CHAPTER TWELVE

Aimee

I knew I was blushing.

All morning I’d been blushing and humming and smiling so widely that I felt like my face was going to crack. I sang while I beat egg whites and sugar into a meringue for the lemon pie, I hummed as I rolled out pie crust for four pies, and I smiled as I whipped up a batch of marshmallows and set them out to cool. I’d even found time to make my decadent pecan pie, a traditional Southern recipe my Great-Grandma Evangeline swore had been passed down from her great grandmother before her. I was every schoolgirl cliché out there, but I loved it. I felt like I finally understood at least a little why my mom was always doing crazy things because of a guy.

And, no, it wasn’t just about sex. This was about a lot more than that. I was finally feeling that I could connect with someone. I’d spent twenty-two years building up my walls and trying to hide from intimacy, and there was something about Corbin that just seemed so open.

Across from me, Elaine leaned on the diner counter inside what used to be Reba’s Diner and gave me a quizzical look. A half-hour ago, I’d finished up making all the desserts Evangeline’s would be serving and had driven over to the diner during my break. For me, a break meant not working on ordering supplies or working up the staffing schedules at Evangeline’s but instead doing a little deep cleaning at the diner, preparing it for next month when I moved in.

A few days ago, despite the fact I hadn’t yet earned the full $15,000 and my loan wasn’t final yet, Elmer Lamell had already given me a key and permission to get the place ready for Aimee’s Decadent Desserts. Elaine had noticed me through the dingy window (I needed to clean that until it sparkled before the big move) and had popped in to say hello. I enjoyed having her help, especially since she was going to be helping me with the business, running the front of the house. Her mother had already promised to babysit little Bryan while she worked.

“You have something on your face,” Elaine said, narrowing her eyes at me.

I swiped a hand over my face. “Chocolate or flour?”

“Neither. You’re wearing a particularly goofy expression I have never seen on you before. Might this have something to do with that tall, dark and handsome bassist in your uncle’s band I’ve been hearing about?”

“He’s not in the band,” I hedged. “At least, not permanently. He just helped Bayou Beaux out with a gig in Austin, and with their Tuesday night show at Evangeline’s.”

“You’re forgetting a few details. Like the rumor that he jumped into that nasty bayou to wrestle a gator on one of your tours just to impress you. And the rumor that he’s living in the same house as you, which is causing the entire town to speculate.” Elaine narrowed her eyes and leaned in closer, staring intently at me. “And, more importantly, you aren’t telling me why you’re turning beet-red during this conversation.”

My eyes went wide, even though they shouldn’t have. Pontmaison was a tiny town. One person’s business was everyone’s. I shouldn’t have been surprised that the entire town knew there’d been a near-fatal accident on Earl’s tours, or that the gossip had already spread that Corbin was living out at Miss Cecily’s. I mean, I had planned to tell Elaine all about Corbin anyway, but still, it was weird that somehow our whole relationship had become fodder for the whole town.

“He didn’t wrestle a gator. He jumped in to save a woman who fell. Nothing chomped on anyone.”

“Fine,” Elaine added, still chuckling. “But what about the fact he’s staying at Miss Cecily’s boarding house? Is that rumor true?” she waggled her eyebrows at me and gave me an over exaggerated wink.

I felt the heat rise on my cheeks. “Actually, yes. But our rooms are on different sides of the house and they lock independently.”

“So, how has him staying at the boarding house really gone?” Her voice went low and quiet on that question, and I knew what she meant by “gone.”

Scrubbing at an old stain on the counter to buy time, I tried to figure out my answer. There was nothing I was sure of, not yet, but the connection we’d had yesterday and into last night felt so real. I had to share it with someone and Miss Cecily had been up early this morning and out gathering her herbs. I trusted Elaine not to spread anything, even if gossip was the number one commodity in Pontmaison.

“We did do some things,” I admitted coyly.

“Seriously?” Elaine asked. “Like, how far did you go?” When I waggled my eyebrows, mimicking how she had done it earlier, she squealed with delight. “Good for you, honey. You need a little loving in your life.”

