CHAPTER FOUR

Aimee

Luckily, just as Elmer and Brad were waiting for me to answer, Remy interrupted us and started a conversation, allowing me to give a quick smile and escape. Still worrying about my loan being pulled out from under me, I served a few more tables then scanned the room. Elmer had taken a seat, but Brad leaned against the bar staring at me, and it seemed obvious he planned on waiting me out to finish our conversation.

Shit. I quickly looked away just as I heard my uncle announce that the band was going to play its last song. Turning, I glanced at the stage, my breath catching when I saw Hot Guy looking at me. Then he winked at me in the cutest most adorable way, and that’s when I made my decision.

I hustled to get Elmer his pie, dropped it off real quick like so he didn’t have time to ask me anything about Brad’s wedding invitation, then as soon as the band finished their song, I made a bee line for Corwin-Corbin-Whatever and smiled at him. “Awesome set!” I said, then blushed at how lame I sounded, like some groupie or something.

But Hot Guy just smiled, which of course made warmth flare in my belly. Mental sirens went off, with words of warning: I can look, but so long as he’s a musician, don’t flip out over this guy. That’s what Mom does, and I’m not her.

“Really?” he asked, a boyish expression on his face, as if he was eager to believe my compliment. “I’ve never played zydeco before I met the band in Austin. It’s exciting music. I hope I did it justice.”

“I’d say. Daniel only lets people who can feel the music play with him, and he seemed to be loving what you were playing up there.”

“Good. So, did you decide it’s a yes on that drink?” he asked, and damn if he didn’t have a cute smirk.

Danger! Danger! Red lights flashed inside my head. Then I caught sight of Brad heading toward us and I moved forward with my plan. I linked my arm through Hot Guy’s elbow and said, “I’d love to have a drink with you.”

I practically dragged him to the other end of the bar and I nodded toward Remy to push a few brews our way.

“So,” I said, glancing up at the gorgeous, soulful eyes of the bad boy in front of me. “Your name is ‘Corwin?’”

He tilted his head and grinned huge. “Actually it’s Corbin.”

“Sorry. I was a bit flustered when you introduced yourself. You know, on account of being all tangled in chairs and lying on the ground.”

“That’s not normally how I introduce myself, but it worked.” His grin was infectious, and I found myself smiling dopily up at him before he added, “And I suck at names, anyway. I’m still trying to remember half the band’s names. Cindy and Daniel I have down, but I can’t remember the guy with the beehive for a beard or the guy with the trumpet.”

“Zeke has the beard, Jimmy plays brass, and Aga is the older woman with the long grey hair. They all come and go. Sometimes Uncle Daniel plays things bare bones and sometimes, like tonight, he goes all hog wild and brings in the brass too. It’s a roller coaster to get used to.” I gestured around the slowly emptying roadhouse. “But that roller coaster keeps Evangeline’s in the green.”

Corbin took a long draw off his beer, gazing at me quizzically. I was about to ask him if I had something on my nose when he said, “I thought you ran this place. But you also wait tables?”

Remy, who’d been washing glasses behind the bar, piped up. “Yep, she does both. And she serves as a swamp tour guide out at Gator Ventures. Plus, she makes all the desserts we serve at Evangeline’s. Besides the music, Evangeline’s known for what our girl here can do with sugar or chocolate.”

“Wait,” Corbin exclaimed, “you’re the one who baked that amazing pie? One of the band members gave me a slice during our break. That was the best damned pie I’ve ever tasted.”

“Thank you. That was my huckleberry pie. One of the town’s favorites.”

“You try any of her other goodies?” Remy asked.

When Corbin slid his gaze to me, his eyelids half lowered and a sparkle dancing in his eyes, I felt myself blush. “Uh, no,” Corbin said slowly, his smile widening, “but I hope to.”

Heat radiated through me, sending me off-kilter, and in a good way. No! Corbin was sexy, sensual, good looking, and in actuality quite sweet, but I didn’t need a musician in my life.

But what about in my bed? Just temporarily? After all, he’d said he was only in town for a week.

But that’s how trouble started. I needed to be smart.

Even though being smart all the time was boring.

Gah. I couldn’t seem to stop arguing both sides where Corbin was concerned.

Suddenly, I realized Corbin and Remy were both staring at me. My mind scrambled to remember what we’d just been talking about. Oh right. My other goodies and how Corbin wanted to try them.

“I also made cheesecake, cookies, chocolate truffles, and baked a cake,” I said, and Remy rolled his eyes and walked away.

Corbin whistled. “You baked all that? Today?”

“Sure.” I shrugged. “Although technically, truffles aren’t baked.”

“How did you make all that stuff and manage Evangeline’s? And wait tables?”

Despite the fact I was enjoying my time with Corbin, I suddenly fought back a yawn. Seems like I’d been doing that all night, but for good reason. “I got in here at five thirty this morning. Baked all the goodies, got the ganache for the truffles going, then worked on Evangeline’s accounting and scheduling until mid-afternoon, formed and coated the truffles, then waited tables until, well, until now.”

