The Baseball Card Boyfriend (Starrycard Creek Bachelors #3)

Chapter 17

Chapter

Seventeen

MAGGIE

“The wait is almost over! We have twenty-two minutes until the pies will be cooled and ready to gobble up. Twenty-two minutes until pie time, everybody!” McKenzie exclaimed, wearing the pink Maggie apron and holding a ticking kitchen timer above her head as she marched through the tangle of Starrycards talking and laughing in the ranch house’s cavernous lobby-living room.

And what brought a gaggle of Starrycards to the Donnelly Ranch?

The promise of pie and moonshine.

Christian’s grandfather had called Goldie to let her know he’d be returning late just as the pies went in the oven. He’d also mentioned eating pie for dinner and indulging in a sip or two—quite an understatement—of Stumble Juice. Christian said that this was the event that triggered the Starrycard group chat to mobilize. Not ten minutes later, the first round of Starrycards arrived—and eagerly indulged in the moonshine. But the pies she’d made earlier in the day weren’t enough for the large group, so she’d sprang into action, organizing a spread of snacks and finger foods to munch on. A charcuterie board felt like the ideal solution, and Christian’s family couldn’t stop raving about the food and knocking back tumblers of moonshine, and little McKenzie was doing her part draining their supply of lemonade.

And it was nearly time to sample their pie—the pie she and the judges had crafted.

“Twenty-two minutes, my little lovelies,” she said gently as she inspected the pies cooling on the island. She couldn’t help but smile. Her pie-loving heart was hopeful.

The crust was golden brown with a slight sheen.

Perfect.

The edges were crimped and held their shape.

Spot-on.

The deep orange filling was smooth and a touch glossy. The fall color peeked out from behind the golden-brown pie crust cutouts she’d placed on top—a last-minute idea, but, in her opinion, the finishing touch.

She closed her eyes and inhaled. The cinnamon and nutmeg mingled with the earthy richness of pumpkin, but there was a subtle fragrance just beneath. They’d captured a malty sweetness, and there was no denying the caramel-honeyed notes. The full bouquet of scents was enticing and comforting, complex yet harmonious, and soon, she’d know if the experimental recipe tasted like a winner. “Pie makes everything better, and I have a feeling that you are exactly the pies we need to win for Bess,” she whispered, then checked her notebook, going over the measurements.

“Are you talking to the pies, TBD?” Christian asked, coming up behind her.

She glanced back at him. “Yes, is that strange?”

“Nah, I used to talk to my bat.”

“What would you say?”

He struck a batter’s stance. “I’d say, ‘Let’s smash the fuck out of that ball.’”

She chuckled and looked from one pie to the other. “I don’t think that works in this case.”

“Probably not. I sure as hell don’t want to smash these beauties. They’re works of art. You’re amazing, Maggie. You’re truly talented,” he said and pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

She inhaled a sharp breath and glanced around the kitchen, making sure they were alone. “Christian, you shouldn’t do that.”

“Everyone is too busy and too tipsy to notice.”

Suddenly, loud whoops and laughter erupted from the living room, the sound crashing through the moment like a wave. She jumped, her heart pounding.

“Don’t worry. That’s not for us. No one can see us. My family started a round of hot potato with the couch cushions. And my dad’s playing DJ, which is always a dicey prospect. His taste in music is questionable,” Christian said as the beat dropped, and a low thumping bass drifted in from the other room. “But as much as I’d love to tell them and let the world know I’ve fallen in love with the kindest— and sexiest —little pie maker on the planet, this may not be the time.”

Her heart fluttered as uncertainty mingled with a thrilling sense of joy. “You’re serious? You considered telling them now?”

“Yes. It’s all I can think about. I don’t want to hide my feelings for you, and I sure as hell don’t want people thinking of you as just the housekeeper. Maggie, with every minute that passes, I fall more in love with you.”

This man.

“Will you tell them about your dreams?”

He brushed his fingertips down her jawline. “I’d worried they’d think I was crazy, but if you can’t tell, everyone in my family is crazy, and they’re crazy about you.”

“They’ve been so kind and welcoming,” she said, feeling an overwhelming sense of belonging.

As the stream of Starrycards had entered the house a couple of hours ago, they’d greeted her warmly—like she was family. But she’d lost track of their names between keeping an eye on the baking pies and preparing snacks and drinks.

