Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
VIOLET
Sweet Pines Bakery smells like heaven and Christmas had a baby.
Cinnamon, vanilla, and freshly baked bread swirl in the air as I push open the door, the little bell jingling merrily above my head.
The cozy shop is already decked out for the season with twinkling lights strung across the ceiling and a small Christmas tree twinkling in the corner.
Miss Dorothy never does anything halfway when it comes to holidays.
I stamp the snow off my boots and unwind my scarf, grateful for the rush of warmth after the biting December chill.
My mind is still replaying yesterday's encounter with Hudson Wilder on loop.
Those dark eyes. That deep voice. The way his massive frame filled the doorway of his mountain home.
And those girls, so different from each other but each carrying pieces of their father in their mannerisms.
I spot Ivy at the counter, chatting with a woman I recognize as Miss Dorothy's granddaughter, Ava. The beautiful woman with dark curls and warm brown skin is carefully arranging what looks like Ivy's famous spiced apple cookies in the display case.
"There she is," Ivy says, waving me over. "I was just telling Ava about your pie-making skills."
"Nowhere near as good as Miss Dorothy's," I say, joining them at the counter. "How is she doing? I haven't seen her in a while."
Ava's smile falters slightly. "She had a heart attack three days ago. She's stable but still in the hospital."
"Oh my God, I'm so sorry," I gasp, my hand flying to my chest. "I had no idea."
"She's tough," Ava says, her voice strong despite the worry in her eyes. "Already bossing around the nurses and demanding we keep the bakery running exactly as scheduled. Says Christmas waits for no one, not even cardiac events."
That sounds exactly like Miss Dorothy. The woman has been a fixture in Eden Ridge for as long as anyone can remember, her bakery the heart of the town.
"My brothers and I are taking shifts until we figure out a longer-term plan," Ava continues, sealing up the display case. "But Grandma would kill us if we closed, especially during Christmas season."
"Let us know if you need any help," I offer. "I'm pretty decent with a rolling pin, and Ivy here is a baking goddess."
"I might take you up on that," Ava smiles gratefully. "Especially with the Christmas rush coming. People around here act like they've never seen gingerbread men before."
Ivy finishes arranging her last batch of treats, labeled with the words ‘Sweet Ivy’s’ in neat handwriting.
"Two peppermint mochas and some of those gingerbread scones?" Ivy asks, already pulling out her wallet.
"Coming right up," Ava says, moving to the coffee machine.
Ivy links her arm through mine and guides me to a small table by the window. "Alright, spill everything. Your text last night was criminally vague. You've been practically vibrating since you walked in."
I glance around to make sure no one is within earshot before leaning in. "I went to see him yesterday."
"Hudson? The recluse?" Ivy's eyes widen. "You actually drove all the way up there?"
"Yep." I can't help the smile that spreads across my face. "And it was... interesting."
"Interesting is never just interesting," Ivy says, accepting our drinks from Ava with a quick thank you. "Details. Now."
I take a deep breath and tell her everything—how Hudson tried to close the door in my face three times, how I forced my way in, the electricity when we touched, and most importantly, the surprise arrival of his daughters.
"Three girls?" Ivy whispers, clearly shocked. "He has three children? And he's looking for a mail-order bride?"
"He wasn't," I clarify, warming my hands on the mug. "His lawyer placed the ad without his permission. He was furious about it."
"So the money isn't real?" Ivy's face falls. “There goes our solution to save the house.”
"No, it's real. His lawyer set aside the funds. Hudson just doesn't know what to do about any of it." I take a sip of my mocha, the peppermint cooling my tongue. "But I think I can convince him."
"Vi, if he doesn't want to get married—"
"He needs to," I interrupt. "For his daughters. He's trying to get full custody, and apparently being married would help his case."
"And you need the money," Ivy adds softly.
I nod, staring down at my mug. The foreclosure notice burns in my memory. "Four months behind, Ivy. Dad's completely dropped the ball, and I can't make enough with my freelance gigs to catch up. This could be the only way."
"What's he like?" Ivy asks, studying me carefully. "Besides the obvious hot mountain man aesthetic."
"How do you know he's hot?" I challenge, though I can feel heat creeping into my cheeks.
"Because your eyes get all dreamy when you talk about him. And you wouldn't consider marrying someone you aren’t attracted to, even for fifty grand." Ivy grins wickedly. "Is he tall? Muscular? I bet he has that sexy lumberjack vibe."
"He's..." I search for the right words. "Intimidating. Tall, yeah. Built like a brick wall. Dark hair past his collar, full beard, tattoos everywhere."