Corbin glanced up at the clock hanging behind the bar, which showed a quarter to two in the morning. A furrow dug into his brow. “But that’s…that’s over a twenty-hour shift. Damn, girl, your uncle was right: you need some sleep.”

“It’s been an unusual day. I don’t usually work the night shift, but our regular waitress called in sick. Someone had to cover.”

“Do you bake every day?”

Excitement buzzed around in my veins, the way it did every time I talked about my desserts. “I do for Evangeline’s weekdays except for Wednesdays—that’s when I do the tours on the bayou—and sometimes I come in on weekends to use the kitchen if I have a special order. People order birthday or wedding cakes, or desserts for dinner parties, that sort of thing.”

His gaze softened. “You love it, don’t you?”

I nodded, excitedly. “There’s nothing like it. Not for me, anyway. That sensation of kneading bread to make dinner rolls, or the taste of frosting I sneak when I’m decorating cakes, how chocolate glistens when heated to the perfect temperature. Rolling out pie dough. That scent of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies…” It took me a moment to realize I’d closed my eyes, dreaming of all my pastries. I flicked my eyes open to see Corbin staring at me with the same intense expression he’d had when we were looking at each other after crashing to the floor.

“I remember feeling that way,” he said quietly, almost to himself.

“What way?” I felt confused.

“Excited. Alive. Thrilled to be doing something you love.” He gave a quick snap back and forth of his head and his mouth formed a tight line. “Never mind. I was drifting in memories for a moment there. But enough about me. It’s clear you love baking. That pie? I could actually taste the love in it. Am I wrong?”

It felt hard to swallow. Sometimes it felt like no one really noticed how much making desserts set my soul on fire. I’d won some blue ribbons here or there in county fairs and people would notice that, and there was no shortage of people clamoring for my baked goods and saying they were the best they’d ever tasted, but no one ever really noticed what making those cakes and pies and everything else did for me. But Corbin had. This stranger who’d come into town to play his bass had seen more in me than people who’d known me my entire life.

“Aimee?” he asked, waving his hand in front of me. “Are you okay?”

I nodded. “Yeah. Sorry. Got a little lost in space there.”

“When did you discover baking was your passion? How did you know it made you feel so alive? And where are you going to go with it all?”

He seemed genuinely interested, and his questions had an almost wistful tone to them, as if he needed to understand. I opened my mouth to tell him about my plans to open my own bake shop when suddenly I got embarrassed.

Everything about Corbin got to me, and I had to stay strong. The plan had been to show interest in Corbin so Brad would lose interest in me.

Speaking of Brad… I tried to surreptitiously glance around to see if he was still at Evangeline’s, but Corbin’s body blocked my full view. I cleared my throat. “Actually, it might be time I head home. I just need to check something first.”

“You mean check if the deputy you were trying to avoid is still here?”

When my jaw dropped, he laughed.

“You knew?”

“That he was the reason you said yes to getting a drink with me? Yeah, I noticed that,” he said, taking a long swig of his beer and winking at me.

I winced. “He wants me to be his date to his sister’s wedding.”

“So you flirted with me to keep from telling him no.”

“I’m so sorry,” I said, swallowing. “That wasn’t very nice of me.”

He shrugged. “No worries. He’s gone now, and I wanted to talk to you anyway. And despite your ‘I don’t date musicians’ declaration, I think you wanted to talk to me, too.”

I sat there in stunned silence, thumbing the label on my unfinished beer. Corbin was just too tempting and that could lead to trouble, and someone in the Bodine family had to be sensible. Lord knew my uncle, with his crazy drive to play zydeco day in and day out, and my mother, with her fan-girl fantasies that resulted in one failed marriage after another, sure weren’t.

Despite my serious musings, I couldn’t help the sudden yawn that overtook me faster than I could whip my hand up to cover my mouth.

“Listen, beautiful lady,” Corbin said, leaning in closer to me. “I’d love to continue this conversation, but you’re exhausted. You should have gone home a few hours back. How about I put my number into your phone and you text me when you wake up in the morning?”

I stared at him, wanting to do just that, but then reason prevailed and I slowly shook my head. “I appreciate you having a drink with me even knowing why I agreed to it, Corbin, but you’re only going to be here a short time and I… I really don’t date musicians, and before you say you didn’t ask me out, I…well, I just don’t think it would be a good idea for us to talk or see each other. Outside of you playing in the bar while you’re here, I mean.”

Disappointment flickered in Corbin’s eyes before he nodded. “Okay. No offense taken. Sweet dreams, sweet Aimee.”

I gulped, then straightened and said, “Good night, Corbin.” Regret was a lead weight in my chest as I turned and headed back into the kitchen, but once again I told myself it was for the best. It might not feel good in the moment to be doing the right thing, but it would pay off in the end. I had dreams, dreams that were on the brink of coming true, and I couldn’t jeopardize them because of my attraction to Corbin.

No matter how much I wished things could be different.