“That’s really cool, man,” Hunter said. “Em and I have talked about having kids, too.”
Owen nearly choked on his beer. “You have?” Was he the only fucking guy in Millhaven not to have considered procreation yet?
“Well, we’re getting married in seven days, so yeah.” Hunter laughed. “Of course, we’ve talked about it. We’re not there quite yet. We’ll obviously have to take her MS into consideration, but her doctors have all assured us there’s no reason we shouldn’t try when we’re ready, and we both want a couple of kids. I don’t think we’ll be too far behind you and Scarlett in the grander scheme of things.”
Owen blinked, unable to say anything past the shock jammed in his windpipe. Having kids had always been one of those things he thought he’d consider some day far in the future, a nebulous idea he couldn’t even wrap his head around because he’d spent his entire adult life trying not to get whomever he’d been sleeping with pregnant. Even sitting here, now, the thought of having a baby was surreal.
And yet, both of his younger brothers had considered it; hell, Eli and Scarlett were doing it.
Family and farm.
“How about you?” Eli asked, bringing Owen back to the here-and-now of the back porch. “Think you’ll get serious with Cate? You look awfully happy when you’re with her.”
“I am.” Well, at least that was a no-brainer. “We’re not, you know, talking about the kinds of stuff that you guys are, though.”
He’d just given her a dresser drawer, for Chrissake. Although, come to think of it, she’d slept in his bed every night for the better part of a month straight. Would it really be so different if she moved in?
“But you really like her,” Eli said, and Hunter answered before Owen could.
“Trust me, he does. He actually laughs on a regular basis now. And the other day, he even left work two whole hours early.”
Eli lowered his beer bottle to the arm of his chair with a clunk. “Shut the fuck up. This guy? Who once slept in the greenhouse the night before the Watermelon Festival because he ended up working so late? He left the farm early? On purpose?”
“Are you done?” Owen asked, but damn it, a smile twitched at the edges of his mouth.
“Are you kidding?” Eli countered with a laugh. “I just got started.”
The protest Owen was about to launch must have been obvious on his face, because Eli lifted his hands in concession.
“Okay, okay. So we’re giving you a little shit. But, seriously, O. It’s cool to see you with someone who makes you happy. Much as I love Cross Creek, and I get how much you love it, too, there’s more to life than just the farm.”
Owen’s gut panged, his shoulders stiffening against the wooden slats of his chair at Eli’s words. He’d always thought the family part of family and farm was something he’d figure out later, after all the work was done. He’d loved working the land and carrying out his legacy so much that he hadn’t missed the rest.
But now he loved Cate, too, and as absolutely crazy as it might’ve seemed to him even two months ago, Owen knew Eli was right.
There was more to life than just the farm. And he wanted it.
All.
29
If a hundred years went by before Cate saw another piping bag full of frosting, it would still be too frickin’ soon.
She stepped back on the floorboards in the dining room of Cross Creek’s main house and examined her handiwork. Okay, fine. So she’d realistically only last about two days without hitting the kitchen. But she was damn glad that today and tomorrow would be those two days.
Even if Hunter and Emerson’s wedding cake had turned out better than she’d dreamed.
Between her work in the office, baking and assembling the cake, and helping with the wedding preparations that had started bright and early five days ago, Cate had barely had time to breathe, let alone take a break that lasted longer than two minutes. But she spent all day at the main house. Overseeing things like deliveries and the tent set-up so Emerson could rest before the big day had made sense, and Cate had been happy to help, especially since Owen had been swamped with the storefront project and getting the farm ready for all three Cross men to take two days off. She’d barely seen him over the past week, save a few sleepy moments when she’ d crawled into his bed super late at night and a few more equally sleepy moments when he’d crawled out a few hours later. True to his straight-to-it nature, he’d left her a note on the bathroom mirror this morning, and, God, even now, hours later, the thought of it still sent a flush of warmth all the way through her.
Me. You. Right here after the reception. Let’s make up for lost time.
