Oh, Fudge: Hot Cakes Book Five

by Nicholas, Erin

  “And don’t call me a little thing,” Paige added. “That sounds patronizing as hell.”

  Also noted. He nodded. Then gave her a little grin. “You know, with that attitude, you’d fit right in with the bayou girls.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  “They don’t take any shit from anyone.”

  She tipped her head. “And you respect that?”

  “Completely.” He shrugged. “It’s what I know. Of course, if I hadn’t respected it, my grandma would have smacked me upside the back of my head. And made me clean up after the crawfish boils for a month. By myself.”

  “Big job?”

  “Very.”

  She smiled. “Well, with that attitude, I might let you stick around.”

  He really wanted to. A lot.

  But as the words hung between them, and he felt that she was thinking about maybe clarifying that she meant for a couple of days, he quickly pulled on his coat, gave her a wink, and stepped out the door before she could.

  He was in so much trouble.

  6

  He thought about that as he walked with Max’s toolbox in hand on the way to the town square. He didn’t want Paige to point out that this was a couple-of-days-only fling? Hell, shouldn’t he have been the one making sure that point was made and made often? That they were absolutely in agreement there? That’s how it would have been with any other woman.

  That’s the way it had been with every other woman.

  But this one was… different. That was the best word he could come up with and it wasn’t a great word, honestly. He was intrigued by her. Intrigued enough that these few days with her didn’t feel like enough.

  So what did that mean?

  He thought about that as he checked the wiring for the multiple small booths and the large main stage that dotted the grassy area in the center of town. The paved walkways that crisscrossed the space had been cleared of snow, and the pine trees that were scattered through the square were decorated with twinkle lights. Those along with the ones adorning the wooden booths and the front of the stage were all dark at the moment, however. As was the lighted APPLE FESTIVAL sign that hung from the archway that declared this the Appleby City Park.

  Linda had said there would be music and heaters that needed to be plugged in to keep cider and other treats warm. He also noted tall standing heaters placed among the booths for people to gather around in case things got especially chilly during the festival.

  Mitch shook his head. He’d fixed a few furnaces in Louisiana but couldn’t say there was much call for large outdoor heaters.

  “You must be Mitch.”

  He turned at the male voice behind him. He smiled at the older man approaching. “Yes, I am. You were warned?”

  The man laughed and extended his hand as he came to stop. “I’m Phil Custer. I agreed to help set up the booths and stage and everything here. I was the one that ran into the no-power problem.”

  The man was in his late sixties or so and wore his long gray hair pulled back into a ponytail under his stocking cap. Even though it was early January and the ground was covered with snow, the man’s skin was tanned and wrinkled in the familiar way of so many people who worked outdoors.

  “I’m happy to take a look,” Mitch said, shaking Phil’s hand.

  “Good deal. I’m good with hauling and building but not so much with electrical and such,” the other man said. “I was an over-the-road trucker all my life. I can look at most motors and know what I’m doing and I thought I could maybe figure this wiring problem out, but this is a little beyond me.” He looked around the square with a grin.

  “Well, no guarantees that I can make it work either. I know motors and wires and plumbing and all of that,” Mitch said. “But sometimes shit just breaks and you gotta start over.”

  Phil nodded. “That’s for sure. Really hoping that’s not the case here though. Not sure we’ve got time to rewire all of it.”

  Mitch looked around. There was a lot to check out. But if nothing was working, it had to be a pretty centralized problem.

  Phil showed him around and he got to work.

  And thinking.

  A long-distance relationship? Was that what he wanted with Paige? Could they make that work? Did he even have the first clue how to do that?

  No, he didn’t have the first clue. But yes, he thought maybe he did want it. Not the distance so much, but Paige. He wanted her.

  He wasn’t a relationship guy, really. Short distance or long distance. But hell, maybe long distance was the way to go. He wouldn’t have to be sweet and thoughtful every day that way.

