No one had a big enough house for them all to really spread out and chat and eat. They’d gather together for gift opening, practically sitting on top of one another, but for meals and hanging out, they’d all move over to the bar.
The building was really just an extension of Ellie’s home in many ways. Most family meals were served there, and every member of the family stopped in at the bar at some point during the day. If Ellie and Cora, her best friend and business partner, didn’t see everyone at least once a day, they got worried and sent someone to hunt the missing person down. And drag them in for some grits. Because grits were good for everything—happy, hungry, feeling sick, feeling awesome, lonely, sad, or newly in love.
“So what do you need to know?” Owen asked.
Mitch realized he was now on speakerphone. Great.
“I just…” He blew out a breath. What the hell? Owen was also madly in love. With a sassy, smart, too-good-for-him woman named Maddie. Owen might actually have some advice. “I guess I’m thinkin’ about a long-distance relationship.”
“They suck, man,” Chase said.
“You don’t even know,” Mitch told him. “You just officially got together with Bailey.”
“And I already know it’s going to suck,” Chase told him.
“But you’re gonna do it anyway?”
“Well… yeah.” Chase sounded like that was a really stupid question.
Maybe it was.
“Why’s it gotta be long distance?” Owen asked.
“Because…” Well, fuck. Because it would be crazy for one of them to move to be with the other at this point.
“If you’re doin’ things right, she’s not gonna want to live without you,” Owen said. “So start doin’ things right.”
“If I remember correctly, Maddie was ready to move back to California even after you were doing things.”
Owen laughed. “’Cause I wasn’t doin’ things right.”
“I’m not sure I want details about what you were doing wrong,” Mitch said dryly.
“Oh, nothin’ like that,” Owen said, clearly catching his meaning. “Trust me.”
“So what?” Mitch asked, hoping he wasn’t making a mistake.
“I just had to figure out that living anywhere with her was better than living at all without her. It just works out.”
“So your advice is to move to Iowa to be with a woman I’ve known for like two days. Other than a few months of texting.”
“What’s the worst that can happen?” Owen asked. “It doesn’t work out and you move back here.”
“That’s…” He really should have finished that thought with crazy. Or ridiculous would have fit too. But Owen had a point. Didn’t he? Mitch could move to Iowa. He wasn’t in medical school. He didn’t own a business he couldn’t move. He had a huge family that he’d miss like hell, but was this thing with Paige at least worth giving some more time to?
“I’m good,” Owen said. “I know.”
“She hasn’t exactly asked me to stay,” Mitch said.
“Well, she can’t really keep you from moving somewhere. You’re a grown man. She can’t keep you out of Appleby,” Chase pointed out.
“That doesn’t seem a little stalkerish?”
“Why do you boys always make this all so difficult?”
There was now a new voice in the conversation. And Mitch would know that voice anywhere.
Ellie. His grandmother. The tough, no-bullshit matriarch of the Landry family.
“Tell her what you’re thinkin’, Mitchell,” Ellie said. “Don’t be weird about it. Just say, I think I’m crazy about you, and I want to find out if this can work out. For God’s sake.”
Mitch could picture her rolling her eyes at them all. He also knew she had her hands planted on her skinny hips.
“You all make this seem like some huge mysterious, magical thing. You don’t have to wait for planets to line up or for some big sign like your favorite song to play just as the full moon comes up over the hill when the scent of lilacs drifts through your window.”
Now she was most definitely rolling her eyes.
Owen laughed. “You and this family are the biggest fuckin’ romantics in the entire universe, Ellie.”
Yes, they all called their grandmother Ellie and their grandfather Leo. Because all of their grandparents on both sides of the family lived in town, so simply referring to them as “grandma” and “grandpa” had never been specific enough.
“Sure, we’re romantic,” Ellie said. “We know when it’s right and we’re willing to go big when that happens.”
It was true that the Landrys were known for their grand, romantic gestures. It was countywide legend, actually. But he supposed that didn’t mean they thought the falling-in-love part was all that complicated.
“Well, I won’t tell Cora that you think her love potion is bullshit,” Chase said.
Cora made all kinds of “potions”. She also made balms and salves and other homemade “cures”. The thing was, even skeptical physician-to-be Chase had to admit the stuff worked. Mitch fully expected Chase to incorporate some of those things into his medical practice when he came back to Autre for good.
“Oh, she knows it’s bullshit,” Ellie said. “Who would believe a love potion? You can’t make love happen.”
“But… wait… what else of hers is bullshit?” Chase asked.
Mitch snorted and heard Owen laugh as well.
“Oh honey,” Ellie said, and Mitch could picture her putting her hand on Chase’s cheek.
“The only stuff that’s bullshit is the stuff that doesn’t work,” Ellie told Chase placatingly.
“But…” Chase was clearly thinking on all of the things he’d tried while in Autre. “All of it worked. Didn’t it?”
“Then I guess it’s all real,” Ellie told him.
“That’s not how science works,” Chase said. He sounded tired.
The Landrys had that effect on people. Chase was still getting used to them all.
Ellie laughed. “Oh well, we aren’t talking about science.”
