evolve from what was there before.”

  She just blew out a little breath at that.

  Yeah, maybe she was the anomaly that was going to make his love life evolve. That thought wasn’t as strange or disturbing as he would have expected.

  “So, what kind of food is there at Cajun Christmas?” he asked, to lighten the suddenly serious, let’s-just-get-married tone.

  “Um… well, tons of seafood, of course,” she said. “And lots of desserts. And lots of drinking. I’m not sure about families on the bayou. I know in New Orleans they do Reveillon dinners.”

  He wanted to take her to a Reveillon dinner. He didn’t even know what that was. But she looked so excited about it. “Tell me about the Revillon dinners.”

  “Oh, it’s an old tradition. Because New Orleans was originally almost entirely Catholic, everyone would go to midnight mass on Christmas Eve and then go home and have these huge feasts that lasted until dawn. They were kind of like breakfast with pastries and egg dishes, but there were also meats, and seafood, and wine. Slowly, the tradition went out of style, but then in the nineties the city brought it back, serving the dinners in some of the restaurants in the French Quarter.”

  “Have you been?”

  Bailey shook her head. “I wasn’t here last year, remember?”

  “We’ll go next year.”

  She paused. For a second Chase thought she was going to say that was silly or there was no way they could make a date like that. But then she nodded. “Okay.”

  Chase felt a strange surge of satisfaction at that.

  She dug into the box beside her again. “Oh my gosh!” She pulled out a book. “I’ve heard about this too!”

  The book was The Cajun Night Before Christmas.

  “Really?” he reached for it.

  “Another tradition down here,” she said with a grin. “I can totally see Leo doing an annual reading of this story.”

  He laughed. “Me too.” He flipped through the book. “And if he doesn’t, we need to have him start that this year.”

  Bailey was clearly delighted by the idea. “I’ve only been around the Landrys twice before this, but they’re a little crazy.”

  He nodded. “You’ve got that right.”

  “And I know I should be intimidated by that or something, but I’m more…”

  “Drawn in by it?” he asked. When she nodded, he laughed. “I know exactly what you mean. When I showed up here at first, it was for community service. My frat brothers and I took one of their airboats out joyriding and smashed into one of the docks when we realized we didn’t know how to drive it. I was here to rebuild that dock and work off that debt,” he sai
d. “I came with a big chip on my shoulder, feeling embarrassed and way out of my element.” He paused and gave her a shrug. “In case it’s not obvious, I’m a spoiled, rich city boy who, until this past summer, had never picked up a power tool.”

  Bailey pretended to be shocked. “You’re kidding.”

  “Seriously.” Then he chuckled. “So anyway, I was feeling like an ass. But that lasted for about an hour. They embraced me.” He shook his head, still not able to fully believe how warm and welcoming the Landrys had been after what he and his dumbass friends had done. “They fed me, they taught me not just how to use a power drill, but how to fish, how to drive the boats, how their business worked—I learned a lot about people who make a living with good old fashioned hard work, using their hands and backs, and about what it’s like to have family and friends who love you no matter what but who will also call you out on your bullshit when you need it.”

  Bailey was watching him with interest. “Wow. You didn’t have that before?”

  “My dad and brothers make a lot of money without doing much more than lifting their phones and maybe pushing a few buttons on their computers. Their outdoor time is spent golfing and out on the family yacht.”

  Her eyes widened. “You actually have a yacht?”

  He grimaced and nodded. “Yep.”

  “Wow.”

  “But the Landrys made me a better man,” he said. “Not that everyone who golfs or has a yacht is a jerk, but I was definitely on that path. Thankfully, my sister was determined I not turn into an asshole and then I came here and met the Landrys.” He paused and then decided to tell her the rest. “I plan to come back here and practice when I’m done with medical school.”

  “You’re going to come to small town Louisiana and practice?” Bailey said. “Really? No big fancy city hospitals for you?”

  He shook his head. “I realized that I’d love to be a real part of a community. I know I won’t make as much money or get all the fancy titles and promotions that I could in a big hospital system, but…there’s a different kind of challenge to really knowing the people you’re taking care of. And having to know how to handle everything from chicken pox to strokes to amputations. It would be a challenge to go to someone’s birthday party knowing that, because of the cancer I diagnosed and can’t fix, it will be their last. It would be a challenge delivering a baby and then going across town to treat that baby’s great-grandfather for pneumonia and then someday telling that baby that her baby has a congenital vision problem or something. But…” He trailed off for a moment, realizing that he’d been going on and on. He shrugged. “I think that would be a really humbling and amazing challenge to have.”

  Bailey was staring at him. She didn’t say anything.

  “Because I would also sometimes get to be the one to say that the scan came back negative or that the disease has cleared up or that there’s a new treatment or medication to try.”

  Why was he still talking?

  “I think the good times, the times I could help them, would be worth the times I couldn’t. And if I could be a part of the community and really make sure they knew I cared and was doing everything I possibly could, then the times I couldn’t help would be easier to take. Because they’d know there was someone there who was truly on their side and would do anything for them.”

  He sat just looking back at her. He was out of words now.

  So she was crazy about alligators. He didn’t totally get that. But her passion was hot. And now she’d seen his. He hadn’t meant to spill all of that. He’d never told anyone all of that. Probably because all of that had only occurred to him over the past few months since he’d been in Autre and then started medical school. But his time this past summer in the tiny Louisiana bayou town had given him more than a place to come for Christmas. It had given him a dream for his future. A home.