I snorted at the word “loving.” When Elaine gave me a quizzical look, I tried to explain. “Corbin’s only in Pontmaison for a couple of months. It’s just a fling between us. The word ‘love’ will never be a part of what we are.”

“‘We’?” Elaine emphasized the word, and her smile went to a frown. Concern laced her eyes. “Honey, you’ve never referred to you and a guy as a ‘we’ before. And you’ve only known this Corbin dude for a couple of days. I worry about you. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Neither did I. “I’m not my mother,” I said quickly. “I don’t ever get so worked up over a man that I can’t cope.”

“No,” she said slowly, “you never have before. But there’s always a first time.”

I shook my head. “Not with this.” I pointed to my heart. “I won’t get hurt.”

“Promise you’ll protect yourself?” Elaine asked.

I snorted and waved a hand airily even as I felt my chest tighten. “No need. It’s just a fling. Corbin is amazingly attractive, attentive and more than capable in bed, and a nice guy, too, but he’s going to be gone soon. I’m up for a good time, but nothing more. We—”

I caught myself. There I went again, making Corbin and I into a “we.” Maybe Elaine was right, and I did need to protect myself better. Because although white picket fences and babies weren’t exactly dancing around in my imagination, the idea of Corbin and I together as a real couple was. Now how had that thought slipped past my defenses? And how do I get that thought out? I had to wonder.

I cleared my throat, pretending I’d stopped my sentence because of dust, then said, “Corbin and I have set up the parameters—two months, and that’s it. No other sexual partners during the time, and we walk away with no regrets, no commitment.” Well, we hadn’t made things that clear between us, but I felt confident what I told Elaine was the truth.

“I’m serious,” she said, reaching out to take my hands. “You’re going to be okay, right?”

“Of course. I was nervous too, when he first hit on me, and when I found out we were at the boarding house together. Then he saved that woman’s life, and he’s been so kind. Miss Cecily gave him a gift, like a charm or something, a rock on a leather band to wear around his neck, and he’s worn it. For her.”

“That’s cool,” Elaine said, even though there was hesitation still in her voice, and I could understand that. I got that Elaine was looking out for me.

“He’s not like the other guys in Pontmaison, and he’s not even like the band guys that breeze in here to play Evangeline’s. There’s a lot more to him than that.”

“Sounds like you really care for him.”

I was silent for a moment, letting Elaine’s words sink in. I did care for Corbin. More than I had about any other guy I’d gone out with. Besides the insane attraction, there was an ease, a sense of respect between us, despite the short amount of time we’d known each other.

“I really do care about him,” I admitted. “I even explained to him about my mom, how she’s never been around and goes whacko over random musicians, and he understood. I was a little worried that her past would be like a big, cold bucket of water on him, that he’d just run away or, worse, that he’d laugh at me.”

“And he didn’t, of course. Sounds like he’s not like any of the guys you’ve ever dated.” She pulled a face. “Like Brad. Ew.”

“You thought Brad was cute back in high school,” I reminded her. “In fact, you were the one who told me to go out with him in the first place.”

“I do occasionally make mistakes,” she said, with a fake haughtiness. “That was one of the few.”

“He’s still bugging me to go out with him, you know. In fact, he asked me to go to Tallulah’s wedding as his date.”

“No!” Elaine exclaimed. Then she frowned. “You’re not, right? I mean, that guy…”

“Of course not,” I reassured her, then frowned, remembering Elmer Lamell’s odd excitement over his son asking me out.

“What is it?” Elaine asked. When I shook my head, she added, “Tell me, Aimee.”

I sighed, then shared how Elmer seemed to want me to go to Tallulah’s wedding with Brad. “You don’t think he’d pull out of our business deal if I don’t date his son, right? I mean, I have to be imagining things.”

“You have good instincts, Aimee, and they’ve served you well. Those instincts are what’s gotten you this far. Not all of us are business owners in our early twenties, doing what they love. So if you think Elmer Lamell might make life tough for you if you don’t date his son, you might be right. According to Cindy, Nancy down at the beauty parlor told Betty over at the general store that Elmer hated Brad’s last girlfriend, mostly because he doesn’t want Brad moving to New York with her. He wants to find Brad a new woman, to get married and settle down. There aren’t that many single women around Brad’s age in town, besides you. Elmer probably thinks you’re his only hope.”