“Then what are we talking about?”
“Love.”
“Love isn’t science?” Chase asked.
“Is it?” Ellie challenged in return. “You tellin’ me that what you’re feeling for that beautiful accident-waitin’-to-happen over there is all just synapses and endorphins?”
“Well…” was Chase’s only response.
Mitch assumed that Bailey, who was indeed a beautiful accident-waiting-to-happen, was across the room and Chase was now gazing at her adoringly.
Mitch shook his head even though he was grinning.
“Exactly,” Ellie said after a moment. “You’ve probably had your hormones get all stirred up before. Chemistry and whatever. But what you feel for Bailey is different. And I don’t think you can explain it with science.”
“But,” Chase tried again, “science is real.”
“Well, of course it’s real,” Ellie said in her no-shit tone of voice. “Germs and stuff are real. You come out of the bathroom without washing your hands or cough on my bar without covering your mouth, and I’ll slap you upside the head and cut you off from gumbo for a week.”
“So…” But Chase didn’t add on to that start.
“So science and things beyond science can both be true at the same time,” Ellie said.
“Then Cora’s potions and creams do actually work?” Chase asked.
Mitch knew his friend was rubbing his head.
Ellie blew out an exasperated breath. “I’m tellin’ you that you boys are bein’ nitpicky dumbasses.”
“Dumbasses?” Chase repeated. “To want to prove something is true?”
“Good lord,” Ellie muttered. “Do you need a research paper to tell you something is working if you can see it and feel it with your own eyes and heart?” she asked.
“If millions of people use condoms and there are fewer women gettin’ knocked up, then you know that the condoms are wo
rking, right? If people start wearin’ seat belts and more people walk away from car crashes, you know the seat belts are working. If you burn your hand and put a salve on it and it feels better the next day, then it worked to make your hand feel better. And if you find a woman who makes you think about turning your whole life upside down to be with her, then you’re falling in love with her.” Ellie’s voice softened. “Nothing changes a life more than love does.”
“I…” Chase trailed off. “Yeah. I guess you’re right.”
Ellie scoffed. “Of course I’m right. I’m old. I know a lot of shit by now.”
There was a pause and the sound of shuffling on the other end of the phone.
“Well, there you go,” Chase finally said to Mitch.
“She’s gone?” he guessed.
“Dropped her knowledge and then went to harass someone else,” Chase said. “You feel better?”
“I don’t know how we got from salves to me moving to Iowa, but, yeah, I guess I do.”
“So I need to pack your stuff and haul it up to Iowa?” Owen asked.
“Maybe,” Mitch said, feeling a warmth in his chest. “I need to talk to Paige.”
“Okay, good luck,” Owen told him. “But, in all seriousness, Ellie has a point. When you find the girl that makes you feel different. Different from the other girls but also like you’re a different person, better than you were before, then she’s worth a U-Haul and a change-of-address form at the post office.”
Mitch felt his smile spreading. “Yeah. You’ve got a point.”
He and Paige hadn’t been together enough for him to be different, but he thought maybe he could be.
“I’m jealous,” Chase said. “Bailey and I can’t really do the change-of-address-U-Haul thing. I mean, she could move to DC, I suppose, but she’s happiest down here on the bayou, and I’m only in DC for a couple of years before I’ll hopefully be heading back down here anyway.”
Mitch grinned. His friend had already decided he wanted to be back closer to Autre. “You think you can do the long-distance thing?” he asked.
Chase paused, and again Mitch imagined he had located Bailey across the room. “Yeah,” he said, his voice softer. “Fuck, yeah. We’ll get together as much as we can, and the future together is worth however hard it is now.”
“And with the way you two are when you’re together, it’s probably safer if the two of you are mostly together on Zoom or FaceTime,” Mitch teased.
Just the other night, they’d disappeared down to the docks for some alone time and come back dripping wet because they’d fallen into the bayou. Bailey was definitely accident prone and she took Chase right down with her.
Chase chuckled. “Good thing I’m going to medical school, huh?”
Mitch laughed. “For sure.”
“Okay, so go tell your girl that you’re going to need to buy some warmer clothes, and I’m going to go try not to get my nose broken under the mistletoe.”
Laughing, they disconnected. Mitch got out of the car and looked up at the light shining in the window of Paige’s apartment over the yoga studio.
Here went nothing.
7
Man, she was in so much trouble.
She wanted him to stick around. A lot.
The words had just hung in the air between them after she’d said them and then he’d winked at her and left before she could emphasize, “for the next couple of days.”
Not that she’d rushed to say that.
It wasn’t like she thought there was a chance he might stay more than that.
He lived in Louisiana. He worked in Louisiana. His entire family—which was, evidently, quite large—was in Louisiana.
Plus she did not want him to stay. Not like stay stay. She was the one who got itchy when a guy wanted to go out two days in a row. Of course, around here, two dates two days in a row meant they were going to discuss honeymoon destinations.
So, no, she did not want Mitch to stay any longer. The story about him and Tori would only hold up so long anyway.
But then he walked into her apartment.
