Her Sworn Enemy (Men of the Zodiac) by Theresa Meyers Page B

diced the vegetables, and Bella was impressed he kept his fingers intact.
    “Well, from what I’ve sampled the last few days, you’re very talented. Everything’s been delicious.”
    “Good. Good. Now you said you was hungry?”
    She nodded.
    “So what you hungry for, sugar?” He stopped chopping and held up his index finger. “And don’t be sayin’ a man, ’cause you just gonna have to get in line. There ain’t no hanky-panky on this boat, Captain make sure of that.”
    “Oh, men are definitely not on the menu.”
    He glanced at her and put a finger to his lips. “In that case, I got this friend, Louanne, who might like to meet you.”
    Bella laughed. “No, I like men just fine. I’m cursed, so they never stick around.”
    “Umm, umm. Now that is a problem.” He picked up the chopping board and slid the vegetables into the big pot with the flat of his knife.
    “So what do you suggest?”
    “For lunch, or for your man curse?” he asked as he set the cutting board down.
    Bella smiled. Her aunt would adore Antoine. “For now, lunch.”
    “How about we do a bit of both? Food can help heal the soul, you know.”
    “Now you sound like my grand-mère .”
    “Smart woman. So what’s ailing you, sugar? Can’t fix you the right food unless I know the condition.”
    “Confusion, maybe mixed with a lot of doubt.”
    He hummed for a moment. “That sounds like an egg-salad sandwich with a side of little dill pickles.” He bent down and pulled a small saucepan from under the counter and filled it with water.
    “Really?”
    “Absolutely. Egg salad—part mayonnaise and mustard, egg that’s both white and yellow, salt and pepper, totally different. Hell, it’s so mixed up it doesn’t even know what it is, but still perfect. What could be better for confusion?” He turned and walked over to the refrigerator, opened it, and pulled out an egg carton.
    “And the pickles?”
    He pulled out jars of condiments and a jar of pickles and balanced the armful carefully on his way back to his spot near the stove.
    “All those sour little nagging doubts. All ugly like, but you still got to like them just the same. There’s something satisfying about biting them in half and chewing them down to size.”
    She smiled. “True. You know, maybe this therapy by food thing ought to be a blog or a cookbook or something.”
    He chuckled as he plucked two eggs out of the carton. “Lawd no, child. Antoine don’t need all that attention. Anybody else could do the same if they’d just sit down for dinner with their grand-mère once in a while.” He set the eggs in the small saucepan, sprinkled in some salt, and turned on the gas stove, the blue flame licking at the bottom of the pan.
    “Tell Antoine what’s confusing you.”
    “Mostly the captain. One minute he’s flirting with me, and the next he’s arrogant and aloof and trying to avoid me. I don’t get it.”
    “Oh, sugar, if I took even half of what I don’t understand about men and put it on paper, then Antoine would have himself a book. The thing you got to understand about our captain is he’s a troubled soul. Man could eat dirty red beans and rice every night of the week. He don’t dare get close to anyone.”
    “But why?”
    “You gonna have to ask him.” He pulled out the pickles from the jar with a fork and placed them on a plate, then picked up his knife and sliced them into thin spears. “But I suspect everything he’s ever loved has been pulled away from him at one time or another. Makes it hard to trust that love isn’t going to turn around and bite you in the ass, you know?”
    Leaning over the counter, Bella nodded and propped her chin in her palm. “We’ve all got family issues.”
    “True enough,” he said as he began mixing the condiments in a bowl. “But at least we got family. I think he’s a lost soul, feels he ain’t truly got no one.”
    She straightened and gripped her hands together. “Family is everything to me. I don’t