Sweet Home Louisiana

by Erin Nicholas

  “I’m…content in California,” she finally said.

  “Is that good?”

  She nodded. “It’s quiet. Everything goes at my pace. It’s all in my control.” She met his gaze directly. “I like being in control. Of my schedule. Of my emotions.”

  He got it. Loud and clear. She wasn’t in control here. They were dictating that she had to work at Boys of the Bayou. They were dictating what she did during those hours. Hell, they were dictating that she had to be here in the first place. She might have put her foot down when it came to camping and leading tours, but that didn’t mean she was getting to make a lot of choices here. And, clearly, she was determined to keep her emotions locked down, as much as possible.

  “Okay,” he said. It wasn’t really. All of this meant that he was going to be torn between letting her do what she needed to do to be happy—mainly, sell the business and go back to California—and his family and the business they’d built. Making Maddie happy seemed like an ingrained instinct that he couldn’t shake any easier than he could change his eye color.

  But Boys of the Bayou had to come first.

  So, if she hated being here, was unhappy with all of this, was cold and closed off, it would make it a lot easier to not feel drawn to her.

  He didn’t think he could be attracted to someone who wrinkled her nose about stepping onto his dock and who didn’t want to guzzle sweet tea with his grandmother and tell tall tales with his grandpa.

  So the more she did all of that, the better for them both.

  “I should probably get to bed,” she said after a long moment. “It’s been a big day.”

  He nodded. “I’ll walk you.”

  “You don’t have to. It’s like three blocks.”

  Everyone lived within a three-block radius of Ellie’s. It was a little like a family compound, but they preferred to think of it as convenient. Convenient to work. Convenient to stopping over to help each other out. Convenient for Ellie to ring the big cast-iron bell that was mounted out behind the bar to signal dinner, or that she was pissed at someone and needed to yell at them. Josh and Tori were the only ones outside of the family radius since they’d bought the farm, but it was on the edge of town, their front door along the last street of Autre and their land stretching out behind nearly to the county line. Which meant about six blocks from Ellie’s. They could still hear the bell. At least the pissed-off bell. Ellie rang that thing with everything in her.

  “I’m walking you, city girl,” he told her.

  She knew exactly what he meant and immediately looked down at the ground. She knew she didn’t need to be worried about people. Just critters.

  “Yeah, okay.”

  They didn’t talk on the way to Cora’s or as they climbed the front porch steps.

  But Maddie hesitated with her hand on the screen door. “It was sweet of you to come down to the dock after me tonight.”

  He didn’t say anything. There was a big old “but” sittin’ there.

  “But it’s maybe better if we don’t…do that again.”

  “Do that?” he repeated. “Be friends?”

  “Be alone. Hug. Talk about the past,” she said.

  His chest tightened the way it had on the dock, but for a very different reason. Now he was a little pissed. “That all seems like stuff people should do when it’s been twelve years and they’ve lost someone they both cared about,” he said calmly. “And when one of them really needs a hug.”

  She swallowed hard and then said, “I’ve had enough hugging, I think. I’m good.”

  “Oh, well, great,” he said. He reached up, tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, and then said, “But I was talking about me.”

  Then he pivoted on his heel and left her standing at her grandmother’s door.

  Yeah, he’d definitely grown up. Because he didn’t punch a hole in any walls and he didn’t throw any bottles against the side of his garage.

  He also hadn’t backed her up against the side of her grandma’s house and showed her that she most definitely wanted to be hugging him. And a hell of a lot more.

  Being grown-up kind of sucked.

  Maddie was up and out of bed the next morning for work.

  Not because she woke up naturally at the god-awful hour of six a.m. Or because she’d set an alarm. Or because she was so excited about work that she couldn’t sleep.

  Nope, she woke up because of the sound of her three business partners clomping into her grandmother’s kitchen, arguing about who made the best eggs, and banging her two cast-iron skillets on the stovetop in the process of making said eggs.