"Sounds dangerous," Ivy raises an eyebrow.
"He tries to be," I admit. "But then you see him with his girls, and it's like watching a grizzly bear cuddle kittens.
He's so gentle with them, Ivy. The way he touches their hair or responds to their needs without them even asking.
It's..." I trail off, not wanting to admit how that combination affected me.
"Hot," Ivy finishes for me. "The word you're looking for is hot."
"It's not just about him being attractive," I protest weakly. "Though he definitely is. It's about solving both our problems. He needs a wife to help with his custody case. I need money to save Mom's house. It's practical."
"And the fact that you can't stop blushing when you talk about him is just a bonus, right?" Ivy teases.
I'm saved from responding when the bell above the door jingles. A little girl with dark brown curls skips in, bundled in a pink puffy coat with mittens dangling from the sleeves.
My heart stops. "Oh my God," I whisper, grabbing Ivy's wrist across the table. "Don't look."
Naturally, Ivy immediately turns to look. "What? Who is it?"
"I said, don't look!" I hiss, sinking lower in my seat. "It's Lucy. Hudson's youngest."
"The cute one in the pink coat?" Ivy asks, not even trying to be subtle. "Which means..."
Right on cue, Hudson walks through the door, flanked by Silvie and Angie.
My breath catches in my throat. He looks even better than yesterday—if that's possible.
His dark hair is slightly damp, pushed back from his forehead, and his beard is neatly trimmed.
He's wearing a flannel shirt under an open jacket, and the sleeves are rolled up just enough to show his tattooed forearms. My body reacts instantly, a warm tingle starting low in my belly and spreading outward.
"Daddy, can I get a hot chocolate with extra marshmallows?" Lucy is asking, bouncing on her toes at the counter. "And cookies? Please?"
"One cookie," Hudson says, his deep voice carrying through the bakery. "We're having lunch soon."
"Okay, but can Silvie and Angie get one too?" Lucy negotiates, making me smile despite my nervousness.
Hudson rubs his beard, pretending to consider. "I suppose that would be fair."
I watch him interact with his daughters, noting how Angie stays close to his side while Silvie maintains a watchful eye on Lucy. The family dynamic is clear—Hudson is their rock, Silvie is the miniature adult, Angie is the quiet middle child, and Lucy is the fearless baby of the family.
"You should go say hi," Ivy whispers, nudging my foot under the table.
"I can't just—"
"If you want to be his wife, you need to make an impression." Ivy gives me a pointed look. "Be the woman those girls need. Make him see you as the solution to his problems."
She's right. Hiding in the corner isn't going to save Mom's house. I take a deep breath, straighten my shoulders, and stand up.
"Wish me luck," I murmur.
"You don't need it," Ivy says confidently. "Just be yourself. The rest will fall into place."
I approach the counter just as Ava is handing Lucy a hot chocolate piled high with whipped cream and marshmallows. The little girl's eyes light up when she spots me.
"Yay!" she squeals, almost spilling her drink in excitement. "Daddy, look! It's the cookie lady!"
Hudson turns, and for a split second, something like panic flashes in his eyes before he schools his expression. "Violet," he says, my name rough on his tongue. "Didn't expect to see you here."
"Small town," I smile, trying to ignore the flutter in my stomach when his dark eyes meet mine. Up close, I can see the flecks of amber in them, like hidden gold. "Hi, girls."
Angie gives me a shy wave, while Silvie narrows her eyes suspiciously. Lucy, unbothered by her older sister's attitude, grabs my hand with her sticky fingers.
"Are you getting cookies too? Daddy says we can each have one even though we're having lunch soon."
I kneel down to her level, charmed by her enthusiasm. "I already had a scone, but I hear they have the best Christmas cookies in town."
"We're gonna see Santa after lunch," Lucy announces proudly. "He's at the community center today. Only until four o'clock."
"That sounds exciting," I say, genuinely charmed by her enthusiasm. "Are you going to ask for something special?"
Lucy's eyes widen. "It's a secret! I can't tell or it won't come true!"
"That's birthday wishes, goose," Silvie corrects her, rolling her eyes but with an undercurrent of affection.
"You should come with us!" Lucy declares suddenly, looking up at her father with wide, hopeful eyes. "Can she, Daddy? Please?"
Hudson freezes, clearly caught off guard. I watch the conflict play across his face—he doesn't want to encourage my presence, but he also doesn't want to disappoint his daughters.
"Lucy, I'm sure Violet has other plans today," he says carefully.