Chapter 10
JOSIE
Once upon a time, Brewer Benson wouldn’t look at me.
Now it’s like he can’t stop.
I can feel his gaze burning into me from across the diner, tracking my every move as I work the breakfast rush at Creekside.
Every time I glance over at his booth, he’s still staring.
Not pretending to look at the menu or the sugar caddy.
Not acting like I’m invisible. Just watching me with those intense dark eyes, like he’s thinking about all the ways he could ruin me.
“He’s still looking at you,” Willa murmurs, appearing at my elbow as I pour a coffee. There’s a small smile tugging at her mouth—the first one I’ve seen from her in weeks. “I don’t think he even noticed when Reggie dropped that tray.”
“I know.” I press my lips together to stop myself from grinning. “It’s a little distracting.”
“Only a little?”
“Well…maybe that’s a bit of an understatement.”
Definitely an understatement.
Willa chuckles lightly, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes as she grabs the coffee pot.
I watch her carry it to a table at the back, noting the slump of her shoulders, the sluggish way she moves.
My work bestie still looks permanently exhausted.
She’s stopped mentioning the online virgin auction, which should feel reassuring, but doesn’t.
I’m worried she’s going ahead with it and just doesn’t want to tell anyone.
I really hope I’m wrong.
I finish making coffee, sliding another across the counter to a waiting customer. Then I head into the stuffy kitchen to grab an order from Reggie.
“Creekside Special for your boyfriend,” he says, handing me the warm plate with a wink. “Oh, and tell him to take a picture—it’ll last longer.”
I roll my eyes, smiling despite myself as I carry the breakfast out to Brewer, my pulse racing the closer I get.
He looks bigger than ever sitting in his cramped booth, like a giant in a dollhouse.
Heck, even the coffee mug he’s holding looks tiny in his hand, and I watch him take a sip, his gaze never leaving my face.
My eyes drop to his silver-threaded beard, sliding down his burly chest, to those inked, muscular forearms, propped up on the table.
God, I’ve got it bad.
It’s been a month since that night at Brewer’s cabin.
A month since I woke up in his four-poster bed with his arm slung across my waist and the snow still falling softly outside the window.
A month since I called Savannah from his bathroom, whispering excitedly into the phone and giggling at her squeals of delight.
Since then, I’ve only been back to my apartment twice.
Brewer came with me both times, helping me bundle my stuff into his truck.
My lease ends next month, and then the cabin on Cherry Mountain will be my real home.
But in every way that matters, it already is.
My clothes hang in the closet next to Brewer’s.
My shampoo sits on his bathroom shelf, my dog-eared paperback on the nightstand, and my favorite brand of hot chocolate on the kitchen counter.
It feels like home in a way the pepperoni-scented apartment never did, and it’s all because of the man I share it with.
The two of us have fallen into an easy routine.
Brewer drives us to Creekside every morning before opening time—Reggie lets him in early while we set up for the day—and he stays for breakfast, watching me the whole time like a very large, very tattooed guard dog.
When he’s finished, he heads back up the mountain to work, chopping wood until it’s time to pick me up.
Sometimes, if he’s ahead on a lumber order, he’ll come back to the diner for a late lunch and stay until closing time.
Those days are always my favorite.
I’m smiling when I finally reach Brewer’s booth, setting his breakfast in front of him.
“Enjoy your meal,” I say teasingly, like he’s just another customer.
“Oh, I will.” His deep voice sends a shiver through me as he reaches for my hand and pulls me close, muttering, “Just wait ‘til I get you home, sugar. Then you’ll see me really enjoy my meal.”
“You’re being inappropriate. I might have to call the manager.”
Brewer growls deep in his throat. “Keep running that smart mouth and I’ll carry you out of here right now.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, sir.”
But I can’t keep a straight face. I grin at him, dropping the act and leaning in to kiss him on the mouth.
It’s meant to be a quick peck, but his hand snakes up my back, tangling through my hair and pulling me closer.
For a moment, I lose myself in him. The taste of his musk mixed with coffee, the firmness of his lips.
But I force myself to pull back, drawing a frustrated grunt from Brewer.
“I have to get back to work.”
“Alright, sugar,” he says reluctantly, bringing my hand to his mouth and kissing it. His gaze drifts down my body with a familiar hunger as I step back from him. “Fuck. Have I told you how pretty you look today?”