He took her hand and led her to the fridge. “It’s simply impossible not to love you. I want you right here with me. Always.”

“You want me to stand next to your refrigerator? Has your Stumble Juice consumption scrambled your brain?” she teased.

“I haven’t had a drop. Somebody has to make sure these lunatics stay in line.” He glanced into the living room, then opened the fridge door, blocking anyone’s view of them. “I’ve been wanting to do this all night,” he said, gripping her ass in his strong hands as he pressed his lips to hers.

She sighed, melting into his embrace, and wrapped her arms around his neck. Kissing this man with the scent of cooling pumpkin pie in the air and the hum of joyful conversation and music in the background sent a heady rush of bliss through her body.

“You belong with me. I’ve never loved anyone or anything like I love you,” he whispered between kisses, his voice a soft caress. His lips moved with a gentle reverence. He loved her with such ease and such certainty. It filled the empty parts of her heart, the parts left vacant by her memory loss.

She pulled back, her hands gently resting on his chest as she held Christian’s gaze. In his deep green eyes, she saw not just her present but every hope she had for the future. Her breath caught as the realization settled in her heart. “I love this life, and I love you,” she whispered, her voice fragile yet filled with the weight of every unsaid word. The words spilled out, finally free.

His lips curled into that familiar half-smile that always made her weak in the knees. But this time, there was something more—something deeper. “You love me, TBD? You haven’t said the words,” he said softly, his gaze unwavering, as if her response held the key to everything.

“With all my heart,” she breathed, her eyes brimming with emotion she could no longer hold back.

His grin deepened, eyes darkening. He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to that low, commanding rasp that never failed to make her breath hitch and her core tighten. “You’ve made me the happiest man on the planet. And…”

“And?” she purred.

“I’d like you to do something for me.”

A shiver of anticipation raced down her spine as she gazed up at him. “What would you like me to do, Number Eleven?”

“Once we’re alone, I want you in my college jersey, whispering how much you love me while I drive you to the edge over and over until we’re both soaked in sweat and too spent to move.” He tipped up her chin and leaned in. “That is exactly what I want.”

Her blush may become a perma-blush to match her perma-horny brain.

“I believe I can accommodate that request for the man I love,” she said, breathless, her body trembling beneath his touch. She sighed. “A girl could get used to a life with a man promising endless orgasms. You’re kind of a dream come true.”

“ You are my dream come true, TBD,” he replied, his voice heavy with emotion, the sincerity of his conviction evident in every word.

“TB…what?” McKenzie asked.

Maggie gasped as Christian released her ass mere seconds before McKenzie peered around the refrigerator door.

“TBD. It means to be determined,” Christian explained.

Maggie pulled two root beers from the fridge, using them as a cover for why she and Christian were standing there. “They called me Maggie TBD at the hospital since they don’t know my last name.”

“What are you doing in the kitchen, Kenz?” Christian asked, eyeing his niece as he closed the refrigerator door.

McKenzie held the timer in one hand while she hid her other hand behind her back. “Hot potato ended, and I wanted to let Maggie know we’ve got sixteen minutes left.” The child eyed the timer. “Do we have to wait the whole two hours for the pies to cool before we eat them?”

“We do. But it’s worth the wait. It allows the filling to set and makes the pie even more delicious. And you are an excellent assistant. You’re doing a spectacular job keeping tabs on the pie-cooling countdown. And my old apron suits you. You should keep it.”

McKenzie beamed. “Thanks, Maggie! I wore it to school today, and I told everybody that I didn’t change my name to Maggie. I said, ‘Maggie is my uncle’s housekeeper, and her brain doesn’t remember anything because she hit her head on a railroad track.’ And then I missed a bunch of math problems because I was talking to Logan Laughlin, and I told Ms. Higgins, my teacher and my almost aunt, that I bumped my head on the monkey bars and maybe my brain forgot how to do math. And then, after school, I told my mom that my brain forgot how to unload the dishwasher, but she said my brain better remember fast, or I wouldn’t earn my allowance for the week. Oh, and everybody in the living room needs more Stumble Juice.”

Maggie looked to Christian to dissect the child’s word salad.

