official wedding consultation.
They—and “they” included the girls and their fiancés, Ellie, Leo, Cora, and Zeke and Zander—had introduced her to Bayou Whiskey, i.e., the moonshine Leo made behind his house.
That was a not-very-nice thing to do to a woman you wanted to help you with the biggest day of your life, and the girls had been apologetic the next day when Paige had shown up at the tour office looking like, well, an Iowa girl who’d accidentally gotten wasted on moonshine. Or paint thinner. Leo’s moonshine could be that too. It was also a great de-icer for windows when it got particularly chilly.
Thankfully, Cora had the perfect hangover remedy. That, along with some grits—yes, she’d eaten grits and loved them—had gotten Paige back to near-normal by noon, and Owen had declared her well on her way to being a bayou girl.
She hadn’t even winced at that idea. In fact, she’d grinned, almost proudly.
And she’d been glowing since then.
That made Mitch want her even more than he had before.
Her being involved was one thing. Her clearly loving it was another. And his family embracing her and including her, even when his sorry ass was sitting at home alone—well, with grumpy Griffin and the five cats—made him want her with an ache that he wasn’t sure he could ever fully relieve.
But he hadn’t so much as seen her naked breasts since the day in the shower.
The girls had needed wedding planning consultations that ran very late and fell, not-at-all-coincidentally, on Tuesday nights and Saturdays. All-day long.
Last Saturday, they’d all gone to New Orleans shopping and had ended up at Trahan’s bar in the French Quarter. Trahan’s was owned by two of Josh’s best friends, and the girls had ended up there on Erotic Book Club night, which they’d been invited to join. Along with half-price drinks, because they were Josh, Owen, and Sawyer’s fiancés, the girls hadn’t called Josh for a ride home until well after midnight.
It seemed when Paige’s free time wasn’t occupied with something wedding-related, Cora needed help with her plants or new cream recipes.
Both Friday nights since he’d taken Paige out on the bayou, Kennedy and Maddie had gotten Paige very drunk at the crawfish boil, and she’d wanted to stay for the dancing.
Then last Friday, Paige and Ellie had gotten into a loud, fairly ridiculous argument about the inhumane treatment of crawfish.
But ridiculous or not, it had somehow led to Paige crashing on Ellie and Leo’s couch and having French toast with them the next morning rather than spending the night in Mitch’s bed.
He knew none of it was accidental. He’d made the mistake of telling his family upfront what Paige’s plans were for her stay in Autre, and now that they sincerely liked her, they were going to help her not get any more involved with him.
Apparently, that included keeping her from spending too much time alone with him. And definitely included keeping her fully clothed whenever he was around.
His family was a huge pain in his ass.
“Damn, we should sell tickets for this encounter,” Owen said. He was leaning on the new fence that surrounded the otter enclosure.
“You think anyone else would be as into it as we are?” Mitch slid his cousin a look.
Owen’s gaze was firmly on Maddie. Where she was bending over in the middle of the grassy space that took up this end of the otter enclosure.
“I mean, I know I’m biased, but fuck yeah,” Owen said appreciatively.
“Don’t think yoga is supposed to be a spectator sport,” Sawyer said with a frown. He was leaning in next to Owen. He was scowling.
Juliet looked as hot as Maddie did in her yoga gear. But that was probably what was making Sawyer scowl. He was more than a little possessive of his fiancée, and no doubt hated the idea of anyone else ogling her.
Not that it was keeping him from ogling her. At all.
Josh was next to Sawyer, his eyes firmly on Tori.
Kennedy and Bennett were leaning on the fence, too, watching the entire scene in front of them.
Otter yoga had finally happened.
The otters had moved into the finished enclosure two days ago. They’d been climbing and sliding and swimming and chattering to Griffin in what could only be excited gratitude every time he came in to feed and check on them. He’d said he’d never heard them louder. Griffin had said it with a put-upon tone—how Griffin said most things, especially otter related things—but Mitch had been quietly thrilled the critters were so