Owen led the way to the front door, holding it open to usher her into the late afternoon sunshine. “As a specialty-produce lover, I’m all about the veggies. As a cattle farmer…”
“Totally a carnivore, I know,” Cate replied with a laugh. “Most folks out here are, and I’m not sure that’ll change anytime soon. Still, if we have enough demand, I don’t mind coming up with a few vegan and gluten-free recipes to go with the rest of the baked goods we’ll offer at the storefront.”
“Huh. I never would have thought of that,” Owen said, taking the basket from her to put it carefully in the back of his truck. “Guess convincing you to come on board was a pretty smart call.”
She arched a brow even though she knew her ear-to-ear grin probably erased all the tartness she’d meant to dish up. “You and your sweet talk. My heart’s all a-flutter.”
“Only for you, sweetheart. Only for you.”
The ride to the main house went by quickly despite the lingering kiss Owen had laid on her before putting the truck into gear. Emerson and Hunter were already in the kitchen, along with Mr. Cross, and after the chorus of hellos and the warm hugs that accompanied them, they all fell into orbit around each other to get dinner ready. As Cate helped Hunter arrange fresh-cut flowers and herbs in a pair of pretty mason jars and laughed at Owen and Emerson’s potato-peeling contest, all of them calling out possibilities for Mr. Cross’s crossword puzzle as they went, she couldn’t help but feel good, all the way in her bones.
For the first time in a long time, maybe even ever, Cate felt like she was home. With Owen at her side and his family all around, she felt happy. Right.
Like nothing in the world could bring her down.
Owen stood back and took in the kitchen with a huge fucking grin. Between setting the table, mixing up a triple-batch of sweet tea, and getting the salad and two Shepherd’s pies from farm to fork (or, at least, in the case of the pies, to the oven), they’d put organized chaos to the test. But just as she had for weeks, Cate had fit right in with Emerson and Hunter and his old man, joking and pitching in and telling everyone all about her plans to try some new muffin recipes for the next farmers’ market. Looking at her now, with her brown eyes sparkling and her cheeks lit up with excitement as she unpacked the desserts she’d made in between batches of buttercream frosting for Hunter and Emerson’s wedding cake, Owen never would’ve guessed she’d been so resistant to start her own business, or to find her own happiness.
God knew he’d found his.
The familiar creak of the front door sounded off from down the hallway leading out of the kitchen, and Owen’s pulse jumped like a big mouth bass at daybreak. “Eli?”
“I’m sorry,” his brother said, his cocky grin leading the way over the threshold and into the room. His dark blond hair was a bit longer than he normally wore it, his T-shirt and dark gray hoodie definitely a little travel-worn, but, damn, he looked as at-ease and happy as Owen had ever seen him.
“Were you expecting someone else?” Eli asked with a wink no one else in the universe could pull off without looking like a dick. “The mayor, maybe? Or—I know!” He snapped his fingers. “Clint Eastwood.”
“I see all that world traveling and a seven-hour flight hasn’t made you less of a smartass,” Owen said, but damn it, he was smiling too much for the words to be anything other than affectionate.
A fact which Eli had clearly picked up on. “Ah, come on. Admit it. You missed me and my smartass ways.” He crossed the kitchen tiles to give Owen a warm handshake and shoulder-to-shoulder half-hug/clap on the back before looking at Cate and Emerson and adding, “’Scuse my language, ladies. I see my brother here still has an eloquent way with words.”
Owen recovered just enough to arch a brow as Eli made the rounds with everyone in the kitchen. He had a pair of very specific words in mind for his brother right now, but Eli—the old swellhead—wasn’t wrong. They were in the middle of their old man’s kitchen, so he’d have to keep said directive to himself. At least until later.
“Where’s Scarlett?” Hunter asked, spinning a gaze over the kitchen with a grin of his own. “She didn’t get tired of you already, did she?”
Eli snorted, and, in this case, his confidence was extremely well-earned. He and Scarlett were so overboard for each other, they might as well be their own romance novel. “Not a chance, brother. We just got cell service as we pulled up outside, so she’s on the phone with her dads.”
