Chapter 18
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Trudy
The morning air was cool against my face as I walked toward the bakery, and I couldn’t stop smiling like an absolute fool.
Sixty-eight years old, and I was practically skipping down the sidewalk like a teenager after her first kiss. If anyone saw me, they’d think I’d lost my mind.
Maybe I had.
I didn’t care.
The sun was just starting to paint the sky in shades of pink and gold, and everything felt brighter somehow. Sharper. Like someone had turned up the saturation on the whole world overnight.
Stephen had kissed me goodbye at my front door not twenty minutes ago, his hand cupping the back of my neck, his thumb brushing my jaw in that way that made my knees weak. “See you soon, darlin’,” he’d rumbled, and I’d actually giggled. Giggled. Like some lovesick schoolgirl.
God help me.
I unlocked the bakery door and stepped inside, flipping on the lights. The familiar scent of flour and sugar greeted me, but even that felt different today. Better. Like everything had been dipped in honey and possibility.
Twenty-five years with Terry had been good.
Comfortable. We’d built a nice life together, raised Judith, settled into routines that felt safe and predictable.
I’d loved him, and he’d loved me, and it had been...
fine. More than fine, really. Just quiet.
Steady. The kind of love that didn’t set your heart on fire or make you forget your own name.
And Harold? Well, Harold had been zealous; I’d give him that. He made me feel wanted again after years of widowhood. But even that had felt like trying on someone else’s clothes—nice enough, but never quite the right fit.
But Stephen?
Stephen was like being struck by lightning while riding a motorcycle through a thunderstorm. Completely insane. Absolutely terrifying. And so exhilarating I couldn’t catch my breath.
He touched me like he owned me, and the crazy part was, I liked it.
Loved it, even. That possessive hand on my lower back, the way he pulled me close in public without hesitation, the crass, vulgar things he whispered in my ear that should have scandalized me but instead made me want to drag him into the nearest closet.
I’m an old woman, for crying out loud. I should not be having these thoughts before sunrise.
But here I was, grinning like an idiot as I moved through the bakery, remembering the way he’d looked at me this morning. The way he’d made me feel. The way he’d promised, with his hands, his mouth, his whole body, that this was just the beginning.
I caught my reflection in the display case glass and barely recognized myself. My cheeks were flushed, my eyes bright, and I was smiling so wide my face hurt.
Pati was going to take one look at me and know exactly what I’d been up to.
The thought should have embarrassed me.
Instead, I just smiled wider.
The kitchen door swung open, and Pati emerged with a tray of croissants, already golden and perfect. She must have come in early to get a head start.
“Morning, Nana,” she said, setting the tray on the counter.
“Morning, sweetheart.” I moved to help her arrange them in the display case, grateful for the distraction.
We worked in comfortable silence for a few minutes, the kind of easy rhythm that came from years of working side by side. But I could feel Pati watching me, her gaze lingering a little too long, and I knew she had something on her mind.
“What?” I finally asked, not looking up from the croissants.
“Nothing.” But she was smiling. I could hear it in her voice.
“Patricia.”
“It’s just—” She paused, and when I glanced over, she was grinning like she’d caught me red-handed. “Nana, you’re glowing. Like, actually glowing.”
My face went hot. “I am not glowing.”
“You absolutely are.” She leaned against the counter, clearly delighted by my embarrassment. “And you keep smiling at nothing. You smiled at a croissant, Nana. A croissant.”
“I did not—” I stopped, realizing I had no defense. I’d been smiling at everything since I woke up. “Oh, hush.”
“Popeye’s really got you all twisted up, hasn’t he?” Pati’s voice was teasing but warm, and she reached over to squeeze my arm. “I’ve never seen you like this. It’s kind of amazing, actually.”
I felt my cheeks burn even hotter, but I couldn’t help the giddy laugh that escaped. “He’s... he’s something, that’s for sure.”
“He’s crazy about you,” Pati said simply. “And you’re crazy about him. It’s sweet, Nana. Really sweet.”
I ducked my head, fussing with the croissants to hide my smile. “Well, don’t go spreading that around town.”