“I got this,” he said, then turned to McKenzie. “Pay attention in class, Kenz. And no talking to boys. Ignore them until you’re thirty. Be careful on the monkey bars. Do your chores. And tell everyone I’ll be out with drinks in a second.”

“Okay, Uncle Chris,” she chimed and skipped away with the timer and what looked like a cell phone behind her back.

Maggie shot the man a wary look. “No talking to boys until she’s thirty?”

“Too young? Should I have gone forty?” he teased, his voice brimming with mock seriousness.

She shook her head, then glanced into the living room where their guests were enthusiastically building a pillow tower. “We might want to monitor how much they’re drinking.”

Christian chuckled. “We might be past that point.”

“Chris, we could use some refills,” Rex called.

“Sure thing, Grandpa. Let me get another jar.”

“You’re not getting them more, are you?” she asked, watching the adults stand around the wobbly tower as one of Chris’s brothers called out building instructions.

“Oh, hell no,” he said, filling an empty Mason jar with iced tea as his mother, Maeve, sailed into the kitchen with a tumbler and an empty plate.

“I have a feeling you’re cutting off your grandfather, which is well advised, but your mother, the mayor , could use a bit more,” the woman said sweetly, holding up her glass.

Christian grimaced. “Mom, are you sure?”

“I birthed you, little star. I was in labor for twenty-nine hours. And as the elected head of this town, it’s the law to serve the mayor as much Stumble Juice as she requires,” Maeve answered, her movements loose and carefree.

“Mother Mayor, I’m pretty sure that law doesn’t exist.”

Maeve lifted an eyebrow, and just like that, it was clear she commanded the room.

That’s where Christian must get it.

“Let’s get you topped off, Mom,” he said, choosing a Mason jar containing the moonshine.

Maeve took a sip, smiled, and then eyed the spread on the island. “Maggie, you have outdone yourself,” she gushed, adding a few items from the charcuterie board to her plate.

“It’s nothing. I threw together some things we picked up at the farmer’s market.”

“Honey, five different kinds of cheeses, four different types of crackers, roasted butternut squash, charred Brussels sprouts, honey-glazed ginger carrot sticks, and seasoned beet slices is not nothing,” Goldie said, joining them as she entered the kitchen, sipping on Stumble Juice.

“Don’t forget the sliced prosciutto, salami, and chorizo. And Maggie put this together in a flash while keeping an eye on the pies,” Christian added, pride written on his face.

“I enjoy doing it.” She gazed into his eyes, a gentle heat rising to her cheeks. This man had become a master at making her blush, but she had others watching.

Maeve and Goldie exchanged a glance, sly smirks blooming on their lips.

Maggie cleared her throat and looked away. She could not get swept up in ogling Christian in front of his family.

“Izzy and Hailey tell me you made the hummus from scratch. It’s phenomenal,” Maeve continued, adding another dollop and a few crackers to her plate.

“Goldie, Grandma Maeve, come watch,” McKenzie called. “Great Grandpa Rex said he can do a headstand.”

“No, no, no! Not with his bad back and wonky hips, he isn’t,” Goldie exclaimed, shaking her head and laughing as she and Maeve hurried to the living room.

Maggie’s grin grew as she took in the family’s lively chaos.

Christian rested his hand on her back and made slow circles. “I’m sorry about my family. I had no idea that my grandpa calling my grandmother would lead to this.”

She drank in the laughter from the living room. “Help me out with everyone’s names. They told me, but it’s all a blur.”

“ It’s all a blur should be the Starrycard family’s tagline,” Christian joked. “You ready? We’ll go from left to right.”

She leaned into him. It was safe to do so. No one was watching them. All eyes were on Rex as everyone attempted to convince him to remain standing on his feet, not balancing on his head. She sighed and rested against Christian’s chest, loving the sturdy solidness of his body. “I’m ready.”

“We’ve got my brother, Finn, and Hailey. She’s the redhead.”

Maggie nodded. “They’re the engaged couple?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. Keep going.”

“My oldest brother Kieran and his wife Izzy are next to them.”

“She’s the one who likes cake, right?”

“You got it.”

“Moving on, there’s my sister, Eliza, her husband, Jack, and you know Kenz. Keeping it going, my mom, Maeve the mayor—and she won’t let you forget it—is standing beside my dad, Hank,” he said, pointing to the man dropping some serious dance moves.