  Maddie rolled over with a groan and pulled the pillow over her face. What the actual fuck? These people couldn’t even make breakfast quietly? Even semi-quietly?

  “You don’t put the Tabasco straight in the eggs.” That was Josh.

  “Yes, I do,” Sawyer said.

  “Not when you’re making them for someone else. What if she doesn’t like Tabasco in her eggs?” Josh asked.

  “Who doesn’t like Tabasco in their eggs?”

  “Probably a lot of people.”

  She was not eating Tabasco in her eggs. Ugh.

  Why were they here? Why were they doing this to her?

  Because they were trying to sweeten her up. They didn’t want her selling her portion of the business and they thought breakfast would make her first day nicer. And her nicer.

  Well, they were wrong. It wouldn’t matter if they showed up with French press coffee and chocolate croissants—the only breakfast worth getting up at six a.m. for, and even that was pushing it—she was not going to get all mushy with them.

  Last night on the dock with Owen had been close enough. Too close. Being held in his arms had made everything in her…well, mushy was one way to put it. Other words were soft. Warm. Tempted. Hot. Wet.

  She cleared her throat and sat up quickly.

  She needed to not be alone with Owen anymore, that was for sure. But she also needed to just avoid anything nice and friendly and familiar with all of them.

  Breakfast in her grandma’s kitchen was one of those things.

  Maddie had thought she could avoid the whole breakfast thing entirely since Cora had to be at the restaurant to feed the fishermen and others going off to work at the crack of dawn.

  Maddie swung her legs over the edge of the mattress. Well, she was awake now. Only twenty-nine days to go. Not that she was keeping track. Except on the calendar in her phone and in her digital planner and the paper calendar she carried in her briefcase.

  She stretched to her feet as Sawyer asked, “What the hell is that?”

  “Hazelnut creamer,” Josh replied.

  “Why?”

  “Girls like flavored creamer.”

  “They do?”

  “Tori does.”

  “I think it’s safe to say that Tori and Maddie don’t have a lot in common.”

  That came from Owen. So he was here, too. She hadn’t been sure. Maddie narrowed her eyes and strained to hear the rest of that.

  “You don’t think so?” Josh asked.

  “Seriously?” Owen asked. Then he laughed. “Tori’s sweet. Friendly. She’s happy with little things like flavored creamer.”

  Maddie frowned. Geez, you tell a guy you don’t want any more of his hugs and suddenly you’re labeled as not friendly.

  But she really didn’t want any more of Owen’s hugs. Because they made her want a whole lot more.

  And this “not friendly” stuff was coming from the guy who, for just a second last night, had almost backed her up against the wall and been super friendly? She’d seen it plain as day in his face. And her entire body—mind, soul, pinky toe—had reacted to it. And he knew it. He knew that she would have been super happy with his…okay, not so little things.

  Maddie put her hands over her face and groaned.

  Not even twenty-four hours. She hadn’t even been in Autre for twenty-four hours and she was already feeling hot and bothered. Not just by t
he weather—though it had taken forever to fall asleep last night in her grandmother’s hot upper level. Fucking Louisiana in June. Who built entire towns on swamps anyway? In what scenario did someone say, “Hey, it’s hotter than the devil’s ball sack. Let’s live here!”

  “Maddie’s not that easy to please?” Josh asked.

  Maddie could practically hear the smirk on his face. She rolled her eyes and stomped over to her suitcase, making sure they could all hear that she was up.

  She grabbed her toiletry bag, the lightest sundress she owned, and stomped down the hall to the bathroom to shower. With cold water.

  Forty minutes later, she wondered why she’d even bothered. She was out of the shower, dressed, deodorized and perfumed, and sweating like she’d just gotten back from a run. Well, a run in San Francisco. A run here would probably kill her.

  She absolutely could not even think about pulling out a blow dryer and applying hot air to her hair on purpose, so she left it damp and curling around her shoulders. In this humidity it would take a miracle to get it to lay sleek like it should anyway.

