Page 25 of Landry

As she stared down into her daughter’s hopeful face, she realized this was why introducing men to her daughter was a bad idea. Landry was there to protect them. When there was no longer a threat, he’d move on to his next assignment. Ava would be crushed when he quit coming by, when he stopped taking her fishing, when he forgot about the little girl who hero-worshipped him for giving her a little bit of attention.

But in that moment, with Ava staring up at her with all the hope of a five-year-old in her eyes, she couldn’t crush her spirit.

Camille glanced across to Landry, knowing she was putting him on the spot. “It’s up to Mr. Landry.”

Ava turned to Landry. “Will you read my bedtime story? Please?”

Landry smiled gently. “I’d be honored.”

Camille let go of the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.

The man was doing all the right things to get completely under her skin. She’d do well to keep her perspective and expectations in check.

“Come on, princess,” she said. “If you want a story, you have to get a bath and into your PJs before it can start.”

Ava spun and half-ran, half-skipped toward the house, singing all the way.

Camille fell in step with Landry as they followed Ava to the house. “You don’t have to read her a story if you need to go.”

Landry reached for her hand and squeezed it gently. “I wasn’t lying when I said I’d be honored.”

Instead of letting go of her hand, he held it in his all the way back to the house and up the steps to the porch.

The gesture had Camille’s heart racing and a flock of butterflies flapping frantically in her belly. The man who’d been sent to check her window and door locks was holding her hand.

What did it mean?

Alternating between ragged breathing and holding her breath, Camille almost hyperventilated.

If Landry hadn’t released her hand to open the door, Camille might have embarrassed herself by collapsing in a heap at his feet.

As soon as he released her hand, she sucked in a breath, filled her lungs and revied her oxygen-starved braincells.

Holy hell. Was this what it would be like if she decided to start dating again?

Geez. This hadn’t even been a date.

Camille dove through the door, mumbling some excuse about hurrying her daughter through her bath. The truth was that she was terrified.

Not of Landry, or the fact he’d held her hand. She was terrified of the way her mind and body reacted to everything Landry had done that evening. She was even more panicked at how close she’d been to throwing herself into his arms and kissing him like there might not be a tomorrow.

Which might be the case at least for any kind of relationship between them.

Chapter 5

Landry could still feel the warmth of Camille’s skin as he descended the steps of the cottage. What had he been thinking when he’d offered to walk Camille and Ava home?

Hell, his descent into fantasy had started before the walk. After he’d stopped by the Crawdad Hole to ask questions of the bartender and waitresses who’d been at the bar the night before, he’d learned more about Camille than the men she’d danced with—the whole reason he’d gone there in the first place.

Neither the bartender nor the waitresses could give him the name of the tall man Camille had danced with. They all knew Todd Sneider and only had nice things to say about the man whose wife had walked out on him, and how happy they were that he’d learned to dance. He was a new man, and women all wanted to dance with him.

All the workers at the Crawdad Hole were quick to sing Camille’s praises. Not only was she an incredible candy maker, but she was also a good person. She volunteered at the animal shelter, encouraging her daughter to do the same. She gifted lonely elderly citizens of the parish with boxes of chocolates on Valentine’s Day and on their birthdays, cutting into her profit margins. She could have been keeping more money for herself or for buying her own house instead of renting.

One of the waitresses had rented the tiny apartment above the candy store for several months after she’d left her loser boyfriend, paying Camille in tip money for a lot less than the agreed-upon rent.

Camille hadn’t complained. She’d saved that rent money and given it back to the waitress when she’d had to replace her car because her old hunk of junk had needed a new engine. The money had made a decent down payment on a newer model, allowing the waitress to get to work and to the community college where she was studying to be a nurse.

They’d assured Landry that theirs weren’t the only stories of Camille’s good deeds. She was loved in the community. Nobody thought less of her because her ex-husband was a felon serving time in jail. Quite the opposite. They admired her strength for getting on with her life and building a business that supported her and her daughter. She insisted that she didn’t need the handouts she so readily gave to others who did.

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