“He’s a papermaker and a dancer?” she asked.

“Sweet Jesus, never tell my dad you think he’s a dancer. It’ll only encourage him.”

“All right,” she giggled.

“You know the judges. And you know my grandmother and grandfather.”

“I’ve got it. But this isn’t the whole group. We’re missing Owen.”

“Yeah, he gets a little obsessive about work and art. He’s got a project going in his studio, but he sure as hell won’t let any of us see it.”

“Like you and your distilling room.”

He chuckled. “Yes, sometimes I forget how alike we all are.”

“And Caroline. She’s not in Starrycard Creek.”

“No, no! I’m here,” came a light, bubbly voice.

Maggie turned abruptly and spotted McKenzie with the timer in one hand and a cell phone in the other.

“I’ve got Caroline on a video call. She and I are being super spies,” McKenzie said, grinning ear to ear. “We’ve been watching you cuddle in the kitchen.”

“We’re not cuddling. Maggie was…”

“Chilled. I was chilled,” Maggie blurted out.

“Is that what the kids are calling it?” Caroline crooned.

“Care, give it a rest, and Kenz, I just saw you in the lobby,” Christian said, frowning.

“I’m fast like that. And super-sneaky. Isn’t that right, Auntie Care?” the little girl said, eyes dancing with mischief.

“Super-duper sneaky, Kenz. You are the queen of sneak. Turn the phone so I can see your uncle and Maggie,” Caroline requested. McKenzie complied, and the smiling woman on the screen waved. “Hi, Maggie! Hi, Turd Burger!” Caroline chimed. “Oh, and Kenz?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Don’t say turd burger. You’re not old enough yet. When you’re twelve, you can call people turd burgers all you want.”

“Caroline,” Christian chided.

“Got it, Aunt Care. Turd Burger is a twelve-year-old word,” McKenzie replied with a resolute nod.

“How are the pies coming, Maggie?” Caroline continued.

“We’ll see. We don’t have much longer to wait.”

Caroline nodded. Christian’s little sister, who looked much like their mother and older sister, was lovely with her green, cat-like eyes, curious expression, and brown hair draping past her shoulders. “And it looks like you’re getting the full Starrycard experience tonight.”

“It sure seems like it.”

“Well, I can’t wait to meet you when I come back for Christmas. McKenzie’s been singing your praises. Do you think you’ll still be working for Chris in December?” Caroline’s question had an underlying spark, as if she knew more than she let on.

How much had she and McKenzie seen?

Maggie glanced at her employer , trying to keep it professional, but she couldn’t help but grin as her gaze locked with his. “I think I’ll still be around.”

“In some capacity,” Christian added with a teasing smirk.

“Okay,” Caroline answered. “Thanks for keeping my turd burger brother in line. And do not believe him if he tells you that you have the power of invisibility.”

“Noted,” Maggie said, enjoying Caroline’s snarky attitude—a Starrycard trait.

McKenzie turned the phone so she could be in the frame. “Auntie Care, do you want to see the pies? We’ve got eight minutes before they’re ready to eat.”

“I could look at pie all day, little star. Video pie me!”

McKenzie climbed onto a barstool and held out her phone. “My favorite part is the little stars covering the top,” the child said, chattering away with her aunt.

Christian ran his hands through his hair and exhaled an audible breath. “Every storm passes—except for this one. I’m stuck with these people. Sorry, TBD.”

“Why are you sorry?”

“I didn’t expect you to have to endure a Starrycard baptism by fire so soon—and a Caroline video call.”

She glanced at McKenzie and then into the lobby, her heart swelling with joy. “I love this.”

“Yeah?” he asked with such warmth in his eyes that it made her tear up.

She blinked away the happy tears. “Yeah,” she replied as the bass boomed, and the hip-hop song “Jump Around” echoed through the cavernous room.

“Gotta go, Aunt Care!” McKenzie exclaimed. “Grandpa Hank is playing our favorite song. It’s dance party time.”

“Dance party time?” Maggie repeated, but before Christian could answer, McKenzie took her hand and dragged her to the living room.

“It’s the jump, jump song,” McKenzie hollered. “Grandpa Hank and I listen to it and jump around the house.” She looked over her shoulder. “Uncle Chris, can I jump on the couch?”

