by Whitley Cox
Emmett lifted his head from where he’d been scrutinizing his cards, his amber eyes narrowed on Liam. “We ever going to get to meet this elusive Richelle? She seems to good to be true. A woman who wants nothing from you but sex. No strings, no love, no money, no commitment. You sure she’s not just a blowup doll you bring out every Wednesday night?”
Liam snorted. “My blowup doll’s name is Tabitha, and she comes out of hiding on Saturdays once you fuckers go home.”
A few of the guys around the table snickered.
Mark, who’d been quiet until now, cleared his throat. “I get it, man, I do. I was super jaded when Cheyenne left. Jaded and angry. I mean, she left her son. She couldn’t handle Gabe’s autism diagnosis or his outbursts, so she just left. Ended our marriage, signed over her rights and custody. I was angry for a long time.” His gaze settled on Adam, the only other man at the table who’d also found love again. “But anger takes way more energy than love. Love is easier.”
Adam nodded.
Liam rolled his eyes. “I’ll take my filthy Wednesday night sex with no strings over love any day, thank you. No muss, no fuss.”
There were grumbles of frustration around the table. Some of the men who had been burned by women seemed to not entirely disagree with Liam, though they weren’t so jaded as to spout off the way he was, while others, like Mitch and Atlas, remained quiet. Mitch missed Melissa every minute of every day, and he bet Atlas missed his wife too. He couldn’t imagine ever divorcing his wife, ever falling out of love with her or becoming so cynical about love he’d swear off it for good.
As Jayda liked to say, love was what made the world go round.
Melissa taught her that.
“On that note of positivity,” Mark said with a long sigh, his blue eyes weary from probably a long day at the hospital, and now Liam’s anti-love rant, “let’s play.” He placed a stack of chips in the center.
“Thank fuck,” Atlas murmured, matching Mark’s bet. “You fuckers talk too much.”
There were grumbles from Liam about the fact that talking and griping were part of the reason why he started poker night, but his irritation with Atlas quickly ebbed once the bets had been placed.
Atlas, who had become the designated dealer most nights, turned over the next card. There were a few agitated grunts. Emmett and Zak both folded, getting up to grab themselves new drinks. Liam increased his bet, as did Adam, Mitch and Mark.
“You dating my ex-wife?” Adam asked completely out of the blue, interrupting the concentrated silence at the table as the stakes and pot began to grow. His blue eyes were lasered in on Mitch across the table.
If the table hadn’t already been dead silent, it was now. You could hear a fucking pin drop down the hall.
Were people holding their breath?
Oh fuck. Mitch was.
He swallowed and exhaled. “No.”
Adam’s eyebrow lifted just a fraction.
“But I’m trying to.” His mouth split into a big grin. He and Adam had had almost the exact same conversation just a few months ago when he asked Adam if he was trying to date Mitch’s sister. Adam had responded the same way.
Everyone at the table was still quite tense.
Including Mitch.
He’d tried to take the edge off by being funny, but now he wasn’t so sure that was such a good idea.
Adam’s eyes softened just a touch. “Okay.” He scratched his beard. “I think you might actually be good for her. You know her story already, our story.”
Mitch nodded. “I do.”
Acceptance fell across Adam’s face. “You don’t need my blessing, but just know I support this. I think it could be really good.”
Phew.
He caught Zak’s smirk out of the corner of his eye. Had he said something to Adam? Or had it been Violet who had mentioned his impromptu visit to the studio on Wednesday night?
Mitch took a sip of his beer to coat his dry throat. “Thanks. She’s not making it easy though.” His chuckle felt forced, so he took another drink of beer.
Adam’s grin widened. “The good ones never do.”
Liam let out a whoop. “What a twist. I did not see that coming.” He cupped his hand to his ear. “Do I hear banjos playing? What does that make your kids? Sister cousins?” He snickered at Mitch. “Does that make you stepdad and uncle to Mira?”
Both Adam and Mitch rolled their eyes, telling Liam to shut the fuck up at the same time.
