Jake laughed. “You made deviled eggs and opened a bag of chips. If that’s your idea of classy, babe, you’re about to set a new low.”
“Excuse me,” she sniffed, flicking the towel at him. “I plated the chips.”
Jake ducked the flying dish towel with a chuckle, then crossed the room, slow and easy. He glanced around, his gaze lingering on the blue tile backsplash, the open shelving with her mismatched mugs, the sunlight pouring across the wide farmhouse sink. “We did good with this place,” he said, softer now. “Really good.”
Something caught in her throat at the warmth in his voice. She made a joke of it, bumping her hip into his. “Guess I’m not allergic to change after all.”
“Good,” Jake murmured, close enough that she could smell the hint of soap and sawdust clinging to his shirt. “Because you’re about to have a houseful of it.”
As if on cue, tires crunched outside and a familiar chorus of voices rose—the guys, loud and laughing already. Capri felt a surge of nerves and excitement at once. This wasn’t just another dinner. It was a new kind of memory being stitched together.
“Brace yourself,” she said, shooting Jake a grin as she headed for the door. “They’re going to eat everything that’s not nailed down.”
“They’ll bring more food. You wait and see,” Jake called after her, chuckling as the first knock rattled the door.
Capri yanked the door open just as Kellen, Nick, and Reva came up the steps, arms full of covered dishes and six-packs. Whit, Lila, and Charlie Grace were pulling things from their cars.
“Smells good in there!” Kellen boomed, holding up a foil-wrapped tray like it was a trophy. “Hope you made extra, Cap. I brought my appetite.”
“You always bring your appetite,” Reva said dryly, elbowing him as she squeezed past. She carried a big salad bowl cradled against her hip and a bottle of sparkling cider tucked under one arm. “It’s his spiritual gift.”
Jake leaned down and stage-whispered in Capri’s ear, “Told you they’d bring reinforcements.”
Whit came in last, balancing a pie box precariously in one hand and tipping an invisible hat with the other. “Hope everyone is ready for a night of far too much food.”
“Isn’t that the theme of every time we get together?” Capri quipped, grabbing the pie before Whit could drop it.
“Hey, hey, careful!” Whit said, pretending to clutch his chest. “That’s homemade.”
“Store-bought homemade,” Lila chimed in, arriving right behind him with Charlie Grace. “We all saw you sneaking out of the bakery this afternoon.”
Capri, missing none of the banter, wrinkled her nose. “That’s cheating, Whit.”
Whit held up three fingers solemnly. “In my defense, it’s from the good bakery. You won’t even taste the shame.”
Everyone laughed, the kind of easy, full-bellied sound Capri realized she cherished more than she cared to admit.
Within minutes, the house filled with the clatter of dishes being set down, chairs scraping, the low thrum of old country music playing on Jake’s Bluetooth speaker. Capri’s kitchen—her new kitchen—hummed with life, the way she’d always dreamed it would.
Jake slid a platter of ribs onto the center island and shot her a wink. “Operation Mood Lift, officially underway.”
Capri smiled, a real one this time, feeling the energy spark around her. They couldn’t erase the hard things. But maybe, for tonight, they could outshine them.
They piled their plates high—ribs, deviled eggs, potato salad, cornbread muffins still warm from the oven—and squeezed around Capri’s refurbished farmhouse table. Capri ended up wedged between Jake and Charlie Grace, with Nick perched on a stool nearby, already buttering a second muffin with alarming precision.
“So,” Whit said around a mouthful of ribs. “This whole Georgia thing. How soon are you two planning the big move?”
Reva dabbed her mouth with a napkin, her smile steady even if her eyes flickered just the tiniest bit. “As soon as we can get everything wrapped up here. There’s a lot to do.”
Jake set down his fork. “Been there, done that. It’s a lot.”
Reva ticked off the list on her fingers. “Yeah—for starters, I have to hire Fleet’s replacement. The town can’t exactly run without a sheriff. I’m not leaving until we find a suitable candidate and get him or her sworn in.”
Nick leaned forward, interest sparking. “Are you going to open it up to the public?”
“Already did,” Reva said, her tone brisk. Then she glanced across the table, locking eyes with Charlie Grace. “But truth is, I’m thinking of offering it to Gibbs.”
The table went quiet for a half-second longer than comfortable. Capri shifted in her seat, ready to step in if needed, but Charlie Grace only lifted her wine glass with calm grace.
