Page 99 of The Cajun Doctor

“To them, we are.”

“Bet he wouldn’t call Aaron an old fart. It’s probably because I’m so stodgy. Folks are always saying that about me,” Daniel mused.

“I don’t think you’re stodgy,” she said.

“That’s because I gave you five and a half orgasms.”

“You were counting?”

“Damn right.”

“A half orgasm?”

“That time when I used my tongue to—”

“Never mind!”

They smiled at each other then, and his heart did a little flip-flop. Yeah, he knew how corny that sounded, especially for a doctor. But he did feel something. Suddenly, he knew that no matter how short-lived their affair turned out to be, it wouldn’t be enough.

But there was plenty of time to think about that later. Instead, he said, “Wanna go back to bed and fool around?”

“That’s the best offer I’ve had today.”

Unfortunately, their window of opportunity closed before they had a chance to make it up the stairs. The hordes swooped down on Bayou Rose in the form of Luc and John LeDeux, a police chief and several deputies, the FBI, a bunch of muscle men in ATF T-shirts who looked like they could bench-press a bayou barge, and a “person-of-interest” whom one agent referred to as “a crazy old lady in a lavender convertible.”

And then the posse arrived . . .

There were five FBI agents, several ATF operatives, the local sheriff and his deputy, a state trooper, and several men who didn’t identify themselves. None of them wore uniforms. They sat around the kitchen table and on folding lawn chairs that had been brought inside, or they stood against the walls or in the doorways.

Samantha had never been involved with anything illegal before, and the scene, heavy on testosterone and legal power, was rather daunting. She wouldn’t want to have any one of these guys after her.

Lily Beth and Angus had just finished telling their stories, again, and answering numerous questions along the way. Samantha had heard the tale so many times, she felt as if she could recite it herself, verbatim.

One of the agents was operating a tape recorder, and another was taking voluminous notes on a high-tech laptop that had Angus practically drooling with envy. Several times the men exchanged meaningful glances . . . meaningful to them, not to Daniel, Samantha, Angus, Lily Beth, or Tante Lulu.

Tante Lulu, no longer a “person of interest,” was puttering around the kitchen counter making drinks and snacks while listening intently to every word being spoken, having interrupted only twice. The first time, to exclaim, “Holy Sac-au-lait! If Jimmy Guenot’s brains was dynamite, there wouldn’t be enough ta blow his fool nose. I know Jimmy’s mama, bless her heart. Let me tell her what her boy’s been up to, and she’ll tie a knot in his tail lickedy split.”

“Shhh!” her nephew John warned. “Let the experts handle it.”

“Hmpfh! That ain’t the bayou way.”

The other time she interrupted, it was when Angus was telling them about Nick’s baby-selling scheme. “I do declare, I never heard such nonsense! I got a pistol in mah handbag. I’m a good shot, too. Been practicin’ on snakes in mah shower. Mebbe I should jist go shoot the rat. Bam, bam, bam!”

Everyone turned in shock to the senior citizen hit woman, then turned to stare at her handbag sitting on the floor. It was big enough to hold a machine gun. John and Luc put their faces in their hands.

“Some men jist need killin’. Thass a legal defense in Loozeeanna, ain’t it, Luc? Thass what Tee-John always sez.”

Luc cautioned his aunt to keep her mouth shut or go home, in much gentler terms. After that, the old busybody remained silent, but her thoughts were clear on her expressive face. It didn’t help matters that today she sported a Farrah Fawcett wig, white pedal pushers, orthopedic shoes with pink ruffled anklet socks, and a black shell top with the neon colored words Hot to Trot emblazoned across her little chest.

Samatha had known Tante Lulu for a long time and was no longer surprised by anything she said or did. Not so much others. At first sight of the bayou yenta, Brad Dillon, the head honcho from the FBI . . . a good-looking, crew-cutted guy from D.C., wearing a gray suit, blue and gray tie, and white dress shirt . . . had gone wide-eyed with surprise. But then he’d chuckled and said, “Now I’ve seen it all.”

That was before he’d seen Maddie.

“There’s a frickin’ cougar in your parlor!”

Or the pig that followed Daniel around like a lovesick swain, or whatever you called a female admirer.

“I’ve heard of guys who date pigs, but come on!”