“Jump your heart out, Kenz,” he answered.

“Make sure Maggie jumps around, too,” the little girl instructed, then pounced onto a sectional.

“TBD,” he said, pinning her with his penetrating gaze.

“Yes?” she answered as the lights went out, and a strobe light cast the room in pulsating flashes of electric color. Everyone cheered and hooted. The vibrant, flickering lights created a surreal, almost dreamlike setting.

Christian gestured to his mother. “You let Dad bring his strobe light?”

“There’s no stopping your father when he’s in party mode,” Maeve answered, busting some serious moves.

Maggie turned in a slow circle, peering at the shadows on the walls as the energy in the room soared to new heights. “This is…”

“Ridiculous?” Christian supplied.

“No, it’s amazing!” she exclaimed, jumping up and down, losing herself to the beat and her laughter.

Christian joined in, taking her hands as the group clumped together, hopping, jumping, bumping, swaying, and singing. She locked on to Christian’s gaze, and her heart fluttered. This was more than a silly dance party. It was a glimpse of a life with the man she loved. And when she thought she might be swept away by sheer bliss, the pleasing trill of the antique kitchen timer pierced the air. Christian’s father tapped his phone, and the music stopped, leaving only the metallic clatter of pulsing ding-ding-ding-dings .

“Pie time,” the group shouted.

McKenzie led the pie-fueled stampede. Maggie brought the pies to the table. Red faced and smiling, the group gathered around, some standing, others sitting, everyone gazing at the culinary delights.

She motioned for the judges to take their seats in the chairs near her, while Christian collected plates, silverware, and napkins.

Goldie handed her a knife and winked.

Maggie nodded to the woman, then looked to the judges. “Would any of you like to make the first cut?”

“No, dear, you do the honors,” a rosy-cheeked Judge Ironside answered.

“I’m glad I made two pies,” she murmured, delicately slicing each pie into eight slices.

One by one, she plated each slice as Christian handed them out. Lucky wiggled in and sat under the table by her feet, and the room grew still.

She exhaled a slow breath and surveyed the expectant faces. “What you’re about to sample is Stumble Juice Pumpkin Pie with a pi?on nut crust. We added a swirl of pie crust stars, hand cut in an array of sizes to add to the charm and flavor. The Stumble Juice incorporated in the recipe is from November eleventh of last year. It’s the eleventh batch.” She held Christian’s gaze for a beat, then peered at the group. “Tonight, I was honored to create these pies with some exceptional bakers and storytellers from the culinary club. I’ve learned so much about the history of Starrycard Creek, the people who love this town, and those who found love here. We baked these pies thinking of Judge Ironside’s late wife, Bess. The day of the coming pie competition would have been their sixtieth wedding anniversary.” She glanced over her shoulder at the clear night sky. “And I have a feeling that somewhere out there, beyond the stars, she’s looking down on this gathering, her love for her husband and baking surrounding us all,” she finished, feeling another presence, a warmth, an echo she couldn’t quite make out but knew it was there to support her.

As she turned back to the table, she saw the group frozen in place. Their eyes brimmed with tears, but their faces were alight with tender smiles. She pressed her hand to her heart. “I’m sorry. Was that too much?”

Judge Ironside patted her hand. “No, Maggie, it was perfect,” he said, a tear running down his weathered old cheek. He wiped it away, then donned his signature scowl. “What are you all looking at? Dig in. It’s pie time,” the man barked.

In a flurry of fork action, everyone took a bite of pie, and the room was swallowed in a bout of silence. The only sound, the gentle clinking of utensils.

“Is it terrible?” she asked, her voice trembling as she caught Wolcott’s eye, searching for reassurance.

“Try it,” the man said, his face giving nothing away.

She turned to Christian, her gaze locking with his. The love in his eyes was nearly overwhelming. Taking a deep breath, she picked up her fork, cut a sliver of pie, and let the flavors meld in her mouth. The richness of the filling, the slight honeyed bite, the mellow pumpkin harmonizing with the earthy crust—it was perfect. Tears peppered her cheeks.

“At least I’m not the only one crying,” Ironside said, his voice thick with emotion.

She wiped her cheeks, relief flooding her system. “We did it. This is it. This is the recipe.”

