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Saint was sitting on his front porch, his feet propped up on the banister. He was leaning back in the chair, rocking back and forth, just thinking. No, that wasn’t true. He was stewing. Not thinking. He was pissed off and didn’t know what to do about it.

“If you’d just go out to The Well, you could see her,” said Grip, staring at the young man.

“She’s a kid.”

“She’s not a kid, Saint. Ask any man there who has danced with her,” he smirked. Saint stared at him, shaking his head.

“Don’t say that!”

“Face the facts, kid, she’s a grown woman, and other men are noticing as well. I’d suggest you get on board, or you’re going to be miserable for a very long time.”

Grip drifted away, disappearing into the evening darkness, leaving Saint in the misery of his own thoughts.

He did have feelings for Marilisa, but the idea of her being a little kid coming to Belle Fleur frightened, so small and frail, he couldn’t get out of his head. Yes, he understood she was a PhD. Yes, he understood she was an adult. But there was something keeping him from seeing her as a woman.

Suddenly, that all disappeared. He stood on the porch looking down the path as several of their young people were walking toward him, laughing and singing. They’d been to The Well and obviously had a good time.

Marilisa was dressed in a small little cotton skirt and short top that hugged her curves, fitting her full bosoms perfectly. She was wearing cowboy boots, and although she was petite, they made her legs look like they went on forever.

“Hey, Brax,” said Ulani.

“Hey.”

“Hi, Brax,” said Marilisa with a frown. “Goodnight.”

He watched until she’d disappeared into her own cottage. Then he took his seat once again and shook his head.

“Fuck.”