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"They'll make fun of her whenever I'm not around to protect her," Gisselle insisted.

"If you won't be around, I will," Beau declared.

"I don't want to be a burden for anyone," I said.

"You won't be," Beau assured me. "Right, Gisselle?" he asked. She was reluctant to answer. "Right?"

"Right, right, right," she said. "I'm tired of talking about this."

"I've got to go anyway," Beau said. "It's getting late. Are we still on for tonight?" he asked her. She hesitated. "Gisselle?"

"Are you bringing Martin?" she countered sharply. He threw a glance my way and then looked at her again.

"Are you sure I should? I mean . . ."

"I'm sure. You'd like to meet one of Beau's friends tonight, wouldn't you, Ruby? I mean, you've fished, harvested oysters, chased alligators . . , I'm sure you had a boyfriend, too, didn't you?"

I looked at Beau. His face had turned troubled and concerned.

"Yes," I said.

"So there's no problem, Beau. She'd like to meet Martin," Gisselle said.

"Who's Martin?" I asked.

"The best looking of Beau's friends. Most of the girls like him. I'm sure you will," she said. "Won't she, Beau?"

He shrugged and stood up.

"You'll like him," Gisselle insisted. "We'll meet you out here at nine-thirty," Gisselle said. "Don't be late."

"Right, boss. Ever see anyone that bossy in the bayou?" he asked me. I looked at Gisselle, who smirked.

"Just an alligator," I said, and Beau roared.

"That's not funny!" Gisselle cried.

"See ya later, alligator," Beau quipped, and winked at me before starting off.

"I'm sorry," I said to Gisselle. "I didn't mean to make fun of you or anything." She pouted for a moment and then broke a small smile.

"You shouldn't encourage him," she advised. "He can be a terrible tease."

"He seems very nice."

"Just another spoiled rich boy," Gisselle insisted. "But, he'll do. . . for now."

"What do you mean, 'for now'?"

"What do you think I mean? Don't tell me you promised to marry every boyfriend you had back in the swamp." Her eyes turned suspicious. "How many boyfriends did you have?" she asked.

"Not that many."

"How many?" she demanded. "If we're going to be sisters, we have to trust each other with the intimate details of our lives. Unless you don't want to be that kind of sister," she added.

"Oh, no. I do."

"So? How many?"