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A Little Thankful (Small Town Lovers #8) Sage 3 30%
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Sage 3

My mother liked to enter the apple pie bake off every year, so aside from the paper bags filled with green apples, and the sacks of flour, the bowl of cinnamon sticks, and the horn of plenty sitting in the middle of the large rectangular, solid wood table on the other side of the counter, the kitchen hadn’t really changed much from the last time I’d been home. It had simply been upgraded.

We stood in the vast expanse of a modern kitchen, with every electronic device imaginable installed in every appliance, with enough light-gray, granite countertops that the likes of Marta Stewart would envy. The barrage of questions from my family came at me so fast I couldn’t react to any them without feeling as though the next question undermined the last one.

My head felt as though it might explode all over mom’s new kitchen. A travesty to be sure, considering she hated a mess of any kind. Despite all the apples, flour and stacks of pie dishes, the kitchen sparkled with cleanliness, as if no one ever used it. As if it was merely a staging area for great photos. Mom’s entire house reflected this kind of thinking, and growing up, I had to make sure my toys were always kept in the play room and nowhere else.

I promised myself that Autumn would never know those kinds of restrictions.

“Wait a minute!” I yelled over the fray, holding up a hand. “Wait a minute!” They stopped talking, so I continued. “Is it possible that I can be alone with my parents for a few minutes?”

“Darling, we’re your grandparents and we…” my grandfather began, looking trim and handsome as ever. He was nearly seventy-five years old, but you’d never know it. There were times when he looked younger than my dad, and this was one of them.

“Grandpa, as much as I love you, I would really like to just talk to my parents right now.”

“Fine!” my grandmother said in a huff, turning on her white sneakers, then tossing her long, greying hair over a shoulder. She only recently celebrated turning seventy-two, and like my grandpa, she looked at least ten years younger with her trim little body, and the latest styles from Milan, Italy. My grandmother had spent most of her childhood in her native country, and it reflected in everything she did, except for her speech. She had absolutely no accent of any kind, something she prided herself in. “We know when we’re not wanted. Let’s go Hank.”

They left as I gave the evil eye to my aunt and cousin, who followed them out with a huff and a mighty eye roll and tsk from my ever-so-agreeable niece.

Once they were gone, and Autumn was back in her car seat, happily sucking on her toes, while she giggled at nothing in particular, I began my practiced story.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell either of you sooner, but I needed the time to figure things out on my own,” I told them.

“Darling, you know you can always come to us with anything…” my mom said, interrupting me.

“Mom, please let me finish.”

“Fine, but would you like some tea? Water? Wine?”

“I’m nursing,” I lied.

I’d just finished nursing about three weeks before I’d driven out. Once baby Autumn laid into me with her new budding teeth, I figured she needed rubber in that little mouth of hers instead of my sensitive nipples. And now that my breasts had shrunk back down to what they were before my breastfeeding adventure, I wondered if my mom would know I wasn’t nursing, but she didn’t seem to notice.

I didn’t want to share my withdrawal news with my mom because I knew she believed in nursing for as long as possible. Not that she ever nursed me, but that was beside the point. She’d changed her mind, which she did on just about everything she could no longer do, but insisted that everyone else should.

“Okay, so tea then,” she mumbled and went about preparing the electric kettle, and pulling out a fancy teapot and matching cups and saucers. In the meantime, I changed Autumn’s diaper, and placed three bottles of formula in the fridge for her, never mentioning the reality to my mom. I felt sure she thought they were my milk that I’d pumped for the trip.

“Who’s the father?” my dad wanted to know.

“I’ll get to that in a minute.”

“Does he know?”

“Not yet.”

“So, you intend to tell him?”

“Yes, while I’m here.”

“He’s from Cricket?”

I nodded, not wanting to get into the details.

“Are you going to tell us who he is?” my mother asked as she assembled the tea set on a tray.

“Not today.”

My mind whirled with scenarios. Telling them that the father was one of three men was like telling them that their only child was a porn star.

“Why?” my father asked, his voice curt now.

Still, I wondered if I should be blunt, and admit I didn’t know, or if I should lie once again? Hell, everything about this had been a lie, either of omission or simply straight up. Why stop now?

“She’ll tell us when she’s ready,” Mom told him, then turned to me. “Right, darling?”

“Right,” I told her, dodging that bullet.

And just like magic, the doorbell rang, giving me a momentary reprieve.

“I thought you said there was no more family coming,” I asked.

“There isn’t,” Mom said. “I have no idea who that could be, unless it’s the pies I ordered from Sweetie Pies. You know they make the best pumpkin pie in the entire world, and they’re your favorite. I wanted to have plenty on hand.”

“Thanks,” I told her, actually looking forward to a slice with that cup of tea. I figured it might take the edge off this conversation.

“Look who’s here,” Aunt Sylvia said as she walked back into the kitchen, a sly grin on her face. She was trailed by Hunter, who looked way too good up close. I’d forgotten how powerfully beautiful he was.

Was I just horny or had he gotten even better looking?

He gazed directly at me with those distinctive caramel eyes, and I wanted to swoon. The man caused a volcano to go off inside of me, and all I could think of was us… in bed… that night of incredibly hot sex when I came so many times, I’d lost count.

“I hope I’m not intruding on anything, but I just got off work, so I thought I’d swing by before I headed home. I saw you drive by and I um…”

His voice trailed off, and I knew there was no other reason he stopped by other than to talk to me in person. Shit, I didn’t think I’d have to tell him anything so soon.

Yet, there he stood, in my mother’s kitchen, looking like I’d broken his heart, and he needed me to put it back together again.

Even his deep voice sent my mind racing back to that moment when he… “Not at all. It’s nice to see you again, Hunter.”

My aunt’s eyes bore through me. My mother’s eyes did the same, and my dad’s eyes were laser focused on Hunter. I could only imagine what was going through his mind, and none of it was good.

It was at that very moment when my eye-rolling niece stepped into the room, a wide smirk on her adorable face as she said, “Look who’s here? And he brought cake.”

Mace walked in, carrying not only a pink box with a cake, but also a handled bag that bulged with goodies. I could only imagine the yumminess inside that bag. Enough to add at least five more pounds to my already round figure.

“Hey, everyone!” he said showing off his best smile. Mace had one of those faces that made you happy whenever you saw him gaze your way. Anyone could tell he had a kind heart and was as generous as Santa with his outstanding desserts. “I saw you drive by, Sage, so I wanted to drop by in person to deliver the cake your mom ordered, plus I added some of your favorites, along with a few of mine.”

Autumn cooed, and turned her head as if she understood him. “Who do we have here?” Mace asked as my mother took the baked goods from him and he walked over to get a better look at his potential daughter.

This was rapidly turning into a circus, and just when I thought it couldn’t get any more entertaining, Forrest walked in carrying two pie boxes from Sweetie Pies. “The front door was open. Am I in time for the party?”

By now my grandparents had returned to the kitchen, my mother had put on the coffeepot, the tea kettle whistled, while everyone else stood around Autumn who couldn’t seem to stop giggling.

I took it as my cue to slip out the back for a moment so I could breathe. I also snitched a screw top bottle of white wine from the wine fridge on the way out the back door.

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