They had to, and Gretchen understood why. They needed their jobs, and she couldn’t pay them while the back of the unit on the end of the building got cleaned, dried, and then rebuilt.

  Well, the rebuilding was still to come. Gretchen drove around the back of the building, which had been draped in plastic. The fire marshal had deemed the building stable enough to enter when she’d been there with Kevin and Will a couple of weeks ago. She’d been able to go inside with the marshal and collect the things she deemed valuable from her office, which included the computer, her recipe books, and all of her personal belongings.

  Then, Kevin had called a fire restoration specialist, and they’d come in with their Dumpsters, shovels, and wheelbarrows. They cleaned out the south kitchen, where Jon had been making sugar art for the tops of the miniature cupcakes they’d needed for a birthday party. He’d gotten distracted when he’d dropped a tray of said cupcakes, and the sugar had burned.

  He’d taken it from the flame in frustration, and when he’d dumped it in the trash can, the heat from it had ignited some brittle paper he’d put there earlier. Gretchen had asked him to stop there, because he’d then said, “You wouldn’t believe how fast the flames kicked up,” and she didn’t want to imagine him in that kitchen, trying to put them out. Panicking. Breathing in the smoke.

  The whole back corner of the building had been soaked with gallons and gallons of water, and that took a very, very long time to dry out. Wood, plaster, and anything that could mold got ripped out. That was basically everything down to the foundation. The wall separating the kitchen from the retail space in the shop had been torn back to the studs, and then the fans had blown and blown and blown.

  Gretchen had barely gotten out of her car when the rumble of Will’s truck came around the corner. She smiled at him, but she wasn’t sure how she had the energy. She’d seen him every single day since the disaster, and if she’d known that was all it would take, she might’ve lit her candy kitchen on fire much earlier.

  Not really, and she hated thinking that.

  He pulled in next to her and got out of his vehicle. A paper bag rustled as he came around the hood, signaling that he’d been to town already. He lifted the pastry bag and said, “The cream cheese scone.”

  She took the bag from him and leaned into his kiss. “Thank you,” she said.

  They faced the building together. “They’re not making much progress,” he said, his voice tart to her ears.

  “They have to dry everything out,” she said.

  “They’ve been drying it for over two weeks.”

  “I don’t work for the restoration company,” Gretchen said.

  “Once it’s dry, then what?” Will asked, taking a step toward the door. It was metal and hadn’t been torn out. The kitchen where Gretchen created her truffles and caramels hadn’t been burned, but it had been covered in water, so it too had been stripped, sprayed with mold preventative, and monitored for mildew growth.

  She and Jon and Will had removed everything from the front of the shop as the professionals came in to deal with any smoke damage. They’d thrown away anything edible, because Gretchen anticipated the shop being closed for at least a month, and she wouldn’t serve chocolates that were more than two days old, let alone thirty.

  As she watched Will open the door and go inside the building, Gretchen knew the shop would be closed longer than a month. Frustration, annoyance, and a keen sense of being out of her league enveloped her, and she ignored Will as he asked something through the open back wall of the building.

  Thankfully, the weather had been cooperative, and there had been no rain in the past couple of weeks. The restoration company had said rebuilding should begin this week, and Gretchen’s disappointment cut through her sharply when she realized it was Friday morning and there had been no rebuilding begun this week.

  Will came back outside. “Did you hear what I asked?”

  She just shook her head, ready to go home and go back to bed. She was making a few treats out of her kitchen and fulfilling online orders only. It was enough to keep her and Jon busy during the day, and Gretchen had work to do today.

  “I asked why they haven’t even done the electrical yet,” he said.

  Gretchen rubbed her forehead. “I don’t know, Will. I’m not a contractor or whatever.” She turned toward her car.

  “Have you asked them?”

  “No,” she said over her shoulder.

  “Gretchen,” he said, plenty of irritation in his tone.

