The Baseball Card Boyfriend (Starrycard Creek Bachelors #3)

Chapter 18

Chapter

Eighteen

CHRISTIAN

Christian whistled as he strolled from his family’s paper company to the town square, Lucky’s leash in one hand and a crate of wishing wall paper scraps tucked under his arm. “Here we go, folks. More wishing wall paper,” he announced, placing it on the table.

“Thanks, Mr. Starrycard! I’m wishing to be a baseball player like you,” a little boy exclaimed, then frowned. “I’m sad you got hurt.”

“I was sad, too, but it’s good to be back in Starrycard Creek.” He handed the child a scrap of paper. “Here you go. With hard work and lots of practice, I bet you’ll achieve exactly what’s meant for you. Dream big, kid. And could you do me a favor?”

“Anything for you!” the boy replied with a toothy grin.

Christian pulled a folded slip from his pocket. “Would you tuck this into one of the cracks in the wall? It’s my wish.”

“I sure will!” the boy answered excitedly, taking off toward the rock wall that followed Starrycard Creek’s gentle curves.

Exchanges like that used to slice through him, but not anymore. He slipped his hand into his pocket, his fingers brushing against the lucky stone and the baseball card Maggie had with her when she arrived in Starrycard Creek, along with something else he hoped would make him even luckier.

He watched the child skip to a spot near a cluster of golden aspens and press the scraps into a gap in the rocks.

“I did it, Mr. Starrycard.”

Christian gave the boy a thumbs-up, then turned his attention to the town square. Donnelly Days had started a few hours ago with the melodic rush of Starrycard Creek in the background and towering oaks and willowy aspen trees showing off their autumn colors in a sea of vibrant reds, burnt oranges, and golden yellows. The town thrummed with activity as the fragrant aroma of fresh pumpkin pie hung heady and sweet in the fall air.

It was fair to say they couldn’t have gotten a better day to celebrate autumn in the mountains. The sky was a stunning shade of blue. Fluffy clouds lazily drifted across the expanse, casting soft shadows on the mountains while dry leaves crunched beneath the feet of the attendees.

Christ, it was good to be alive.

He peered across the square, and a deep sense of contentment washed over him. “There’s my blushing baker,” he murmured, spotting Maggie wearing her vintage apron and his green Rocky Mountain University ball cap, her strawberry-blond locks cascading over her shoulders.

Damn, she looked good in his hat. His thoughts went to last night when she wore nothing but that exact cap and his college jersey. She’d climbed on top of him, placed his cap on her head, then pressed her hands to his bare chest. The tips of his fingers tingled as he recalled palming her ass. He’d thrusted and bucked, giving her one hell of a ride until she writhed and moaned, taking every ounce of pleasure he could give her. She’d fallen asleep with his cap pressed to her heart. He’d watched her sleep, and when he’d brushed a lock of hair from her forehead, she smiled and sighed. He’d hit homers in front of crowds of thousands of people, but nothing held a candle to what it felt like to fall asleep with his dream girl in his arms.

The possessive caveman inside him wanted to beat his chest and stake his claim for all festivalgoers to see. But it was more than that. Of course, it was. He loved her. An overwhelming need to protect her and always put her first surged through his veins. He drank in the scene, watching her laugh with Hailey and Izzy as they restocked her table with fresh pies.

This was their life.

He adored her. His family loved her, and a fierce sense of pride swelled within him, watching her make sale after sale.

She deserved it.

She’d worked damned hard this week.

In addition to baking a few dozen Stumble Juice Pumpkin Pies with the judges, one of which was entered into the pie contest, she and her culinary companions had been baking machines. From peanut butter pumpkin pie to pumpkin marshmallow pie to a triple-layer beauty made with spiced pumpkin puree, cheesecake, and whipped cream, Maggie’s recipes dazzled everyone who’d tasted them.

He’d probably gained ten pounds in the last seven days, but holy hell, it was worth it.

“We’re living the good life, aren’t we, boy?” he said to Lucky, sitting patiently by his side, watching Maggie like a hawk. “We’ll make sure she’s always happy, won’t we?” he added, scratching the pup between his ears.

“Christian! Christian Starrycard! Can we get a few shots of you for the Rocky Mountain City Dispatch?” a man called, hurrying over with a photographer in tow.

