I just needed him beside me, and that was enough.
Chapter 16
Lemon Bars and an Eavesdrop
Austin
The house smelled faintly of coffee and last night’s BBQ rib dinner—a scent that clings to good food. Morning sunlight slanted through the kitchen window. Milly stood at the counter in rolled-up sleeves and an oversized flannel, hair twisted into a loose knot, humming as she measured sugar. Each time she reached for the mixing bowl, the little silver compass at her throat caught the light and spun a spark across the room.
Inspector perched on the sill, tail ticking in time to her tune. Outside, Sherlock bleated at the chickens with the impatience of a foreman waiting on slow workers. For once, the ranch sounded perfectly ordinary—peaceful, steady, undeservedly kind.
I leaned against the doorframe, mug in hand. “You planning to start a bakery out of my kitchen?”
She looked over her shoulder, smiling. “Your kitchen? That’s cute.” Her smile turned the words into something softer than a tease.
“You humming means you’re scheming. Should I be worried?”
“First off, only if you hate lemon bars. Secondly, I plead the fifth,” she teased.
“I’ve survived worse,” I said, though the truth was I’d started to measure my mornings by the sound of her laughter. Everwood had settled around us like a quilt—chores, vet calls, late suppers, Cassie’s meddling, and a kind of peace that felt borrowed from a storybook. Cassie kept teasing that we were “as settled as an old married couple,” but nothing about the way my chest tightened around Milly felt settled. It felt like standing on the edge of something bright and terrifying.
When the oven timer dinged, she wiped her hands on her jeans and looked at me. “You working today or pretending you’re on vacation again?”
“Neither,” I said. “Thinking we take a break.”
Her eyebrows rose. “A break from what? You fixing everything that squeaks?”
“From routine.” I set the picnic basket I’d packed on the table—checkered blanket, lemonade, sandwiches, a space waiting for her dessert. “Farmers’ market run. Then maybe the park.”
She studied me as if I’d just suggested a moon landing. “You’re serious.”
“Deadly. Field research into Everwood culture.”
Milly laughed, that easy sound that always made the world feel less dangerous. “Let me grab the lemon bars before you change your mind.”
By midmorning, we were weaving through the bustle of Everwood’s square. Stalls lined the streets in a riot of color—bright tomatoes, jars of honey, baskets of lavender—and the air smelled of sugar and sawdust. We moved together through it all, shoulders brushing, pretending to admire produce when we were really cataloguing each other’s smiles.
Levi and Cassie appeared out of nowhere, waving a hand-drawn “Lovebirds Discount” coupon for the bookstore.
Cassie stage-whispered, “Redeemable only if there’s hand-holding!”
Milly groaned. “You two need new hobbies.”
Levi tipped his hat toward me. “Watching you blush is ours.”
I handed him the coupon solemnly. “I’ll frame it beside my diploma in suffering.”
We wandered on—Carl ribbed me about fence posts, Janet waved from her garden booth, and I bought Milly a bunch of wild asters when she wasn’t looking. Inside the bookstore’s cool shade, I slipped a mystery paperback into her bag.
“For late-night stakeouts,” I said.
She gave me a look equal parts amusement and suspicion. “You planning to make me lose sleep?”
“Already doing that,” I admitted.
By the time we reached the edge of town, our arms were full of fresh bread, fruit, and more laughter than the truck could carry.
We found an oak that leaned just enough to look conspiratorial. The blanket spread easily, the lemon bars unwrapped, and sunlight fell through the branches in moving patterns. Milly unpacked the basket like a magician—sandwiches, cheese, cherry tomatoes, her dessert wrapped in wax paper. The smell of citrus and sugar drifted between us.