“Too late,” Pati laughed. “Everyone already knows.”
Before I could respond, the bell over the door chimed, and I looked up to see Stephen walking in.
He was dressed in his usual uniform of jeans, boots, and leather jacket over a black T-shirt. His silver hair was slightly mussed, like he’d run his hands through it, and his eyes found mine immediately, that familiar heat sparking between us.
“Morning, darlin’,” he said, his voice a low rumble that made my stomach flip.
“Morning,” I managed, trying to sound casual even as my heart raced.
Pati grinned and disappeared back into the kitchen, leaving us alone.
Stephen crossed the space between us in a few long strides, and before I could say anything, his hand was on my lower back, pulling me close. He kissed me. Not a quick peck, but a real kiss, deep and possessive and entirely inappropriate for a public space.
When he finally pulled back, I was breathless.
“Stephen,” I hissed, glancing toward the kitchen door. “Pati’s right there.”
“So?” He grinned, that cocky, infuriating grin that made me want to slap him and kiss him at the same time. “She already knows I’m fucking you. Might as well make it official.”
“You’re impossible,” I muttered, but I couldn’t stop the smile tugging at my lips.
“Yeah, but you like it.” His hand slid lower, resting just above the curve of my ass, and he leaned in to murmur against my ear. “Admit it, Trudy. You fucking love it when I talk dirty to you.”
Heat flooded my face, and I shoved at his chest. “Help me with the display case before I throw you out.”
He laughed but did as I asked, moving behind the counter to grab trays of pastries.
We worked together, his presence a constant distraction.
Every time I reached for something, his hand was there, brushing my hip, trailing down my spine, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.
And every touch sent sparks racing through me, making it harder to focus on anything but him.
“You keep touching me like that, and we’re never going to get this done,” I said, trying to sound stern.
“Good.” He leaned in, his lips brushing my temple. “Rather be touching you than doing this shit anyway.”
“Stephen.”
“Trudy.” He mimicked my tone, and I couldn’t help but laugh.
By the time we finished setting up, I was flushed and flustered and entirely too aware of him.
But there was something about the way he refused to keep his hands to himself, the way he looked at me like I was the only thing in the room that mattered.
And it made me feel alive in a way I hadn’t in years.
The bell chimed again, and I looked up to see Simon walking in with Matlock at his side. Simon owned the salon down the street, and we’d been friends for years. He took one look at Stephen standing behind the counter with his arm around my waist and grinned.
“Well, well, well,” Simon said, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Look at you, Trudy Wheeler, shacking up with a biker. Never thought I’d see the day.”
I felt my face heat. “We’re not?—”
“We absolutely are,” Stephen cut in, his grip on my waist tightening.
Simon laughed, shaking his head. “Trust me, Trudy, you’re ahead of the curve. It took me six damn years to lock this one down.” He pulled Matlock closer, his expression softening. “So yeah, I’d say you’re doing just fine.”
Matlock rolled his eyes but nodded in agreement, his expression warm. “Happy for you, Trudy.”
Matlock had only just come out last month despite being in a secret relationship with Simon for years.
“Thank you,” I said, grateful for their support even as I felt embarrassed by the attention.
Simon ordered his usual, a latte and a blueberry muffin, and I busied myself preparing it, trying to ignore the way Stephen’s hand stayed on my back the entire time.
“How’s Sadie doing?” I asked as I handed Simon his coffee.
His smile faltered, just for a moment, and something heavy settled in his eyes. “She’s doing as well as can be expected,” he said quietly. “Some days are better than others.”
I reached across the counter and squeezed his hand. “If there’s anything I can do?—”
“I know. Thank you.” He squeezed back, then forced a brighter smile. “But enough about that. I want to hear all about this.” He gestured between me and Stephen. “How long has this been going on?”
“Not long,” I said, at the same time Stephen said, “Six months.”
I shot him a look. “We haven’t been together for six months.”
“Been wanting you for six months,” he corrected, his grin wicked. “Just took you a while to catch up.”
Simon laughed, and even Matlock cracked a smile. They left a few minutes later, and I was just starting to relax when the bell chimed again.
This time, it was Beatrice Allen.
