“You got an answer for me?”

She bit her lip, which just made me want to duck lower and use my teeth to tug it free. But Elle got with the program and answered before I could give in to my urge.

“On one condition.” Her reply shocked me. I thought for sure she’d be trying to turn me down, and I’d have to haul out the charm I saved for important situations.

“What’s that, babe?”

A small ‘v’ formed between her eyebrows. “First, don’t call me babe. But that’s not my condition. My condition is that you don’t expect a damn thing. I’ll agree to go out, but I’m not agreeing to anything beyond that.” Her tone was adamant.

I didn’t mind not calling her ‘babe,’ but I found it telling that she’d never shut me down when I called her ‘sweet thing.’ Noted.

And no expectations. I could do that—because there was no way she’d end the night not wanting more. I’d make sure of it.

Instinctively, my fingers curled around her hip. “Done, but I have one condition of my own.”

“What’s that?” The words were laced with skepticism.

“No expectations, but also no bullshit. I don’t want you lying to me—or yourself. You don’t want anything from me because you’re not feeling this, then we deal with it. But I ain’t about to let you sell us both short because you’re scared.”

“No expectations and no bullshit,” she repeated. She sucked a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “I can do that.”

“Good. We’re leaving at five. Get ready for a helluva night.”

“Ummm. This was not what I expected when you told me to get ready for a helluva night.” I surveyed the rickety dock with warring uncertainty.

“Do you trust me?” Lord asked.

It was a loaded question if I’d ever heard one. Did I really, truly trust anyone? Other than Vanessa, of course. It was something I didn’t feel like pondering right now. Lord looked over his shoulder at me, nearing the covered mooring. He was waiting for an answer.

“Are you planning to murder me and dispose of my body in the swamp?” I asked. The dock we were standing on floated on the edge of the bayou near Lake Salvador. And it didn’t take a genius or a swamp expert to recognize that tied to the dock, under the camo canvas, was an airboat.

“Would I have bought you dinner first if I planned to do that?” Lord’s mouth tugged upward in a half smile. It was a really good look on him. Hell, if he were a serial killer, at least my last vision would be a sexy one.

“I suppose not. But I’m totally taking a picture of this boat and sending it to Vanessa just in case.” I didn’t really intend to, but I reached into my purse just for show.

“So I’ll take that as a no on the trust factor then. And by the way, it’s Con’s boat.”

“I guess I trust you enough to skip the picture then. After all, you did feed me the best ham sandwich on the planet.” Lord had taken me to the famous Mother’s Restaurant, and we’d gorged on ham and biscuits. Surprisingly, I’d lived in NOLA all my life, except for college, and I’d yet to ever eat there. I’d been missing out.

Lord gave me a chin jerk and reached for the canvas covering the boat. He unrolled it expertly before folding and tucking it into a wooden box on the end of the dock.

Another thing I’d never done: ride on an airboat. It was very Swamp People, and not something I’d ever expected to do, but when Lord took my hand and helped me aboard, I settled onto the bench seat next to the driver. It felt a little like what I imagined it would to sit in the middle of a pickup truck bench seat. Intimate. The thought struck me, and I started to slide over. The boat rocked as Lord stepped in, and he caught my movement. His hand landed on my arm, stilling me.

“I like you close.”

He was pushing things, and we both knew it. The decision crystallized before me. Slide across the bench and put the space between us that I wanted to keep to protect myself, or stay in the middle, and be open to the possibility of more.

I was still deciding—debating and rationalizing—when Lord held ear protectors out and over my head. He didn’t close them over my ears, just held them—waiting.

“You make your decision, Elle?”

The man wasn’t in my head, but he could read me so easily.

“I’m good,” I said, telling myself silently, I can always change my mind later…

He nodded and settled the ear protectors into place. Lord didn’t waste any time firing up the engine. A few moments later, he’d tossed off the lines holding us to the dock and pushed the boat away.

We idled through the swamp, and Lord pointed at something and his lips moved, but I couldn’t hear him through my ear muff thingies.

“What?” I yelled.

His smile widened. He pointed to his ears, and yelled, “You can take them off for a minute. You really only need them when we get cruising.”

I looked at him in confusion as I pulled them down around my neck. “Then why did you put them on me right away?”

“Because I knew you’d look too fucking cute with them on.”

I laughed, still slightly confused. “You’re a weird one, you know that, right?”

He shrugged and pointed to the bank. “See the gator tucked up near that log?”

“Holy shit,” I breathed. “I’ve never seen one so close.”

“Then you’re in for an experience.”

Lord maneuvered even closer to the bank and shut off the engine.

We floated toward the log, and I expected the gator to sink beneath the surface, but it didn’t. It clearly didn’t care that we were encroaching on its space.

“He ain’t real old. Maybe three or four years, at most.”

I shook my head. “How do you know that?”

“Spent a lot of time in the swamp in my day.”

“When?”

“When I needed a break from watching my back twenty-four/seven or I was just plain sick of living on the streets. This was where I came to get my shit straight and lay low when things got too hot.”

By too hot I assumed he meant the cops or gangs. I didn’t ask for clarification, and Lord continued, “If I’d only had me to worry about, I would’ve stayed out here for good, but I wasn’t about to give up keeping tabs on Con. So it was only a week or so at a time, but I’d hitch a ride from the city, steal a pirogue, and just explore. Once I got lost for three days. Luckily it was during gator season, so a couple guys found me. By that time, I’d figured out how to catch rabbits and roast ’em over a campfire. It was some of the best eatin’ I’d had in years—that I didn’t have to steal. I’d snatched a book from the library—My Side of the Mountain—and that kid made all sorts of cool shit while he was living in a tree. I didn’t make acorn pancakes, because I didn’t have the right stuff, but I sure as shit appreciated the fact that I wasn’t up in the Catskills where it was cold.”