“You could say that.Mystory.” I laughed and counted out a twenty-word recap on my fingers. “I finally feel like I’mwhoI should be andwhereI should be, so I’m staying.” I grinned, though she couldn’t see me. “And Brewer’s hot.”
She sighed. “Yeah, I’m definitely going to need the full story.”
“And you’ll get it,” I promised. “Along with a proposal for a new story about hidden artwork and true love. But for now, I’m going to focus on Empire Ridge. I’ll read through Amber’s email and give you an assessment by the end of the week.”
“Fine,” she said, resigned. “If you change your mind about Costa Rica?—”
“You’ll be the first to know.”
Driving up to my house that afternoon, I found myself smiling at the very sight of it. The midafternoon sunlight glinted off the snow in the front yard, and the renovated porch looked sturdy and welcoming. Tam had been onto something with her visualization exercise. Just seeing the house made me feel settled in a way that surprised me. This house, this town, this life… it had all snuck up on me when I wasn’t looking.
I rushed inside, eager for Brewer to be the first person I told about my revelations.
“I’m home!” I called excitedly.
“Delaney, come see this!” Brewer called back.
I found him in the kitchen, tightening the hinges on a cabinet he’d been installing—an upper cabinet with a glass-fronted door that made the kitchen feel larger and brighter. Through the glass panel, I spotted a familiar cup.
“What do you think?” he asked. He followed my gaze and explained, “Oh. Just using that to check the height of the shelves. Wanted to make sure your stuff fit comfortably.”
Something about seeing that teacup—histeacup—sitting in my cabinet made a lump rise in my throat. It looked right there. Like it belonged. Like I wanted to makeBrewer’sdishesmydishes…
Which was a thought so sappy and ridiculous I found myself blushing.
“Looks perfect,” I said, my voice coming out rough. “Perfect.”
“Yeah.” Brewer gave me a tip-tilted smile. “So, how was your morning?”
“Eventful.” I took a deep breath. “I almost don’t know where to begin. I had a convo with Marjorie, and I met Tam for coffee—she’s doing amazing, and I talked to Janice.” I briefly recounted Janice’s historical hoop skirt ensemble. “We were invited todip our wicks with Janicethis Sunday, by the way?—”
Brewer’s eyes widened, and I burst out laughing.
“I told her I was busy,” I said saucily. “But obviously, you’ll need to make your own decisions.”
I expected a smart-assed reply, but instead, Brewer’s face softened. He reached out a hand to brush my hair back—a little motion he’d been doing compulsively and which I really loved. “I like seeing you like this,” he said.
I shook my head. “Like I’ve been mildly traumatized by a woman in a hoop skirt?”
“Excited.” His voice was warm and affectionate. “Happy. No sledgehammer required.”
“Not today,” I agreed. I leaned back against the wall, and Brewer moved with me. “But possibly tomorrow. I contain multitudes, Brewer.”
“I’m discovering that,” he murmured, bracing a hand on the wall beside my head. “You’re like a million hidden jam cupboards, aren’t you, Delaney Monroe?”
Brewer had no idea my stupid metaphor was a thing, but my heart did some complicated gymnastics anyway.
“I changed my mind,” I whispered. “Thatmight be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”
When Brewer kissed me, I could taste his smile, and it felt like coming home. The kiss was slow, thorough. A leisurely exploration rather than a desperate rush. His hand came up to cradle my jaw, thumb stroking my cheek in a gesture so tender it made my chest ache.
I sank into the kiss, my hands finding the solid warmth of his waist and slipping under his T-shirt to touch bare skin. He made a soft sound of approval against my mouth, pressing closer until I was pinned between his body and the wall.
We were both breathing hard when we finally broke apart, but Brewer didn’t move away. Instead, he rested his forehead against mine, his eyes closed.
“You know the art appraiser will be here soon,” I reminded him, though I made no move to push him away.
He huffed a laugh. “Always so responsible.”