Beatrice was in her eighties, a fixture in this town, and she had opinions about everything. She walked in with her chin held high, her gaze sweeping over Stephen with obvious disapproval.
“Trudy Wheeler,” she said, her tone sharp. “I heard rumors, but I didn’t believe them. You, of all people, taking up with a biker.”
I opened my mouth to respond, but Stephen beat me to it.
“Got a problem with bikers, lady?” he asked, his voice deceptively mild.
Beatrice sniffed. “I have a problem with men who think they can waltz into town and corrupt respectable women.”
“Corrupt?” Stephen’s eyebrows shot up, and he looked genuinely offended. “I’ll have you know I’m a goddamn gentleman. Open doors for her and everything.”
I bit back a laugh.
“And Trudy’s a grown woman,” he continued, his tone hardening slightly. “She can make her own damn decisions about who she spends her time with. Don’t need your approval or anyone else’s.”
Beatrice stared at him for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Then, to my surprise, she smiled a small, knowing smile, and turned to me.
“He’s got spirit,” she said. “I like that.”
And then she winked.
I blinked, stunned, as she ordered a coffee and a scone, paid, then left without another word.
“Did that just happen?” I asked, staring after her.
Stephen chuckled. “Think she was fucking with us.”
“I think you’re right.”
The morning continued like that, customers coming and going, most of them offering congratulations or teasing comments about my new relationship. And through it all, Stephen stayed close, his presence a constant, grounding force.
Until Harold walked in.
Alone.
I felt Stephen tense beside me the moment the door opened. Harold’s gaze swept the bakery, landing on me, and then on Stephen’s arm around my waist.
His expression tightened.
“Trudy,” he said, his voice carefully neutral. “I wanted to check on the anniversary cake order. Make sure everything’s on track.”
“It’s fine,” I said, trying to keep my tone professional. “Everything’s ready for Saturday.”
“Good. Good.” But he didn’t leave. His gaze flicked to Stephen, then back to me. “This is all very sudden, isn’t it? You and... him.”
“Not really,” Stephen said before I could respond. His voice was calm, but there was an edge to it. “Been after this woman for six months. Knew the first time I saw her she was mine. Just took some time to convince her of it.”
Harold’s jaw tightened. “Six months isn’t very long to know someone.”
“Long enough.” Stephen’s arm tightened around me, pulling me closer. “And my daughter loves her. Gave us her blessing. We’ll be having a grandchild in a few weeks, and Trudy’s gonna be part of that. Part of my family.”
I saw the flash of jealousy in Harold’s eyes, quickly masked by concern. “I just want to make sure you’re not rushing into something you’ll regret, Trudy. You deserve to be treated right.”
“I appreciate your concern,” I said, keeping my voice steady. “But I’m fine. Better than fine, actually.”
Harold looked like he wanted to say more, but Stephen’s presence, solid and unyielding at my side, seemed to stop him. He nodded stiffly, paid for a coffee he didn’t drink, and left.
The silence that followed was heavy.
“You okay?” Stephen asked, his hand moving to cup my face.
I nodded, leaning into his touch. “Yeah. I’m okay.”
And I was. Because watching Harold walk out that door, I couldn’t help but smile.
Ten years ago, I’d thought losing him was the worst thing that could happen. His kids didn’t approve, so he chose them, and I’d been devastated. Absolutely crushed.
But God, I’d dodged a bullet.
Here he was, still worried about me, still trying to manage my life, and I was standing here with a man who couldn’t keep his hands off me, who looked at me like I hung the moon, who made me feel like the most desirable woman alive.
Stephen’s daughter had blessed us. We were about to be grandparents together. And Harold was leaving with his untouched coffee, probably wondering what the hell he’d given up.
I almost laughed.
The universe had a wicked sense of humor, and I was absolutely here for it.
“What?” Stephen asked, noticing my smile.
“Nothing,” I said, reaching up to kiss him. “Just realized I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.”
And I meant it.
Sometimes you had to lose what you thought you wanted to find what you actually needed.
And what I needed, what I’d always needed, even if I hadn’t known it, was standing right here beside me.