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Autumn: Oh, hi, Brock! I don’t mind. I thought you might be another Nigerian prince texting me about a surprise inheritance. ::money mouth face emoji::
Autumn: What kind of favor?
Brock: I just found out that Summer’s birthday is on Sunday. I want to get her a gift. Abigail said you know the stuff Summer likes.
Autumn: What kind of gift? Cute & funny? A friend-type gift? Or a romantic gift?
Brock. Romantic. Definitely romantic.
Autumn: Oh, goody. I was hoping you would say that. Give me a few minutes and I’ll text you some links.
∞∞∞
Snowberry Springs Ranch
Sunday, August 1
Brock sang “Happy Birthday” along with the Snowberry family as Priscilla returned from the kitchen with a tall chocolate cake in her hands. She’d stuck a pair of number-shaped candles—a 2 and a 9—in the dark swirls of fudgy frosting, and lit them.
“I made your favorite devil’s food cake, baby girl,” Priscilla said to Summer as she set the cake down in front of her daughter. “Don’t forget to make a wish!”
Brock, sitting next to Summer, saw multi-colored sprinkles scattered over the top of the cake around the candles.
A pang of wistful nostalgia stirred up memories of Gran’s special birthday treat, a yellow cake topped with a layer of chocolate pudding and whipped cream. It was the only thing she ever made from boxed mixes, and only because he begged for it.
I know what I’d wish for, he thought, and reached for Summer’s knee under the table, squeezing it gently.More family dinners like this, because you decided to stay.
It wasn’t only the great food served at Priscilla and Bob’s home, though Summer’s birthday dinner had been outstanding. Her parents had made barbecued pork spareribs, baked mac-and-cheese, and a fresh garden salad topped with freshly picked sweet yellow grape tomatoes.
All the Snowberrys, except for Winnie and her fiancé, were gathered around the long farmhouse table.
Autumn and Jayden had driven from Bozeman. Spring sat across the table from Brock and Summer, his two little girls on either side of him. Abigail, looking fully recovered from her heart attack six weeks ago, held court at the head of the table, beaming at everyone like a queen.
“When’syourbirthday, Brock?” asked Autumn after Summer had leaned forward and extinguished both candles with a single puff of air.
“March fifteenth,” Brock replied.
“The Ides of March? Cool!” Jayden exclaimed. “That’s when Julius Caesar was assassinated.”
Brock couldn’t help smiling. “Was that before or after Caesar salad was invented?” he joked.
“Uh.” The kid looked flummoxed. “I have no idea.” He pulled out his phone, presumably to Google the answer.
Autumn reached out to stop him. “You know the rule. No devices at the table unless it’s an emergency. And no, the history of Caesar salad isnotan emergency.”
Priscilla had surprised Brock with an invitation to this birthday dinner. Did that mean his status had changed to “boyfriend” in the Snowberry family’s eyes?
Was Summer on board with that change?
He sure hoped so. As promised, Autumn had sent him links to a few different things, but only one of her suggestions jumped out at him. He hoped to God Summer would like his gift, because he’d spent the week practicing what he was going to say to her tonight once they were alone.
Summer pulled the pair of candles out of the cake and handed them across the table to April and Abby so that they could take care of the frosting. Then she quickly and efficiently sliced the cake and began handing around plates.
The cake was delicious. And watching Summer lick the last bits of dark chocolate goodness from her fork gave Brock a few highly inappropriate thoughts about whatelsehe wanted to lick tonight.
When only a few crumbs and smears of frosting remained on the cake plates, the kids cleared the dishes from the table. The adults took their coffee cups and went into the living room.
Then it was time for Summer to open her birthday presents. Brock sat next to her on the sofa as the kids eagerly carted a pile of gifts from the next room and piled them at Summer’s feet.