“Damn right it is, kid,” Rex said, nodding approvingly.

The table erupted in enthusiastic agreement.

This is amazing!

Delicious!

I’ve never tasted anything like it!

Ironside held up his glass. “A toast to Maggie, our favorite felon, one hell of a pie maker, and?—”

“The woman I love,” Christian declared from across the table, his voice strong and steady.

Once again, a stretch of silence engulfed the room, the weight of his words hanging in the air. She held Christian’s gaze, her heart pounding. What was he doing?

Christian’s grin broke the tension, and he laughed, a light, bubbly sound that filled the room. “I told Maggie I wouldn’t do this, but I can’t hold back,” he said, making his way to her side.

She watched him wide-eyed, her breath catching in her throat.

Christian took her hand, his touch gentle yet firm. “I love this woman,” he said, his voice resonating with emotion. “I’ve loved her since I saw her face in my dreams, dreams that started the night I was injured. The night my baseball career ended.”

Maeve’s brows knitted together in confusion. “You two knew each other before Maggie showed up in Starrycard Creek?” she asked, her voice tinged with disbelief.

Christian shook his head, his gaze never leaving Maggie’s. “No, I didn’t know her. I didn’t think she was real until I found her on the tracks trying to free Lucky.”

Kieran tilted his head, his expression pensive. “You must know her from somewhere,” he insisted. “There’s got to be an explanation.”

“Fate brought us together,” Christian began, his voice ripe with conviction. “I never met Maggie before that day. I’m sure of it. I would have remembered her. But she’s what kept me going when things got tough. When the pain became too much, I started having trouble sleeping. That’s why I was drinking so much. I needed it to knock myself out, to fall asleep to get back to her. And then she showed up on the ranch with a train barreling toward her. When I saw her face, at first, I thought I was hallucinating. But it was her—the woman in my dreams, and I loved her. It hit like…”

“A freight train?” Hank suggested, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, thankfully, a metaphorical train,” Christian replied, a wry smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Everyone chuckled softly, the light laughter weaving through the room. But it quickly died down, as if they could all sense that Christian had more to say, the gravity of the moment settling over them.

“The more time I spend with Maggie, the more our love grows. I’ve never known anything like this. I love her kindness and her gentle heart, and I couldn’t keep that to myself any longer. Everyone at this table is important to me, and I don’t want to hide my feelings for the person who’s become the center of my world, my north star. I know it sounds farfetched, but this is our story. This is how I know Maggie and I are meant for each other,” he said, gazing at her with such love in his eyes, she couldn’t speak. All she could do was bask in his unyielding adoration.

“Farfetched?” Goldie repeated with a wry chuckle. “Little star, we’re Starrycards. Farfetched love is our calling card. We believe in divine intervention, in the universe listening to the wishes people write on our paper. Love is what stopped William Starrycard in his tracks the moment he saw Fiona Donnelly. Farfetched love is the reason we’re sitting at this table. We’re the last people who would find anything regarding the pursuit of true love to be impossible or farfetched.”

“Maggie, you’re into my weird brother? Because we should warn you, he is all sorts of superstitious—like well beyond Starrycard Creek wishing wall paper superstitious,” Eliza added, instantly lightening the mood and igniting the Starrycard siblings’ fun-loving rambunctious side.

“Yeah, he’s a real freak. Remember when he wouldn’t change his socks for all of sixth grade because he thought it would be bad luck for the team?” Finn tossed out.

“Remember?” Kieran said, mock disgust lighting his neutral demeanor. “Chris and I shared a room growing up. I still can’t stomach the smell of stinky feet.”

Christian blushed, but the smile on his face let her know he didn’t mind the gentle ribbing.

“Or when he was a freshman in high school and only ate foods that started with the letter B , like baseball , because he thought that would ensure he’d keep hitting homers. That boy existed on birthday cake, blueberries, bananas, and bagels,” Maeve added.

“I get it. Chris,” Kieran’s wife, Izzy, chimed. “There’s nothing wrong with demanding birthday cake for every meal,” she said and kissed her husband’s cheek.

“And what about the year he wore his underwear backward?” Hank tossed out.

Rex slapped his hand on the table. “Or when he was little and wouldn’t go anywhere without his bat?”

“I had to tuck it into bed with him,” Maeve said, laughing as the family shared more anecdotes.

