“Thanks, Uncle Bay.”
“You’re welcome.” When Baylor turns back to me, he says, “It’s not on the house either. I’m paying, so go ahead and ring us up.”
“Since you insist.” I tap on the register keys, then tell him the total. After swiping the card he already has waiting, I hand it back.
His hand covers mine, the tip of a finger running over the top of my hand. “I’ve been thinking about today.”
“Hope they were good thoughts.”
The way his eyes are set on mine has me thinking theywere not-safe-for-work thoughts. He licks his lips, then says, “I’ll stop by again before I leave town.”
I’m not sure what he means by that. Stop by and hook up. Stop by with the kids for ice cream. Stop by to say bye on his way to the airport on Monday. And I don’t have time to ask before he turns to leave. “Have a good day. Bye, Beckett?”
He turns to wave, but I’m still stumped by his hot uncle and what stopping by before leaving town means to that man.
God, I hope it’s what I think it is.
“Dinner, Lauralee.”My mom’s voice carries from the kitchen at the front of the house to my bedroom in the back.
“Coming.” I close my laptop and push off the bed. Padding down the hall in socks because she keeps it as cold as an igloo in here, I tuck my hands in the pockets of my sweatpants. Bundled in a sweatshirt I got from Colorado when visiting Chris at college years ago, I say, “It’s so cold, Mom.”
“I’m burning up, sweetie. Sorry.”
“It’s okay.” I inspect the casserole on the stovetop. “King ranch chicken bake?”
Her shoulders slump forward in defeat. “I wasn’t inspired.”
“I know the feeling.”
She scoops some into a bowl and hands it to me. “Did many customers come in today?” My mom opened the shop and bakery before I was in elementary school. I grew up in that place and learned to bake in the kitchen. She’s beentrying to step away and hand it over to me for quite a few years, but she’s struggling. Like me, it’s her baby.
“Actually, business was good. Saturdays always are with people passing through town or visiting the Hill Country.” I set my bowl on the table and pour two glasses of water before sitting down.
She sits next to me at the table with a fork in her hand. “That’s good. Anything eventful?”
“Baylor is back.”
A smile comes naturally from the sound of his name. She always adored him even though she knew he would wreak havoc if you let him. We’re all a sucker for a bad boy, I guess. “How long is he in town?”
“Quick weekend trip. He brought Beckett and Daisy to the shop to get ice cream.”
As soon as she swallows a bite, she coos, “I bet that was adorable.” And then right on time, she adds, “I always thought you and Chrissy would have kids at the same time.”
I used to snap back at anyone who made a comment implying I had fallen behind in life or wasn't doing things on their expected timeline, or worse, treated me like a spinster at twenty-nine. I’m okay with the pace. I’m okay being me. “She met her soulmate.” I take a bite.
“It doesn’t have to be as glamorous as that.”
Lowering my fork, I laugh. “Soulmates are now glamorous?”
“Well, my point is, reliability, someone who can take care of a family is not the worst thing you can find in life, Lauralee.”
“And how did that work out for you?” I hate myself the moment the words leave my mouth. “I didn’t mean that. I’m sorry.”
“Your father . . . um.” She takes a sip of water. When shesets the glass on the table again, she continues, “I confused love for responsibility.”
“Because you were pregnant with me.”
“We did the best we could.” She sets her fork down and looks at me. Her eyes are green instead of brown. Mine come from him, something I’ve always had to live with. My darker hair is from his side of the family. My height, my attitude. All from him. The man who had no interest in seeing this parenting thing through.
