Love Letter for a Sinner (The Sinners sports romances) Page 8

  “We were acting. I should get an Academy Award nomination for my effort. So what do you think? Are they clean or not?”

  “Joe keeps a tidy barn, but someone didn’t finish the job.” Rex nodded to a wheelbarrow full of horse apples coated with rice hull bedding occupying the center of the aisle in front of Rascal’s stall. “Why don’t I dump that in the manure pile for him?”

  “Because that’s not what we’re here for.” Layla lit on him like a fly on the contents of the wheelbarrow.

  “Right, you wanted to visit your old friend, Rascal. I could dispose of the droppings while you do that.”

  “Rex, I have no interest in Joe’s trick pony or any other livestock. In these heels, I’m almost as tall as you are. Why don’t we forget about the stalls and make your first time doing it standing up? I promise the results will be spectacular.” Layla backed him against a stout upright supporting the barn roof and ground her hips against his groin.

  “It’s getting really hot in here. I should open the barn door.”

  Layla licked the beads of sweat off his upper lip and rotated her hips harder. “So nice to have a young man with a rock hard dick after catering to Micah Stanley’s wilted lily. He can only get it up if I give him a BJ. I might come just doing this.”

  “Me, too. Let up, Layla. Please.”

  A mighty shove of the barn door allowed the September sun to stream into the stable like a spotlight aimed right at the couple. From the force applied, Rex expected to see Joe looming in the entrance. Looking over Layla’s shoulder, he had to drop his sights to small, pregnant Nell.

  “Get off that innocent boy, you whore!”

  Layla turned to face her accuser. Rex covered his crotch with both hands and hung a head turned so red it showed between the strands of his brushed-back brown hair. Nell marched forward, hands fisted, and Layla retreated until she came up against the door of Rascal’s stall.

  “We came to visit Rascal. One thing led to another. Boys will be boys,” she blathered.

  Hearing his name and expecting treats or adulation, Rascal raised his sorrel head from the oats and came up behind the actress. Delicately, he bared his teeth and seized the red silk scarf on Layla’s head pulling it down around her neck and sending her three-hundred dollar sunglasses skittering across the rough and dusty floor.

  “What the hell.” Layla slapped a hand to her bright blonde hair.

  Rascal followed up with a decisive head butt. Not having Joe’s weight and teetering on very high heels, Layla plunged forward facedown into the wheelbarrow of manure. Kicking her feet in the air to regain her footing only drove her deeper into the filth. Bracing her hands forced her arms in to the armpits. Being a gentleman, Rex suppressed his grin but snorted a few times through his manly nose as he grasped the star’s shoulders from behind and hauled her out. Nell felt no need for reserve. She laughed so hard she doubled over her swollen belly.

  “You! You gave that animal some kind of signal to humiliate me,” Layla shrieked through her mask of stinking brown. Both of her prominent breasts had left dents in the pile and now resembled twin dung hills sporting a light frosting of rice hulls. The blonde hair surrounding her face had turned the color and consistency of brown licorice whips.

  Nell took a deep breath to steady herself. “No, Rascal sometimes has a mind of his own. Hence, his name. His trainer warned us to watch out for pranks.” She looked toward the door as someone blocked the sunlight.

  Precious Armitage with Sharlette Dobbs and Mawmaw Nadine stood there like linemen ready to defend their quarterback. “I skipped my second helping because I thought we might need a few of us to pull you off her. Not good for those babies, Nell.”

  “It’s a wonder you didn’t bring Stevie and Cassie, too.”

  “They is running after their little kids. We beyond that now. You need any help?”

  “No, Rascal took care of her for me. I never got near her.”

  “Let me get that horse some carrots off the vegetable tray,” Sharlette drawled.

  “You are all vile people! Rex and I were enjoying a private moment before you barged in. He was loving it.” Layla tossed her hair and sent bits of filth flying. Rex jumped away.

  “Not in my barn, you slut. Clean up, go, and never return to Lorena Ranch. You can shower at the pool. I’ll try to find some clean clothes to fit you.” Nell’s fists opened into claws.

  “Good luck wit’ that,” Precious said. “Not a thing you or your girls got is gonna fit over them boobs. I always bring an extra caftan on account of my big shelf catching dribbles. I’ll go get it for her. No need to return it. I have a whole wardrobe full of them.”