  Then she stomped down the steps and into the kitchen.

  It smelled like coffee, eggs, and yes, Tabasco. Sawyer was sitting at the table, reading the paper. Josh was leaning against the counter, flipping through his phone. Owen, the last one she looked at, was lounging at the table. His long, denim clad legs stretched out, ankles crossed, his big hands cradling a mug against the Boys of the Bayou T-shirt that covered his hard abs.

  She realized that she’d done a thorough inventory of Owen’s body while she couldn’t have even said what color Josh’s shirt was.

  She stomped to the coffeepot. “I’m doing the books today and don’t be surprised if your snack budget gets cut.”

  “We can’t be expected to work without beef jerky,” Josh said, looking up. “And M&M’s. I’m no good without my M&M’s fix.”

  “Then stay the hell out of this house until nine a.m. from now on.” She could smell the chicory as she poured the coffee into her cup and she grimaced. She’d never developed a taste for the chicory coffee that was a staple down here. She hadn’t been much of a coffee drinker when she’d lived here and she now had a taste for medium roasts. And yes, with a splash of flavored creamer, thank you. She reached for the bottle of creamer Josh had apparently brought from home and poured three servings worth into the strong brew in her cup.

  She shot Owen a glance as she stirred. He was watching every move and gave her a small smile when she caught his eye.

  “I stand corrected,” he said. Clearly he knew she’d overheard him. “One thing in common.”

  She flipped him off.

  He laughed. “Yep, maybe just one.”

  Maddie hid her smile behind her cup. This was all far too familiar.

  The first morning and her plan to stay unattached was already going to hell. And she was smiling about it.

  Typical.

  5

  “Yeah, I’ll take care of it.”

  Owen watched as Sawyer pocketed his phone and climbed up out of the boat.

  “Folks, it’s just gonna be a second,” Sawyer told his boat full of tourists. “Sorry about the delay, but we’ll head out soon.”

  “What’s up?” Owen asked as he joined Sawyer on the dock. He had a tour loaded and ready to go out, too, and he’d just been waiting for Sawyer to move his boat.

  “Need to talk to Maddie.”

  Sawyer didn’t look happy as he headed for the office. Owen told his boat the same thing and followed Sawyer. Though he wasn’t sure who he was going in to protect.

  Maddie had been working in the office every day for eight days now. She’d taken the inventory and books seriously. She’d been going through all kinds of records and she’d already negotiated a new contract for shipping with one of the parts dealers they worked with in Mobile.

  She’d also put her foot down with Leo, telling him that he had to stop offering moonshine to the passengers on his bus. Leo and their cousin Mitch drove the buses back and forth between New Orleans and Autre, picking tourists up at their hotels and then delivering them back after the tour. Leo thought that the moonshine gave them a taste of the local area and also loosened them up so they had more fun—and tipped better. He wasn’t wrong. The people loved it.

  Maddie didn’t.

  She didn’t like the liability that went along with getting people drunk or offering food in general to people in light of all of the food allergies out there in the world. Not to mention the fact they didn’t have a liquor license, and there could be a case made that they shouldn’t be serving drinks without that.

  Owen knew better, though. She was being a stick-in-the-mud on purpose. She was coming down on the fun so that they’d all get annoyed and not want her to be a part of all of this. She was wily. But he wasn’t going to let her get away with it.

  They stepped into the office and were met by the unusually cool air. She’d put a window air conditioner in on day three—and yeah, she’d literally put it in herself, which meant she’d used tools and she’d threatened to take Josh’s truck engine apart if he didn’t stop teasing her about it. She’d also had to order some new clothes—clothes with less material—after nearly passing out day two when she’d worn pants and a shirt that she wore to the art gallery. That was both a blessing and a curse. Owen really did love looking at her in less clothing. So did a lot of the other guys who came through the office. Including the guys who stocked the drinks and snacks for the tourists to purchase.

