Chapter 12
I can’t say I’ve ever been interrupted by a vomiting raccoon before.
Gage
I park in front of Addy’s house and fold out of my SUV. Addy insisted I drive for today’s ‘activity’, which she’s still keeping secret from me.
Before I have a chance to walk to the door, it opens and she hurries outside.
“Let’s go.”
I catch her wrist before she has a chance to rush past me. “What’s your hurry? Do you not want me to see your family?”
“Trust me. You do not want to go in there. We had spaghetti for dinner and let’s just say the kitchen now resembles a crime scene.”
I chuckle. “A crime scene?”
“Otis called Mila a baby. Mila threw spaghetti at him. Things deteriorated from there.”
“Your family is fun.”
“Says the man who won’t be cleaning spaghetti sauce off the ceiling tomorrow morning. ”
“I can clean spaghetti sauce. As instructed, I’m wearing clothes that can be ruined.”
She rakes her gaze over my body and her brow wrinkles. “Are you wearing pajamas?” She leans closer. “With little penises all over them?”
“Nolan got them for the entire offensive line as a Christmas present last year.”
“Because you’re all dicks?”
I bark out a laugh. “That’s exactly what he said.”
She rolls her eyes. “At least they’re black.” I open the passenger door for her and wait for her to get settled. “A football player who’s a gentleman. I didn’t know those existed.”
I kiss her nose. “I’m only a gentleman for you, songbird.”
She shivers and I shut the door before she notices my smirk. My little songbird is as affected by me as I am by her. I adjust my hardening cock. Maybe not as much.
“Where to?” I ask once I’m backing out of the driveway.
“Drive toward Rogue’s Landing.”
“What’s in Rogue’s Landing?”
“You’ll see.”
“You’re certain this – whatever this is – isn’t illegal? I hate getting arrested in pajamas.”
She giggles. “Then, you shouldn’t have worn pajamas with little penises all over them.”
“Shit. This is illegal. I should contact my agent.”
She slaps my hand when I reach for my phone. “It’s not illegal in Smuggler’s Hideaway.”
My brow narrows. “But it would be illegal in other places? ”
She shrugs. “Other places don’t have raccoons to steal.”
My mouth gapes open. “Raccoons to steal?”
She points to the road. “Watch where you’re driving. You don’t want to accidentally run over Sammy.”
“Sammy?”
“The seal.”
“Are you saying there’s a seal named Sammy living on Smuggler’s Hideaway?”
“Yep. And he enjoys sunbathing in the middle of the road.”
I chuckle. “This island is crazy.”
“Quirky.”
I snort. “Quirky? Uh huh. There’s a resident seal, and we’re off to steal a raccoon. Totally quirky and not crazy.”
“Don’t make fun of our traditions.”
“I’m not. I understand traditions. Sports teams love traditions. Personally, I wear the same socks for the entire season.”
Her nose wrinkles. “The same socks?”
Oops. I probably shouldn’t mention bad hygiene habits to the woman I’m trying to win over. Time for a diversion tactic.
“At the Seals’ home stadium, there’s a seal statute. Whenever we play a home game, it’s tradition for all of the players to kiss the seal’s nose.”
“You shouldn’t kiss Sammy’s nose. He’s pretty tame but he’s still a wild animal.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” We reach Rogue’s Landing. “Where am I going?”
“Park in the lot over there.”
“Where to now?” I ask once we’re standing in the parking lot.
She motions to the other side of the lot. “To the chowder cook-off.”
My stomach rumbles in response. “Chowder? Clam chowder?”
“We aren’t eating any chowder. We’re on a mission, remember?”
“Can’t we be on a mission and eat chowder at the same time?”
She lifts her eyebrows. “You’re going to eat while holding a raccoon?”
My shoulders fall and my stomach protests. “Guess not.”
She rolls her eyes. “I’ll try to grab you a bowl, but I make no promises.”
I rub my hands together. “Okay. What’s the plan?”
“It’s probably better you don’t know the plan.”
“You’re the boss.”
I grasp her hand and we make our way across the parking lot to where the chowder cook-off is happening. The smell of potatoes, seafood, and onions hits me and my stomach rumbles in response.
Addy giggles. “Did you skip lunch?”
“I never skip lunch.”
“Good to know,” she mutters as we arrive.
There are several tables set up across from each other. Each table features a pot of chowder and several bowls. Plenty of opportunity to taste some chowder. At the far end of the tables is a set of bleachers.
“Are there observers for the cook-off?”
“Duh. This is Smuggler’s Hideaway. There’s bound to be someone who cheats or steals.”
“I—”
She shushes me and points to a woman standing on a stage with a microphone. “Mayor Mandy of Rogue’s Landing is about to speak.”