Maggie giggled, eating up the stories.

Christian wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “Are you guys trying to scare off the woman of my literal dreams? I know everyone’s pretty tipsy, but can someone at this table say something nice about me?” Christian pleaded as he laughed.

“Do you guys remember when he peed his pants in the car when we took that family trip to Rocky Mountain City?” Finn offered up, clearly not heeding Christian’s request.

“Do I remember? I was sitting next to him,” Kieran replied.

“I was four years old,” Christian balked. “I don’t even remember doing it.”

“The car smelled like urine for weeks,” Hank lamented.

“Uncle Chris peed his pants?” Kenzie chirped.

“No, Kenz,” Christian said, then cringed. “Okay, yes, it happened, but I was very young, and I had just downed an entire two-liter bottle of root beer because your uncle Kieran, your uncle Owen, and your uncle Finn dared me to, and my dad couldn’t get me to a restroom fast enough.”

“It’s good you have a helicopter to get you to a potty super-fast, Uncle Chris.” The child frowned, the wheels turning in her head. “Or do you pee your pants in the helicopter, too?”

McKenzie’s question had the room howling with laughter.

“I sure hope you didn’t pee in the pool at the senior center,” Judge Wolcott mused.

“We better add a thorough pool cleaning to his tab,” Ironside replied, gaining another round of roaring laughter.

“Maggie, are you sure you want Chris? He’s a handful,” Eliza said, laughing so hard she had tears in her eyes.

Maggie rested her hand on Christian’s chest, above his heart. “I’m sure, but…”

“But?” Christian replied with mock indignation.

“I’ll be careful to monitor his liquid consumption,” she finished.

“Good call,” Finn tossed out.

“Thanks to my loving family, you’ve heard it all. The good, the bad, and the ugly,” Christian said, mischief twinkling in his eyes as he leaned in, his lips just a few inches from hers.

Maggie’s heart fluttered, and she couldn’t help but smile up at him, her gaze softening. “I’ll take it all.”

Before they could move any closer, Christian’s mom’s voice broke through the moment. “I think we’ve got a kiss coming, folks,” she chimed.

“Kiss, kiss, kiss!” the group demanded, clapping and slapping the table in unison.

“What do you think we should do?” Christian asked.

She glanced at her hand resting on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath her palm. “Give what you love everything you’ve got,” she said, quoting his tattoo.

“Good answer, TBD.”

The world melted away. His lips met hers with a tender sweetness that sent shivers down her spine. Her heart swelled with a love so profound it felt as if it might burst. Surrounded by the people who loved Christian the most, she felt an overwhelming sense of belonging.

He ended the kiss, drawing back as the room erupted into a rowdy round of applause.

“We need to celebrate!” Hank exclaimed.

“We’ve got a winning pie, and Christian and Maggie are in love,” Judge Haynes added.

Finn shot to his feet. “Let’s go up in the helicopter.”

“Yeah, we can buzz by Dennison and let those geezers know their winning streak is over!” Judge Wolcott boomed, shaking his fist.

Judge Haynes rubbed his hands together like a mad scientist. “Yes, let’s invade Dennison. We can drop pies on their senior center.”

“And store-bought pie crust!” Wolcott exclaimed.

Christian crossed his arms. “Absolutely not.”

“You do this for us, and I’ll drop the charges. No jail time or bathroom clean-up required. Just pure pie revenge!” Ironside crooned.

“I’m pretty sure the Dennison authorities would slap me with fresh charges for reckless endangerment, and the FAA would most likely revoke my pilot’s license.”

“What about flour? We could sprinkle it all over town,” Haynes added.

Christian maintained his serious facade, but she could sense the man was on the cusp of laughter. “No, Judge. There will be no helicopter rides tonight.”

“Boo,” the group lamented in unison.

“None of you are in any shape to ride in an aircraft or drive, for that matter,” he said again, wrapping his arm around her.

“Everyone should spend the night. We certainly have the room,” Maggie said, then tensed.

Was she taking too many liberties with Christian’s home?

Christian gazed at her with such profound love in his eyes that it erased the tension. “Maggie’s right. We, ” he began, the adoration in his eyes intensifying, “would love to host you here at the ranch.”