A weird expression flickered across Eli’s face, taking his smile down a notch. “So, before she comes in, there’s something I should probably tell you.”
“Everything alright, son?” their old man asked, his salt-and-pepper brows pulling low beneath the brim of his Stetson, and Owen had to admit, he’d never quite seen the look Eli was currently wearing on his face before.
His “yes” came out quick and honest, though. “Everything’s great, actually. It’s just—”
“Hey, everybody!” Scarlett said, appearing in the doorway to the kitchen. “Sorry I’m a little late coming in, but I wanted to let Bryan and Miguel know we got here okay.”
She stepped into the room, her movements oddly a little hesitant. She was wearing a short, flowy sundress that swished around her knees and the sort of huge smile Owen had always associated with her unvarnished personality, her face almost glowing and her eyes wide and bright. But the kitchen had gone pin-drop silent, and in that moment, he noticed that both Emerson and Cate had skipped over Scarlett’s smile to stare pointedly at the hand she’d splayed over the curve of her belly that had been hidden by her sundress when she’d first walked into the kitchen, and wait. Wait…
Holy shit. Scarlett was pregnant.
28
Owen blinked, watching as if from a trance as Eli wound his arm around Scarlett and gave up a sheepish grin.
“So, I guess the cat is out of the bag,” he said, his expression turning genuinely apologetic as he focused on their old man. “I’m really sorry we didn’t tell you sooner. We found out for sure just after Christmas, and we wanted to wait until after the first trimester to tell anybody. You know, to make sure we were out of the danger window.”
Owen nodded dumbly, although he had not one fucking clue what a danger window was, let alone how long a trimester lasted.
Scarlett rubbed her belly, continuing where Eli had left off. “Then at the end of the first thirteen weeks, you two told us you were getting married,” she said, looking at Hunter and Emerson. “We knew we’d be back here in the States for that, and Eli really wanted to give you all the news in person, so…surprise! We’re having a baby.”
So many thoughts flew through Owen’s head that he had no prayer at capturing one and putting it to words. His brother—his youngest brother, who hadn’t taken anything seriously in his entire life until six months ago—was going to be a father. At this time next year, Eli and Scarlett would have a baby. A family. The thought was totally surreal.
Hunter broke the silence first. “Holy crap, you two. That’s great news. Congratulations.”
“Thanks.” Eli beamed. “Obviously, we were a little surprised, too. Us having a baby right now wasn’t exactly part of our plan,” he said, addressing the drop-jawed shock that had been evident on everyone’s face—and probably still was on Owen’s, because, damn—at the news. “We didn’t want to take away from y’all’s wedding, because it’s really cool that you’re getting hitched, but Scarlett and I do plan to get married in the next couple of months, before the baby comes.”
“So, wait. When is the baby coming?” Owen blurted, and, clearly, no one was ever going to accuse him of being articulate.
Scarlett shared a quick, conspiratorial grin with Eli before she said, “He’s due in August.”
“Oh! You’re having a boy,” Emerson exclaimed, swooping in to hug Scarlett. “That’s so exciting!”
Sweet Jesus, when was Owen’s shock-meter going to top out? He squinted at Scarlett’s stomach, which didn’t look terribly big despite the
definite baby bump beneath her sundress. “You can tell that stuff already?”
“We’re twenty weeks tomorrow,” Eli said, as if that cleared everything up. “We had an ultrasound last week when we were in London. See?”
He reached into the back pocket of his jeans, pulling out a grainy, black and white printout and passing it over to their old man, who Owen belatedly realized had been oddly silent since Eli had dropped his news on them.
“Here’s your grandson, Pop. We’d like to name him Jordan Tobias, if that’s alright with you.”
Owen’s heart seized at the mention of his mother’s maiden name, then again at the definite sheen in his father’s eyes as he took the photo from Eli and smiled.
“Well, I think Jordan Tobias is a right nice name. I’d be honored,” he said softly. “I’m happy for you, son. For both of you,” he amended. “Your momma would be so proud.”
“Thanks, Pop.” Eli cleared his throat and hugged their old man. “That means a lot to us.”