“Smugglers, mermaids, and people who swear this recipe has been in their family for generations. Welcome to the Annual Rogue’s Landing Chowder Cook-Off!
For those of you who are new to the island, this is the event where we celebrate three things: local pride, questionable seafood choices, and grudges that last longer than hurricane season.
A few reminders before we begin:
One. This is a chowder cook-off, not a street fight. Last year’s incident with the ladle has been forgiven, but not forgotten.
Two. No sabotaging other teams. This includes ‘accidentally’ unplugging slow cookers, swapping salt for sugar, or releasing live shellfish into a rival pot. Yes, we’re looking at you, Dockside Dave.
Three. Cream-based chowder, tomato-based chowder, and ‘experimental’ chowder are all welcome. However, if your chowder contains mango, chocolate, or whatever that was in 2019, please know the judges are not legally required to be kind.
And finally. This cook-off has been happening for over fifty years, which means tradition matters. The recipes are secret, the opinions are loud, and if a raccoon goes missing tonight… well. Let’s just say history tends to repeat itself.
Judges, prepare your stomachs. Contestants, prepare your excuses. And everyone else - pace yourselves. This is a marathon, not a sprint.
Let the chowder – and the chaos – begin!”
The crowd erupts into cheers and there’s a stampede to the tables. People carry their own bowls and spoons and they don’t hesitate to hit each other with them either.
“This town is serious about chowder.”
“Competition is in our smuggler’s blood.” Addy nudges me forward. “There! Rogue is resting on the podium where the mayor spoke. This is our chance while everyone is distracted.”
I shoulder my way through the crowd. It’s nearly as difficult as facing a defensive line when the score is tied and we’re on our fourth down, five yards from the endzone. These people are serious about their chowder. I respect anyone who’s serious about food.
When we reach the podium, I’m sweating from effort and wondering why I didn’t wear shorts instead of these flannel pajamas.
I glance around to ensure no one’s watching us. “What now? ”
Addy digs in her backpack and brings out a leash and a bag of marshmallows. I reach for the marshmallows but she snatches the bag out of my reach.
“These aren’t for you.” She removes a marshmallow and offers it to the raccoon. “They’re for him.”
The raccoon plucks the marshmallow out of her hand and stuffs it into his mouth.
“Who’s a good raccoon?” She coos. “Rogue is.”
“What are you doing?” The mayor yells as she barrels toward us.
Addy glares at me. “You suck at being a lookout.”
“I didn’t realize I was a lookout.”
She pastes a smile on her face. “Hi, Mandy!”
“Don’t hi me, you little thief.”
Addy pushes me forward. “I thought you might want to meet Gage Edwards. He’s an NFL player for the Steel City Seals.”
Mandy rakes her gaze over me before licking her lips. “Gage Edwards. I know who you are.”
I offer her my hand. “Mayor, nice to meet you.”
As I shake her hand, Addy clips the leash onto Rogue’s collar. She offers him another marshmallow before picking him up. She backs away and I move to block Mandy’s view.
“How long are you in town?” Mandy winks. I’m on familiar turf. This is how I’m used to women responding to me.
“Until the end of the summer.”
“Really. Are you…” She trails off. “Where’s Rogue?”
Uh oh. The gig is up .
“Gage! Hurry up!”
At Addy’s shout, I sprint to her. “Here. You’re faster.” She throws the raccoon at me.
I tuck Rogue under my arm and rush through the crowd like I’m aiming for the endzone. When I glance behind me, I notice Addy falling behind. The crowd is chasing her.
Before I have a chance to turn around and save her, she shouts, “Dockside Dave put chocolate in his chowder!”
Apparently, chocolate in chowder is worse than stealing a raccoon since the crowd whirls around, leaving Addy alone.
When she catches up to me, I grasp her hand and drag her through the parking lot to the car. She giggles the entire way.
“We did it! I now have bragging rights until the end of time.”
“I think you mean we.”
She rolls her eyes. “Fine. We have bragging rights until the end of time.”
Her light brown eyes twinkle with excitement, and her ponytail is a mess.
She smiles up at me and I can’t resist those puffy lips.
I press my mouth to hers. She sighs and I thrust my tongue inside.
She tastes of marshmallows, spaghetti, and something wild.
It’s the most addictive taste I’ve ever experienced.
I tilt my head to dive deeper.
Rogue burps. Oops. I forgot about the raccoon tucked under my arm. I inch away from Addy. Her eyes are now dark with passion. My cock twitches in response.
“I… ”
Rogue burps again before throwing up on me. I glance down at the vomit on my stomach. This is why I wore the flannel pajamas.
Addy blinks and the passion in her eyes extinguishes. I’m not worried. I know she wants me. I’ll find another opportunity to get my lips on hers. Preferably a time that doesn’t involve a barfing raccoon.