  The sunlight streamed in again as Precious left the scene. Three small shadows replaced hers. Nell’s ten-year-old triplets took in the scene. “Uh-oh,” Trinity, the smallest of the bunch, said.

  Lorena, the only girl, did the explaining. “Honest, we cleaned all the stalls, Mom. Only when Jack and Josee Riley showed up, we sorta kinda forgot to dump the wheelbarrow. That was Mack’s job, anyhow.”

  “Thanks for ratting me out, Lori,” Mack, the largest of the three, retorted. “Now I’m in double trouble first from yesterday and now from today. I’ll never get off barn duty.”

  “Yes.” Nell compressed her lips to hold in a smile. “You will have to be punished for this. Just look at Miss Devlin all covered in sh—manure. She hardly looks like a famous movie star, thanks to the three of you. I’ll think of some fitting chore tomorrow. Meanwhile, why don’t you go with your grandmother? I believe she has something special for you.”

  “Yes, my cher bebes. How about three extra large slices of my coconut cake?”

  “Do we have to eat our vegetables first?” Trin asked, as this was always a pre-condition for getting sweets.

  “Not today, honey. Come wit’ Mawmaw.” Nadine shooed her three youngest grandchildren, soon to be supplanted by newborn twins, before her.

  Layla pointed a long, scarlet-lacquered nail at Nell. A glob of dung fell from its underside. “You are rewarding them for this. You should be ashamed.”

  “Me? No. Their grandmother spoils them terribly.”

  “I want Patsy! Someone send her in here.”

  “I’d be so happy to do that for you. I’ll show her where you can shower before you leave. Ta ta.” Nell left with a trail of laughter burbling behind her.

  Layla’s anxious assistant appeared moments later. “Oh, my.” Tricia pressed her fingers hard against her lips. “Is that what I think it is?”

  “You ought to know, farm girl. It’s shit, shit, shit exactly like this entire day. Get your bag from the car and clean me up before I go out there.”

  “I’ll fetch it,” Rex offered.

  “Thank you, Rex, darling. Please hurry.”

  He moved out of the barn as fast as if he were carrying the ball toward the goal line. He returned in less of hurry blotting the corners of his bright hazel eyes with a paper napkin after laughing so hard he cried. “Here you go.” He turned the large handbag over to Tricia and lingered in her general vicinity several feet from the besmirched Layla. “I think I’ll go help with the dragon boat races if you don’t need me. Sorry you’re going to miss them. Have a safe trip back to New Orleans. Maybe you should drive, Trish, since Layla is upset.”

  “I will. I’m sorry about the way things worked out.”

  “Me, too. It would have been nice if you could have stayed.”

  “If the two of you are finished, I need some assistance here. That’s what I pay you for, Patsy,” Layla interrupted.

  “Of course. I have wet wipes for your face and hands. I think we can use the scarf to cover your hair. The ends are kind of grungy, but we’ll tie then underneath. Still, I wouldn’t get too near anyone. You do reek.”

  Layla seized the package of wet wipes and tore through them, throwing each used tissue on the barn floor as she finished with it. Her makeup came off with the muck, and the sticky strands of her hair went from dark to light brown i
n the process. “There, how do I look?”

  “Fresh as a baby’s bottom,” Tricia told her. A badly wiped baby’s bottom. She picked up the tissues with her fingertips and deposited them in the wheelbarrow. “The pool house is in that direction. We follow the signs. They have plenty of fresh towels there, and I brought along a bar of your favorite scented soap and small bottles of shampoo and cream rinse from the hotel.”

  “Take a peek outside. Are any of my fans waiting for me?”

  “No, I think everyone has gone down to the bayou for the boat races. It’s all clear.”

  “Good.” Layla made a point of patting her PA’s shoulder with one ill-cleaned hand. Dirt from under the long nails made talon-like stains on the pale blue sundress. “Don’t know what I’d to without you, Patsy.”

  They escaped to the pool showers. Tricia laid out her boss’s make-up while Layla showered twice using up every ounce of the shampoo.

  Precious delivered the caftan, orange with gold sunbursts, big as a beach umbrella, while the actress bathed and hurried off to catch the races. As they walked back to the convertible deserted by the Russian models, cheers rose from the river as the boats got underway.

