Page 11 of Grudge Match

Chapter Twelve

“Apple cider pancakes?” My brain explodes, and I stare, stunned, at the chalkboard menu outside a tiny café named Polly’s. A small flag of Vermont flies beneath the wooden sign above the door and the man at the host desk is wearing a flannel shirt. Why have I never heard of this place before?

“Are you excited or horrified?” Elodie waves her tiny hand across my face to bring my attention back to her. “We can go somewhere else if you like. I just thought you’d like a taste of home.”

“Not a chance, baby. How the hell do you get in my head so easily?” I roughly pull her into my arms, hold her face and seal my lips to hers. Her kiss tastes like candy. It’s so sweet, my stomach growls, and my taste buds tingle. When I feel her moan vibrate against my tongue, my cock springs back to life. I thought I had it under control after she accidentally rubbed against it on the train, but it refuses to cooperate. I’m not sure if it’ll go down all the way until I make her come with my cock seated tightly inside her.

She smiles and takes my hand, leading me past the long line of young women waiting outside the restaurant. As we head inside, the teenagers at the front holler profanities and accuse us of cutting line. But Elodie quickly puts them in their place.

“We have reservations, toots,” Elodie hisses, rolling her eyes when they start to boo. “Enjoy the cold. Next time use their app. It takes two seconds.” She throws her head back with an exaggerated laugh and tugs me inside.

I love letting her lead. God knows I’d follow her anywhere.

“Hey, Jake. You’ve got me down, don’t you?” A searing hot rush of jealousy stabs my heart as Elodie rises on the balls of her feet to give this guy Jake a hug. He’s a total beefcake with shoulder-length wavy hair and an overgrown beard. If this wasn’t our first date and I wasn’t trying to play it cool, I’d punch him on the side of the head for holding her a few seconds too long.

“You know I always have room for you,” Jake says, smiling from ear to ear as he grabs two menus from under his stand and gestures for us to follow him.

I don’t like him. These pancakes better be out of this world, or we may never return.

“How’s business?” Elodie continues to make small talk with Jake as he leads us to a small booth in the back. Looking around, I notice something odd about their clientele. Almost every patron is a female under forty, and every waiter is a gruff-looking man—bearded, buff, and tattooed, dressed in flannel and tight-fitting jeans.

“Business is good. I know you saw the line outside.” Jake smirks and gives Elodie a high-five.

“This is my friend, Deacon. He’s from my hometown.” Elodie slides into the booth and gives me a wink as I slip into the opposite side. “We’re here for the apple cider pancakes, like real Vermonters.” She lifts the menu and hides the bottom of her face with it. Although I can’t see her mouth, I can tell by her eyes that she’s smiling wide.

“Great to meet you, man.” Jake shakes my hand and leaves us to grab two cups of what Elodie claims is the best coffee in town.

According to Madame Colette, Elodie and I make the perfect match. Elodie may have introduced me as her friend, but that won’t last long. All I need to do is give fate a slight push.

“What’s up with this place?” I ask as I take in the New England ambiance and wonder why so many women are attracted to a place like this. They should put it in the New York Guide for Single Men if such a brochure exists.

Elodie perks up and reclines in her seat, laying her menu on the table. “You mean the girls? Why does a small cafe with a Vermont theme resemble a Taylor Swift concert?” She stops to allow our ruggedly handsome blond server to hand us our coffees.

“Precisely.”

“It’s the servers.” Elodie waves her hand, gesturing to the male models serving their adoring fans plates of Vermont fare. “Romance books are huge with this demographic. Over the last few years, new bookstores dedicated solely to this genre have cropped up all over the city.”

Confused, I continue to stare at her, perplexed beyond comprehension.

“Lumberjacks are huge right now,” she declares, believing she’s enlightened me.

“What does that mean?” I take a sip of the best coffee I’ve had in years and lean forward, wanting to know more. Everything Elodie does is magic. Everything she chooses makes me feel closer to home.

“Sorry. I know I’m not making sense. Ramona and I gave Jake this idea one of the first times we dined here. Women love romance books, and right now, lumberjacks are one of the favorite kinds of heroes. Jake has six brothers, each one hotter than the other.” She pauses when I narrow my gaze and clear my throat. I don’t need to hear her describe another man as hot.

“Get on with it,” I rasp through gritted teeth.

“Yes. Sorry. There’s a bookstore just around the corner and a lot of women pass by hot and bothered from reading multiple excerpts about burly men swinging axes. I suggested Jake dress his brothers up in tight flannel shirts and blue jeans to fit in with the whole Vermont-y mountain man theme. And voilá, the place is a hit. I think I missed my calling in marketing.” Elodie lifts her cup and waits for me to clink mine against it. The smile in my heart reaches my lips and I carefully tap her mug. I’d give anything to do this every morning for the rest of my life.

“You’re quite clever. Maybe too clever for your own good,” I say as I spot our server bringing two stacks of pancakes our way. The aroma makes my mouth water. I'd fall right now if I wasn’t already in love with this little girl.

“Thank you, I’ve always thought so.” Elodie lifts her fork and knife and wiggles her behind in an adorable happy dance. I don’t know how God could have made anyone more perfect for me.

As we dig in, I finally ask her the question that’s been on my mind since last night. “Where would you like to go? According to Madame Colette’s rules, if you and I have a good time, we can choose a location for an all-expenses-paid trip.” I’ve never really gone anywhere between school and work, but I want her to choose the destination. As long as I get to go along for the ride, she can’t pick a wrong place. I’d settle for Disneyworld if it meant a week with Elodie Bernard.

“If it’s up to me, I’d love to see Paris. My family is French Canadian and everyone speaks of Paris like it’s the promised land. It’s also the place I’d like to study under a master pâtissier. Where do you want to go?” She angles her head and her soft gaze meets mine.

“I’ll go where you go,” I state confidently and shamelessly. I’ve fallen too hard to pretend I’m not crazy about her.

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