“Oh, my God!” Emerson’s best friend and maid of honor, Daisy Halstead, exclaimed from the doorway, delivering Cate back to the dining room with a snap. “Cate, the cake turned out gorgeous. Seriously, it’ll be a crime to cut into it!”
She came all the way into the dining room for a closer look, a bottle of champagne in one hand, a pair of flutes in the other, and the hem of her pale blue silk dress swishing around her ankles.
Cate laughed, hoping her blush had taken a hike. “Thank you, but if Emerson and Hunter don’t cut this cake and enjoy the hell out of it when it’s time, I may be forced to cry.” She and Marley hadn’t killed themselves on all that fondant and buttercream and jam filling for a cake that was all aesthetics.
“Girl. I tasted the last round of test cakes you left in the kitchen the other day. Believe me, once Hunter and Emerson do the honors in a few hours, I’ll be fighting folks for a giant hunk of that thing,” Daisy said.
Cate looked at her watch, smoothing a hand over the slate gray dress she’d bought for the occasion because it had reminded her of Owen’s eyes. “We’re about an hour from the guests arriving. Can I do anything to help with the last-minute details?”
Daisy laughed. “You can help me and Emerson drink some champagne. As for everything else, it’s all been either delegated or done. Mrs. Montgomery runs an incredibly tight ship.”
“I heard that,” came a knowing voice from behind them. Emerson’s mother walked into the dining room, auburn brows raised and clipboard in-hand.
“Meant purely as a compliment,” Daisy said with a grin, and a very slight but very definite smile formed at the edges of the older woman’s mouth.
“Then I suppose that’s how I should accept it. I came to check on the cake,” she said, her blue eyes widening as she took in the three-tiered confection that had consumed the last two weeks of Cate’s life. “Oh, Cate, it’s lovely.”
Cate’s cheeks prickled. “Thank you.”
“I’m on several committees at Camden Valley Hospital. We can always use a good cake caterer for our charity events and galas. I’d love to speak with you further about some of our upcoming engagements. After the wedding, of course.”
Cate channeled every ounce of her energy into not letting her jaw fall to the floorboards. “I, ah. That would be great.” She’d put in for a small business license a few days ago, per Owen’s suggestion, but, God, she never thought she’d use it. Not like this, anyway.
“Wonderful,” Mrs. Montgomery said. “I’ll be in touch. And, ladies”—her gaze drifted to the champagne in Daisy’s hand—“please be prudent. A bit of bubbly is one thing, but a tipsy bride…”
“Not gonna happen, Mrs. M.,” Daisy promised, crossing a finger over the sweetheart neckline of her dress. “Emerson wants to remember every second of today, I can assure you. No more than one glass before we send her down the aisle.”
Emerson’s mother smiled. “Well, then. Go on and have a little fun. I’ll be back after I check on the attendants and make sure all is well with the gentlemen. If you’ll excuse me.”
Cate watched the woman depart in purposeful yet graceful strides. “Wow. I’m not sure if I should be impressed or terrified.”
“Go for both,” Daisy said, a grin covering her pixie face. “Come on, let’s go pop this sucker and have a girls-only toast.”
Nodding, Cate followed Daisy up the stairs of the main house and down the hall to what appeared to be a guest bedroom. Emerson sat at a small dressing table, her head thrown back in laughter at something Scarlett—who was perched on the four-poster bed in a dress that matched Daisy’s—had said. She looked so beautiful that Cate’s breath stuck momentarily in her throat. Her red hair was swept to one side in a low ponytail, her curls spilling over her bare shoulder. Her dress, with its lightly beaded bodice and fuller tulle skirt, was elegant without being overdone, and Cate couldn’t help but smile at the sight of her.
“Oh, hey!” Emerson said, brightening. “You found champagne and friends. Talk about a win-win.”
Cate looked around the room, suddenly feeling hesitant. “I don’t want to—”
“If you say intrude, I’m going to throw something at you. You’re part of the crew, so get your ass in here,” Emerson warned, and Scarlett lifted a dark blond brow in agreement.
