Page 23 of Cajuns. Love. Curves.

But, most importantly, I’m avoiding Gators because the absolute last thing I want right now is to be mothered.

When Tripp broke up with me, my mom came into town and stayed for five straight days, feeding me an endless supply of fried shrimp and okra, gumbo, and bread pudding. And, yeah, she was deflecting.

Only a few months earlier, things went south for Wade while he was deployed. When Tripp broke up with me, Wade was still in a rehab facility a thousand miles away. Mama couldn’t smother him with love, so she did it for me. I get it.

Still her cooking is so damn good, by the time she left, I looked like I was trying to compete with Delany’s baby bump.

So, yeah. I’m avoiding my parents’ restaurant.

I only came to Saddle Creek for two reasons. One, to see Remy, since he’s on leave and I haven’t seen him in forever. Two, to pick up my best friend, Trevor, who was supposed to spend three days with me in Austin before coming with me on a business “vacation” to Belize on Monday.

The visit should have been quick. Get in and out before anyone even knows I’m here.

But, when do things ever go as planned?

I stopped at the local gas station, Fuel for Thought, on the way into town, because I’d been guzzling coffee the whole drive and needed to pee and brush my teeth before knocking Remy dead with my coffee breath. Of course, the second I got out of the car, I ran into Madison Crawford. I went to high school with Madison, so of course she wanted to catch up. And then I had to chat with Uncle Red, the aging hippie who owns Fuel for Thought. He’s not my uncle. That’s just what everyone in town calls him.

Uncle Red had never seen a Tesla. So, of course, I had to show him. And take him for a drive. By the time I actually got back into the car and heading for Ace’s, someone had updated the Saddle Peek on my return to town and my mother called to… well, mother me.

Because that was what I needed.

And then Trevor called, and things got even worse from there.

Suffice it to say, by the time I actually make it to Ace’s, plug in my car at the charger in the parking lot, and head into the bar, I am so over this damn town.

I’m hot and sweaty, because even though it’s May, and seven o’clock at night to boot, it’s over ninety. I’m annoyed at everyone and everything in Saddle Creek. I desperately want a glass of wine, but can’t have one, because I have to drive back tonight. And all of that is before I lay eyes on the smokin’ hot guy sitting with my brother.

My brother Remy looks up just as I enter, and a moment later he’s striding across the bar to wrap me in a hug.

Even though I return Remy’s hug, my attention is held by the other guy, who is scrolling through his phone and doesn’t even look up when Remy stands. He’s slouched in the chair, long legs stretched out, tangled in the legs of the chair opposite him.

He’s got on cargo shorts and a dark blue t-shirt the color of one of those ocean sink holes I’ve seen in the pictures of Belize. That shirt is stretched over his shoulders like someone made it promise on its mother’s grave that it would cling to his shoulders no matter what.

And, yeah, I know t-shirts don’t have mothers. I’m just saying. There’s a kind of desperation required to look that damn good.

I know who the owner of these magnificent shoulders is, of course.

Nick Capsalis.

My brother’s best friend since they went through BUD/S training together. He’s a year or two younger than my brother. Since he has no family left, my parents have practically adopted him. He’s made it to family holidays and visits them when he’s on leave.

He and I have even written back and forth, which felt like the least I could do, since we’ve never met in person due, mostly, to poor timing.

Of course, I expected him to be hot. Most SEALs are. No one stays that fit without looking good. And no one goes through that kind of shit without earning some serious swagger.

Remy guides me over to the table as Nick stands.

Even though I feel like I know Nick, I’m not sure how to greet him. Thankfully, he doesn’t seem to have that concern. He pulls me into a hug like we’ve known each other for years.

“Hey, Butterscotch,” he murmurs into my hair. “Nice to finally meet you.”

I sock him in the arm. “Enough with that nickname.”

He chuckles. “Hey, I’m going to grab another.”

Remy nods, raising a finger to indicate he wants another. “Did you see the latest in the Saddle Peek?”

Dammit. I just sat down, and he’s already starting with this shit? At least it keeps me from watching Nick walk away like a cartoon with her tongue lolling out of her mouth.

---