6
It was Tuesday afternoon. Mitch was just finishing packing up from his on-site photo shoot, cursing the horrible weather and the shitty lighting it lent to the photos. If only the winds changed and blew all that smoke out to sea, then they would have their clear blue skies again … until the rains came.
Adam was off work for the remainder of the summer, having decided to take six weeks off to be with Mira rather than teach a summer semester, so he’d offered to take the girls to the splash park in the morning and then keep them in the house once the city turned into a sauna.
Mitch was done with work for the day, but he also had picked up the keys to his new photography studio the day before and was itching to take a peek inside. The possibilities and ideas on how to lay things out, what colors to paint the walls and new props to add to his cache had swamped him all weekend, so much so he’d hardly slept a wink. Well, and the fact that he couldn’t stop thinking about Paige sitting on his lap Thursday afternoon in his car. That had ignited all kinds of fantasies and dirty dreams. Most of them involved her, straddling him in the front seat of his car wearing nothing but that adorable chef’s hat.
How was she doing?
She was probably at work. Slaving away icing a chocolate gateau with ganache or caramel or something.
His stomach rumbled, and his mouth watered.
Even if she didn’t want anything to do with him romantically, he needed to make nice with her in order to get a taste of her confections. She still hadn’t given him a yes or no as to whether she’d cater for him.
He needed it to be a yes.
Rolling down the window of his car, he started the ignition at the same time his phone started to ring in his back pocket.
Keeping the vehicle in park, he answered it. It was Violet.
“Hey, sis, just leaving the ranch now.” He’d been hired to do a photo shoot for a dude ranch just outside the city that specialized in therapeutic horseback riding for children and people with special needs. It’d been a great day with great people and majestic creatures. Even though the sky looked like something out of a dystopian movie, the subjects had been so cooperative, he knew he’d be able to make something beautiful for the ranch’s website and billboards.
“Mitch!” Violet’s voice was panicky.
“What? What’s wrong?” Was it Jayda?
“Mira. She … she ate a bunch of berries … poisonous berries. She’s been rushed to the hospital.” His sister’s words were a mix of fear and crying. “I’m with Jayda, but Adam had to run with Mira to the hospital. I’m trying to get ahold of Paige, but she’s not answering her phone. I didn’t think she worked Tuesdays.”
Mitch let out a shaky breath. “She does now. New boss. Big bitch. Making her work more hours.”
“I … I know she’d want to be there too.”
“I’m on my way back into town. I’ll swing by her restaurant and grab her. She shouldn’t be driving once she’s been given the news.”
Violet breathed out. “Thanks. Let me know when you guys get to the hospital.”
“Will do.” He hung up.
“Is it supposed to look like that?” Marcy asked in a snide tone, glaring down at the soft, thawed bananas in the big mixing bowl.
Paige bit back the snarky response and instead just answered a curt, “Yes.”
“That looks disgusting.”
“I assure you, Marcelle, it’s fine. When you freeze bananas, they turn black. When you thaw them, they turn into disgusting, slippery slug-looking things. But trust me
, they’re totally safe to eat. Packed full of sweet, fruity deliciousness. It’s the best way to add the bananas to my banana-bread bread pudding.”
Marcy turned her nose up. “Well, I think it looks gross.”
Paige squished two more bananas out of their skins into the big stainless-steel mixing bowl. “I agree. But it won’t for long, and then it will taste amazing. I’ll bring you up some when I’m done.”
Scoffing, Marcy circled around behind Paige. “Don’t bother. I haven’t eaten sugar in years.”
And I thought I wouldn’t ever have to see you again, but surprise surprise.
The double wooden doors from the restaurant side swung open, and a flush-faced hostess appeared.
Marcy and Paige’s heads both popped up from where they’d been staring into the mixing bowl of mushy bananas.
“What?” Marcy asked snottily. It wasn’t just Paige she treated like gum on the bottom of her shoe; it was the entire staff. Only it seemed she thought Paige was dog shit on the bottom of her shoe, not just gum, and treated her with extra disdain.