“The Dispatch sent a reporter to cover Starrycard Creek’s Donnelly Days? You don’t usually cover our seasonal events,” he said, pretty sure he knew why they were there. His antics in Rocky Mountain City had sold plenty of papers and earned millions of clicks online.

The reporter, a slim guy with glasses, shifted his weight. “There’s interest in your life after baseball. Especially since you’ve had some troubles.” The man pulled a small notepad and pen from his pocket. “People want to know what’s become of you.”

“What’s become of me?” Christian mused, his gaze locking onto Maggie. She must have sensed his eyes on her. She looked up from arranging her pies, blushed that delicate shade of pink, and smiled the smile from his dreams—the smile that had become his perfect reality.

“I might have lost my way after my injury, but I’m where I’m supposed to be,” he replied, returning his attention to the reporter and going into professional athlete mode. “While baseball will always be my first love, I’ve found a new path here at home, and it’s more than I ever dreamed possible. Please let your readers know that Rocky Mountain City will always have a place in my heart. I have immense gratitude for the fans and support they’ve given me over the years when I was a college player under Coach Redmond and in the Major Leagues with the Rattlers.”

The reporter jotted a few notes on the pad. “And you have a dog?”

“I do. This is Lucky.”

“Any other additions? Anyone special in your life? A model? An actress?” the reporter pressed.

Christian couldn’t suppress a grin. “Yes, there’s someone, but that’s off the record. I hope you understand.”

“Fair enough. We appreciate your time. And on a personal note,” the man continued, pocketing the notebook. “For a while there, I was worried about you. I’m glad to see you’re doing well. You’re still well-loved in Rocky Mountain City.”

Christian nodded. And just like with the child a few minutes earlier, he wasn’t burdened by the comment, wasn’t dragged down by the mention of his old life. “It wasn’t easy dealing with my injury, and I regret my past behavior, but I’m healing, and like I said, I’m on the right path now,” he added as the photographer snapped a few shots of him and Lucky.

“Thanks for the quote, Mr. Starrycard.”

“Thanks for coming out. And a word to the wise,” Christian replied, shaking the men’s hands. “You don’t want to leave town without picking up a pumpkin pie from the table across the square.”

“The one with the pink boxes?” the reporter asked, craning his neck.

“That’s the one, and then pop over and get a dozen turnovers from my grandmother’s booth right next door.”

“We’ll check them out. Thanks for the tip.”

Christian watched Maggie pass a box to a customer, then greet the men and offer them samples. Within seconds of tasting the baked goods, the photographer started snapping pictures of her and her pies as the reporter slipped his notepad and wallet from his pocket.

This was it. This was where she belonged.

“Hey, All-Star, or should we call you the King of Floral ,” Finn called, a sly smirk on his lips. Kieran and Owen flanked him, matching his swagger as the trio advanced with confident strides, clearly up to something.

Dammit, Grandpa Rex!

“How about you go fuck yourself,” Christian offered, throwing a sass ball right back at his brother.

“How are your dreams? Did you dream about lottery numbers or the next big tech advance?” Owen pressed, getting in more Starrycard ribbing.

Christian surveyed his older brothers. “O, you’re too busy, but Kier and Finn, you are the last two people in this town to give me shit for falling in love.”

“He does have a point,” Kieran replied.

Owen stared at the pie stand and shook his head.

“What is it?” Christian asked.

“It’s nothing.”

“Owen, do you have something against pie?” Christian pressed.

“Fuck no. I love pie. And Maggie’s great. I want you to be happy.”

“But?” Christian prompted, watching the artist closely. His brother had the same odd expression he’d worn when he first encountered Maggie on the tracks.

“I can’t shake the feeling that she looks familiar,” Owen mused. “It must be a weird artist thing. Or maybe I need more sleep.”

“That’s a start,” Finn said, eyeing the man. “You’re probably losing your mind because you never stop. If you’re not in the shop, you’re in your studio. You need to get out.”

“I’m out right now,” Owen answered, exasperation coating his words when his phone chimed. He peered at his cell. “I have to go. It’s something I’m working on in my studio.”

“Case in point,” Kieran said as Owen pocketed his phone, issued a backward wave, and headed down the path toward his bungalow.

Finn gestured to Maggie’s table. “How many pies has she sold?”

“Over forty. She’s killing it. Everyone who meets her loves her and wants to buy one of her pies.”