  The emotion fired through her too, and she spun back to him. “What, Will? You don’t have to be here. I don’t ask you to come here every morning, and I certainly don’t need you to criticize me or what’s being done.”

  He blinked, the frown between his eyes disappearing as he did. Gretchen pulled back on the lion roaring through her chest, but he couldn’t be tamed completely. “You stress me out,” she said. “Coming here and asking me questions I can’t answer. Or insinuating I should’ve done something different.” She took a deep breath and shook her head. “If you can’t just put your arm around me and ask me how I’m doing, then don’t come anymore.”

  Will simply stared at her, and Gretchen turned to get in her van.

  “Wait, whoa,” Will said, putting his hand on top of the minivan and crowding in behind her before she could open the door. “Don’t go. Not like this.”

  She turned back to him and leaned into her van. She didn’t have much choice or much space to do anything else. “I’m sorry,” she said with a sigh. “I’m just tired, and you just came at me, and I don’t know. I couldn’t handle it today.”

  “I didn’t mean to come at you.”

  “I know.” She closed her eyes and tipped her head up toward him. “I don’t want to argue with you, but I don’t need more stress in my life.”

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I didn’t mean to add more stress to your life.”

  She leaned into him and gripped the collar of his shirt in both of her fists. She opened her eyes and looked into his. His cowboy hat created a pocket of shade over the two of them, and she offered him a small smile. “I just want you to bring me pastries and stand with me. Listen to anything I have that’s new, or anything I want to tell you, and then kiss me so I know everything will somehow, someday, turn out okay.” Her heartbeat trembled in her chest, an indication that she was one breath away from a break-down.

  She’d already cried so much in front of Will, and she didn’t want to do so again. Not now.

  Will swallowed, took a few moments, and asked, “Anything new or anything you want to tell me today?”

  She shook her head and took his face in her hands. “I’m making caramels today,” she whispered, tugging him closer to her. “I’ll need dinner about seven. Doable?”

  “Absolutely,” he said, his voice as husky and as hitched as she liked it. “I’ll be there, and I’ll bring something for Elvis too.” He touched his lips to hers, and Gretchen let her eyes drift closed again, the mess that was the back of her shop gone when she kissed Will.

  He broke the kiss and took her into an embrace. “Someday, somehow,” he said. “Everything will be okay. Okay?”

  She couldn’t verbalize anything right now, so she simply nodded while he held her.

  20

  Clarissa Rust told herself not to hope too hard. At the same time, she wondered why she couldn’t hope to be pregnant. So she steadied her fingers, ripped open the package containing three pregnancy tests, and did what she needed to do.

  She left the stick on the bathroom counter and headed down the hall toward the kitchen. In the cabins out on this part of Sweet Water Falls Farm, it only took four steps to get from the bathroom to the kitchen, and Spencer stepped into the entryway as if he’d been waiting for her.

  Which, of course, he had.

  “Well?” he asked, and Clarissa saw the bright ray of hope in his eyes. She carried it in her soul.

  “It takes a few minutes,” she said.

  Her husband gathered her into his arms, a place she willingly went. “No matter what, it’ll be okay,” he said.

  “I know,” Clarissa said. She was six days late, though, and she couldn’t help her feelings as they continued to climb through her. For a woman as regular as she was, she’d known the very first day she should’ve started her period and hadn’t.

  She hadn’t said anything to Spencer until day four, and it had taken another couple of days to get to town to buy a test. Last time, she’d only bought one, as if she and Spencer wouldn’t have to try for longer than one month to get pregnant.

  This time, she’d smartly bought a multi-pack of pregnancy tests, but a writhing, desperate sense of discomfort inside her really didn’t want to have to use the others.

  “Even if you’re not pregnant,” Spence said. “That just means we get to keep trying.” He leaned away and smoothed his hands down the back of her head, grinning at her.

  She smiled back at him. “I don’t think it’ll be negative for a lack of trying.”

  “It’s been a couple of months,” he said. “Heck, we’ve only been married for four.”

