Page 52 of Landry

The cool water chilled his desire yet instilled little clarity in his situation. Logic still warred with desire, losing the battle.

Landry dried off, put on the same clothing he’d worn the day before and left the bathroom. A quick check on Ava assured him that she was still asleep.

Back out in the hallway, he alerted Remy to the situation with Billy Ray. Remy assured him he’d have his guys on the lookout for the kid, keeping it on the downlow so as not to scare the boy away.

With the call complete, Landry turned toward the kitchen, both dreading working with Camille and excited to be with her again. Being in her presence had such a bipolar effect on him. Hot for her body yet chilled at how it could be if he were anything like his father. He knew he shouldn’t spend so much time with her but wanted all the minutes in her company.

While his head said back off, his feet carried him into the kitchen and the magical effect she had on him.

For the next hour, he stirred saucepans full of sugar and water while Camille mixed the ingredients for pie pastry.

When the sugar water reached the desired temperature, she added the remaining ingredients to the sugar water. As the concoction thickened, she scooped spoonful after spoonful of the hot, sticky candy onto parchment paper to cool and harden.

As soon as she placed the last of the sticky solution on the paper, she returned to the dough. Within a few quick moments, she’d kneaded and rolled it out, making it perfectly thin and round before fitting it into a tin pie plate.

“How do you make it so uniformly thick?” he asked.

“Come here, and I’ll show you on the next one.”

He came to stand beside her.

She rolled a ball of dough in her flour-covered hands, then plopped it onto the pastry sheet. “Now, sprinkle a little flour on the rolling pin to keep it from sticking to the dough, then roll the pin over the dough in alternating directions until it’s the thickness you want.”

Landry sprinkled flour on the rolling pin, then pressed it onto the ball of dough. After a couple of passes, the lump of dough still didn’t look anything like the beautifully round pie crust Camille had crafted.

“Let me show you,” she said and covered his hands with hers, then leaned into the rolling pin at the same time as she leaned against him. Pass after pass over the dough only made Landry hot, bothered and ready to take her there on the counter, flour and all.

When the lump of dough had completely transformed into a perfectly rounded pie crust, Camille’s hands pulled away from his.

He left the rolling pin on the pastry sheet, pulled Camille into his arms and kissed her long and hard. When he had to come up for air, he leaned his forehead against hers. “I never knew how sexy pie making could be.”

She laughed and pulled him in for another kiss, making him forget the time, the dough and everything but the woman in his arms.

A persistent ringing sound cut through the lusty haze, bringing him back to earth, the kitchen and the fact they weren’t moving the pies along to the finish.

Camille stepped out of his arms, searched the counter, found her cell phone and answered. “This is Camille.” She listened for a moment and then smiled. “Oh, hello, Mrs. Felton. Yes, it’s been at least a year since we talked last. I’m sorry, I’ve been busy with my candy store. How are you?”

Landry didn’t intend to eavesdrop on Camille’s phone conversation, but it was unavoidable as she didn’t leave the kitchen for more privacy.

He turned to the rounded pie crust still lying on the pastry sheet and folded it like he’d seen Camille do with the last, then carefully lifted it off the sheet, settling it into a second tin pie plate.

“What’s that?” Camille was saying. “Seriously? Destroyed the interior? What do you mean?” She listened for a few seconds. “They broke through the drywall and tore up the wood flooring? Was anyone hurt?” she asked, her tone tense.

Landry turned back to Camille and met her gaze.

“How long had it been empty?” Camille shook her head. “Well, I’m sorry to hear that. I hope the police find the vandals. Are you going to be okay?” Camille nodded. “Good. I’m glad your daughter is coming to stay with you for a while. That is scary. I hate that happened to the house. It was such a lovely place. Yes, ma’am, I will. You take care of yourself. I’ll call you soon. Bye now.” She ended the call and stared down at the cell phone. “What’s happening to this world?”

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“That was Mrs. Felton, my next-door neighbor when I lived in New Orleans five years ago. I’ve been so busy, I haven’t kept in touch as well as I should. She called to tell me that the house beside hers had been vandalized two nights ago.”

“Was it being used as a meth house or for drug deals?”

“No,” Camille said. “It was a nice neighborhood. That’s the house I brought Ava home to from the hospital after she was born. The people who bought it after the bank foreclosed on us lived there for the last four and a half years. Apparently, they moved to Atlanta and had it up for sale. No one was living in it at the time, and no one saw who did it.” She looked up at Landry. “Who would go to the trouble of tearing through the walls and floors, destroying every room in the place? Why would they do such a thing?”

“What motivates arsonists to start fires?” Landry pulled her into his arms and held her. “Your neighbor is all right?”

Camille leaned her cheek against his chest and nodded. “She was a bit shaken that something like that could happen right next door to her. She lives alone and is getting older.” She sighed. “I feel awful for her. I feel awful for the house. I remember painting the baby’s room before Ava was born. I wanted her room to be a happy place where she could learn and grow.”

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