“Several times.” I grin at him, pressing a quick kiss on his cheek. “Thank you.”
Brewer is constantly telling me how beautiful I am, and it makes me feel warm every time.
I struggled to believe him at first. Heck, I still struggle sometimes, but he never stops saying it, growling compliments in that gruff, matter-of-fact voice.
I’m still a big girl. Big thighs, big belly, big everything.
But with Brewer’s help, my self-confidence is getting bigger too.
With one last kiss, I leave the booth behind. When I glance over my shoulder at Brewer, he’s staring at my ass, and I giggle to myself, my skin hot all over as I get back to work.
Brewer leaves after the breakfast rush, which quickly gives way to the lunch rush.
The diner empties fast after that. Reggie lets us go an hour early, and I text Brewer, who replies immediately to say that he’s on his way.
I wait for him outside the diner, sitting on a bench by the creek.
The sky is blue and cloudless over Cherry Hollow, the promise of spring in the air.
Flowers bloom in window boxes, daffodils swaying in the breeze along the creek bank.
It’s the kind of afternoon that makes you feel like everything is exactly as it should be.
Then my stomach turns.
It comes out of nowhere, a slow roll of nausea rising from my gut.
The smell of the creek—that familiar green-water scent I usually love—suddenly makes me want to throw up, and I grip the edge of the bench, breathing through my mouth and closing my eyes until the feeling subsides a little.
Then I unscrew my water bottle and gulp down several mouthfuls.
I’m probably just dehydrated.
Or maybe there was something wrong with the grilled cheese I had for lunch?
But as I lean back against the bench, another possibility hits me like a freight train. I sit up, ramrod straight, scrambling to open the calendar app on my phone.
Six weeks since my last period?
No, that can’t be right.
I try to do the math in my head, counting the days. Realization slowly dawns on me. My period was due two weeks ago. It never came.
Oh God.
My chest lurches. Brewer will be here any second, and I jump up from the bench, fighting back another wave of queasiness.
The drugstore is just down the street, and I hurry inside, grabbing two different pregnancy tests off the shelf.
Then I pause and grab a third, just in case.
I pay, then bury them in my bag, rushing back outside and reaching the diner just as Brewer’s truck crosses the bridge over Sugar Creek.
I try to arrange my expression into something neutral as he jumps down from the driver’s seat, heading for me. He’s disheveled from a day of work in the woods, his jeans muddy, a stray leaf clinging to his hair.
“Hey, beautiful,” he says, drawing me into his arms. “Hope you weren’t waiting too long.”
I melt against him, my heart beating like a caged bird, wings thudding against my rib cage.
“Nope, I wasn’t waiting long at all.”
I sound much calmer than I feel as Brewer’s fingers link through mine, pulling me to his truck. He scoops me up and sets me on the passenger seat, eyes twinkling at me.
“I missed you today, sugar.”
I manage a weak smile. “I missed you too.”
He captures my lips in a soft kiss, brushing his fingers through my hair.
“Let’s get you home,” he says.
I love when he calls it home, making it sound like the most natural thing in the world.
Usually, I’d be excited to head back up the mountain.
Back home. But as Brewer climbs into the seat next to me, reversing away from the diner, I feel nothing but buzzing anxiety.
The pregnancy tests seem to burn like hot coals in the bottom of my bag, and I swallow down another wave of nausea, trying to keep my voice light as Brewer asks about my day.
But my thoughts are somewhere else entirely.
What if I really am pregnant?
It’s happening so fast…so soon…
“You okay, Josie?”
Brewer’s deep voice pulls me from my thoughts, and I blink in surprise when I see we’re already back at the cabin.
“Yeah, fine,” I say quickly. “Just tired.”
I smile at him, but he doesn’t look convinced. His eyes are narrowed, watching me, his brow creased with concern.
“Let me get a fire going,” Brewer says as soon as we’re through the front door. “Then I’ll make you a hot chocolate and you can rest on the couch, okay?”
“Thanks, that sounds good. I’m just going to the bathroom…”
I leave Brewer crouched by the hearth and hurry into the bathroom with my bag clutched to my chest. I take the pregnancy tests out of their packaging with trembling hands, using them one by one, then lining them up on the floor and waiting for a result.
It feels like forever, even though it takes less than a minute for the blue lines to appear.
Two lines.
Two lines.
Two lines.
I stare down at the tests, shellshocked. Then Brewer’s voice comes through the door.
