That was the segment they should’ve called Landry Road. Not only was the family’s swamp boat tour company there, and of course Ellie’s bar, but Zeke’s own construction company office also sat along that road beside his uncle’s auto shop. On past those businesses were several Landry family homes.
The Landry family had been in Autre for generations, and if you lived in Autre and weren’t related to one of them, the chances were you owed a Landry money, an apology, or a black eye.
Hell, even if you were related to them, you probably owed a Landry one of those three things.
Zeke waved as he passed his cousin Mitch in his truck, but he didn’t slow his bike. He was not in the mood for conversation. Which was, in itself, rare. Like most Landrys, Zeke loved to talk. But tonight, he was distracted. And, even more unusual, frustrated.
Zeke was not, by any stretch, the most patient or levelheaded of the Landrys, but he was pretty fun-loving and easy-going most of the time. Unless it came to one of his projects not going according to plan.
His work was straightforward. He built stuff. He tore stuff down. He rebuilt stuff.
Simple.
Or it should have been.
Someone wanted a building put up? Zeke put up a building. Four walls, a floor, and a roof.
None of this needed to be difficult. That was what he liked about it.
But every once in a while, something went off the rails. Weather blew in and screwed up a timeline. Supplies got backordered. There was a bigger problem with an old foundation than expected when they got down to it. One of his guys showed up drunk.
But he dealt with it. He got things back on track.
Like he needed to do with this new job he’d just gotten.
His cousins were expanding their petting zoo into an animal park. Which was super fucking cool.
And good for business. Zeke and Mitch had been the ones in charge of designing and building all of the animal enclosures. It had been a hell of a lot of fun. Mitch was super easy to work with and they had plenty of extra hands whenever they needed them. They’d been putting up the new animal enclosures in crazy short time frames.
And now they had penguins coming to town.
Fucking penguins. It wasn’t every day a guy got to build a habitat for penguins. These weren’t cold-weather penguins, so he hadn’t had to figure out a way to install any kind of refrigeration system—much to his disappointment—but still, there were going to be penguins in Autre, Louisiana.
The thing was, the penguins came with their very own veterinarian. Technically, she was their owner too. But Dr. J. Morris—he didn’t know her first name, he’d just been referring to her as Dr. Morris in his emails—was totally in charge. All the money being spent, all the decisions being made, were hers. And that had been great. She was detail oriented and completely on top of everything when it came to the birds. Every time he had a question, she got right back to him.
But, in addition to building the penguin enclosure, he was also remodeling a house for her.
And she wouldn’t answer one damned question about that.
He was convinced at this point that she didn’t know he was the same guy building her penguin habitat. He’d used the petting zoo email to communicate with her on that project and they’d quickly moved to texting. It was the Landry Construction emails she was ignoring.
And she was supposed to be here in three days.
Zeke consciously unclenched his jaw as he drove past the grocery store. It was not his problem if she got to town and had no place to live.
Except that he really hated not being able to get a job done and get it done well.
Suddenly a dark shape darted out in front of him.
Swearing, Zeke jerked the wheel to the right. The front tire of his bike hit gravel and he felt the bike shift and start to slide underneath him.
Fuck. This was just what he needed.
That was his last thought before the bike tipped, hit the ground, and slid along the pavement and into the roadside ditch.
Fucking son of a bitch. That hurt.
Plus, now his bike was going to be dinged up.
Zeke lay just breathing for a few seconds, mentally cataloging what he was feeling. He’d been going slow so there weren’t going to be any serious injuries. His right leg hurt, but he was fairly certain it was just bruised and scraped. He’d broken enough bones to know the difference. His right arm throbbed, but he was sure his jacket had kept him from getting any skin-to-pavement injuries. His helmet was sitting askew, and he knew that it had kept him from smacking his head too hard, but his ears were still ringing a bit.
He lifted a hand to his temple. His fingertips came away sticky and red.
Dammit, and he was bleeding. How the fuck had that happened?
He’d better not need stitches. He hated getting stitches and they bothered his mom more than bruises.
He sat partially up and shoved at the bike. It only moved a little. Suddenly annoyed at everything, he gave a loud roar and lifted the bike as he jerked his leg out from under it.
There. At least he was free.
He flopped back into the weeds and grass.
With his luck he was going to run into a snake or a gator down here in the ditch. But honestly, at the moment, he didn’t give a shit.
He reached into his pocket for his phone. He could walk to his grandma’s bar, or to his shop, or to one of many houses, but he needed someone with a pickup to help him haul his bike. And he was feeling a little dizzy.
“Fuck. This is inconvenient,” he muttered to himself.
Zeke stared at his phone trying to decide who to call. The gamble was trying to get someone who was alone. One phone call could turn up anywhere from four to twelve Landrys.
No one needed twelve Landrys all at once for anything.
Unless it was a crawfish boil, of course.
But even two or three would just make the headache that was starting to brew behind his eyes worse.
“Leo’d be best,” he said out loud.
His grandfather wasn’t judgmental and had helped all of his grandsons out of worse than this at one time or another.
“But Leo’s never alone,” Zeke realized. Also out loud.
Leo would tell you it was because of the good-old-boy charm that was his curse, but the truth was, Leo never wanted to miss a thing, whether it be a tall tale, a bit of gossip, a dramatic moment, or a funny story. Or a chance at the last piece of pie—no matter the flavor.
“Could call Mitch.” Mitch had just driven by. And he was by far the nicest of the Landrys. Old or young. Not that the bar was very high.
Zeke started to dial Mitch’s number.
“Oh, baby, are you okay?”
His finger froze and he rolled his head at the sound of the feminine voice.
Or he could just let the owner of that voice take care of him.
“I’m a little sore, actually.”
The woman plopped onto her knees in the dirt beside him.
It was dark, so he couldn’t see her well.
That was also why he hadn’t clearly seen whatever it was that ran out in front of him until it was too late. He also hadn’t really been paying attention. He’d been too caught up in his thoughts about the penguin veterinarian and her new old house.
He was suddenly much less annoyed though.
The woman kneeling next to him leaned in and he caught the scent of coffee and soap.
He wasn’t sure why that struck him. Maybe because it was simple. She didn’t smell like perfume or flowery shampoo. She just smelled clean and comforting. Like that first cup of coffee in the morning after a shower.