“She’s been so laid-back until now. Don’t give her a reason to turn into Bridezilla when we’re so close to go-time.”
Not in a million years could Cate picture Emerson turning into Bridezilla. She was too damned happy to be getting married to let anything hack her off. “Alrighty, then. Why don’t I open that champagne so we can have a toast?”
A few minutes later, they’d uncorked the champagne and found Scarlett a bottle of sparkling water. Emerson lifted her glass with a mischievous grin, looking at all three women in the room. “Here’s to us and the men who love us,” she said, clinking her flute against Daisy’s before taking a sip.
“Hear, hear!” Scarlett replied, tipping her bottle of water at Emerson.
Cate’s heartbeat conspired against her, making her chest feel full to the brim with butterflies, and she took a nice, long sip of champagne.
“I can’t believe all three Cross men are off the market,” Daisy mused, sitting down next to Cate on the bench at the foot of the bed.
Scarlett shot her a sassy look. “I can’t believe you’re falling for the sheriff,” she said, and Emerson gave up a laugh that came dangerously close to a snort.
“I can. She’s had a crush on Lane forever. And the feeling is clearly mutual. That man is crazy about her.”
A pink tinge climbed Daisy’s cheeks, but Cate noticed she didn’t deny the words. “Oh, like you’re one to talk. You and Hunter have been cross-eyed for each other since high school.”
“Sure have. Guess I should go on and marry the guy.”
Emerson took another sip of her champagne, leading the way for the rest of them to drink up. They chatted and put some final touches on Emerson’s makeup, with Scarlett snapping photos as they went. Things became a whirlwind from there, time seeming to fly as guests began to arrive and Emerson’s mother returned from downstairs. Cate delivered a boutonniere to Emerson’s father, then another to Mr. Cross, as well as a pretty bouquet of wildflowers to Marley, who was guarding the cake like a momma bear on full alert. Last-minute tasks flowed from one to the next, until the wedding coordinator Mrs. Montgomery had hired to make sure things happened as planned gave the guests the signal to take their seats.
“May I, ma’am?” Lane asked, extending his well-muscled arm in Cate’s direction.
She laughed. “Of course.”
Looping her arm through Lane’s much bigger, much brawnier one, she let him lead her down the aisle bisecting two groups of prettily decorated folding chairs. The tent, which had been set up yesterday and transformed this morning into a flower-filled space with generous glimpses of Cross Creek’s rolling green fields from all sides, provided the perfect setting. Cate’s heart tapped faster when Lane brought her right up to the front row and told her, “He made me promise to give you the best seat in the house,” then faster still when Owen appeared at the front of the tent with Hunter, turning to smile at her over one shoulder.
And as excited as she was to be here, with the family who treated her like one of their own, Cate found herself counting the minutes until she and Owen were back at his house, and back in each other’s arms.
Owen was fairly certain he’d never smiled so much or so hard in his life. But between his genuine happiness for Hunter and Emerson as they’d gone through their vows, the dozens of photographs for which he’d had to pose after the ceremony, and the obligatory meet-and-greet that had gone along with best man duties, he’d definitely filled his grin quota for the foreseeable future.
The only thing he wasn’t grinning about was the fact that he hadn’t seen Cate for more than seven seconds in the last seven days. But finally—finally—the toast had been made and the cake had been cut (and devoured). Hunter and Emerson had just piled into a vintage Rolls Royce, ride courtesy of her parents, and headed off for a few days at a nearby mountain resort. The guests were beginning to disperse, the sun was on its way to setting, and Owen had a date to keep.
As well as a promise.
Leaving Mrs. Montgomery and his old man to oversee the cleanup with Eli, Daisy, and Lane to assist, he made his way through the dwindling crowd. Cate was standing at the back of the reception tent with Scarlett, and, damn, with the way the waning sunlight turned her skin a soft, glowing gold and that dark gray dress hugged every last one of her curves, she was the prettiest woman he’d ever seen, or would see again.