  “Put up the top. I don’t want anyone to see me this way,” Layla ordered. She laid her head, still wrapped in a towel turban, against the rest and closed her eyes.

  “Sounds like they are having fun,” Tricia remarked as she took the wheel.

  “Not nearly as much fun as Rex and I would have had if Nell hadn’t gotten in the way again. I’m beginning to hate that woman.”

  Chapter Ten

  Two long, aluminum dragon boats bobbed on either side of the dock. Brightly painted and bearing snarling heads like the mythical beast on their bows, Samoan Adam Malala had convinced Joe to buy them for Camp Love Letter. “Good time fun,” his cornerback swore. “Even the kids in wheelchairs can participate if they have enough arm strength.” Most of them did. Now the boat races were a cherished part of any gathering on the ranch.

  Those who had signed up to row sorted through a heap of life vests to find their size. The audience lined up chairs along the bayou. Adam, who had stripped down in the pool house, tied back his mane of frizzy curls and rolled up his lava-lava for the occasion, exposing his waist to knee tattoos with pride. Joe swore the man oiled his smooth, brown chest, or maybe he’d worked up a sweat since the temperature soared above ninety this afternoon. Joe, captain of the second boat, felt an urge to take off his own shirt and show the world he could still compete in the manly chest competition, but he had nothing to prove.

  Adam fitted a vest on Teddy and lifted the boy from his wheelchair into the drummer’s position. Those two possessed a special bond formed the day they met, both of them showing up at Lorena Ranch five years ago to seek out Joe Dean Billodeaux. Joe outfitted Trinity and put him in place to provide the beat for the rowers in his boat. “Where’s Riley? She’s on my team.”

  “Right here. We’re bringing the last of the kids from the jumper.” Riley Bullock balanced Adam’s robust young son on one hip while Stacy carried his little sister. Both children had mocha skin, their mother’s green eyes, and an explosion of fuzzy black hair.

  “That your baby, Riley?” Prince Dobbs jibed. “Looks exactly like you except for the pretty eyes.” Joe’s twin daughters stepped away from him, and Xochi turned her back. No giggles now. They’d grown up with Riley as a friend.

  Stacy handed the toddler to Winnie, Adam’s wife sitting with her sister Mintay and Rev Bullock, Riley’s parents. The Rev fingered the gold cross on a chain around his thick ebony neck as if he needed a reminder not to shove the boy into the bayou, but Stacy saw no need to restrain her temper. “You are meaner than Dean,” she accused Prince.

  “That’s nice to know, princess,” Dean said as he prepared to take his place in his father’s boat. Generally, he used the honorific Stacy had insisted upon when she first arrived at the ranch to mock her. “Yeah, Riley can’t help what she looks like, so shut up, Dobbs.”

  Riley’s mother wrinkled her usually serene brow. Dean’s misspoken gallant defense only embarrassed her daughter more. If her child hadn’t been as dark as Rev, she’d be blushing tomato red right now. Genetics had gifted Mintay’s lighter skin and green eyes to her son who was competing at a debate competition in Baton Rouge today. Good thing her younger boy, the image of her massive husband at a younger age, had a football game in Lake Charles or Prince would have been knocked to the ground by now.

  Before Mintay could think of the words to comfort her daughter, Winnie Malala took her son into her lap as well as his sister and pinned Prince with an emerald stare. Since marrying Adam, Winnie had gained a towering confidence she’d lacked before. “You’d better be saying my babies are beautiful, and Riley is, too.”

  “Yes, ma’am, that’s what I meant,” the boy said as Adam clamped a huge hand on his shoulder.

  “You’re on my team. Find a vest and get moving.” The Samoan muttered something else possibly derogatory in his native tongue. He couldn’t endure a rude child. His dark eyes did not leave Prince as the boy tripped over his sagging pants trying to get into the boat.

  The awkward moment passed as the fully loaded boats moved out into the stream. Nell, puffing a little, arrived and took a seat reserved for her in the Bullock family group. “Glad I didn’t miss this. I had to scrape Layla Devlin off Rex first. Actually, I didn’t do the scraping. Rascal bumped her into a wheelbarrow full of manure, and she decided to leave.” Nell laughed again.

