A Trashy Affair by Lynn Shurr Read Free Book Online Page A

those eyes and a loose black leather jacket over dark jeans. She expected to see his usual athletic shoes on his feet or maybe boots, but instead he wore black leather shoes, supple and shining, dancing shoes, the kind of shoes someone on Dancing with the Stars would wear.
    “Ready to go?”
    “As ready as I ever will be.”
    Jane turned to lock her door. I am in big trouble now—her last thought as Merlin took her elbow and guided her to his truck, but she said instead, “We could save gas if we took my car.”
    “No way, baby, no way. My legs would cramp up in a car like that.”
    Instead of letting her clamber into the high cab of his truck, Merlin placed his big hands around her waist, lifted her up, and snugged her into the pristine tan leather seat. “Buckle up now, bunny.”
    “I will, cowboy,” she retorted, the thrill of being raised up so easily still making her toes curl, but she would never confess it to anyone.
    He took the back road to Breaux Bridge, shooting past the half-harvested cane fields ten miles over the limit as if he knew every bend and straightaway. They passed Broussard’s Barn where his mother and sister worked without a glance from Blackie. Its lot was beginning to fill. Generally, the place had good music, cheap drinks, decent bar food, and an atmosphere that still reeked of its early days as a speakeasy. People could and did get married there since the proprietor had his justice of the peace license. Being closer to Chapelle, Jane wondered why they didn’t just go there, but he’d called the tune, the time and the place. Tonight, she would dance at Mulate’s.

Chapter Six
    With the place packed as usual on a Saturday night about the time the band began warming up, Merlin and Jane accepted a booth near the bar. Without asking Jane’s opinion, he ordered an appetizer of boudin sausage balls, rye on the rocks for him and a red wine for her.
    “How do you know if I eat pork products or want red wine?” she challenged.
    He pondered for a moment. “Never seen you drink anything but red wine, and I figured if you eat duck and andouille gumbo you got nothing against sausage. If you don’t like the appetizer, more for me.”
    “Are you going to order my dinner, too?”
    “Nope, not now, but the Catfish Mulate’s is great.”
    When the drinks and appetizer came, he ordered the specialty, fried catfish topped with etouffee, a stuffed potato, and coleslaw. Jane selected the same requesting that her catfish be grilled.
    “You got it, honey. We girls have to watch our figures way, way more than a big, good looking guy like this,” their middle-aged waitress said, giving Jane a wink. She plunked down a red plastic basket full of French bread and trotted back to the kitchen with their order.
    Jane frowned. “Did she imply that I’m fat?”
    “Nope. She was flirting with me.”
    “At her age!”
    “I appeal to all ages, sweetheart.”
    “You know it infuriates me when you call me names like that, Merry. For my next drink I want a rum and Coke with a twist of lime. Make that Diet Coke.”
    “Now you just want to embarrass me by asking for that when I go up to the bar.”
    “Maybe, Lin.”
    Jane succumbed to two boudin balls. She’d dance them off. Merlin downed the other four before their dinner arrived. By the time they finished eating, twosomes crowded the small square of the dance floor, and a busload of tourists admired them from the sidelines. A couple of children who danced better than Jane ever would stole the show. Just the thought of going out there ruined her meal. She asked for a box to take half of it home. Merlin finished every scrap of his and mopped up the last drop of the pink sauce with a piece of crusty bread.
    “Ready to go for a spin?”
    “I’m not so sure…”
    He pried her from the booth like a reluctant oyster from its shell, found an opening in the swirl of dancers, and moved them into place. Merlin held her close for the fast two-step. He led so