Chapter 41
chapter
forty-one
MAREN
“Did you know that a single grape vine often yields two bottles of wine—sometimes as many as ten, depending on the vine itself?” I accept the cup halfway filled with Cabernet, which swishes as it exchanges our hands.
“I didn’t know.”
I shrug and tap the side of my cup to his. “Now you do.”
I savor a sip as Nate adds more sticks to the fire, and the sparks drift upward in a zigzagging pattern like they’re waving at us.
“Tell me something I don’t know,” I say softly, a challenge hovering in my tone like the game of truth or dare we used to play with our friends.
He hums in thought. “The first photo ever taken took eight hours to capture.”
“You’re kidding.” I try to wrap my head around that. “What do you do for eight hours?”
“Learn a hard lesson of patience.” He chuckles, and my gaze instinctively drops to his chest rising and falling in tune with the gravelly sound.
He’s not wearing his leather jacket tonight.
Instead, a charcoal V-neck sweater deliciously fits over his physique.
The collar of his button up emerges at the top, open and positively sexy.
I’m used to seeing him in tees and his leather jacket, but this polished look works for him so well, not that I’m surprised.
I’m sure Nate could wear the hell out of a garbage bag.
But there’s something particularly hot about him dressing up in an innocent sweater. Knowing what lies underneath—all the tattoos, plus mouthwatering abs—makes this outfit that much better.
If his collar opened up just a little lower at the tip of the V, I could glimpse the top of the lion’s head—and the lightning bolt.
I bite my lip, lost in thought, when Nate’s voice drifts back over me. “It happened at a petting zoo.”
“Hmm?”
He pats the spot over his pec. It’s the spot I’m staring at far too hard. “I wasn’t mauled by a lion while on an assignment, nor did I rescue a baby kangaroo from a bobcat. Each theory I’ve heard has been crazier than the last.”
I share in his laughter, hooked on his every word like I’m listening to my favorite author’s audiobook.
“The truth is—I’d taken Teagan to a petting zoo when she was almost six.
There was a llama that she really wanted to see.
I’d even gotten her a llama stuffy that she slept with for a week straight before we went.
Named him Harold.” He rubs the spot, and his lips twitch as he says, “She’d dropped Harold inside the llama’s pen, and wanting to be Super Dad, I didn’t think before I bent over the railing to save him. ”
I cover my mouth with both hands.
“I was almost home free too, but the llama won—kicked me so hard that I almost passed out.”
“Oh my God!”
“I was fine, but Teagan freaked out.”
“I can imagine.”
“The wound wasn’t bad. I don’t think it would’ve even left a permanent scar.
” His jaw sets, and his voice grows softer when he says, “But it scared Teagan to the point where she threw Harold away and vowed to never go near another animal. I couldn’t let that happen, not because of my mistake that day.
If it did scar, I didn’t want her to have to look at it and be reminded of something that scared her so terribly. So, we made a deal.”
“What kind of deal?”
“I told her I’d get a tattoo, and she could pick it out herself.” He dips his head again.
My eyes well, brimming with tears. Most of them are joyful ones, while others are in mourning—for a life I never lived.
For a father’s love I never experienced.
Nate loves his daughter and would do anything for her. He cares about her and how she views the world. And knowing a father’s love like that does truly exist once again mends something inside me. Something long broken.
With every story of how furiously Nate loves Teagan and all the ways he shows up for her, I’m moved beyond measure.
“You were right.” I lick my lips, tasting the saltiness of a rogue tear that escaped down my cheek. “It does make you look cool.”
“I knew it,” he teases.
My heart swells, crowding my chest with overflowing warmth for this man. He’s strong and brave and ridiculously selfless. Who else would gamble that his six-year-old wouldn’t pick something like a chicken strip or a purse to tattoo on his chest?
He’s amazing, and I can’t believe he ever thought he was too much.
Hard to believe he doesn’t see what I see.
I swipe at the corner of my mouth. “I’ve been thinking about your idea to open a bakery of my own.”
Nate’s attention slams onto me, and his back stiffens. He does a complete one-eighty as apprehension radiates off him like the heat from the fire. “We don’t need to give that a second thought. I was out of line when I suggested it to begin with.”
I interlock my fingers with his and bring our joined hands to rest on my thigh. “I shouldn’t have dismissed it so quickly, because in truth, it’s a great idea.”
“Really?” he asks, clearly still wary.
I shift on the blanket to angle myself toward him.