The hostess’s eyes darted to Paige. “There’s a man here to see you, Paige. He says it’s urgent. It’s about your daughter.”
“Adam?” Paige didn’t wait for the hostess to respond and was already wiping her hands on a dish towel and making her way toward the double doors.
Mitch was standing just on the other side. His eyes held a worry that made Paige’s stomach drop to her feet with a hard thud.
“Mira’s in the hospital,” he said quietly, taking her arm and pulling her out of earshot from curious staff.
“What happened?”
“She ate some poisonous berries. That’s all I know. Adam is with her. Violet called me. She said she couldn’t get in touch with you.”
Paige pulled her phone out of the pocket at the front of her apron. She opened the screen only to see a slew of missed calls, texts and voicemails. She must have forgotten to turn her ringer back on this morning.
“I can drive you,” Mitch offered. “I wouldn’t want to drive if this was Jayda in the hospital.”
Paige nodded. “Just let me grab my purse.”
“Where the hell are you going?”
Paige froze. She hadn’t even turned around to head back into the kitchen, but Marcy’s cold voice stopped her in her tracks. The nosy woman must have followed her out. How long had she been standing there? Or had she been listening at the door? Mitch would have reacted if they weren’t alone when he told her about Mira.
Paige refused to turn around. The look on Mitch’s face said he knew exactly who was behind her and he wanted to give the woman a piece of his mind. His hatred for Marcy bolstered her own, and her spine straightened. “I’m going to see my daughter. She’s in the hospital.”
Marcy made a noise in her throat. “Not right now you’re not. You’re in the middle of a shift. You’re in the middle of a dessert.”
Mitch’s eyes pinned on Paige, and his nod was barely discernible, but she caught it. He had her back no matter what.
Slowly, Paige turned around. She took a step toward the harpy that was her boss, got right up in her face. It didn’t matter that Marcy had a good couple of inches on her. Paige was in mama bear mode and would take down the threat with her bare hands if she had to. “I am leaving. Now, please move.”
Marcy’s cool blue eyes widened, but not out of fear—out of surprise. Then they narrowed, and a wicked smiled curled her lips. “Leave and you’re fired.”
Everything inside Paige wanted to protest. Wanted to cry and scream and throw whatever was within arms’ reach at this horrible human being. But she shoved it all down and didn’t react. She didn’t even blink. The only thing that might have given away her nerves was the heat in her cheeks and whether or not it was painted across her face in a splash of pink. Her pulse also thundered in her ears. Could Marcy hear it too?
“So be it,” she said calmly. Then she pushed past Marcy, making sure to throw her elbow into the woman’s side just a touch, and made her way into the kitchen. Even though she was scared out of her skin for her daughter, she moved around the kitchen calmly. Mira was with Adam. She wasn’t alone. Paige needed to take care of everything here first, then she could leave and never have to worry about coming back.
She grabbed her purse, her bag, her recipe books, her distributor list and the cornbread molds she’d inherited from her grandmother. All eyes in the kitchen were on her as she coolly released the buttons on her chef’s coat and laid it on the table next to her unfinished banana-bread bread pudding.
Marcy had stepped inside and was watching her, a smirk of satisfaction on her face. Meanwhile everyone else in the kitchen looked like they were ready to cry.
Jane sidled up next to Paige. “I’ll follow you,” she whispered, pulling Paige into a big hug, her body shaking in sobs. “Just let me know where you end up, and I’ll follow you. I know a lot of us will. You’re the heart of this kitchen. The heart of this restaurant. It’s going to tank with you gone. Your bread pudding is what put this place on the map.”
Paige squeezed her tight. “I’ll text you later. Right now, I have to go.” She pulled out of the young woman’s embrace and steeled herself before she turned around to face Marcy again. She blew out a breath, then spun around.
“Big mistake,” Marcy said snidely as Paige came up next to her. “I’m sure your kid is fine.”
