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…only to meet a pair of smoldering embers. They scorched her deep, those embers, little coals of pink-edged red that you see in the barbeque after everyone had a hotdog or a burger. Black pupils of sincere midnight drove into her, and she could do nothing but stare.
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Remy felt his heart sink deep in his chest as the girl looked up at him with honest green eyes. He watched those beautiful eyes widen just slightly, and silence lengthened as she stared. She was more than pretty, this girl, waves of dark auburn flowing evenly over her shoulders, bits of grass tangled into them. The scratch on one cheek made the fine-boned features even more innocent. Fool Cajun, dis be de part where she runs away and calls ya l'enfant du diable…
And suddenly Remy felt he just couldn't stand one more scar on his heart, and he didn't want to hear another false thank you or honest curse- and not from her. Not from her. He released the girl's shoulders and leaned back on his heels. Casual and affecting humor, a wall around his heart no one could yet see through, he said, "It be foolish to attack dose bigger an' stronger than you, chere."
He paused, but then grinned that roguish grin of his. "Not dat Remy be cryin' Freckle-Face gets what comin' to 'im." He rose and offered her a hand, hoping to at least touch her once before she retreated away…
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She blinked a few times as the boy pulled away from her, and could only be confused at the pain she saw in the handsome scarlet eyes. Shaking herself as he spoke in strong Cajun accents, she replied automatically, in her own Mississippi fashion. Ruefully, "Ah got a temper on me, that's fah sure, sugah." One green eye glimmered up at him as, taking the hand without hesitation and pulling herself up, releasing it to dust off faded jeans.
"Ah'm Marie." She presented a bare hand, as if it wasn't scraped as her elbows. Giving her head a toss and watching with dismay as grass sprinkled out of it. Bet he thinks yore a nightmare of a tomboy, she told herself.
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Remy was astonished, frankly. One was the fact she seemed so friendly with him- ("sugah" just made his insides tremble) and two was the fact she was introducing herself. Willingly. Like he didn't have eyes like some fourth grade volcano science project. He blinked bemusedly at her, but the roguish grin endured. The cut-fingered gloves were black, and he was careful not to rub her palm to hard as they exchanged a firm shake.
"Remy LeBeau, c'est un plaisur, ma fille." He prayed that her reaction was a blush of pleasure and not a coloring of disgust or anger. "Got yerself some nice trophies, chere," turning over her palm and inspecting the scrape on the heel of her hand.
The coal-red eyes looked up and a suddenly gentle hand touched her cheek. "Put de football players t' shame, you do."
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Marie liked to think she had enough self control to withstand an instant liking to the red-haired boy, but the unthinking drawl and slightly crooked smile were irresistible. Trying to control her blush, she looked unflinchingly up into his eyes. "Yah got a doozy yahself, sugah."
He stood not a foot away, her chin uplifted toward his face. Indeed, his cheekbone was getting a healthy purple in color. The fingers drew away to touch his own cheek, slight wince. "Il n'est rien, chere." At her look of confusion, he hurriedly translated. "Sorry. It's nothing."
Her lips formed an 'o' of understanding, and she nodded. Then, suddenly, she recalled. Jim's gonna be furious when Ah get home… oh, God. "Ah'm sorry, sugah, but Ah gotta go, mah mamma's gonna be worried. It was nice ta meetcha," she winked at him, taking the edge off the hurry in her voice.
Remy nodded, bringing up a hand to run it haphazardly through the chin length hair, only to have it fall back into place, even wilder than before. Good lord, was he gorgeous. "Oui, don't keep votre mere waiting, chere."
Marie turned, getting ready to move into a jog- before she remembered, turning back. She smiled up at him. "Thanks fah helpin' me, sugah." And then she turned and jogged away, slipping through a cut in the chain-linked fence at the back of the field.
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Remy LeBeau lifted his eyes and watched her go, one thought surfacing. Smooth jazz voice just a whisper. "Ah'd kill for another one of those smiles, petite."