  By the time he’d found the wiring problem, fixed it, and had the square lit up, the sun had dropped behind the horizon. The glow of the white lights reflecting off the snow made him smile.

  “Nicely done!” Phil said, joining him in front of the stage.

  “Thanks. Looks good.”

  “It really does, thanks to you. Everyone will be so happy to know that things will be ready and working tomorrow. Thank you.” Phil clapped him on the shoulder.

  Mitch couldn’t help his grin. This felt good. It was just some electrical wiring. It had taken him less than an hour. But this kind of work always made him feel good.

  It was productive and it mattered. It was behind-the-scenes stuff. Stuff that most people attending the festival wouldn’t even think about, but it made a difference. Without it, people would notice. They’d notice the cold cider and the lack of light and music. Fixing that wiring mattered. Just like fixing broken pipes at his grandma’s restaurant and repairing tires on the bus that brought tourists to his cousins’ swamp boat tours and repairing the motors on the boats all mattered.

  It was stuff that the tourists, and sometimes even his family, didn’t really think about but without which, things wouldn’t work and wouldn’t be as good as they could be.

  He didn’t need recognition for it. Just seeing those lights glowing and knowing that tomorrow the cider would be hot was enough for him.

  “My pleasure,” he told Phil.

  “If you’re going to keep working outside in January, you need to get yourself a good pair of gloves,” Phil said, noticing Mitch’s red hands.

  Mitch rubbed them together and then shook them. “I’ll admit I didn’t come prepared to be outside in this weather.”

  “Well, here.” Phil pulled his own gloves off. “Damn, boy, I’m sorry I didn’t notice before now.” He handed the gloves to Mitch.

  “Oh, I couldn’t have worked with those on anyway,” Mitch said, holding up a hand. The bulky gloves would have gotten in the way of the fine work he’d needed to do on the wires.

  “They can warm you up now, then.”

  “I can’t take your gloves.”

  “I’ve got a dozen pairs at home,” Phil said with a laugh, waggling the gloves. “These were just the first I grabbed. I’m not attached.”

  Mitch grinned.

  “And,” Phil went on, “I’m guessing you might have more need for them. Once people find out that you saved the festival, you’ll have more people with things that need fixing calling you up.”

  Mitch wasn’t so sure about that, but he had planned to stop and see how Larry and Mike were doing on the roofs about two blocks away. He took the gloves. “Okay, if you’re sure.”

  “You bet,” Phil said.

  Mitch pulled the gloves on, then shook the other man’s hand.

  “See you at the festival tomorrow,” Phil said.

  Mitch just nodded. He hoped so. If Paige wanted to keep him in bed all day he wouldn’t exactly object, but he was now very interested in this festival. Hell, he even kind of liked the cold weather. He wasn’t sure he could live and work here, but if he had a hot, sassy blond at home to warm him up after a day in the cold, it might not be so bad.

  He was actually thinking about how he could live here?

  He was definitely in trouble.

  Because as nice as this little town seemed and as charming as the snow
was, he couldn’t leave his family. They needed him. Sure, they could find someone else to do the things he did for them, but… he wanted to be the one doing it. He owed them everything, and he wanted to take care of them in return.

  But Paige might like the heat…

  Fuck. He had to stop thinking about either of them relocating. That was ridiculous.

  He headed up the block, determined to focus on fixing the roofs and then going back and stripping her naked and stopping all this craziness that included words like long term or committed or relationship.

  “Hey, guys,” Mitch greeted as two older men came toward him across the snowy front yard of one of the big old houses that Max had described to him.

  “You must be Mitch,” one of them said with a smile.

  “Yeah. Can I lend a hand?”

  “Actually, we’re done.”

  The men stopped in front of him, looking pleased.

  “Already?” Mitch asked, looking up at the roof of the house behind them.

  “Seems some of the ladies mentioned to their husbands and sons about a total stranger offering to help us out and they felt guilty, and a bunch showed up to help us get things done.”