Paige dug down deep, and instead of hauling off and smacking the grin off the woman’s overly tanned face, she smiled. She lifted her shoulders in a shrug she hoped conveyed nonchalance, even though inside she was so tightly wound, blood wasn’t reaching her extremities. “I hope you’re right, Marcy. I hope my daughter is fine.” Then she pushed open the doors and let Mitch escort her through the restaurant and out to his car.
Only once she stepped out of the restaurant and heard the double wooden doors behind her swing closed did she release the breath she’d been holding. She opened Mitch’s car door after she heard it unlock and climbed in. Narcissus. Her home for the last eight years. Her family. All gone in the blink of an eye.
Mitch turned on the ignition and put the car into drive.
Paige leaned back in her seat and shut her eyes.
She’d just been fired.
She was jobless.
And in some ways, homeless.
Yes, she had a home. But it was her parents’ home. It was their pool house. Narcissus had been her home away from home. It was where she could just be Paige the pastry chef. Nobody in the kitchen judged her for what she’d been through or the choices she’d made. Most of them came from turbulent backgrounds and had all been through a transformation or redemption, finding food as their solace, as their savior. A creative outlet, an art form that earned their restaurant rave reviews from food critics and reviewers alike.
And now it was all gone. All because she’d chosen to put her child above her job, just like any good parent, any understanding person would.
Marcy Thibodeaux was not an understanding person.
Paige questioned whether the woman was even human.
She certainly didn’t have a decent, humane bone in her body.
“You know,” Mitch started, drawing Paige out of her thoughts, “when Jayda was two, she broke her arm. I was on a photo shoot for a really big tourism company, but when Melissa called me, I left immediately.”
She didn’t bother looking at him but instead took in the dreary yellow-brown sky and the way it seemed to cast the entire city into a disgusting smoky hue. “Yeah. Did you lose the contract?”
“No. I gave them a discount of twenty percent and an extra day of shooting for being so understanding. They said it wasn’t necessary, as they all had kids and knew what it was like, but I did it to show my appreciation. The lighting was better on the days I went back anyway.”
She turned her head and studied his profile. “Why are you telling me this?”
“Because you need to find people in your life like that. P
eople who understand what it’s like to have kids. That kids come first. Whether they have children or not, you need people in your life that understand that family is priority number one. We work to live, not live to work. Or”—he lifted one shoulder—“do what I do and be your own boss. Make your own hours.”
Paige pursed her lips in thought.
Be your own boss.
She continued to study his profile. It was a nice profile, with a strong chin, nicely shaped nose, just a touch long but not unsightly. His brows were thick, but he didn’t have that protruding Neanderthal brow that some men had. Even his ears were nicely shaped. Well, at least the one she could see.
No doubt about it, Mitch Benson was a decent-looking man. A handsome man. A sexy man.
They came to a red light, and he turned to face her. He reached out and rested a hand on her shoulder. “Mira’s going to be okay. Kids eat weird shit all the time. And don’t we all eat something like eight spiders a year in our sleep?” He shuddered and made a grossed-out face before turning back to the road and hitting the gas when the light turned green. “I remember when Violet was like five, she ate half of one of those little mushrooms that grow in the front yard. She brought the other half to our mother to share. My mom lost her shit, tossed Vi into the car and raced her to the hospital.”
Paige’s eyes grew wide, and she could feel her heart rate pick up the pace. “What happened?”
Mitch’s shoulder lifted just a touch. “Well, Vi is still alive, obviously, so she didn’t die. I think they gave her something to make her barf, and then they held a bowl under her mouth until they found the mushroom.”
Paige made a face. “I hope that’s all they need to do for Mira.” She brought her index finger to her mouth and began to chew on her nail. “My poor baby, if she has to get her stomach pumped, she’s going to be so scared.”
Mitch took a hard right. Traffic was chaotic for a Tuesday afternoon in the summer. It was going to take them ages to get to the hospital.
“Do you mind if I ask you something?”
She couldn’t decide if she appreciated his attempt to keep her distracted with conversation or irritated. Her mind was on her baby, sitting in that hospital probably terrified and with doctors and nurses bustling around her. There wasn’t much she could do from her seat in the car, though, so maybe the distraction was welcomed.
