“Why?” Teeny asks.
“It wanted to be a Hostess.”
And they only get cornier.
Emma moves closer to me and whispers, “Dad got her this culinary joke-a-day calendar and we’ve been subjected to cooking humor ever since. Who knew there were so many jokes about a cupcake?”
We have a really nice afternoon and I’m glad to see Emma loosen up.
But watching Mrs. Landry and Emma makes me think about Mom and how this could have easily been a scene from our kitchen back in Scottsdale. Or maybe it’s the hope of a scene we may have in the future in Natchitoches. Teeny must have been thinking the same thing, because she got quiet and wasn’t interested in learning how to make roses out of icing.
By early afternoon, we’d made two cakes, twenty-four cupcakes, and three pies.
I’m cleaning up after our baking extravaganza when I feel a tug on the back on my shirt.
“Want to sneak out of here for a little while?”
It’s Ethan, wearing a devilish smile, and one I won’t even try to resist. Glancing around the kitchen, I know I should stay and finish the dishes, but I’m not losing this opportunity to be alone with him.
“Lead the way.”
With my hand in his, we bolt from the camp and dash down the gravel road. Winding around a few of the other camps, we stop in front of a rather large one.
“Where are we going?” I ask.
“It’s a surprise.”
Not letting go of my hand, we make our way to the back of the house and up a set of stairs that leads to a balcony. I’m shocked when I make it to the top.
There’s an old-timey black potbelly stove with a roaring fire inside next to a hammock loaded with pillows and blankets. It’s colder here than I thought it would be, so the fire is a nice surprise.
I dive into the hammock without thinking twice and Ethan, after putting his jacket on the floor, isn’t far behind me. It takes some moving around and a little readjusting before we’re all cuddled up just right.
“How did you know this is exactly what I needed?” I say.
“Because this is what I needed, too.”
And then he kisses me. We’re close, very close, since our bodies have settled into the center. The blankets and fire have made it warm and toasty and the slight sway of the hammock mimics the rhythm of our bodies moving against each other.
His hands slip under the edge of my T-shirt and his calloused fingertips burn a trail up my back.
Ethan buries his head in the crook of my neck and mumbles something I can’t understand, then he’s back to kissing me in my favorite spot just behind my ear.
He moves over me until I’m pinned beneath him, his forearms framing my face and bracing his weight. The hammock closes in around us and it’s like we’re in our own safe little cocoon.
“I would give anything to stay just like this for the foreseeable future,” he says with that dimpled grin.
“Me, too.” I feel desperate. And anxious. But hopeful. And that is a new and wonderful feeling. “I think that’s the best idea I’ve heard in a really long time.”
We stay in the hammock for longer than we probably should and only move to get out when Ethan mentions he doesn’t want our dads, armed with shotguns, to find us here like this.
We hold hands walking back to the cabin and I hate to think how miserable it would have been to leave Natchitoches without him.
“Well, there you are. I was about to send out a search party.” Mrs. Landry gives Ethan an arched eyebrow and a look that means they will be discussing this later. “Don’t forget why we’re here.”
I can feel the blush that races across my cheeks.
“We didn’t leave the campground,” Ethan answers back, his tone a little stronger than I’ve ever heard him use to his mother.