Finn chuckled. “The entire town has fallen under her magical pie spell.”

“I’ve noticed one guy—must be a tourist—eyeing her table,” Kieran said.

Christian tensed. “What guy?”

His eldest brother scanned the space. “I don’t see him now. He could have been waiting for the line to ease up.”

“I don’t know, man,” Finn said, mischief in his eyes. “Maggie’s amazing. You better consider putting a ring on it and soon.”

“Oh, I get it,” Christian replied, watching an older gentleman gaze warmly at Maggie as she boxed up his pie. “Nico’s already tried his moves on her.”

Finn and Kieran exchanged a curious glance.

“Nico always tries,” Kieran replied, deadpanning the comment in his robotic tone.

“Well, gentlemen, I’m one step ahead of you on the put-a-ring-on-it front, but you’ve got to promise to keep this between us. Mom and Dad don’t know, and neither do Goldie and Grandpa Rex. I want it to be a surprise.”

“We promise. What do you have up your sleeve?” Finn asked.

“It’s what I’ve got in my pocket,” Christian replied, turning away from the square. He waved in his brothers, then slipped a five-carat pear-shaped pink diamond engagement ring from his pocket.

“Christ, Christian, that’s one hell of a ring. I was kidding about putting a ring on it right this second,” Finn remarked, wide-eyed.

Christian admired the ring. “I’m not kidding around—not when it comes to Maggie. This girl is the one.”

“The girl of your dreams,” Kieran said, but there was no sarcasm in the statement. His oldest brother was on the autism spectrum, and while his reactions could often be muted, it was clear he was nothing but supportive.

Finn leaned in for a better look. “How did you get a ring like that so quickly? Pink diamonds are quite rare.”

“I reached out to the jeweler who made the Rattlers’ World Series championship rings, and she was able to help me out with exactly what I wanted. Being a former pro ballplayer still has some perks.”

“That’s wonderful news. Truly, Chris,” Kieran said with the hint of a grin—an expression that spoke volumes.

“Love is something else,” Christian murmured. “One minute, you think you know the exact trajectory of your life, and it’s a total shitshow, and the next?—”

“Some angry redhead is calling you an axe murderer, and before you blink, thanks to a business card, you’ve fallen in love,” Finn finished.

“Or a birthday card,” Kieran added, the whisper of a grin still on his lips. “Speaking of the future, what are your plans, Chris?”

Christian’s pulse kicked up. Plans? Three months ago, the idea of the future only made him want to guzzle Stumble Juice. Now, he was brimming with ideas.

“Goldie’s already asked Maggie to start baking pies for her restaurant. We’ll get her set up with her own baking business, maybe rent some space if she outgrows the ranch.”

Kieran nodded. “As the town manager, I can tell you that a bakery will be in high demand. The town is growing now that we’re developing Starrycard Mountain. Also, our recreation programs are expanding to encompass year-round programming. We’ll need someone full-time to serve as the Director of Recreation and Sports Engagement. Someone whose name— and fame —might come in handy attracting sponsors, programs, and qualified employees.”

Christian kept his features neutral, matching his stoic brother’s appearance. “Are you offering me a job, Kier?”

“I am, but it’s more than a job. I’m offering you the chance to shape the town’s legacy. You’d have complete control. We want Starrycard Creek to be a place where people visit year-round. We’re at the helm of ensuring the prosperity of this town for our children and our children’s children.”

He pictured Maggie baking and building her business while he worked at town hall. He saw nights cuddled in front of the fire, evenings spent with family and friends, Maggie in his hat and jersey smiling at him like the sun bringing light and life to the world.

And children. Their children.

“There is another stipulation,” Kieran added.

“Let’s hear it.”

“The seniors would like you to continue teaching the mobility classes. We received a note in the town’s suggestion box that read, and I quote, ‘you pricks better allow the felon to keep making our old bones ache.’”

Christian laughed. “Ironside strikes again. I’m happy to continue teaching the class,” he replied, blinking back tears, his heart nearly bursting with gratitude.

“Good. I…” His brother trailed off.

“What is it, Kier?”

“I was worried about you,” the man finished, a slight hitch to his voice.

“I’m good,” Christian replied, hit with another wave of gratitude for this place and a family who loved him fiercely.

“There are my grandsons,” his grandfather called, heading over.