  Three and a half, but Clarissa wasn’t going to correct him. She nodded, because she knew when they’d said I-do. She also knew she was ready to be a mother. She knew he wanted to have a baby and be a father.

  Something inside her flipped, and then flipped again, because Clarissa wanted Mama to be a grandmother before she passed away. Yes, she had Ford already, but she had more room in her heart for more grandbabies.

  Selfishly, Clarissa wanted a little girl, so she could have a generational picture of the baby, her, and Mama.

  “How long do we wait?” Spencer asked, and Clarissa turned to face the hallway with him.

  “We can probably go look,” she said, taking his hand. “I want you to check first.”

  He took a breath, squeezed her hand, and said, “All right.” They went down the hall together, and Clarissa really wanted everything they did to be side-by-side, just as they were right now.

  He crowded into the bathroom doorway in front of her. “Two lines is pregnant,” she said.

  “I remember,” he said, committing himself by taking the first step inside. She stayed in the hallway and pressed her eyes closed.

  She didn’t dare pray, because God knew she wanted a baby. So much in her life was so perfect that she felt bad asking for more.

  “There’s two lines,” Spencer said, and Clarissa’s eyes shot open. Her husband turned around, the test in his hand and his eyes as wide as double moons. He whooped, threw his free hand into the air, and yelled, “There’s two lines!”

  He laughed as he grabbed onto her and swung her around. Her feet hit the door, and he quickly set her down. A smile had started in her soul, but she didn’t dare let it show on her face yet. “Let me see,” she said.

  He handed her the pregnancy test, and Clarissa stared at it. One bright pink line sat on the right-hand side, just like last time. This time, a lighter, fainter pink line showed on the left. Barely there, but definitely there.

  She grinned as tears filled her eyes. Her chin wobbled as she looked up and at Spencer. “There’s two lines.”

  His joy streamed from him, and Clarissa finally let go of the happiness and hope she’d been clenching with such a tight fist. Tears flowed down her face as she tipped up to kiss her husband.

  His touch was intimate, whole, and real, and Clarissa felt loved and cherished and so complete with him. She didn’t have to ask him if he was happy—it came through in his eyes, his voice, his touch.

  “I can’t wait to tell Nate,” he said.

  “What?” Clarissa asked. “No, Spence, we can’t tell anyone.”

  Confusion covered his expression. “Why not?”

  “I’m what? Five weeks along? Maybe six.” She shook her head. “No, you don’t tell people until you’re sure everything is okay.”

  “I don’t know what that means.”

  “Like, the baby is okay, and I’m not going to lose it.” She pierced him with a look that said, don’t argue with me on this.

  Spencer knew her looks by now, and resignation marched through his eyes. “How long does that take?”

  “I don’t know. Until I’m out of the first trimester?”

  “Why does this sound like you’re guessing?”

  “Twelve weeks,” she said with confidence.

  Spencer frowned, clearly not a fan of that number. “So I have to wait six more weeks.”

  She nodded and made her voice as firm as possible when she said, “Yes.”

  “Fine.” He pushed his hand through his hair, his smile returning. He took her into his arms again and kissed her. “Maybe we could celebrate by going back to bed.”

  “Mm.” Clarissa didn’t argue with him. She enjoyed feeling close to him, physically and emotionally. After they’d made love, she laid in his arms, her eyes closed and her heart full of gratitude.

  Spencer’s chest rose and fell evenly, as if he were asleep. She wasn’t, but with her eyes closed, she pictured the future for the two of them.

  Except now, besides the sunshine and the Shoppe and the sexy cowboy she got to kiss every day, there was a child. A beautiful child, who made Clarissa smile in a way she never had before.

  “Spence?” she whispered.

  “Hmm?”

  “Maybe we could just tell Mama and Daddy,” she said, not moving anything more than her lips. “That way, if Mama…goes soon, she’ll know.”

  His arms around her tightened. “I’ll do whatever you want, Rissa.”