  Mitch grinned at that. “I didn’t make the offer to guilt anyone else into helping.”

  One of the men laughed. “Even better. You just pricked at their consciences.”

  “But we appreciate your willingness,” the other man said. “Decent of you.”

  Mitch shrugged. “If I’m able, there’s no reason not to.”

  “Funny that you’re not from the Midwest,” the taller of the two said. “That’s a pretty Midwestern attitude.”

  Mitch smiled. “Maybe Iowa and Louisiana aren’t that different.”

  Both men nodded. “Maybe not. Nice to know.”

  They parted ways, also mentioning that they’d see Mitch at the festival the next day.

  It seemed everyone in town showed up to the event. Mitch could understand that too. Autre, Louisiana was the same way. If there was a get-together, a party, a celebration… or just a random Friday night… nearly the whole town would turn out.

  The crawfish boils at his grandma’s bar was one such event. Tourists and locals alike gathered around the ramshackle building and ate fresh-caught crawfish, corn, and potatoes, drank beer and moonshine, and just generally celebrated the important things in life—friends, family, good food, good music, the great outdoors, and the roots and history of the area.

  It seemed very much like Appleby. Families stayed close, friends had known each other most of their lives, the community came together in good times and bad, and people appreciated tradition and the little things. Or the things that seemed little but actually mattered a lot.

  Paige would be at home in Autre. Sure, there was a huge, noisy, and nosy family to contend with, but he’d love to see her chatting with the other women in his life, charming the men, clutching the side of an airboat and laughing as he opened it up on the bayou, tipping back a mason jar of moonshine, dancing to some good old Cajun music.

  Of course, he’d also love the alone time he could imagine clearly. Taking her down to the bank to lie in the bed of his truck to look at the stars. Passing a lazy Sunday afternoon, napping with her in the hammock in his backyard. Cuddling on his couch watching a movie on a Friday night. Going for breakfast at his grandma’s before heading out to work. Sneaking in a quickie over his lunch break. Sitting on his front porch with sweet tea and watching the lightning bugs come out.

  He was getting incredibly sappy. And too comfortable with how easy it was to picture all of that.

  With a sigh, he pulled his phone from his pocket as he hit the sidewalk in front of the yoga studio. He opened Paige’s car and tucked the toolbox behind the front seat. Then he slid into the driver’s seat so he didn’t freeze his nuts off while talking to Chase.

  Because, yeah, it was time to call his buddy. The one who was just starting a long-distance relationship himself.

  But Chase wouldn’t be alone. No one was really ever alone in Autre unless they grabbed a boat when no one was looking, headed out on the bayou, and found a quiet nook.

  City boy Chase Dawson, however, would not be able to do that. He was mostly hopeless with boats. Though if he and his stupid frat-boy friends hadn’t stolen one of the Boys of the Bayou swamp tour boats and crashed it into the dock, his sister would have never met her true love, Sawyer, and Chase wouldn’t have been hanging out in Autre repairing the dock and becoming smitten with the cute, nerdy alligator conservationist Bailey.

  The girl he was now head over heels for.

  Mitch hit the button that would call Chase, wondering if he was going to regret this. Chase wasn’t going to be able to convincingly talk Mitch out of trying a long-distance deal with Paige.

  Chase was going to medical school at Georgetown while Bailey worked in Louisiana at her dream job. They were going to do the long-distance thing, with as-frequent-as-possible trips between DC and Autre, with the hopes for a residency in New Orleans.

  Mitch expected that Chase would eventually be a small-town Southern doctor seeing everything from fish hooks stuck through thumbs to chicken pox to cancer. And he was going to love it. Which was hilarious considering the guy had gotten pretty green the first time he’d seen them cleaning fish or when Leo, Mitch’s grandpa, had pulled a rusty nail out of his own foot.

  The born-rich city boy was going to have to toughen up some, but Mitch was thrilled to think his friend would eventually be around for good. It was crazy how well they’d bonded. They had almost nothing in common, and Mitch was about four years older than Chase. Still, they’d quickly become friends, and Mitch missed the dumbass when he was back in DC.