“You look flushed, Grandpa,” Finn observed, eyeing the man.

Rex removed a handkerchief from his pocket and patted his brow. “Your mother’s got me helping out. Somebody told her that a bit more movement would help my mobility. Do you know what would really help my mobility?” the old man said with a sly grin.

“I mentioned it to Mom and Goldie. But I come with gifts that might improve your spirits while you move,” Christian said, handing the man a slim flask. “That’ll put a spring in your step.”

“He’s a real all-star, like Coach R always said. Oh, and I hear he might be coming today with his crew,” his grandfather added, then sipped the moonshine.

“That would be terrific,” Christian replied. His day was getting better by the second.

“But we have no time to chat. Your mom’s got me on logistics duty, which is a creative way of saying she’s making me drag my tired ass across the town square,” Rex continued, but the curve to his lips revealed he wasn’t bothered by Maeve’s request. “Finn,” the man continued, “they need your help in the kids’ play area. Something is wonky with the jumpy castle. They require a handyman.”

“Got it, Grandpa.”

“Kieran, did you order cakes from Rocky Mountain City? A van pulled up, and the driver looked confused.”

“I’ll take care of it.”

“I see Maggie is doing quite well,” his grandfather said, gesturing to the pie table as Kieran and Finn melted into the crowd. “Her pies are selling like hotcakes. She should look into taking over the retail space that used to be that little café just off Main Street and Creekside Drive. The couple who owned it retired a few months ago, and no one in their family wanted to take it over.”

“I was just talking to Finn and Kier about finding a retail baking space for Maggie. That’s a great idea, Grandpa. I’ll run it by her, and we can check it out.”

“Rex, my dear father-in-law,” his mother crooned, swooping in and handing his grandfather the crate of wishing wall paper, “there’s no time for chit-chat. Your mayor needs you over by the wishing wall with these, please.”

“I’m retired, Maeve,” the man lamented.

“From making paper, not from handing it out,” she replied sweetly and pressed a kiss to the old man’s cheek.

The man grumbled, but that didn’t hide the sparkle in his eyes. “Duty calls,” he said and headed toward the creek.

Maeve surveyed the square. “The judging for the pie contest starts in less than an hour. Did Maggie and the judges get their pie entered?”

“They did. They were the first ones at the tent.”

“Excellent.”

“And Grandpa mentioned Coach R is coming.”

“Yes, the Gemstones are supposed to join us, but I haven’t seen them yet. Don’t forget, it’s Ruby when Coach is in his fabulous ensemble.”

“Got it,” he replied, grinning ear to ear. This was it. Everything was falling into place. Not only was today the day he would propose. He’d get to do it with his beloved RMU baseball coach by his side, rocking full drag.

“What’s going on with you?” his mother asked, lips pursed as she looked him over.

He shrugged. “I’m just happy, Mom.”

“Do I need to put you to work?”

“No, Madame Mayor, I’m on pie duty. I stepped away because I noticed the paper table had run out of wishing wall slips.”

“Always so considerate,” she said and patted his cheek. “I’m proud of you and thrilled you’re happy. It’s good to see you smile like that again.”

“Like what?”

“Like you’ve got everything you want. You’d smile like that in your sleep when you were a boy cuddling your bat. You and Maggie are good for each other. I do wish she’d recall her memories. I’m sure that troubles her. Could you imagine if you couldn’t remember this, all our happy years here in this beautiful place?”

“I want that for her, too.”

“I know you do, and I’m sure your love and support will help her remember.”

He nodded, a subtle weight tugging at his heart.

“Mayor Starrycard, there’s a family interested in learning more about the town,” a woman called, waving his mother over.

“And now it’s back to work,” she said, dusting off her hands, then frowned. “I wonder why Judge Ironside, Wolcott, and Haynes are sitting behind Maggie’s table? That is quite odd. It reminds me of when I used to put you and your brothers in time-out.”

“I’ll go see what’s up.” He crossed the square and weaved through the crowd waiting to purchase Maggie’s pies. “Everything okay, TBD?” he asked, keeping his voice low as he positioned himself and Lucky to the side of the stand, then glanced at the judges.

“You missed the excitement,” she replied, biting back a grin as she handed a customer their change.

“I’ve put the judges in time-out,” Hailey announced, her auburn ponytail swishing as she went into schoolteacher mode.

