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When music starts playing from the common room, and it’s not Doc’s usual Spanish-style fingerpicking, I know something is up.
“Is that Imagine Dragons?” The band is one of my favorites, and I haven’t heard them in ages!
Shep slings his arm around my shoulder. “Come on. I think they’re ready for you.”
“For me?” With a hand in the center of my back, he propels me forward.
A happy fire dances at the end of the room, candles glow, and Scrap’s boombox is churning out a playlist of my favorites. Six men are hanging around on the couches, and all twelve eyes are on me.
“What is this? What’s going on?” My tone is shrill with panic. I turn to look for answers from Shep, but he’s gone. A second later, he steps down from the kitchen with an enormous layer cake topped with sparkling candles.
Scrap hits pause on the boombox, and a baritone chorus ofHappy Birthdaybreaks out. Shep carries the cake past me and sets it on one of the coffee tables. He’s singing too, and a beaming smile splits his shaggy beard. He takes a seat next to Rev, who’s accompanying with a harmonica.
All I can do is stare with my jaw on the floor.
The song ends, and Jud, standing by the fire with arms folded and a smile on his face, says, “What are you waiting for? Blow ’em out, baby.”
I’ve entered the Twilight Zone. “It’s not my birthday.”
Doc stands from his usual armchair and makes his way to me. “We figure you’ve missed a couple, so this is to make up for lost time.” He kisses my cheek and whispers, “It was Jud’s idea.”
“It was?” My incredulity is thicker than Shep’s stew.
Jud must have heard Doc, because he laughs. With actual good nature. It’s a sound I have very rarely heard, and it’s wonderful. His eyes sparkle with…happiness? The expression looks strange on him.
I’m blinking like an owl, overwhelmed and touched and utterly gob-smacked.
“This is why you’re all here tonight. At the same time.”
From behind me, Doc guides me forward by my shoulders. He stops me in front of the cake. “Yes,chér. Now, blow out the candles or they’ll catch the cake on fire, and wouldn’t it be a shame to waste Shep’s hard work?”
“C’mon, babe, we all want dessert!” Scrap starts a chant of “Blow them out! Blow them out!” and the others join in.
Suddenly I can’t see very well. My eyes burn with tears. Happy ones.
“Aw, don’t do that,chér. You’ll get the frosting wet.”
“How did you do this? How did I not know?” I glare accusingly at Shep through my tears. The big Norwegian looks a little misty-eyed, himself.
Jud takes me by the arms and bends to meet my gaze. “Kitten, blow out the goddamn candles. Questions later.”
It’s my turn to laugh. For once, his bossiness fills me with joy.
I blow out the gee-darn candles. There are twenty of them, and it takes me two breaths, and the guys hoot and cheer. Rev leans forward and plucks the candles from the pink frosting one by one. Then he cuts the cake with an enormous, folding hunting knife. Inside, the cake is vanilla with two paper-thin layers of what looks like raspberry jam.
Scrap starts the music again, and we’re all laughing and talking and having cake. The first bite is so delicious, I go cross-eyed. Shep’s outdone himself, and I’m already thinking of ways to thank him on our next night together.
When I’m done with my cake, I dance with Scrap in front of the fire until we’re both sweaty. Doc joins in and teaches me the Cajun Jitterbug, a dance with lots of ankle and footwork. My favorite part is holding both of Doc’s ring-filled hands. Brawn sets up a keg in the passthrough, and the guys all pour themselves pints.
I’m panting and overheated from dancing near the fire when someone turns the music down.
“Time for presents,” Jud purrs in my ear.
“Presents?”
He motions at the cardboard boxes stacked to one side of the fireplace. It looks like moving day over there.
“No one thought to get any wrapping paper in Bozeman—” He glares at Doc who winks at me in response. “But yeah, honey. Those are all for you.” He slaps my butt—just hard enough to remind me of this morning. “Get going.”
