I sighed and kept my gaze flat.
He continued unaffected, “She’s super competitive. Don’t ever expect to win a game of Monopoly or anything without her being a brat about it. Oh, and her morning breath is rank. Don’t let it scare you off.”
“What are you doing, Brady? Aren’t you supposed to be warning me away? Threatening bodily harm? Holding a grudge that I’m dating your sister and we hid it from you?”
He looked thoughtful for a moment. “Well, I don’t love that you went behind our backs, but I figure you had your reasons. Plus, Candace is an adult. I don’t need to come over here and threaten to break your kneecaps or slash your tires. You’re the best fucking guy I know, Mercer. You’re not going to break my baby sister’s heart.”
I shook my head, feeling a smile tip up the corners of my lips. Brady was oftenridiculous, and rarely serious, but his endorsement meant a lot. “Thanks, Brady. I won’t—hurt her, you know.”
He nodded solemnly and then straightened, his gaze darting over my shoulder.
I turned to see Candace jogging toward us, a frantic sort of energy radiating from her.
Brady’s posture and demeanor changed. He crossed his arms and said loudly, “You better be good to my sister!” Then he winked at me. “Or you’ll have to answer to me!” He gave me a subtle thumbs-up just as Candace reached us, and I rolled my eyes.
“What are you doing, doofus?” she asked, eyeing him warily and clearly noticing that the table we were supposed to be transporting had been abandoned on its side, legs half folded in.
“As your protective older brother, I’m making sure Mercer here knows the score.”
“Oh, Lord,” Candace groaned.
My mind drifted to the tense standoff from earlier and Danny Jensen’s angry features. I placed a hand on her elbow and drew her attention, suddenly worried about what brought her back to the gazebo. “Is everything okay up at the Bake Shop?”
“Yep,” she practically squeaked, and my eyes narrowed. Her gaze darted toward the path and then back to me. “I came to help Brady with the table because I need you to run back to the truck and grab my toboggan for me. I’m freezing.”
My eyes searched her face. Something was going on. Candace looked off-balance, and it was at least fifty-five degrees today. We weren’t even wearing our big winter coats. Why would she want a hat all of a sudden?
If it had been my birthday, I would have said she was trying to lure me somewhere for a surprise party. But since it wasn’t, I just looked at her a moment longer while she practically squirmed under my scrutiny. Finally, I nodded. “Okay, I’ll run back to the truck.”
A breath gusted out of her and she smiled widely. “Thank you!” Then she kissed me on the lips, and Brady made a gagging sound in the background.
They bickered about PDA while folding in the remaining table legs as I walked off in the direction of the parking lot.
Halfway there I remembered that Candace hadn’t even brought her toboggan. The knitted pink hat with the pom-pom on top was, at this very moment, hanging on my coatrack by the back door. She’d worn it last night when she went out to see the cat. Her daily attempt to try and sweet-talk him into letting her pet him.
With a shake of my head, I spun around by the entrance to the General Store and pivoted back toward the Orchard Bake Shop, where the festivities were taking place tonight. I figured I was too late to intercept them and carry the table the rest of the way. Candace and Brady were likely already there.
A few minutes later, the long narrow building that housed the farm’s year-round bakery came into view. It had a covered front porch with plenty of picnic tables for tourists to enjoy their treats, or for a weekend Christmas party for Grandpappy’s employees and their friends. There were a lot more people milling about now. I spotted a handful of Clarks sitting and drinking and carrying dishes out the half door of the Bake Shop.
The rest of the Judds had arrived too. Joan was chatting with Will and his girlfriend, Becca. And Nick and Amy were talking to Will’s father, William.
I caught sight of Brady and Candace positioning the table they’d carried while Maggie Clark directed them.
Chloe—the other Bake Shop employee—was at the order window while a man I didn’t recognize and a little girl with blond hair waited.
Mac was nearby with the stragglers she’d rounded up, and she tapped her foot impatiently, clearly waiting on the man and the child.
Stepping onto the wooden decking of the covered porch, I muttered a polite “excuse me” to a pregnant woman whose back was turned, blocking the way to where I was headed.
“Oh sorry,” she said as she pivoted out of the way, and I stopped dead in my tracks as the voice and the face registered.
“Hannah,” I said in surprise.
She looked the same as the last time I’d seen her, over two and a half years ago. Well, except for the very obvious pregnancy. But then again, I’d seen herpregnant too. She was wearing jeans and stylish boots with heels, so maybe her ankles weren’t quite as swollen this time around. Her hair was longer than it had been, but she was still the spitting image of my ex-wife, and for the life of me, I could not understand what she was doing here.
“Mark,” she breathed.
Before I could recover, Hannah’s parents stepped up beside her. Reverend Price had aged in the last few years. I hadn’t heard from him at all since the divorce was finalized. His once salt-and-pepper hair had gone completely gray. He still wore wire-framed glasses that gave him a wise and studious air. He and his wife stared at me with twin expressions of contempt so acute they must have practiced them in the mirror every morning.