“All this extra baking for the contest has made me realize how much I love it. I actually crave it in a way I never have brewing coffee. Don’t get me wrong—I still enjoy that, and I’d never stop selling coffee—but maybe it’s time to upgrade.
An expansion.” Nervous energy swarms my body. “I think it’s been time for a while.”
“I hope you don’t feel like you need to, though. Not because of me.”
“I do need to—for me.” I clear my throat and avert my gaze to the crackling fire. “I started baking with my mom after her cancer diagnosis.”
Goose bumps prick my skin as I revisit that time in my life, where Mama and I would stand side by side at the counter while Dixie was in class. We’d found an old record player during one of our antique shopping days, and it played her favorite Patsy Cline while we measured, mixed, and laughed.
Mama would usually only taste test the cookies. She never had much of an appetite, but when I’d suggest we do something else, she insisted we bake.
She liked the sweet smell consuming the house, but more than that, she loved the spark in my eye when I held a whisk in my hand. According to her, she’d never seen that spark before, and she never wanted me to lose it.
I swallow. “I continued baking as an outlet after she passed, but if I would’ve turned it into more than a hobby and a few fun specials at Cream and Sugar, I was afraid I’d start to hate it. And I didn’t want to turn it into anything other than the special experience I had with her.”
“I’m so sorry, Maren. I had no idea.”
“It’s hard for me to talk about it, but I want to.
” I smile softly when he leans over to brush his thumb across a tear on my cheek.
“I want to talk about her, and I want to share the kinds of cookies she and I used to make with this town. I feel like it would keep her alive somehow. I don’t know. Does that sound crazy?”
“Not at all. It’s beautiful.”
I inhale, absorbing the weight of his words, along with the smell of fresh air mixed with burning wood.
“For so long, especially since my mother passed, I’ve been stagnant.
I thought I was pretty happy too, but in hindsight, I was merely comfortable.
I didn’t want my life to change, because that would mean taking risks, and I was too scared I’d be taking the wrong risks.
” I huff out a sad laugh. “But I think change can be good and exciting. And even if I leap and open a bakery and it fails, I know I’ll be okay.
It would be enough to know I followed my heart and tried my best. I think… ”
“Yeah?” Nate whispers, his eyes growing wider as I talk, like he’s hooked on my every word this time. It’s the wind beneath these shiny new wings I’ve grown the last few days.
“I think my mother would be proud.” I nearly choke on the sentiment.
The thing about Nate is that I used to be intimidated by him and my love for him. It was an all-consuming feeling I once lost myself in. I thought I needed to live up to his expectations or else he’d realize I’m too meek and boring.
But the problem was never him—it was me. I thought I was too hard to love. I fought against us because I didn’t believe I deserved someone as great as him in my life. I thought I was protecting myself by pushing him away.
But I’m learning that I draw strength from him and his positive energy.
I’ve always gravitated toward him because he encourages me to dream bigger and better when I’m too afraid. When I feel too small and insignificant, he reminds me just how much I have to offer. He makes anything seem possible, and I used to be scared of that.
It’s time I leverage it and believe in myself like he believes in me.
Nate gulps before he cups my cheek and places the most tender kiss to my lips. His kiss is unyielding and wildly romantic. It’s full of emotion, which cascades from my mouth to the rest of my body.
It’s the kind of kiss I’ve never experienced before—the kind I never believed I’d earned. As if affection is earned to begin with.
But here he is, kissing me like he could do this all night.
Sparks of desire flicker to life in my lower belly.
It starts slow and grows as his tongue parts my lips, effortlessly deepening our connection. My skin sizzles like I’m bare against him—like these layers of clothing don’t exist.
Hot need pulses between my thighs as the chill in the air is muted, replaced by tension. It’s on the cusp of snapping.
And I snap it.
I gather his sweater in my fist and draw him with me as I lay flat on the blanket until his weight settles over me ever so deliciously.
My hands roam across his back and down to his waistband, where I crawl my fingertips toward his belt buckle.
“Are you sure?” he asks, his voice hoarse and eyes hooded. “We’re in public.”
There’s not a sound except for the trickling river and the rustling of leaves at the mercy of the fall breeze, like they’re cheering for us.
The soft music of nature plays as the soundtrack to the beauty of the moment.
It’s like we’re the only two people in the world.
“I’m sure, Nate.” I drag my lips across his before sealing them completely, slanting my mouth over his until he eases onto me once again.