33. Tess
THIRTY-THREE
TESS
Having August’s birthday party two days after the Fourth Fest was a bit like going to Six Flags and then hitting up Disneyland—excitement overload. He had a blast at the park with his friends, getting caught up in party games and running wild on the play structures. They had strawberry cupcakes with dinosaur toppers, sliced fruit, and a veggie tray I’m bringing home in its entirety.
Mom and Wren alternated being in charge of the bakery so each of them could come down for an hour to celebrate with August. It’s just more proof that we need to hire another employee, no matter how little Mom likes the concept.
Mom floated the idea of having his party yesterday when Blackbird’s was closed, but that would have resulted in three party days in a row, and I refused on principle. Mama needs a minute to rest.
August and I are on our way across town still giddy from the party and loaded down with presents from his friends, and the day isn’t over yet. Later tonight, we’ll have the barbecue at the duplex with friends and family. This event will be more low-key since I only invited adults, but he’s just as amped up about it as he was for the afternoon with his classmates.
“Everybody can see our new house and meet Dutch, and we can play my new game,” he tells me.
“The one that throws whipped cream in people’s faces?”
He giggles. “Yeah.”
“Maybe play it with just Aunt Wren.” I will be front row, center with my camera ready to see my sister take a fake pie to the face.
“When will everyone get here?” he asks as I pull up to the duplex. We just left a party and he can’t wait to get the next one started. His social battery doesn’t quit.
“Not for a couple of hours. We have some time to relax.” Even though asking him to relax is like asking the sun to tone it down with its cheery rays. Not likely.
“This is the best day ever.”
I make eye contact with him in the rear-view mirror. “I’m with you, buddy.”
I have my own good news to celebrate.
We take his party loot and leftovers inside. Naturally, the first thing he wants to do is rush out the back door. Not even brand-new Lego sets and a marble run track can keep him from some playtime with Dutch. The dog is sunning himself in the yard but leaps up when August runs out with his new soccer ball, ready to start a game of one-on-one.
I haven’t figured out his rules, but he always knows the score.
Ian’s back door is wide open, so I head that way. I step over the threshold as I knock on the glass.
“I have exciting news?—”
And that’s it. That’s all I get out before I’m stopped cold in my tracks. Staring is a real problem for me with this man. Just when I think I’ve got myself under control, he throws me another curveball. Usually, the shirtless kind.
He’s standing in his kitchen in athletic shorts and nothing else. His hair is damp, and his chest glistens like Edward Cullen with a death wish. He’s downing a big glass of water, his armpits braced on a pair of crutches. He’s not wearing his prosthetic leg, and one side of his shorts hangs empty.
It’s a weirdly intimate moment, and not just for how little he’s wearing. This isn’t a side of him he lets most people experience. And I am painfully aware I wasn’t actually invited.
“Oh. I’m sorry. The door was open. I shouldn’t have barged in.”
His mouth tips on one side. “It’s fine. Dutch and I just got back from a run on the trail, and I needed a shower. How was the party?”
Taking his cue that this isn’t a problem, I step farther into his apartment. “Wild. Twelve kids doesn’t sound like a lot, but when they’re all screaming and running around, it’s mayhem.”
I have a slight headache from all the noisemakers, and I don’t mean plastic toys.
“No, twelve kids sounds like a lot.”
“I guess you’re right. They had a good time, if lack of volume control is any indication.”
His gaze warms. “I like to think so.”
Okay, that’s…oof. I can’t focus when he’s watching me like this. Or saying things like that. Or standing around shirtless and barefoot like it’s no big deal. I drift closer to him, my body acting apart from my mind.
Ian sets his empty glass aside and leans against the counter. “I want to hear about your exciting news.”
That, at least, snaps me out of my bare-chest fog. “Right. Charlie Callahan at Moonlight Lodge called me as we were packing up the party. She got the green light from her parents, and they’re going to convert their barn into a wedding venue. When they’re ready, she wants me to be their preferred wedding cake vendor.”
I am a professional. I didn’t squeal or jump up and down. I saved that for when I got off the phone with her.
“That’s amazing news, angel.” He holds a hand out, and I step into his embrace.
On the “Leads to Risky Activities” scale, shirtless hugging has got to be way up at the top. He’s just so perfect and warm like this, even slightly damp from the shower. And looking good shirtless is one thing, but smelling good shirtless? Doesn’t seem possible, but here he is, smelling so fresh and clean I actually sniff him.
I regret nothing.
I let him go, but don’t move out of his space. He keeps one hand on my side, tethering me to him. Outside, August’s happy shouts carry as he frolics with Dutch in the yard.
“What does this mean for your family’s business?”
That turns my excitement down a notch. “I don’t know. I’ll have to talk to Mom and find out if we’re going to do this together or if I step out on my own.”
I’d much rather have my cakes be an arm of Blackbird’s Bakery than start a new business by myself. But I’m willing to fight for it. Right this minute, though, I just want to enjoy the moment before reality sets in.
“I’m proud of you.”
I can’t help it—I let out the tiniest squeal. “I’m so excited. Charlie said it will be a few months before they get the venue ready for weddings, and it will probably take a while for them to build up clientele and a solid reputation.”
Given how popular Moonlight Lodge has become, their calendar might fill a whole lot faster than she’s thinking.
“I have time to figure out my menu and get my website in order. Obviously, not every couple will choose to work with me?—”
Ian scoffs, his fingers flexing on my side. “Impossible.”
I love how much confidence he has in me. It’s not the source of mine, but I like having the extra layer. “It will most likely build little by little. It’s probably ridiculous to be this excited about a business that doesn’t exist.”
“Yet,” he says. “Always remember the yet .”
“Yet,” I confirm. So many yets right now. “But I want this. One way or another.”
He dips his head closer to mine. “I’m loving this fearless side of you.”
Fearless . Not a word I’ve ever used to describe myself. But maybe I’m becoming my own definition of it. Looking out for my son. Getting my own place. Pursuing my custom cake dreams.
Being so at home in Ian’s arms.
I love the fearless side of me, too.