“What do you know about the woman who took my bike?”
The big man gave him a sidelong glance. “You mean the woman you lost your bike to in a bet.”
“Yeah, yeah, okay. But do you know her?”
“Known her all her life.”
Jackson’s elbow slipped off its resting place on the edge of the window. “And you didn’t see fit to warn me that she was crazy.”
“Doc’s not crazy,” he said with a grunt. “But I ain’t never seen her do nothin’ like this before.”
Resting his elbow back on the window, Jackson wanted to spit. “What do you call her Doc for? Is she a doctor? Turn here.”
Mick hit the brakes then pulled on the steering wheel. “Not no medical doctor, but she has papers that say she should be called a doc. She’s a head doctor. You know, talks to people about their problems and stuff.”
“A psychologist?”
“Yep, that’s it.”
Where had he moved to? A psychologist with a Ph.D. had raced him for his motorcycle. Worst of all, she had won.
“This is it.” He pointed to the driveway ahead of them.
“You’re on the old Wright place.”
“Yeah, I’m just renting for a while until I can find something for myself.”
The ragged truck veered into the gravel lane that led to his new home. He’d been here for a week. Talk about getting things off to a good start.
“Uh-oh.” Mick hit the brakes on the truck. “Looks like the law’s at your place.”
Jackson ignored the car with the emblem painted on its side and shifted in the seat with something akin to embarrassment.
“That would be my car, Mick. I’m the new investigator for the parish and the coordinator for Cypress Landing’s volunteer search-and-rescue unit.”
Mick stared at him for a moment then gave a deep belly laugh that continued until Jackson thought the man would start crying. He slammed the truck door behind him then leaned into the window. “Thanks for the ride, Mick. I really appreciate it.”
The big man wiped a hand over his beard. “Man, this just keeps gettin’ better and better.”
Jackson had to jump to keep the tires from crushing his feet as Mick gunned the old truck back down the driveway. Yeah, he guessed it probably didn’t look too good that the newest employee of Cypress Landing’s sheriff’s department had just lost his Harley on a bet with the local psychologist. Or maybe it just meant he was going to fit in really well.
CHAPTER TWO
“WHAT’S THIS I HEAR about you and some guy’s motorcycle?”
Emalea chewed on a beignet without looking at her uncle. The sweet white sugar melted against her tongue as she breathed in the rich coffee-scented air. With her elbows propped on the counter, she twisted on the small stool. News sure traveled fast and to the most unwanted places. She’d only exacted her revenge late yesterday evening. But she did live in a small town. Cypress Landing was an hour and a half away from New Orleans and a stop off for tourists or anyone needing a ride across the river on the car ferry. She had heard the town called quaint, historical, even an arts-and-antiques mecca, whatever that meant.
Overhearing the question, her aunt Alice stopped to lean across the counter, ignoring the bustling workers behind her as they hurried to get orders for the diner’s early morning customers. John and Alice Berteau had raised Emalea since she was twelve. Truthfully, she’d spent a big part of her first twelve years with them, too. They weren’t going to like this.
“I won a bet, that’s all.” She met her aunt’s gaze for a second and caught a flash that could have been a smile but it never reached her lips.
“Emalea, you got no business doin’ any bettin’. What kind of lady does that?” Alice stepped away from the counter, putting her hands on her hips. Her Cajun accent always thickened when she was upset. “This is your fault, John. You got her on those motorcycles and such. She’s goin’ to bars with all those biker people. You better be settin’ her straight, now.” She stood in front of Emalea and her husband for a second longer, then wiped her hands on her white apron and disappeared into the kitchen. The idea that a thirty-year-old woman would be “set straight” by her aging aunt and uncle would have been laughable to some. Not Emalea. Aunt Alice and Uncle John were two of the most important people in her life; if they thought she needed to change something, she would give them her utmost consideration. They deserved that from her. Besides, she respected their opinions and they were usually right.
Emalea stared past her uncle to the window at the front of the diner, known simply as Main Street Coffee Shop. Naturally, the place sat at the end of Cypress Landing’s Main Street, next door to her uncle’s equally successful garage. He was a gifted mechanic, working on cars as well as motorcycles. Together, her mother’s brother and his wife did very well and that’s exactly how they did everything. Together. As a team. Unlike Emalea’s own parents, Aunt Alice and Uncle John kept life running smoothly by pouring on plenty of love. They were the lucky ones.
“See now, Emmy, you gone and got me in trouble with your aunt Alice. I didn’t build that bike for you to run around racing.”
She turned her attention back to her uncle while trying to figure how she could squirm her way out of this. “What makes you think I was racing?”
John scratched his head. “Em, how long you been livin’ here? You know good and well what happened yesterday was gonna be prime gossip this morning.”
The edges of her napkin fluttered in the breeze from the air-conditioning and she smoothed it unconsciously. “I guess I was hoping at least a day or two would pass before that story made it here.”
When she finally got the nerve to face her uncle, he was frowning at her. “So, what you doin’ with this fella’s bike?”
“Teaching him a lesson.” She lifted her coffee cup then put it back on the counter without taking a sip.
“You got no business teachin’ anybody in a bar a lesson. What do you know about this man? He could do anything to you. Maybe he decides to come take his bike back and teach you a lesson while he’s there.”
Emalea’s gut instinctively tightened at the thought.
“I don’t mean to scare you, but you take the bike back to Mick and see that he gets it to this fella. You don’t need that kind of trouble.”
“You’re right. I’ll take the bike back after our search-and-rescue team meeting.”
Gulping her now lukewarm coffee, Emalea brushed the napkin across her mouth to clean off the last bits of sugar.
“I’ve got to go. The school’s hired me to counsel students and their families. I have a couple of appointments this morning.” Sliding off the stool, she kissed her uncle on the cheek.
He patted her on the shoulder. “All right, girl. Oh, that fella who likes you came by here yesterday.”
Emalea paused. “You mean Paul Jones?”
“That’s the one. He said he was through this way on business and stopped by for breakfast, but he was askin’ for you. I don’t know why you want to be seein’ that guy.”
Paul Jones was a sales rep for a pharmaceutical company and traveled to various doctors’ offices and pharmacies in the area. She had been avoiding him lately. She wasn’t sure why, because he was a nice man. “What’s wrong with Paul, Uncle John? I thought you liked him that day I met him here for breakfast.”
“I like him fine, but he’s not for you, Emalea. I don’t know why you keep dating these men that are nothing like you.”
That