wonderful woman to carry the Stallion name and be with them by their sides. They got that from their daddy because their mother, Irene, was an amazing woman and the best friend I could ever have had.”
Juanita paused to press a lace hankie to her eye. Her gaze paused on each face as she called out their names. “Marah, Michelle, Katrina and now Joanne, each of you is the most important thing in your husband’s life and the lifelines that will continue this family. Don’t you ever forget it and don’t ever let anyone tell you otherwise.
“Marah, business is important to John, but it will never be more important than you are. Mitch,” she said, calling Michelle by her family nickname, “I never thought there would be anyone who could tame that wild Stallion, but you did, and Mark’s love for you and that baby girl of yours has no limits.
“Katrina, you told me on your wedding day that Matthew seduced you, but you’re the one who actually swept Matthew off his feet. I have never seen him happier.” Juanita reached for Joanne’s hand, squeezing the woman’s fingers beneath her own. “And now our baby boy is getting married. Joanne, you and Luke were both lost until you found each other’s arms for support. He is a better man because of you and I couldn’t be more proud.
“So, baby girl, you enjoy every minute of this very special day. May you and Luke grow in your love for each other and may you both find joy and happiness for the rest of your days. Welcome to our family. We love you and we couldn’t be happier for you both.”
“Amen to that,” Marah chimed, everyone echoing those sentiments.
Joanne fanned her hands in front of her face, fighting not to bawl like a newborn baby. “Thank you,” she said, fighting back the tears. “I love you all so much,” she said as her mother wrapped her in a warm embrace.
Juanita moved toward the door. “Well, let’s go get you married!” she said, the rest of them following behind her.
And as they moved out of the room, in the direction of the family chapel, Phaedra swiped the tears from her own eyes, snapping one more photo for the Stallion wedding album.
Chapter 4
Mason Boudreaux was all partied out as he moved from the tented reception area back toward the Stallion family home. Guests were still enjoying the Stallion hospitality as they moved from the banquet tables laden with a surplus of food to the dance floor and back again.
Outside, the sun was in the final moments of its descent, the backdrop of a darkening sky heightening the rise of an almost full moon. Small white lights twinkled from the trees that lined the property, casting a seductive glow over the landscape. Looking out over the magnificent view, he couldn’t help being touched by the magnitude of it all. He took a deep breath, filling his lungs with the warm evening air.
As he slowly strolled in the direction of the family’s home he couldn’t help noticing the beautiful woman who stood with her camera in hand snapping photographs. He had noticed her earlier in the day as she’d taken photographs of the crowd at the rodeo and he’d noticed her during the wedding ceremony and again at the reception. In fact, so in awe of her, he’d spent a good deal of time noticing her, almost forgetting why he was there in the first place.
The exquisite woman was casually dressed in black slacks, a white button-down dress shirt and red Durango cowboy boots. The slacks were cut low against the curve of her round hips and she had the tiniest waist of any woman he had ever seen. Having more leg than torso, she appeared model-tall despite her petite stature. The lengthy appendages gave her the lean, lanky look of a gazelle, and the curvature of her full bustline showed that she clearly had more than a handful. Her flawless complexion was milk chocolate, so rich and decadent that with her distinct features he could easily see her posing on the other side of any camera.
He wasn’t quite sure what she was focused on as she stared out in the distance, but with the large telephoto lens and the light that flashed with each snap he was intrigued, curious to discover who she was and what she might be up to.
He casually strolled to her side, his movements so stealthlike that Phaedra didn’t notice him until he was standing directly behind her. She jumped, suddenly taken by surprise as the man stepped into her space.
“Good evening,” Mason said, a bright smile warming the curvature of his face.
“You scared me,” Phaedra gasped, pressing a hand to her chest.
Mason’s smile brightened. “My apologies! I didn’t mean to frighten you.”
“That’s what usually happens when you sneak up on a person,” she said, her heart still racing.
“I wasn’t sneaking,” Mason said casually. “You were just distracted. What are you photographing?” he asked as he looked off toward where she’d been staring.
Phaedra was still eyeing him with reservation. When he cut his eye at her and back toward the landscape, a wave of heat suddenly coursed up the length of her spine. He cut his eye at her a second time, a wry smile pulling at his full lips as he waited for her reply.
Phaedra tilted her camera so that he could see the LCD display, depressing the display button so that he could view the images she’d just taken. “Foxes,” she said nonchalantly. “There was a family of red foxes scurrying along the fence line.”
The man nodded as he met her gaze. “Interesting,” he said, his deep voice echoing through the evening air. He extended his hand. “I’m Mason Boudreaux,” he said as he wrapped Phaedra’s fingers beneath his own.
“Phaedra,” she answered, the heat he radiated causing her to take a swift breath. “Phaedra Parrish.”
“It’s very nice to meet you, Phaedra Parrish.”
Phaedra smiled, hoping he wouldn’t notice the blush that heated her cheeks. “The pleasure is all mine, Mason Boudreaux.”
“You have a very distinct accent,” Mason said, noting her deep Southern dialect with its hint of French Creole syntax. “Where are you from in Louisiana?”
“Good ear,” she said, smiling sweetly. “New Orleans. Born and raised.”
He chuckled softly. “Me, too, although I live in Arizona now.”
“I don’t hear any accent,” Phaedra said, eyeing him with a raised brow.
Mason laughed, shifting into the familiar phonology. “Y’all headed up da house o’ ova back da fields?”
Phaedra laughed with him, the warmth of the sound teasing. “So, why Arizona?”
Mason became pensive, hesitating in reflection for a brief moment. “My family was displaced after Hurricane Katrina,” he finally said, noting the 2005 category-five storm that had been one of the worst natural disasters on record. “I’d already had a house there and my parents decided to stay when their home was destroyed.”
“They didn’t want to go back?” Phaedra questioned.
Mason shrugged. “They did and actually, they’re back and forth as it suits them. We’re still rebuilding the family home, but it’s been slow going. That storm really broke their spirits for a bit. And it didn’t help that my sister shared its name,” he said with slight chuckle. “For whatever reasons, they haven’t been in any rush.”
Phaedra nodded her understanding. “My mother refused to leave. I was traveling so much for business that she couldn’t imagine herself being able to adjust anywhere else. It took everything we both had to repair the damage after the storm, but it was worth it. New Orleans was her home and she was determined to live out the rest of her life where she was happiest. She passed away a few weeks ago,” Phaedra said, her voice catching in her throat as she thought about her mother.
“My condolences,” Mason said, taking a step in her direction. He drew his hand against the length of her arm. “I’m very sorry for your loss.”
Phaedra nodded