He peered at the three men sitting in a row. His mother was right. They were in trouble. “What did they do?”

“They started throwing bits of pie crust at the Dennison seniors,” Hailey replied and clucked her tongue.

Judge Wolcott huffed. “But the Dennison seniors started it. They?—”

Hailey flashed one hell of a scary teacher look their way, cutting off Wolcott’s whining. Finn’s fiancée turned to Maggie. “Please tell the judges— again —what the pie plan is.”

Christian made a mental note to never piss off Hailey.

“We’ll beat them with our baking, and we’re doing it for Bess,” Maggie said gently as Hailey’s phone beeped.

Hailey eyed the judges. “All right, gentlemen, you’ve had time to think about what you’ve done. Now you can get back to work and help us sell these pies.”

“Yes, Miss Higgins,” the men said in unison like a trio of naughty schoolboys.

“Don’t worry, Judges,” McKenzie said, zooming behind the table. “Miss Higgins will give you a second chance to do your best work. She’s nice like that.”

“Kenz, are you here to help?” Izzy asked.

“Yup, I wore Maggie’s apron, too,” the child replied.

“Your job is to bring more pies to the table when it gets low.”

“Got it, Aunt Izzy,” the child answered, snapping into action.

This pie booth was hopping.

Maggie brushed the back of her hand across her forehead, exhaled a heavy sigh, and blinked a few times.

He watched her carefully and could read the signs. She needed a break.

“Judges, ladies, could I steal Maggie away for a few minutes and leave Lucky at the booth?” Christian asked.

“I shouldn’t leave the table,” Maggie said, picking up a pie.

“I’ll be on Lucky duty,” McKenzie chimed.

“Take a break, girl,” Izzy instructed, removing the pie from Maggie’s hands and handling the sale. “We got here an hour ago. You’ve been going since before dawn. Just be careful. Those Starrycard boys might try to show you the inside of the paper shop when it’s empty. And let me tell you, they are always up to no good,” the woman said, biting back a wry grin.

“Where are you taking Maggie?” Hailey asked in a deceptively sweet tone.

These women were truly a force to be reckoned with.

“Just for a walk to give her a breather,” he eked out like a kid getting caught stealing cookies from the cookie jar. “But I promise. It won’t be long.” He held Maggie’s gaze. “It’s just a little break.”

“It’s under control, Maggie,” Judge Haynes said, offering a kind, bushy grin.

Maggie surveyed the people helping her, and a sweet, grateful grin graced her lips. She met his gaze. “Okay, but we can’t be long.”

Christian took her hand in his. “We won’t be. Come on, All-Star,” he said, using Coach R’s favorite term.

She threaded her fingers with his. “Are we walking along the creek path?”

He met her gaze and attempted to keep a straight face. But he couldn’t, and she read right through him.

“You’re taking me to the paper shop,” she said, laughing.

“Yes.”

“Is this some Starrycard bachelor rite of passage?”

He chuckled. “I didn’t think so, but it seems my brothers have brought Hailey and Izzy to the shop when it was empty.”

“And what do you think they did there?” Maggie asked, playing the innocent.

He took her down the path that led to the shop’s back entrance. “Probably what I’ve been thinking about doing with you.”

“So…talking,” she replied, doing a better job than he could at keeping her features neutral.

“So much talking. All the talking,” he agreed.

“Will you be providing a papermaking tutorial?” she continued.

“Absolutely… not . Listen, I know we’re a paper town, and I love my family’s business and history. But there’s a reason I became a professional athlete.”

“You had a dream.”

He squeezed her hand. “Yeah, and now you’re here.”

“I’m talking about your dream to play professional baseball,” she said, that lovely blush making her glow from within.

“I know, but I want you to know that you mean more to me than baseball ever could.”

She stopped walking, then pushed onto her tiptoes and kissed him.

“What was that for?” he asked, smiling against her lips.

“I love you. I love that you know just what I need, even before I know it. Your love means everything to me. Everything ,” she repeated, beaming at him.

She didn’t even know the half of it.

“I have exciting news—baking news,” he said, leading her to the shop.

“Really?”

“There’s a café that closed in town. My grandpa thinks it might be a great location to be converted into a bakery.”

“For me?” she asked, surprise coating the question.

“Yeah, you. The one and only blushing baker.”