  One of them, Brody Carson, was leaning on the front counter at that very moment, as a matter of fact. It might have been that he was taking a break from the hot sun, but Owen was pretty sure that it was more because of the gauzy yellow material of Maddie’s sundress than the AC. The short sundress. It was so light it was nearly see-through with the sun coming in the window behind her. He couldn’t really see anything, but Owen scowled at the whole situation anyway. Of course, it probably didn’t matter what she wore. She’d had her hair up in ponytails to keep it off her neck the past few days, and she’d said she was done with makeup considering it was melting off by noon. She was now, after only a week, the perfect picture of a sweet, sun-kissed, southern girl.

  Until she spoke.

  “That is a ridiculous price for candy anyway,” she was telling Brody. “And now I have to keep the stupid candy bars in the fridge to keep them from melting, which means they’re costing me more than if they were on the shelf.”

  Not only did she sound like a Yankee, she sounded like a cool Yankee businesswoman.

  “You think I should make up the difference of what you’re spending on electricity on a fridge that’s running anyway?” Brody asked her. But he was grinning. And not as if he was making fun of her but just as if he was…having fun sparring with her.

  Owen knew the feeling. At least he had at one time. Maddie had been pretty much avoiding talking to him much and when she did, there wasn’t much flirtatious about it. It was very straightforward and always about business. She’d been avoiding family dinner at night, too. He swore she was doing it to make him crazy, but that was just a knee-jerk reaction. She didn’t want to be here and she didn’t want to get too close to any of them. Family dinner would have made that hard. He knew she cooked for herself at Cora’s and then worked on stuff from San Francisco rather than coming over and joining them all at Ellie’s. But Cora had said she’d gone to New Orleans two nights ago. That was making Owen super itchy. He wanted to know what she was doing. And who she was doing it with. And it was definitely none of his damned business.

  “I think you should give me a fair price on the candy,” Maddie said. “Or I can find another way to feed our tourists. I mean, sending them over to my grandma’s place for pie and bread puddin’ sounds like a better idea than selling them overpriced Snickers bars anyway.”

  Had she just dropped the ‘g’ on pudding? Owen was distracted for a second. But only one. Because Brody reached out and put his hand on
top of Maddie’s. “Well, maybe if I had some of this…pie, I’d agree with you and we could just toss the Snickers bars. How about we head across the road and you can introduce me to it?”

  Owen felt Sawyer’s hand on his chest, pushing him back before he’d even realized he’d taken a step forward. “Whoa. Jesus. They’re talking about candy bars,” Sawyer said low enough for only Owen’s ears.

  Yeah, no they weren’t. Brody’s emphasis on pie had been all full of innuendo. “You know that’s not true.”

  “And I know she can handle it,” Sawyer said. “Cool it. I don’t need you gettin’ wound up just because he smiled at her. We can’t afford new windows in here.”

  It wasn’t Sawyer’s hand that kept Owen from crossing the space between him and Brody. It was how satisfying Owen knew it would be to actually throw Brody through one of the windows. Fuck.

  “But then I wouldn’t get to see your smiling face once a week,” Maddie told Brody, pulling her hand back from his.

  “Oh, we could figure out a way for you to keep seeing me.”

  “I couldn’t do that to you,” Maddie said, feigning disappointment.

  At least she’d better be faking it.

  “I can’t have…pie…with a supplier,” she went on. “It would be a conflict of interest to keep buying from you and you’d lose this contract.”

  “I think I would be okay with that,” Brody said.

  “We need to talk.” Sawyer finally interrupted them. “I just got a call,” he told Maddie. “And I’ve got a tour waiting.”

  She gave Brody a little smile. “Sorry to cut this short. But thank you for understanding and for taking that ten percent off our bottom line.”

  Brody straightening with a frown. “Now I don’t know if we agreed—”

  “A verbal agreement doesn’t mean anything down here anymore?” Maddie asked.

  “I didn’t say that we were going to have a discount, either.”