“Well,” Scarlett said, after she’d given out a hug of her own. “We’re certainly excited to be home to tell you all in person and to celebrate the wedding. And to see a new face in the kitchen, too.”
She sent a pointed look over Owen’s shoulder, and damn it! He’d been so shell-shocked that he’d momentarily forgotten about Cate.
“Hi,” she said. “I didn’t want to interrupt your family moment—”
“Nonsense,” Eli interjected with an affable smile and a shake of his head. “Word is, you’ve been putting up with this guy.” He paused just long enough to shoot a cocky glance at Owen. “And that makes you pretty okay in my book.”
Cate laughed. “It’s good to see you, Eli. Congratulations.”
Owen’s pulse knocked at his throat as Eli’s expression grew suddenly hesitant. “Thank you. I’m sorry, Cate, I didn’t even think—”
“Don’t,” she said, and, aw, hell, Owen had been so stunned that he hadn’t thought of it, either. Cate had done a lot of moving forward over the past month, but this had to be hard for her, having lost her daughter.
Still, her voice was quiet and sure. “Please don’t apologize. You have great news, and you should celebrate it. Truly, I’m happy for you both.”
“Thank you,” Eli said, and Scarlett’s nod punctuated the sentiment.
“It’s really nice to see you here, Cate. I’m looking forward to getting to know you as well as everyone else does,” she said.
Cate gave up the sort of smile that always hit Owen right in the solar plexus, and this one was no different. “Why don’t I grab you something to drink and we can talk while these guys catch up? I’d love to hear all about London and Dublin.”
“Ooooh, me, too,” Emerson chimed in. “Let’s go sit in the living room. It’s nice and comfortable in there.”
“I’ll make up a pitcher of lemon water and join you two in a minute,” Cate said. Emerson linked arms with Scarlett, the two of them heading down the hallway amidst some happy murmurs, and Hunter and Eli headed to the fridge with their old man to grab a couple of beers. Concern slipped between Owen’s ribs, and he walked over to the far side of the kitchen, where Cate was cutting up a lemon with precise movements.
“Hey,” he said, standing next to her in an effort to keep their conversation private. “Are you, ah, okay?”
“I’m fine,” she replied. But she also wasn’t dense, because she continued before Owen could voice the “really?” that had been brewing in his mind. “If you’re asking whether Eli and Scarlett’s news threw me for a second, the answer is yes. I’m human, and I miss my daughter. But their news isn’t about me, and I really am very happy for them. They’re clearly excited to be parents.”
Owen paused. Everything she’d said made perfect sense, and what’s more, he believed that she was genuinely okay. She’d never been the type to bullshit anyone, least of all him.
So what was that weird feeling in the pit of his stomach, and why did it feel like it was settling in for a good, long stay?
Cate looked at him, her gaze narrowing in concern. “Are you okay?” she asked, lowering the knife in her hand and reaching out to squeeze his forearm. “You look so serious.”
Owen opened his mouth, the word “no” hot on his tongue. But he couldn’t even pinpoint the source of his unease, let alone come up with a way to articulate it, so he tacked on a smile instead.
“Are you kidding? I’m great,” he said.
It was the first time he’d ever broken their honesty policy with an out and out lie.
The odd feeling in Owen’s gut faded a bit during dinner. Then again, it would’ve been downright impossible not to feel at-ease with everyone together, talking and laughing and dishing up seconds of the best strawberry-rhubarb pie in the county. He’d told Eli and Scarlett all about the progress they’d made with the storefront project and the success they’d had adding Cate’s baked goods to their lineup of offerings at the farmers’ market, then listened in turn as Eli and Scarlett had told everyone all about the stories they’d covered together in Europe and a few countries in Central America. Cate had fit right in with the boisterous group. Not that Owen was shocked by that at all—she’d seemed hand-made for his family ever since she’d stormed into the office like a cyclone, knocking some sense into him even as she’d knocked the breath right out of his chest.
Family and farm. Owen had one of those things well in-hand.
Now, he wanted the other.
“Ah, there’s that serious look.” Eli’s teasing voice cut through the low light of the now-empty kitchen, and he ambled over to the spot where Owen had been tidying up the very last remnants of the mess from their family meal. “I’ve been wondering when it would make an appearance.”