“A school night sleepover,” McKenzie said through a yawn. “I only get those with Grandpa Hank and Grandma Maeve when Mommy is really stressed out and needs a night to do all the yoga with Daddy. Right, Mom?”

“Kenz…” Eliza and Jack said.

“Before I went over to Grandma and Grandpa’s house last time,” the child continued, “I heard you talking to Aunt Izzy, and you said, ‘I will be doing ALL the yoga tonight, every which way, and in every room in the house. Jack will be yoga-ing my brains out until I am a pile of goo.’ And then in the morning, when Grandpa Hank brings me home early, Daddy is happy and whistling, but I think that’s because he’s excited about putting thermometers in dog and cat butts. Remember, Maggie, I told you that’s what my dad does at work?” she finished, resting her head on the table.

Wow! Even half-asleep, the child could talk.

Maggie suppressed a grin. “You did mention that.”

“On that descriptive note,” Jack said, scooping his daughter into his arms. “It’s time for us to hit the sack. Chris, Maggie, thanks for the hospitality.” He brushed a few pie crumbs from his daughter’s cheek. “Say thank you, and good night, little star.”

With her eyes closed, McKenzie’s head lulled to the side. “Thank you, and good night, little star.”

“Pick any room. They’re all ready,” Christian said as his family wished them goodnight and headed upstairs.

But the judges stayed put, their expressions shifting from light and lively to heavy and longing.

Judge Ironside was the first to rise to his feet. “We’re not family. We should go. Christian, could you drive us back to town?”

Christian caught Maggie’s eye, and she shook her head.

“No, Judge, he can’t take you anywhere. You’re staying with us,” she said, morphing into pie ballbuster mode.

Judge Haynes stood. “We don’t want to impose.”

Wolcott nodded and offered a weak grin.

She recognized their expressions. In her soul, she felt their loss and loneliness. She had to make them understand that they belonged—and just as the thought sparked, words came to her. “Once you spend time with me in the kitchen, you’re my family,” she began, feeling a deep familiarity with the sentiment. “And with me having amnesia and not remembering anything, that makes the three of you my honorary uncles. And I have a feeling that I make a mean pancake breakfast. You surely don’t want to miss that, do you?”

“With bacon?” Haynes asked, perking up.

“Yes.”

Wolcott’s grin reached his eyes. “And sausage?”

“We’ve got that, too. And eggs,” Christian added, catching on to what she was doing.

“And fruit and fresh herbs and vegetables,” she continued, then tapped her chin theatrically. “Maybe I’ll whip up a quiche, too. A recipe just came to mind.”

“And pie?” Ironside asked.

She held the man’s gaze. “Always pie. Pie makes everything better.”

The judge nodded, then reached out and squeezed her hand. “You’ve got a good heart, Maggie last name to be determined.” He turned to Christian, hardening his expression. “Don’t screw it up with her. She’s as good as they come.”

“I hear you loud and clear, sir. I know how lucky I am,” Christian said softly.

Rex ambled into the kitchen, his presence a comforting interruption. “Come on, you old codgers,” he called. “I’ll get you settled upstairs.”

She watched them leave, a soft smile on her lips as she wrapped her arms around Christian’s waist and rested against his chest. “Thank you. They needed this,” she whispered, her voice full of gratitude.

Christian gazed down at her, his eyes reflecting the depth of his emotions. “You are more than I even dreamed possible. I look at you and think, there’s no way I could love this woman any more, and then you go and top it. And all I can do is look at you in awe.”

Her cheeks warmed with a blush. “I feel like the luckiest girl in the world. Now, all we need is for our pie to win, and then we’ll be home free. Charges dropped and no public toilets in our future.”

“TBD?”

“Yes?” she replied, a faint smile lingering.

“Do you want to know what I feel?” Christian’s tone was tender, his hand gently caressing her back, making those lazy circles she loved.

“I do,” she replied, casting aside her worries about her past and lost memories. Her entire world narrowed down to the promise of a life in Starrycard Creek.

He tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “No matter what happens on Saturday, standing here, looking into those hazel eyes that own every ounce of my being, I know one thing to be true.”

Her pulse quickened. “And what’s that, Number Eleven?”

He pressed a whisper-soft kiss to the corner of her mouth, his breath warm against her skin. “With you in my life, I’ve already won.”