Just let himself in as if he belonged there. Shrugged out of his coat—well, Max’s coat—tossed it on the chair as if that was where he always tossed his coat when he came home and stalked toward her.
Her heart started pounding. His nose was a little red from the cold but otherwise, he looked very hot. She realized she’d been imagining him with a tool belt on, even though she’d known he hadn’t used a tool belt, while confidently fixing anything and everything anyone threw at him. Smiling and being charming the whole time he did it. Saving the damned Apple Festival that she honestly hadn’t cared much about since she was a teenager and she and her friends would go and hope to get caught under the mistletoe.
Now she dodged that damned weed like it was poison ivy.
But the idea that Mitch had fixed the power in the town square, and everyone would know he was the big savior… like Santa, albeit a few weeks late, or maybe like the Grinch when he came blazing into town with all the decorations and gifts after finding his Christmas spirit…made tingles spread through her body. And made her wish for mistletoe.
Though the look on his face at the moment made her pretty sure she wasn’t going to need it.
“Hi, how did it—” she started.
He cupped the back of her head and brought her in for a kiss. A very hot, deep, wet, backing-her-up-against-the-wall kiss.
Merry Late Christmas indeed.
She wrapped herself around him and gave a little hop to help when he scooped his hands under her ass and picked her up. He set her on the countertop next to the stove. Where she’d been stirring chocolate and marshmallow fluff together for fudge.
Shit.
She pulled back from him, breathing hard. “Welcome back.”
He grinned. “Take your clothes off.”
“In five minutes,” she said, pushing him back and sliding to the floor.
“Now,” he insisted, catching the hem of her top and slipping his hands up underneath it to her stomach as she turned to face the stove.
“I can’t let this burn,” she said, her inner muscles clenching hard as he dragged his palm back and forth over her stomach.
“You don’t have to cook for me.” He put his mouth against her neck, rubbing his beard up and down the sensitive skin.
Goose bumps broke out over her whole body making her wiggle against him. And the very prominent erection pressing into her back. She wiggled again just for good measure.
He gave a low growl. “Keep doing that and I’m tossing that whole pot in the sink, and you can just angry fuck me over it.”
Her shiver was stronger this time and she sighed. He surprised her with the dirty talk and it always had a strong, immediate effect on her body.
“We need this fudge,” she told him. But she had to concentrate on the stirring as his hands moved up to cup her breast.
She hadn’t put her bra back on, and he teased the bare nipple making her whimper softly.
“Don’t need anything but you,” he said gruffly against her ear, tugging on the hard tip.
“We need it for bribery,” she said, her eyes sliding closed as she gave the bubbling chocolate a half-assed stir.
“Who are we bribing?”
“Drew Ryan.”
“Why does Drew need to be bribed?”
“Because he knows that you’re not Tori’s fiancé,” she explained. “We need to ask him to play along with our story when he’s out and about at the festival and hears about the fix-it guy who saved the day.”
“And he won’t just do it because he’s a nice guy?”
“Well, the fudge won’t hurt.”
Mitch slipped the hand not tormenting her breast into the front of her pants. She also still did not have panties on. His finger slid over her clit making fire lick down her legs and her have to grip the counter with her free hand.
“I wouldn’t have pegged you for a fudge maker,” he said. “You’
re pretty sugar-free, gluten-free healthy.”
She nodded. “I know. I’m an enigma. I happen to make the best damned fudge you’ve ever tasted. I started making it before I became a full ‘health nut’ as my father calls it. So now people beg me for it and what can I say, I’m flattered, so I give in.”
Or she said something like that. There was no way she could have repeated any of it. Mitch’s finger was circling her clit in lazy loops, and her whole body was melting just like the blob of marshmallow fluff in the pot.
“How much longer?” he asked, sliding his finger lower and teasing her opening.
Her knees wobbled slightly, and she had to take a second before cracking one eye—not realizing her eyes were shut—and peeking at the timer. “Just another minute.”
He slid his finger into her and she gasped, clutching the counter.
“Stir, Paige,” he said softly, moving his finger in and out.
“You’re so mean,” she said, practically whispering.
“You want me to stop?” he asked, sliding deeper. “Really?”
“No. God, no.” She stirred a little faster and focused on not coming.
But damn, he was so good at this. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been with a guy who got her going the way he did.
She was never going to be able to make fudge without thinking of this.
The timer went off, the beeping the best sound she’d ever heard.
“I have to move,” she said, picking the pot up from the burner.
He did remove his hands from her body, which she definitely regretted, but as she poured the liquid fudge from the pot into the rectangular pan to set, she heard the rustle of clothes and glanced over her shoulder to find him toeing his boots off and shrugging out of his shirt.
She stopped and stared. Yes. God, she loved this man naked.
Something sharp stung her foot and she jumped, looking to find that fudge was dripping from the spoon in her hand onto her foot.
Dammit!
She quickly dumped the pot and spoon in the sink and checked the cake pan. The fudge was spread evenly, and she, somehow, hadn’t burned it. She carried it to the fridge and slid it onto the lowest shelf. Then she turned to Mitch, pulling her shirt up and over her head.
Oh, Fudge: Hot Cakes Book Five Page 9