Sweet Persuasion

“You always were a charmer. Just like your father.”

The two exchanged sorrowful glances before Damon took Serena’s elbow and urged her toward the triple-glass French doors that overlooked the deck.

“I’ll take you to see my favorite fishing holes,” he said as he opened the door.

Warm, muggy air stifled Serena’s breathing as she followed Damon outside. It was a good hour before sunset, and the temperature was near its highest point of the day.

“My father built this,” Damon said as he ran his hand along the cedar railing of the porch.

“It’s beautiful.” She observed him for a long moment before biting the bullet and taking the plunge. “I take it your father passed away?”

Damon slowly nodded. “Two years ago. He was fishing.” He turned and pointed to a bend in the bayou. “Right over there. My mother found him slumped over. He had a massive heart attack and died on the spot. He never had a chance.”

She touched his arm. “I’m sorry.”

“He was the best,” Damon said quietly. Though he didn’t overtly acknowledge her gesture, he put his hand over hers and left it there.

“You haven’t been home since?” she asked. He appeared to be so close to his mother. It seemed odd that he’d stay away so long.

A sad, weary look entered his eyes, dulling them to a drab brown. “No. I tried. But it was too painful. I got all the way to the driveway, and I turned around and drove back to Houston. Pretty cowardly.”

He moved to the railing and rested both hands on the wood, leaning out over it as he stared over the cypress clogged bayou. “It hurt my mom. I knew it, but still, I couldn’t make myself come back. I couldn’t face being here without him.”

“Why now?” she asked softly. Why with her?

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I’ve missed my mom. I’ve needed to face her, this house. Needed to realize that my staying away doesn’t alter the fact that he’s gone. And maybe it seemed easier with you.”

She inhaled sharply, unable to control her surprise at his statement.

He touched her cheekbone then slid his hand behind her head and pulled her toward him. She rocked against him as he tilted her upward to meet his kiss.

It was gentle, it was soft. In a word, it was exquisite. It shook her to her core.

“Thank you for coming with me,” he whispered against her lips. “It means a lot.”

She smiled as she drew away. “I’m glad you wanted me with you.”

He took her to the banks of the bayou and they watched the catfish surface as if expecting to be fed.

“My mom feeds them every evening,” he explained. “They’re spoiled rotten.”

They continued along the edge as it wound through the rolling terrain of his mother’s property. A rickety dock was situated in the crook of one of the bends, and an old johnboat was tied up. It rocked gently with the ripples of the water. The green paint was faded and peeling. Stenciled with black paint on the side was Roche.

“My father’s boat,” Damon said. “It belonged to his grand-father. Old as Methuselah but it still runs. Mom takes it out every now and again just to keep it going.”

“She misses him too,” Serena said, remembering the sadness in her eyes.

Damon sighed. He turned to face the water and shoved his hands into his pockets. For a long moment he was silent. His lips moved as though he had difficulty forming the words.

“It was hard on her and even harder when I stayed away even though she understood.”

He glanced down at his feet, and his shoulders sagged.

“It was selfish of me and it’s something I regret. They were . . . they were so in love. They were high school sweethearts, and she married him when she was sixteen. Folks around here didn’t give them a chance of lasting or ever amounting to anything, but they proved them wrong. He built this house for mom when she was pregnant with me. I grew up here. It’s the only home I ever knew.”

He smiled and glanced sideways at Serena. “My father made his fortune and retired early. He and mom were supposed to travel. Have fun. Live and love and enjoy life. He died just a week after they returned from a trip to Paris. It was where my mother had dreamed of traveling since she was a girl.”

Serena blinked away the tears that stung her eyelids. “At least they got one last trip together before he passed,” she said.

Damon nodded. “We all had some good times together. For so long it hurt to think about them, to remember life with Dad knowing he wasn’t here anymore. But now . . . now it just feels good to remember.”

She reached out, caught his wrist and pulled his hand from his pocket. She laced her fingers through his and tugged his hand to her side.

They both turned when they heard Jo calling to them. She was standing on the deck waving and motioning them to supper.

“Come on. The gumbo’s not as good when it’s cold,” he said.

“Race you,” Serena challenged even as she took off.

“Cheater!” Damon yelled as he pounded after her.

She would have beaten him to the steps, but just as she made the leap, he plucked her from the air and spun her around in his arms. She shrieked in outrage and he responded by dumping her on the ground and following her down to tickle her unmercifully.

When she was wheezing for breath between peals of laughter, he finally stopped and hauled her up.

“Declare me the victor,” he demanded.

“Never!”

She launched herself up the steps then turned around and did an imitation of Rocky, hands in the air as she danced back and forth.

“Little cheat,” he grumbled as he walked past her to the table where his mom waited.

“Damon always was a poor loser,” Jo said as she gri

“And who did I get that from, pray tell?” Damon said dryly.

“Your father, of course.”

Damon snorted and headed toward the door. “You ladies stay here. I’ll be back with bowls and silverware. Want me to bring out the gumbo, Mom?”

“Please,” she said. Then she turned to Serena. “Would you like wine or tea with your di

“I’ll have whatever you and Damon are having,” Serena said.

“In that case, it’ll be wine. It’s an indulgence of ours. Even during the two years he was gone, he’d call and I’d sit here on the deck and we’d share a glass of wine and talk on the phone.”

“It sounds like you’re very close,” Serena said.

“He’s my only child,” Jo said by way of explanation.

Damon came back out with bowls and spoons then went back in and returned a moment later with a steaming pot of gumbo.

“Get the rice if you don’t mind. It’s in the steamer. And snag the bottle of wine I have laid out,” Jo said as Damon set the pot down.

She and Serena sat and when Damon returned with the rice, Jo served up the gumbo. Though it was hot and muggy, the gumbo, usually more suited for the cold of winter, tasted delicious.

After di

“So how long have you two been together and how did you meet?” Jo asked, breaking the silence.

Serena stiffened and sent Damon a panicked glance. He took her hand under the table and squeezed reassuringly.

“We were introduced by a mutual friend. We’ve only been seeing each other a short time, but I’m hoping to convince her to keep me around for a while.”

Jo smiled. “Smooth-talking bastard, just like your father. And they expect you to fall at their feet for their efforts,” she said to Serena.

Serena laughed, her discomfort passing. “I expect they do. And I’ll admit, it does turn my head. As I’ve told him before, he’s no stranger to pretty words.”