Page 80 of More Than My Hometown

22

EWAN

I hit the landing leading to my apartment, my smile growing wider despite the pain radiating up my leg. The grin that I can’t stop, no matter what I do. Because about three hours ago, I had the wildest thought of my entire life.

I should have listened to my wife…

My wife.

Yeah, go figure.

Pausing, I lean against the railing, holding my leg out over the stairs to try and stretch it out, rolling my stiff ankle. My first full day out of the boot after nearly two weeks was not the success story I insisted it would be. That stupid plastic torture chamber might have given my foot the chance to rest and do whatever other restorative magic it needed to, but apparently that came with muscle aches and pains I was not anticipating. Maisey, however, knew better, trying to tell me that I should take the boot with me and ease back into regular footwear. But nope, I knew better.

Like I said, I should have listened to my wife.

Errr…girlfriend. Maisey’s not my wife.

Yet.

Still, I can’t help but smile at how that’s where my mind went so automatically. Or that no part of it scares me. The exact opposite actually. It excites me.

The cherry on top of a hell of a good day. One I can’t wait to tell her all about. Days like today I understand what my brothers mean when they talk about having it all. Because that’s exactly what this feels like.

Exactly what I thought when I hung up the phone this afternoon after getting the call that has the potential to change everything. My business. My life. Our future. To take everything to the next level, just like I told Maisey I’ve been hoping for.

Now I get to come home to her and share it all with her. I really do have it all.

Pushing forward, I grit my teeth and hide my hobble, not wanting to prove her right. I might be able to admit it in my head, but showing off the evidence is another story altogether.

“Maisey!” I exclaim, throwing the door to the apartment open. “You’re never going to guess who called! Auburn University! They⁠—”

I cut myself off, stopping just inside the front door, an intense aroma greeting me. Inhaling deeply, I let the medley of herbs and spices fill my nostrils, my stomach already eager to get in on the action. I’d know that smell anywhere.

That’s my mama’s country fried streak.

My favorite.

I walk into the apartment, the small entry opening up to the large open concept kitchen, all pretense of hiding my limp gone. I’m too focused on the scene before me.

Maisey’s blonde hair is piled on top of her head in the messiest bun I’ve ever seen, a streak of batter smeared across her left cheek, an intensity in her eyes normally reserved for things like the egg on spoon race on the Fourth of July. She’s so fucking adorable it’s taking every ounce of strength I have not to rush over to her, scoop her up, and kiss her until we both can’t breathe. Followed very promptly by licking the smudge off her cheek.

Then licking the rest of her.

The fully dressed table catches the corner of my eye—complete with placemats that I didn’t realize I owned—and tells me I should hold off though. That she’s up to something. Something that only makes me smile even harder. Because just when I thought it wasn’t possible to love her even more, she manages to surprise me.

“Is that country fried steak?”

Maisey startles, spinning around to face me, her eyes as wide as the cast iron skillet in front of her. Her face flushes, tingeing pink, as if I caught her with her hand in the cookie jar.

“And collards, mashed ’taters, and fried okra.” She nods to each one of the sides on the table, simultaneously sounding proud and self-conscious. “And then I’ve got a cobbler to throw into the oven for dessert.”

Holy shit…

“You’ve been…busy…”

I know it’s the wrong thing to say as soon as the words leave my mouth. That my reaction should be appreciation for her efforts, not something suspicious.

“Sorry,” I correct myself quickly, stepping into her and hauling her into my side. Pressing a kiss to the top of her head, I linger, letting the sweet scent of her, mixed with the distinct aroma of my favorite meal, swirl around us. “This all looks incredible.”