“You bet,” Phil said.

Mitch pulled the gloves on, then shook the other man’s hand.

“See you at the festival tomorrow,” Phil said.

Mitch just nodded. He hoped so. If Paige wanted to keep him in bed all day he wouldn’t exactly object, but he was now very interested in this festival. Hell, he even kind of liked the cold weather. He wasn’t sure he could live and work here, but if he had a hot, sassy blond at home to warm him up after a day in the cold, it might not be so bad.

He was actually thinking about how he could live here?

He was definitely in trouble.

Because as nice as this little town seemed and as charming as the snow was, he couldn’t leave his family. They needed him. Sure, they could find someone else to do the things he did for them, but… he wanted to be the one doing it. He owed them everything, and he wanted to take care of them in return.

But Paige might like the heat…

Fuck. He had to stop thinking about either of them relocating. That was ridiculous.

He headed up the block, determined to focus on fixing the roofs and then going back and stripping her naked and stopping all this craziness that included words like long term or committed or relationship.

“Hey, guys,” Mitch greeted as two older men came toward him across the snowy front yard of one of the big old houses that Max had described to him.

“You must be Mitch,” one of them said with a smile.

“Yeah. Can I lend a hand?”

“Actually, we’re done.”

The men stopped in front of him, looking pleased.

“Already?” Mitch asked, looking up at the roof of the house behind them.

“Seems some of the ladies mentioned to their husbands and sons about a total stranger offering to help us out and they felt guilty, and a bunch showed up to help us get things done.”

Mitch grinned at that. “I didn’t make the offer to guilt anyone else into helping.”

One of the men laughed. “Even better. You just pricked at their consciences.”

“But we appreciate your willingness,” the other man said. “Decent of you.”

Mitch shrugged. “If I’m able, there’s no reason not to.”

“Funny that you’re not from the Midwest,” the taller of the two said. “That’s a pretty Midwestern attitude.”

Mitch smiled. “Maybe Iowa and Louisiana aren’t that different.”

Both men nodded. “Maybe not. Nice to know.”

They parted ways, also mentioning that they’d see Mitch at the festival the next day.

It seemed everyone in town showed up to the event. Mitch could understand that too. Autre, Louisiana was the same way. If there was a get-together, a party, a celebration… or just a random Friday night… nearly the whole town would turn out.

The crawfish boils at his grandma’s bar was one such event. Tourists and locals alike gathered around the ramshackle building and ate fresh-caught crawfish, corn, and potatoes, drank beer and moonshine, and just generally celebrated the important things in life—friends, family, good food, good music, the great outdoors, and the roots and history of the area.

It seemed very much like Appleby. Families stayed close, friends had known each other most of their lives, the community came together in good times and bad, and people appreciated tradition and the little things. Or the things that seemed little but actually mattered a lot.

Paige would be at home in Autre. Sure, there was a huge, noisy, and nosy family to contend with, but he’d love to see her chatting with the other women in his life, charming the men, clutching the side of an airboat and laughing as he opened it up on the bayou, tipping back a mason jar of moonshine, dancing to some good old Cajun music.

Of course, he’d also love the alone time he could imagine clearly. Taking her down to the bank to lie in the bed of his truck to look at the stars. Passing a lazy Sunday afternoon, napping with her in the hammock in his backyard. Cuddling on his couch watching a movie on a Friday night. Going for breakfast at his grandma’s before heading out to work. Sneaking in a quickie over his lunch break. Sitting on his front porch with sweet tea and watching the lightning bugs come out.

He was getting incredibly sappy. And too comfortable with how easy it was to picture all of that.

With a sigh, he pulled his phone from his pocket as he hit the sidewalk in front of the yoga studio. He opened Paige’s car and tucked the toolbox behind the front seat. Then he slid into the driver’s seat so he didn’t freeze his nuts off while talking to Chase.

Because, yeah, it was time to call his buddy. The one who was just starting a long-distance relationship himself.

But Chase wouldn’t be alone. No one was really ever alone in Autre unless they grabbed a boat when no one was looking, headed out on the bayou, and found a quiet nook.

City boy Chase Dawson, however, would not be able to do that. He was mostly hopeless with boats. Though if he and his stupid frat-boy friends hadn’t stolen one of the Boys of the Bayou swamp tour boats and crashed it into the dock, his sister would have never met her true love, Sawyer, and Chase wouldn’t have been hanging out in Autre repairing the dock and becoming smitten with the cute, nerdy alligator conservationist Bailey.

The girl he was now head over heels for.

Mitch hit the button that would call Chase, wondering if he was going to regret this. Chase wasn’t going to be able to convincingly talk Mitch out of trying a long-distance deal with Paige.

Chase was going to medical school at Georgetown while Bailey worked in Louisiana at her dream job. They were going to do the long-distance thing, with as-frequent-as-possible trips between DC and Autre, with the hopes for a residency in New Orleans.

Mitch expected that Chase would eventually be a small-town Southern doctor seeing everything from fish hooks stuck through thumbs to chicken pox to cancer. And he was going to love it. Which was hilarious considering the guy had gotten pretty green the first time he’d seen them cleaning fish or when Leo, Mitch’s grandpa, had pulled a rusty nail out of his own foot.

The born-rich city boy was going to have to toughen up some, but Mitch was thrilled to think his friend would eventually be around for good. It was crazy how well they’d bonded. They had almost nothing in common, and Mitch was about four years older than Chase. Still, they’d quickly become friends, and Mitch missed the dumbass when he was back in DC.

“Dude,” Chase greeted on the second ring. “I told you that you should never unzip your pants outdoors in Iowa in January. That’s dangerous, man. But you just don’t listen.”

“So no sympathy at all?” Mitch asked with a grin. “No magic cure?”

“We’re gonna have to chop it off,” Chase said, sounding sad. Fake sad, but still. “Good thing you had so much fun with it when you did.”

Mitch shuddered. “My dick is fine. But the fact that it’s on your mind so much is really touching. Weird. But touching.”

“Never use the word touching when talking about me and your dick in the same breath.” Chase paused. “Actually, how about we not talk about your dick and me in the same breath at all?”

Mitch laughed. “Well, I just have to say, if I got frostbite on my dick, your phone would be the first one I’d send the photos to.”

“Trust me, that would go out to all my med-school friends, and we’d talk about how guys like you will keep guys like me in business.”