  “Dude,” Chase greeted on the second ring. “I told you that you should never unzip your pants outdoors in Iowa in January. That’s dangerous, man. But you just don’t listen.”

  “So no sympathy at all?” Mitch asked with a grin. “No magic cure?”

  “We’re gonna have to chop it off,” Chase said, sounding sad. Fake sad, but still. “Good thing you had so much fun with it when you did.”

  Mitch shuddered. “My dick is fine. But the fact that it’s on your mind so much is really touching. Weird. But touching.”

  “Never use the word touching when talking about me and your dick in the same breath.” Chase paused. “Actually, how about we not talk about your dick and me in the same breath at all?”

  Mitch laughed. “Well, I just have to say, if I got frostbite on my dick, your phone would be the first one I’d send the photos to.”

  “Trust me, that would go out to all my med-school friends, and we’d talk about how guys like you will keep guys like me in business.”

  Mitch suddenly had a pang of homesickness. Which was strange. He hadn’t been gone that long. And Appleby was a great place. And Paige was here.

  But the thoughts of Paige down on the bayou with him and his family and friends had sunk in deep and quick. He wanted to take her down there. To have her meet everyone. To see how she reacted to cruising along the bayou. To see how much she’d love the otters. Yes, otters.

  The Boys of the Bayou’s main dock had been adopted by a river otter they’d named Gus. Gus had then gotten a girlfriend. And then they’d had a family. And those otters had moved into a more formal home outside of Leo’s old trailer, complete with a plastic swimming pool and slides and everything. Of course, they spent time with animal-crazy Tori and Mitch’s cousin Kennedy as well.

  That was all temporary though. Mitch was in the process of building a bigger, better enclosure for them as a part of a new side business for the Boys of the Bayou.

  Yeah, he wanted to see Paige playing with otters. Definitely. Maybe even more than he wanted to see her in short shorts. So that was… idiotic.

  He scrubbed a hand over his face. “I do have a problem,” he said to Chase.

  “Does it involve your dick?”

  “N…” Then he thought about that. It was perfect
ly fine to include talk of Paige and his dick in the same breath. “I mean… kind of.”

  “The girl,” Chase said.

  Mitch huffed out a breath. He shouldn’t have been surprised Chase figured that out. “Yeah. Paige.”

  “You just got there, man.”

  “Sounds familiar, right?” Mitch asked. He’d been shocked by how quickly Chase had been distracted and fascinated by Bailey.

  Chase sighed. “Yeah.”

  Mitch could hear the grin in his voice. He’d fallen fast and hard for Bailey. In spite of telling himself—and Mitch—over and over that it made no sense. Chase and Bailey were total opposites. Total. Opposites. And Bailey had been pretty unimpressed with Chase’s charm and good looks and money. All things that Chase was used to using to get his way with women. Well, with everyone.

  Add into that the fact that Bailey and Chase hadn’t even been able to execute their first kiss without almost breaking a nose and some toes, and they seemed like a total mess.

  But Mitch could tell that Chase was happier than he’d ever been.

  “So you’re calling for love advice,” Chase said.

  Oh shit. Chase had just raised his voice slightly. That meant someone, or more than one someone, was close by. Which meant that someone, or more than one someone, was about to chime in.

  “No worries, I’m here!” Mitch heard Owen Landry, one of his cousins, say.

  “Where are you and Owen?” Mitch asked, praying they’d snuck down to the dock with a couple of beers to escape the chaos that was every Landry family get-together.

  “Ellie’s,” Chase said.

  There was a rise in noise on Chase’s end of the phone, and Mitch realized that Chase had ducked into the back room or just outside to take the call initially. And now he was back in the main room of Ellie’s bar. Where everyone would be.

  “You’re a bastard,” Mitch told him.

  “This will just keep me from having to repeat everything later,” Chase said with a laugh.