I groaned. “But I could never love Brad. He doesn’t…”

“Doesn’t what?”

“Doesn’t make me feel alive.”

“Does this new guy, Corbin, make you feel that way?” Elaine asked gently. When I swallowed and nodded, she gave me a sweet smile. “Then I’m glad you’re with him.”

For the next two months, that is. For an instant, worry curdled my stomach before I pushed the concern away. “He said I put love in my baking,” I confided.

“You do. And Aimee’s Decadent Desserts is going to be fabulous.” She waved a hand to gesture to the empty space, and for a moment, I could see what it would look like in the future. The old, tarnished chrome fixtures and table legs would be shining, the Formica countertop replaced with a warm, wood bar Uncle Daniel had promised to build for me. The cracked vinyl seats in the booths would be recovered in black leather, along with the seats on the chairs. I planned to paint the walls a light dove grey and to add decorations with a little pop of orange and green.

“What have you made for him?” Elaine asked.

“He had one slice of my huckleberry pie. We have a date—” I stopped myself and corrected the term. I was sleeping with the man, not dating him. “A meeting over at Evangeline’s at noon today. I’m serving him up a little bit of everything I made this morning. Give him a taste of what I have to offer.”

Elaine giggled and fanned herself. “Good grief, Aimee. There you go with those sexual innuendos again. You do recall I have a toddler and therefore no sex life, right? I mean, I love Dirk but he’s not exactly a Casanova these days.”

“Little Bryan won’t be a toddler forever,” I said, chuckling. “You and Dirk will get your groove back soon.”

“I hope you’re right,” she said. “I envy you some of the magic you have with this Corbin guy. Sometimes it’s not so easy finding the romance in a relationship when you’ve known your husband since you were both in diapers. Where’s Corbin from, anyway?”

“I’m not entirely sure,” I admitted. “I do know he came in by way of Austin and he said he grew up in Minnesota. Seemed like there was a story there. Maybe one he’ll share with me. There’s just so much hiding underneath the surface there, and I can’t wait to explore who he is.”

“Oh, I’d explore some things with your gator fighting bass player, sweetie,” Elaine said, now smirking hugely.

“I think I’ll take your advice,” I surreptitiously checked the time on my cell phone. No bars on the phone as usual, but the clock still worked: 9:15. I still had plenty of time to clean up the diner some more, drive the couple of miles back to Evangeline’s, make sure I had no flour on my nose or chocolate on my shirt, and set up for my date with Corbin.

It’s not a date, I reminded my quivering tummy. Geez, I was a mess.

“Just be careful, you hear? It’s a tough life, sweetie, but I’m glad for you. You deserve happiness.”

Nodding, I picked at the peeling polish on my nails. I’d have to add more pink to them. Normally, I touched them up on those rare moments I had time between my various jobs, but for the first time, I actually had someone to make the effort for. I wanted to. I wanted to show Corbin that he made me feel desirable, made me want to get gussied up as my grandmother would have said.

I had to hope I wasn’t wanting too much.

* * *

Corbin

After loading up on the carb fest, I helped Miss Cecily wash the dishes by hand—apparently the woman didn’t believe in dishwashers, but I was cool with it since it reminded me of doing dishes with Grandma Brigitta when I was young. Gran would put albums on the old Victrola as we stood side-by-side at the old farmhouse sink, washing dishes in sudsy soap up to our elbows, with Gran teaching me to sing all manners of songs, from 1940s swing to ’50s bebop, and even old folk songs. My gran had a lovely voice, all warm and throaty, like the words were pouring over velvet. The memory was as warm as her voice.

After the breakfast dishes were washed and dried, Miss Cecily announced she was headed into the swamp to look for herbs and would be gone for several hours. I’d found a list she’d written for a handyman, and started in on the few minor repairs around the old house I knew I was capable of completing, such as replacing light bulbs and hammering down a few floorboards on the verandah. My great grandfather Orin had taught me how to wield a hammer at a young age, and soon the veranda no longer had lose boards.

