been fired and had offered him a job as her partner in her vet practice, which had been growing steadily since she’d come to Autre.
Everyone loved Tori.
She was sweet and loving and patient and smart and went above and beyond for every one of her patients.
Griffin was… smart. And fiercely dedicated to animals.
But he was not sweet or patient.
And he thought goats and otters were a waste of his talents. Evidently.
In spite of the fact that the otters loved him. Like loved him. Followed him around, squeaked, and talked to him as if he was some kind of otter celebrity, begged for his attention.
It was hilarious.
To Mitch. And everyone else. Except Griffin.
But no, he didn’t need to worry about Griffin hitting on Paige. He wouldn’t do that to Mitch. Even if he was inclined to try to be flirtatious or charming or even friendly. Which Mitch couldn’t imagine, frankly.
“I’m… going to make breakfast,” Mitch finally said. He was going to ignore the thought that if he and Paige weren’t involved, then it wasn’t really an issue if another man flirted with her anyway. “Do you want anything?”
She shook her head. “I brought my shake mixes. I’ll just make one after I’m done.” Then she frowned. “Oh, but you probably don’t have almond milk.”
“I don’t.”
“How about spinach or kale?”
“Uh, no.” He actually grinned at that. “But we can go to the store later.”
“You can just tell me how to get there. I can go.”
“I’ll take you.”
“You don’t have to.”
He blew out a breath. “I know. But you’re new to town and my roommate, and I should take you to the store the first time. I took Griffin.”
She finally nodded. “Okay.”
“And I can see if Cora has spinach. I’m sure there’s no kale.” No one in Autre ate kale. He’d put money on it. “But she might have spinach or, at least, vegetables.”
Paige smiled at that. “You don’t have vegetables here?”
“No.”
“Fruit?”
He shrugged. “No.”
“What do you eat?”
“I eat at Ellie’s almost every meal but breakfast. And sometimes that too. If I’m here, I’ll make a sandwich or eggs or cereal.”
“And Cora is?”
“My grandma’s best friend, and the main cook at Ellie’s.”
Paige nodded. “Got it. Well, don’t bother her. I’ll be okay until we go to the store.”
“You sure?”
“What will her reaction be to someone asking for spinach for a protein shake for breakfast?” she asked.
He thought about that. Then nodded. “She would probably be okay with it. But she’d want to add grits on the side.”
Paige grinned. “Right.”
“And probably put cheese and lots of butter in them.”
Her smile grew. “Yeah, I might skip the grits.”
Mitch felt himself relax a little. He wanted her. With an intensity that still surprised him. But he also liked her. And having her here, taking care of her, felt good.
“How about eggs? I’ll scramble them and put nothing on them.”
“Egg whites?” she asked.
He sighed as if put upon. “I guess.”
“Thanks.” She just looked at him for a long moment. “I appreciate it. Everything.”
He was glad she felt like coming here was a good thing. But he wasn’t sure if “everything” included not getting more involved and spending every night in bed together.
Because he didn’t want her to feel like that was a good idea. Exactly.
“I’ll let you know when they’re done,” he said.
“Thanks.” She pivoted on her back foot and went back to stretching.
Her sweet ass right there in those yoga pants that concealed nothing. Including the fact, she was not wearing underwear.
With a muttered curse, Mitch headed into the kitchen.
It was just seven months.
It was going to be the longest seven months of his life.
He made it through breakfast and her showering.
They were alone in the house. They’d already had sex. Several times.
It was his idea to keep the physical stuff out of their relationship.
Twenty-four hours ago, he would have headed upstairs and joined her, putting her up on the counter and making her come with his mouth before fucking her in the shower as the water rained down on them.
Now he was sitting in his kitchen, nursing another cup of coffee, and reading the newspaper.
As if news about a four-alarm fire or a big jazz festival in New Orleans could keep his attention away from the naked woman upstairs.
He did wonder if his friends Caleb and James, firefighters stationed at the house just on the edge of the French Quarter, had been at the fire. But jazz festivals in NOLA were as common as food festivals. Two things that city loved were its music and its