Owen worked up a smile, mostly to cover his thoughts, but—well, yeah—partly to counteract Eli’s words, too. “I’m not that serious,” he said, returning his attention to the last of the dishes in the sink.
“Sure you are,” Hunter chimed in from the doorway. “But it’s why we like you.”
Ah, he couldn’t help it. Owen let one corner of his mouth drift up into the barest hint of a smirk. “And here I thought you liked me for my charm and irresistible good looks.”
Eli barked out a laugh, picking up a blue and white kitchen towel and drying the serving bowl Owen had just washed. “Jesus. You weren’t kidding, Hunt. He really did grow a sense of humor.”
Seriously? “You guys have been talking about me behind my back?” Owen asked, both of his brothers responding with the same well-duh expression.
“Uh, yeah, dude. We’re your brothers. It’s what we do,” Hunter said. He sent a look in Eli’s direction that said the two of them had traded more than just passing conversation about him, and Owen took a step back from the sink in surprise.
“I’m your brother, too, and I don’t talk like that with either of you,” he pointed out.
Eli took a turn with the half-smirk Owen had tried on a minute earlier. “Well, Scarlett went to bed early to get ahead of her jetlag, and Emerson just went back to your place with Cate to talk about the last-minute details for the wedding cake she’s making. What do you say we grab a couple of beers and change that, right now?”
“Okay. Sure,” Owen said after he got over the pop of shock the offer had sent through his rib cage. Hanging the kitchen towel over the handle on the dishwasher, he took one of the beers Hunter had liberated from the fridge and followed his brothers out to the back porch. Unlike its counterpart on the front of the house, there wasn’t anything fancy about the small stretch of boards just outside the back door. But also unlike the front porch, the rear deck was dark save the soft glow of the single bulb over the door leading to the mudroom and the muted flash of fireflies in the fields beyond the yard, and it housed three Adirondack chairs just perfect for kicking back a few beers on a Saturday night.
“Ahhh,” Eli said, leaning back in the chair to Owen’s left and kicking his jeans-clad legs out in front of him to look
up at the stars. “I might’ve seen a lot of gorgeous places over the last six months, but I can’t lie. I missed this.”
“Really?” Owen asked. His brother had been so certain about leaving Cross Creek to pursue a career in journalism. Owen had assumed he wouldn’t miss the place much.
Funny, Eli didn’t hesitate. “Yeah, really. Don’t get me wrong—I’m happier than hell traveling and freelancing magazine stories with Scarlett. It’s definitely what I’m meant to be doing. But being here, with y’all around me…I might belong with Scarlett, but Cross Creek is still my home, you know?”
“I’ll drink to that,” Hunter said, lifting his bottle in the shadows. “So, does that mean you two are going to stick around for a while after the wedding?”
Eli nodded. “Scarlett’s halfway done with her second trimester, and after six more weeks, she won’t be able to travel by plane. We’ve got a couple short jobs planned on the east coast after that, but, otherwise, we’re going to stay here in Millhaven until the baby is born.”
“You’re having the baby here?” Owen asked, taking a long swallow of beer in an effort to drown the unease filtering back through his gut.
“Of course. Scarlett and I want to be around family when this little guy comes into the world. Plus”—a grin hung in his voice—“we’re gonna need all the help we can get.”
Owen’s pulse knocked at his throat, and even though he knew it might be bordering on ill-mannered, he’d never pulled any punches with Eli. Starting now seemed dumb as hell. “Jesus, man. You and Scarlett are having a baby. You’re going to be a father. Doesn’t that freak you out?”
To Owen’s relief, Eli chuckled. “Dude. I still laugh at fart jokes and eat Lucky Charms for breakfast. Hell yes, becoming a father freaks me out.” He paused, surprising Owen when his tone turned serious. “I mean, obviously, Scarlett and I didn’t plan to do this now. Getting pregnant was definitely a surprise. But I love her, and we’ve both always known we want kids. This might not be the most traditional way of doing things, but it fits us, and we’re in it together. When things get tough, we’ll figure ’em out.”
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