  “Wish I could have seen her face,” Mintay said, well aware of the play the actress had made for Joe since she worked with Nell every day.

  Precious Armitage pounded up to join them. “All covered in crap. Priceless, I tell you. Made me wish I was one of them paparazzi with a camera handy. Worth giving that ho one of my caftans just to see it.”

  Sharlette arrived on her husband’s arm. “Did we miss anything? I went back to give Rascal his well-deserved carrots, and Ace was waiting for me.”

  “Nothing you need to worry about right now,” Winnie told her as she cuddled her children.

  A toy cannon blasted off a round, and Tommy dropped the rope tied to a tree across the water that held the dragon boats in line. The drums beat out a rhythm, and the paddles dug into the surface of the brown water. They dashed to the first bend in the river where a piece of tape stretched between two trees marked the end of the race. Adam’s crew won by the length of the dragon’s extended red tongue. The boats reversed and returned to the dock for the next round.

  Adam slapped Joe on the back. “Sorry about that, my brother, but I could not go back to the islands if I lost to a palagi.”

  “No hard feelings. At least I didn’t lose to Rex.”

  Joe took a long look at his substitute getting ready to captain one of the next boats with Howdy McCoy set to be his rival. His entire crew appeared to be composed of young women and teenage girls, all of whom needed his help getting into their life vests. Joe noticed the most competitive of his twins, Jude, already in place as the drummer. Quiet Annie, her other half, would do the same for Howdy and Tommy, who had traded places with Dean in holding the rope. Lisa, Arlette, Asia, Kathleen, and Nora boarded along with Xochi and the rest of Rex’s crew. The Russian models had declined to sweat and sat with diet drinks in hand on the shore.

  Joe went over to Howdy to offer a few tips and noted the despair on Tom’s face. “Rex looks really strong.”

  “He’s got a crew of women, Tom. We have a chance,” his stepfather assured him. Being a kicker most of his strength rested in his legs, but he’d agreed to give this a shot and would.

  “Pretty women, a whole boatload full,” Tommy said as if he would never be that lucky. “We have Brian and a bunch of little kids.” He eyed Lorena and Mack, Jack and Josee, already in their places and itching for the race along with a bunch of their other friends.

  “Hey, this is so not my thing and so not my color,” Brian answered regarding his orange
life vest ruefully. “But I shall give it my all.”

  “You’ll do okay, son.” Joe patted Tom on the back and stepped away for the start of the race.

  The tiny cannon roared again, the rope dropped, and Rex dipped into the bayou water with a powerful stroke that put his boat instantly in the lead. He seemed to be doing most of the work alone as the girls tangled paddles and lost the rhythm. With the tape growing closer, the young quarterback looked over his shoulder to check on his opponents not so far behind. The children rowed higgledy-piggledy but with great enthusiasm. To Joe, he appeared to slack off a little, just enough to allow McCoy’s boat to pass at the last second. Overjoyed kids smacked their paddles together and cheered. Technically, the two winning boats were supposed to compete next, but Adam, considering the puny competition and the gasping Brian, decided to concede the victory.

  Rex’s team gathered around him and apologized for a poor performance by stroking his arms and patting his back. Asia Dobbs looked up at him through her long bangs and held out her thumb. “See, I raised a blister for you,” as if she expected him to kiss it and make it all better.

  Nell clapped her hands. “Listen, everyone. Corazon has a make-it-yourself sundae bar set up in the pavilion. Help yourselves.” Her announcement set off a stampede among the younger children. Adam’s offspring clamored for a ride on his back to get dessert. “I have to help Mr. Joe put the boats away first.”

  “Go ahead and take them for a sundae. Rex will help me,” Joe said.

  Adam hoisted his two little ones onto his back and made a game out of trying to outrace the others to the pavilion. Since none of Rex’s escorts moved, Joe said, “Ladies, go get some ice cream while Rex and me put up the boats.”

  “We stay to watch Rex lift the heavy boats,” Tatiana said.

  “Yes, ice cream does not pass our lips,” Katya explained.

  “Then see if any celery sticks are left from lunch. Move.” He waved them away. They caught up with Brian—his one-hundred-percent cotton lavender shirt plastered to his back by sweat, his white shorts and formerly spotless athletic shoes sullied by drops of bayou water—and helped him along.