  Suddenly, Bailey tossed the ornament she was holding to the side and crawled toward him. He didn’t move.

  They were nose to nose when she said, “You’re right—true passion really is hot.”

  Then she kissed him.

  Finally.

  He had to brace a hand on the floor behind him to keep from being knocked over and he felt something crunch under his hand and her forehead bumped his. But he didn’t care about any of that.

  With his other hand, Chase cupped the back of her head and opened his mouth. She sighed and did the same and their tongues tangled. It was sweet and hot and unexpected—just like everything else had been about Bailey since he’d first met her.

  She moved closer and he stretched out his legs. Chase heard another crunch but he didn’t know if she’d knelt on something or if his foot had broken something. Again, he didn’t care. Bailey climbed into his lap, straddling his thighs, her hands holding his head, her fingers in his hair. His hand slipped from her head to her hip and Chase worked on staying upright as she moved against him.

  The skirt of her dress hiked up on her thighs and he couldn’t help but drop his hand to a bare leg and slide it up under the hem. He met the sweet curve of her ass and the silky strip of her panties where they crossed her hip.

  She pressed into him and Chase knew she could feel how hard he was for her. They’d been talking about Santa Claus and his own someday medical practice in Autre, but she turned him on. Her laugh, the fact that she could ice skate and loved alligators and wanted to have Christmas dinner with the Landrys—his adopted family—after meeting them only three times was all more of a turn-on than all of the lingerie and seductive smiles he’d gotten from other women.

  “Bailey,” he said gruffly against her lips. “Maybe we should slow down.”

  She pulled back to look down at him and shook her head. “I don’t want to.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “You’re touching more than my lips and hands now, and it’s going very well,” she said. “I think we should keep going.”

  Chase took a big gulp of air. “I just want—”

  She wiggled in his lap. The move pressed her against his cock and he groaned, squeezing her ass.

  “Please, Chase.”

  This was new. She was different. How he felt about her was something he hadn’t felt before. But he was no saint.

  With another groan, he grasped both of her hips and rolled her to her back.

  She gave a little gasp, but he covered her mouth with his again. She opened her lips and arched up against him. Her hands slid down his back and under the edge of his T-shirt. Then her hands were on his bare skin.

  Her touch was like electricity and he felt every nerve ending in his body popping. He kissed his way down her neck, running his hand down her side, hiking up her skirt, so he could press his fly against her panties only. Then he cupped a breast.

  She moaned his name and her fingers dug into his back. Her nails scraped his skin as she slid them down to cup his ass, pressing him into her.

  She was hot even through the denim of his jeans and he was suddenly hungry for her. Hungrier than he’d ever been.

  “Need you, Bailey,” he said gruffly.

  “Yes.” Her voice was breathless. “Condom?”

  “Left pocket.” What could he say? He was an optimist.

  She reached for his pocket, her fingers sliding along his cock. He gritted his teeth as she withdrew the foil packet. He ran his thumb over her stiff nipple and she gasped. He lowered his head and bit it gently through her dress.

  “Oh, my God.” She abandoned opening the condom to start wiggling, trying to get out of her sweater.

  Chase pulled her up to sitting, stripped the sweater off of her, and reached behind her for the zipper on the dress. With some tugging and wiggling, they finally pulled the front of the dress down to her waist, baring her breasts for him.

  He remembered how they felt from four months ago, even from the feel he’d accidentally copped in that back hallway of the bar. They were perfect. He laid her back again and then bent his head and took a nipple in his mouth, sucking hard.
>
  She cried out. “Yes!”

  He sucked again, lifting his hand to play with the opposite one.

  “Chase!”

  Every thought of slowing down, waiting, dating her first flew out the window.

  Oh, he was going to date her. But there was no slowing down now.

  6

  He slid his hand up under her dress and cupped her through her panties. Her very hot, wet panties.

  She arched into his hand. “Yes.”

  “Take them off,” he said hoarsely.

  Bailey immediately moved to do so. The panties were white silk, he noted, as she tossed them away. He returned his hand to the sweet heat between her thighs. She moved restlessly, parting her legs to let him slide a finger over her clit. She shuddered and gripped his shoulders.

  “More,” she begged.

  He lifted his head to look down at her as he slid a finger through her slick folds. Her throat and cheeks were flushed and her pupils dilated. She met his gaze as he teased her clit and then slid his finger into her.

  She gave a little sigh that was almost relieved.

  “Damn, you’re so tight. So sweet,” he told her roughly.

  “I want you so much,” she told him softly.

  “I was going to go slow with you,” he told her, pulling out and then sliding in again, brushing over her clit with his thumb.

  She shook her head. “No. Please. I want this. This is so perfect. Just like this.”

  Chase wasn’t going to argue with that. Maybe he should. But he was feeling pretty damned humbled that this woman would let him be here, with her, like this. “I don’t think I can leave Louisiana without knowing how you feel and sound when you come, Bailey.”

  She sucked in a quick breath. It might have been his words, or it might have been the way he circled her clit just right, but she nodded quickly. “You shouldn’t. That would be terrible.”

  He half chuckled, half groaned. He really fucking liked her.

  He kissed her again, pumping his finger deep a few more times, curling into her G-spot, making her gasp his name in a way that he was pretty sure was his new addiction.

  But then she gripped his ass. “I want you, Chase. All of you. Now.”