  She nodded, wondering how she’d managed to get him to want to be right where he was. “I love you,” she whispered.

  “Love you too.”

  “How’s the shop rebuild coming?” Clarissa glanced over to Will, who sat at her kitchen counter on this weekday mid-morning. The farm Shoppe would open soon, but she was ready. Spencer had left hours ago to get a good chunk of his day worked before the sun super-heated everything.

  Though it was only mid-March, Mother Nature had shown up for summer early in the Coastal Bend.

  “I don’t know,” Will said, looking up from his phone.

  Clarissa went back to measuring the coffee grounds into the filter. She and Will weren’t as close as she was with Travis, but they had lived together and worked together on the farm for decades. “What do you mean you don’t know?”

  He’d talk more if she wasn’t staring right at him, questioning him. She slid the now-ready filter into the coffeemaker and flipped it on.

  “Gretchen asked me to stop coming around the shop,” he said.

  That brought Clarissa’s attention back to him and surprise spreading through her. “She did?” She reached for the bagel she’d already toasted and slathered in cream cheese and took a bite.

  “Yeah.” He sighed and wiped his hand down his face. He hadn’t shaved in a few days, and for Will, that meant a full beard. “She didn’t like what I had to say, and she said I stressed her out.”

  “What did you say?”

  Will pierced her with those bright eyes, but honestly, why had he shown up asking for coffee if he didn’t want to talk? He did, and Clarissa knew it. She’d seen all the signs, and she’d been through this with him before. He just needed a little coaching.

  “I tried not to say anything,” he finally said, a sigh accompanying the words. “I just wondered why they didn’t build the roof before they started on the inside. That made no sense to me. It rains in March and April.”

  Clarissa nodded and turned to get down a couple of mugs. She’d already had her morning coffee, and the baby didn’t like it much. She had terrible heartburn now that she hadn’t before, and she smiled internally at the reason why.

  Having a baby was worth giving up coffee for a few months.

  “She said I ask too many questions, and I pass judgment without knowing everything.”

  “Well.” Clarissa turned back to him as the first drops of his coffee hissed into the pot. “Sometimes we Coopers do that without meaning to.” She knew Will, and she’d seen him with Gretchen. He hadn’t brought her to a family dinner yet, but just the fact that he left the farm to see her spoke volumes.

  “I know, and I hate that about myself.” Will’s eyes grew dark. “I hate that I can’t control what I say. I’m trying. I swear I am, but honestly, Rissa, I don’t think I’m ever going to be or do what Gretchen wants.” He sprang to his feet. “I have to get back to work.”

  “Will,” she said, hurrying after him. “Wait.”

  He did, pure anguish rolling from his broad shoulders. She stepped in front of him, anxious now. “I’m worried about you.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Are you telling me everything?” Clarissa needed to know, and she’d risk her brother’s wrath. “Did she break-up with you and you’re just not saying?”

  “No.” He shook his head. “She just asked me not to come by the shop. We’re still talking and stuff.”

  “You don’t leave the farm much.”

  Anger blazed in his eyes, and he lifted his chin. “How do you know?”

  “I’m guessing,” she said. “But from that reaction…”

  “I thought Travis might’ve told you.”

  “Travis and I don’t talk about you and Gretchen.”

  “Really? Because he won’t shut up about me and Gretchen at our house.” Will spoke with so much venom in his voice that Clarissa fell back a step. “He’s lecturing me constantly about what I should’ve said or not said—as if I don’t know.”

  Clarissa didn’t know what to do or say right here. She knew keenly how Will must’ve felt at his girlfriend’s shop. “I’m so sorry.” She stepped back into him and hugged him.

  He gripped her tightly. So tight that Clarissa realized just how much pain he was in. Will was the strongest of them all. He’d eradicated his pre-diabetes within six months of learning about his elevated blood sugar. He’d lost fifteen pounds in the process, and then regained all of that and more in pure muscle as he lifted weights and ran around the farm.