“Hey, there you are!” Cate said, her smile turning into uncut laughter as Owen wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. “I was beginning to think you’d forgotten our date.”
“Never.” He fit a kiss over her mouth, proper enough for public, but only just.
Scarlett shook her head and laughed. “I believe that’s my cue to go take a load off. Have fun, you two. I’m going to go eat the vegan cupcakes you brought and blame it on the baby.”
“Goodnight,” Owen said, Cate echoing the sentiment and giving Scarlett a hug before slipping in at Owen’s side. Their feet shushed an easy rhythm through the grass as they made their way to his truck, and Cate pulled back to look at him through the growing shadows.
“Thanks for inviting me to your brother’s wedding,” she said softly, and guilt laddered a path up his spine.
“I wasn’t a very good date.”
“You were busy being Hunter’s best man. And I wouldn’t have missed the wedding for the world.”
He cupped her face between his palms, kissing her just enough to remind him how little time they’d spent together this week. “Why don’t we go do some celebrating of our own?”
“Are you kidding?” Her throaty laugh hit him in about ten places at once. “I’ve been waiting for that all day.”
Somehow, Owen managed to get them from the main house to his cabin, then walk her over the threshold, although his colossal hard-on made the trip interesting, to say the least. A soft glow filtered down the hallway from his kitchen, and his pulse hitched as he shut the front door and reached for Cate’s hand. He’d done most of the setup for their date after she’d left for the main house this morning, then slipped one of the catering guys a twenty to come down here and take care of the finishing touches about an hour ago. Now that it was nearly dark outside, the dozens of battery-powered candles he’d placed all over the kitchen looked even prettier than he’d hoped, draping the room in warm light and velvety shadows and making the pair of champagne flutes on the island glitter like diamonds. He’d cut the very best offerings from both the garden beside the main house and the small assortment of flowering plants they grew in the greenhouse, placing the blooms in a handful of large Mason jars around the room. The earthy, sweet smell of the peonies and lilies and various wildflowers and herbs scented the air just enough to make their presence known, but not enough to overpower, and Cate stumbled to a stop just past the entryway to the kitchen.
“Owen,” she breathed, staring at him with wide eyes. “How did you…why…”
She trailed off in obvious surprise, but he answered her question anyway. “Because we’re making up for lost time, remember?”
“That’s not quite what I meant.”
Slipping around her, he grabbed the small, padded envelope he’d left safely on the far side of the counter and returned to stand in front of her. His pulse echoed loudly in his ears, pounding to the rhythm of his shaky breath, yet, still, he didn’t hesitate to press the envelope into Cate’s hands.
Her mahogany brows tucked in confusion. “What’s this?”
“It’s a key,” Owen told her. “I meant what I said, Cate. I want to make up for lost time with you. I know this might seem crazy, but I don’t care. I love you. I love you and I want you to move in with me.”
A soft sound resembling a gasp flew past her lips. “You want me to move in with you,” she said slowly. “As in, live here in the cabin permanently?”
“I do.” He knew he should take a second to let things sink in, or, at the very least, treat himself to a decently sized inhale. But, damn it, he’d kept these feelings under wraps for an entire week, waiting for the right time to let them out. He didn’t want to hold back now. Hell, he didn’t want to hold back ever.
He stepped toward her. “My legacy is family and farm. My mother dedicated her life to it, and it’s what she wanted for me and for my brothers. Hunter found it. Eli found it. And now I want it, too.”
“With me,” she whispered. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears, and—his heart twisted like a tornado—they looked like the happy kind. “Are you sure?”
“Are you kidding?’ Owen laughed. “Of course, I’m sure. I want you. I want to wake up next to you every day. I know it sounds brash and impulsive as hell, but I want to marry you, and have babies with you, and—”
Crossing Promises (Cross Creek Book 3) Page 27