Ghostwalker 03 - Night Game

She knew he’d really put a homing device on the airboat, that he’d already checked up on her. “He’s a wonderful man.”

    Gator sent her his quick, easy grin, balancing the tea tray easily in one hand as he trailed after them.

    Nonny sank down onto the couch and patted the seat beside her. “Sit here, cher , and tell me all about your family.”

    “My family?” Flame echoed, a sudden sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. She didn’t want to lie to this old lady the way she lied to everyone else. Why hadn’t she considered that it would be the first thing the woman asked her? Nonny Fontenot was all about family. She was concerned for her grandson and wanting Flame to be the mother of his future children.

    Gator watched the color fade from Flame’s cheeks. She glanced up at him almost helplessly and his heart turned over. She actually pressed backward into the pillows of the couch as if to get away from the question. “Flame’s an orphan, Grand-mere . No blood relatives.”

    Nonny clucked her sympathy. “That don’ matter, cher . When you marry Gator, you’ll have all kinds of family. More family than you know what to do with.” She patted Flame’s hand again, more of a stroking than a pat.

    Flame had a foolish desire to cover the back of her hand with her palm, to hold that small gesture against her skin and take it out later to feel it all over again when she was alone.
    She flashed Gator a look of anger. How could he have betrayed his family for Whitney?
    She wanted to slap his face. Wake him up. Shake him. This wonderful, sincere woman loved him and surrounded herself with his pictures and drawings. She’d probably fixed him chicken soup and read him stories when he was sick.

    “How long have you known Burrell?” She needed a food, safe topic.

    Nonny gestured to her to pour the tea. “Oh, a lifetime. We both grew up in this parish.
    He was so handsome and smart, but the river claimed him. All he wanted to do was travel the Mississippi. Of course he came to every fais do-do when he wasn’t on the river and all the ladies wanted to daance with him.”

    Gator made a sound of pure shock. Nonny quelled him with a stem look. “I’m not dead, Raoul, just old. Of course I noticed how handsome Burrell was. He brought me flowers every couple of months after Rene died. Sometimes he’d come over and we’d sit a spell on the porch and smoke his pipe. He’s the only man I ever smoked a pipe with.”

    “I love the smell of his pipe,” Flame admitted. “I tell him smoking is bad for him, but I do inhale a lot when I’m around his pipe.”

    “In your delicate condition,” Gator said, “do you mink you should be inhalin’ cher ?”

    The teacup rattled on the saucer as Flame handed the cup to Nonny. She gave Gator a swift, scowling reprimand, but he simply grinned at her. “I do hope you have pictures of Raoul when he was a boy. I’d love to see what he was like. I imagine he was curly-headed and strong-willed.”

    Nonny nearly clapped her hands. “He still has that wonderful head of hair.” She raised her voice. “Wyatt. bring me the family album.”

    “No. Grand-mere ,” Gator groaned “Don’t do that to me.”

    “Great idea, Grand-mere ,” Wyatt said cheerfully. He went to a large antique sideboard and pulled open a drawer. The album was wrapped in a hand-crocheted shawl. Wyatt carried it over to his grandmother with obvious care.

    Gator sank down onto the couch beside Flame, deliberately crowding her, his thigh tight against hers as he leaned forward to grab a handful of cookies off a hand- painted plate.
    “I was a cute kid,” he admitted. “Everyone said so.”

    “There’s a naked picture of him in there,” Wyatt pointed out with glee as his grandmother opened the album cover, her hand smoothing over the pages with near reverence.

    Flame leaned toward Nonny, away from Gator to peer at the picture of the baby happily throwing water into the air. He sat in an old cooking pot with two handles, looking joyfully at the camera in the first picture. In the second he stood waving chubby arms, hair dripping water into his face, laughing while giving a full frontal view. He looked about eighteen months to Flame.

    Gator nudged her. “Even as I child I was well- endowed,” he teased, feigning pride. He shifted his weight so he was wedged tight against her again.

    Flame peered at the pages, listening to the pride in his grandmother’s voice as she told