“Absolutely not,” Nessie and Mariah said in unison.
The boys exchanged a glance that suggested they’d be revisiting this plan later, then took off across the square toward the temporary petting zoo. Naomi watched them go, struck by the easy friendship between them—one exuberant and talkative, the other more reserved but equally mischievous.
“They’re inseparable,” Nessie said, catching Naomi’s gaze. “Been that way since the day they met. I think Tate was the first kid who could actually keep up with Oliver’s imagination.”
“They’ll be back in ten minutes asking for more samples,” Mariah added with a wry smile. “And then off to the animals again. It’s a cycle.” She sighed. “Getting them to bed tonight is going to be a battle.”
“We can only hope they exhaust themselves with all the running back and forth,” Nessie said and picked up a small plate, filling it with three cookies and a slice of the apple-rose galette. She handed it to Naomi. “Here. You should taste these before the cookie thieves nab them all.”
Naomi accepted the plate, acutely aware of Owen hovering just behind her, his body still on alert even amid the festival’s cheerful chaos. She offered him a cookie, which he declined with a slight shake of his head. Always on duty. Never allowing himself a moment’s softness.
From the other side of the booth, a tall figure in a bright red apron emerged from beneath the archway, a stack of pastry boxes in his arms. Jax, looking impossibly domestic despite the faded prison tattoos visible on his forearms. The apron featured a cartoon cookie with a bite missing and the words “bite me” in glittery black script underneath. The incongruity of it—this serious, scarred man in such a playful garment—made Naomi blink twice.
“Three dozen maple tarts for the mayor’s wife,” Jax announced, setting the boxes on the counter. He nodded to Naomi and Owen, his gaze lingering briefly on Owen with an unspoken question that only men with shared pasts seemed able to communicate.
“Nice apron,” Owen said, deadpan.
“Blame Oliver,” Jax replied, equally deadpan. “He picked it out. Said it matched my ‘personality.’”
“Kid’s got your number,” a new voice chimed in as River sauntered up to the booth, trailed by his golden retriever, who flopped down in a patch of sunlight with a contented sigh. “The apron’s an improvement, actually. Adds a splash of color to all that brooding.”
Jax glanced skyward, as if seeking divine patience. “Shouldn’t you be fixing something? Breaking something? Anywhere else?”
“And miss you playing Domestic Baker Ken? Not a chance.”
Jax just narrowed his eyes and pointed to the message on his apron in response.
River laughed and snagged a cookie from the display, earning a swat from Nessie. “Besides, I can’t leave yet,” he said around a bite of the cookie and nodded toward X. “I’m waiting for the crash and burn.”
Naomi followed his gaze to where X leaned against the side of the booth, talking with Mariah. The contrast between them was almost comical—X in his jeans, leather jacket, and the white cowboy hat with the black leather band, exuding charming bad boy energy, and Mariah in her elegant satin blouse and trousers, polite but clearly unmoved by his flirtation.
“He still hasn’t given up?” Jax asked. “How many times has she shot him down?”
“Twenty times. Oh, wait.” River grinned as Mariah turned on her heel and walked away from X. “Better make that twenty-one.”
Naomi had to admit the two would make a striking couple if Mariah ever did give in to his advances. They were both beautiful people. X was the epitome of tall, dark, and handsome, with his flawless brown skin and megawatt smile. Mariah was classically beautiful, her skin like milk.
“Going down in flames,” River called over to X. He made a whistling sound, then mimed an explosion with his hands. Xresponded with a gesture that would have scandalized the PTA moms shopping nearby if they’d seen it and stalked away.
River laughed. “It’s like watching a very handsome brick wall try to seduce a glacier. I can’t decide who’s going to wear down first.”
“He needs to give up,” Jax said.
“You didn’t,” Nessie countered.
“But I wasn’t after a relationship,” Jax protested. “I just… couldn’t stay away.”
“I know.” She straightened his ridiculous apron with a fond touch and stood on her toes to kiss him. “And I’m thankful for it.”
Naomi felt a pang, watching them. Not envy exactly, but awareness of something precious.
She glanced at Owen, wondering if he felt it too—this pull toward normalcy, toward the simple joy of belonging. His expression gave nothing away, but she noticed his posture had softened slightly. He still scanned the crowd, still positioned himself to protect her, but some of the coiled tension had eased from his shoulders.
The cookie she bit into tasted of butter and maple, so perfectly baked that it melted on her tongue.
Around her, the festival hummed with music and laughter. For a moment, the weight of missing girls and buried secrets lifted. For a moment, she could almost believe she was just a woman enjoying a fall evening, not a target, not a crusader, not a survivor with nightmares.
Owen’s hand brushed the small of her back. “Okay?” he asked quietly.