“Josie?” He knocks. “You okay in there?”
I don’t answer straight away. I can’t. I just stay where I am, slumped on the bathroom floor with my back against the bathtub, looking at six blue lines. My brain has stopped working.
“Josie.”
His voice is more urgent this time, and I finally look away from the tests, blinking up at the door.
“I’m okay,” I manage. “Just…just give me a second.”
I gather up the tests with shaking hands, wrapping them in a piece of tissue. Then I splash some water on my face and muster up every scrap of courage as I open the bathroom door.
Brewer is standing right there. He takes one look at me and says, “Josie, what’s wrong?”
“I…”
Brewer’s eyes drop to my hands, which are still clutching the tissue-wrapped tests.
“What are you holding?”
It feels like I can’t get enough air into my lungs. My head is spinning, everything strange and surreal as Brewer takes a step toward me and lifts my hand, gently unfurling my fingers. He unwraps the tissue and freezes.
“I’m pregnant,” I whisper.
The word lands like a bomb in the silence between us. Brewer doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak. He stares at the tests in my outstretched hand, and I watch his face carefully, my heart hammering so hard I can hear it in my ears.
“I missed my period.” The words come out in a rush. “I didn’t even realize. Then today I felt nauseous, and I did the math and I—” I swallow hard, my throat tight. “I bought three. Just to be sure.”
He takes the tests from my hand very slowly, like he’s handling something fragile—an egg he doesn’t want to smash. He still doesn’t speak, but for some reason, I can’t seem to stop.
“I know it’s fast,” I blurt out, keeping my gaze down. “It’s a lot, I know that, and if you need time to—”
“Josie.”
“—process it, then I get it. I know we haven’t been together that long, and this is really sudden—”
“Josie.”
His voice is firmer this time, cutting me off.
I stop talking and finally look at him, bracing myself.
But Brewer doesn’t look mad. His eyes are shining brighter than I’ve ever seen them, his face lighting up, frown lines softening.
A smile is growing beneath his beard, slow and disbelieving, like he’s not sure if this is really happening.
“You’re having my baby,” he says. A statement, not a question.
“Yes…”
He sets the tests down carefully. Then he turns back to me, taking my face in his hands, tilting it up to look at him.
“This is everything I’ve ever wanted, Josie.” His voice is rough with emotion. “You know that?”
My heart jumps, eyes stinging. “Really?”
“Really.” His thumb brushes my cheek. “Fuck, this is amazing, sugar. We’re having a baby.” He shakes his head slightly, like he still can’t quite believe it. Then his expression turns serious. “Are you happy, Josie? Is this what you want?”
“Yes,” I whisper. “More than anything.”
Then I burst into tears. Relief is flooding through me, so powerful that I can’t contain it, and I collapse against Brewer. His arms wrap around me, and he lifts me off the ground, pressing me so close to him I can feel his heartbeat thrumming through me.
“I’ve got you,” he murmurs against me. “Both of you.”
I cling to him like a life raft as I let it all rush over me—the relief, the joy, the fear, the anxious excitement. Brewer rubs my back as I sob it all out on his shoulder, and we stay like that for a long time, holding each other tight.
“This is going to be amazing,” Brewer says gruffly, pressing a kiss on my neck. “You and me, starting a family together. Fuck, sugar, I can’t wait.”
“I was so worried you’d be upset.”
“Upset?” He pulls back to look at me, bewildered. “Josie, this is a dream come true. You’ve just made me the happiest man in the whole damn world.”
His hand moves down to my stomach, his eyes misting over as it rests there.
“Been waiting my whole life for this,” he mutters. “For you, Josie. For our baby.”
I cover his hand with mine, beaming up at him through the tears. “Me too.”
He looks at me for a long time, his gaze burning into mine. Then he hooks his thumb under my jaw and kisses me, slow and deep and so full of emotion that I almost start crying again. When he pulls back, he drops his forehead to mine, making a noise deep in his throat.
“I love you, Josie. So fucking much.”
The words are like a shot of adrenaline, straight to the heart.
“Fell in love the moment I set eyes on you,” he says, his voice thick. “And I swear I love you more every day.”
My breath catches, and the tears I’ve been fighting back spill over again. It’s the first time either of us has said it, but I’ve been thinking it long before now. Heck, I think I knew the same moment he did. That fateful day at the diner, when he walked in and stole my heart.
“I love you too, Brewer. I really, really do.”