I was about to put away the tools when my phone rang. Cell reception was spotty and unpredictable, but it looked like I’d managed to grab the single bar of cell service available in the entire parish for once. Grabbing the cell, I frowned as I saw my friend Jason’s name on the screen.

“Hey man,” I said, putting the call on Speaker and holding perfectly still on Miss Cecily’s verandah so I wouldn’t lose the cell signal.

“Fuck, Corbin, I’ve been trying to reach you for days.”

I flicked open my Text app and noticed multiple missed texts from Jason. “Shit. Sorry again,” I said, and meant it. “There’s crap cell service where I’m at. I didn’t see your texts. What’s going on?”

“What’s going on? My fucking bassist got arrested.”

“Seems like Thrasherville has a habit of hiring bassists who insist on getting themselves arrested,” I said, alluding to the only time I’d ended up in the slammer, back when I was playing on Thrasherville’s first tour. That had been before Point Break, of course. “What did Nick do?”

“Same thing you did to get yourself behind bars. He ended up getting into a fight last night. A bar full of people got to watch as he broke a bottle and went after some guy who’d yelled out that Thrasherville sucked.”

I let out a long, low whistle. I’d used fists during my fight, not glass shards. Nick was a great bass player, but not too bright when it came to fighting. “You bail him out?” I asked.

“It gets worse,” Jason said. “Nick cut the guy. He’ll have to do some time. Which means I have no bassist.”

I wasn’t sure I liked the direction this conversation was going. “You’re not on tour, right?”

“Nope,” Jason said, but before I could relax, he added, “We’re recording our fourth album, up in Chicago. It’s good—best shit we’ve put together ever. But we have two more songs to record before the album’s complete. I need a bassist.”

“Did you try Vinnie? How about Tommy?” I asked, naming a couple of studio bass players who could do a better than decent job in the studio.

“Vinnie’s in LA doing a gig out there, and Tommy’s hooked on horse and hasn’t been worth a damn in months. Our producer has given us an extra few days in the studio to finish up, but if we don’t complete the album…” He left the rest unsaid, but I knew what the recording meant to him and Thrasherville. Completing the album would mean the difference between success and complete failure.

My friend needed me, but I didn’t want to leave Aimee. “I’m in Nowhere, Louisiana,” I prevaricated.

“What are you doing there?”

“I…the point is that I was taking the summer off after the world tour. You sure you can’t find anyone else to help you finish recording those songs?”

“I mean, I hate to do this to you, Corbin, but whose couch were you on when your band back in Chicago failed and you couldn’t make rent for six months?”

I searched my mind for another bassist who could handle the heavy sounds Thrasherville put out, and who was decent enough in the studio to cover for that asshat Nick. “What about Chomper Langly? Chomps does a great job in the studio, and he probably has the time. See, there’s this girl, and—”

Jason laughed. “Bro, there’s tons of girls in Chicago. I’m sure more than the entire population of Louisiana. Plus, they’re hot.”

I heard the assumption in his tone—the dig at Louisiana girls, the insinuation that whomever I was interested in here in Louisiana could be easily replaced. I wanted to slam my fist on the phone. I’d only known her a few days. Only slept with her once. But already I knew Aimee Bodine was special, unique. Irreplaceable. And the most beautiful woman I’d ever laid eyes on. There wasn’t any girl I’d met yet who was even close to as amazing as she was. Last night had been special for me—Aimee was special to me. “So is my girl,” I ground out.

“Damn it, Corbin, you know it has to be you. You’re the best bassist I’ve ever seen. I know you came late to Point Break, but you’re a huge part of its success and anyone who thinks otherwise is nuts. Give us a day, and then you can be back to all your barbeque and gator round-ups.”

“I…”

“Man, please, if it weren’t a shit show, I wouldn’t call you. And I hate to do this to you, but you did make me a solemn promise when I spent my very last dime to bail you out that all I had to do was call in a favor.” He sighed, and I could hear the regret in his tone when he said, “This is me, calling in that chip.”