She paused, framed by the golden yellow leaves of a willow tree. “Do you think I could run a business?”

He took both her hands in his. “I don’t think there’s much you couldn’t do, TBD. And it wouldn’t be just you. It’s us—together. We’re not alone. Goldie knows all about opening a small business. My brother’s an attorney and can help with the paperwork. You’ll have support, and I’d be working down the street at town hall.”

“What would you be doing?” she asked, tilting her head with a curious smile.

“Director of Recreation and Sports Engagement.”

“Christian, that’s amazing. When did that happen?” she asked, her eyes widening in surprise.

“Like ten minutes ago,” he said with a light chuckle, still savoring the moment. “My brother ran it past me. I said yes.”

She peered at their joined hands, then smiled as she looked down the trail. “This is our path,” she said softly, lifting her gaze to meet his.

“Maggie, Christian? Is that you?” came a familiar voice.

“Yes, hello, Dr. Ironside. It’s nice to see you,” Maggie chimed as the neurologist headed toward them with a large canvas bag.

“Are you coming to take in Donnelly Days?” he asked.

“I am. My cousin said I had to visit your pie booth. That’s why I’ve got the tote. I’m stocking up for the hospital’s break room. And I must say, you’ve made quite an impression on him.”

“He’s a wonderful man and a talented baker,” Maggie gushed. “Did he tell you the pie we entered in the contest is dedicated to the memory of his late wife?”

“He did, and I must thank you both,” the doctor said, a warm smile lighting up her face. “My cousin is a scowly old thing, but he’s a good man underneath the bluster. He loved Bess very much, and I’m glad he shared that part of his past with you. And speaking of the past, dear. Have you had any of your memories return? How are you doing on the meds?”

“I’m doing well. I think the anxiety medicine is helping. I feel steady and solid. I still can’t recall anything about my identity, but I’m remembering recipes.”

“You should see her, doc,” he said. “She’s filled three notebooks.”

“That’s excellent progress, Maggie. Don’t lose hope. Sometimes, it takes just one thing, a smell, a taste, or even a sound, to unlock memories. Keep living. Stay curious and give yourself time.”

Maggie nodded. “I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you.”

“Anytime,” the doctor answered, then held his gaze. “And Christian, I just bumped into Dr. Driscoll.”

Maggie peered up at him. “Dr. Driscoll?” she repeated with a crinkled brow.

“He’s the surgeon from Rocky Mountain City who operated on my shoulder.”

“We ran into each other at a medical symposium a few days ago, and I invited him here,” the doctor explained.

“I’ll keep an eye out for him. I’d love to see him and let him know how well I’m doing.”

“You do seem to be doing quite well,” the doctor observed.

He wrapped his arm around Maggie’s shoulders. “It’s thanks to her.”

“That’s what my cousin tells me. Take care,” Dr. Ironside replied with a sly grin before continuing down the path toward the square.

He turned his attention to Maggie. She was chewing her lip. Something was bothering her. He rubbed her arm. “Are you okay?”

She hesitated before offering a weak smile. “Yeah, I’m…fine.”

But he wasn’t convinced. “What happened?”

She shook her head, confusion clouding her gaze. “I can’t quite explain it, but a pang of anxiety left me feeling off-kilter there for a second. I’m okay now.”

“Come on. I think this will help,” he said as he brought her to the back entrance of the paper shop. He unlocked the door but didn’t open it. “Now, I love the smell of baseball—the grass, the fresh dirt under my cleats, and the roasted peanuts from the stands, but nothing hits like walking into the shop. With your heightened ability to taste and smell, I have a feeling you’ll love this.”

She watched him with tears in her eyes. “That’s why you brought me here?”

“That, and I want to kiss you until you can’t see straight.”

She laughed, the tension melting from her body.

He stroked her cheek. “That’s better. Now, close your eyes, TBD.”

She complied, and he opened the door and guided her inside.

“Take a deep breath,” he said softly.

She lifted her chin slightly and inhaled. “Oh, Christian, I can smell juniper berries, just like the ones in Stumble Juice, but there’s more. There’s so much more. The earthy, woody notes have to be the pulp.”

“Yes,” he said, holding her hand as he led her deeper into the shop where the papermaking happened in large vats.

“There are so many botanicals,” she said, smiling as she spoke. “Lavender, rosemary, cherry, cinnamon. Citrus scents and flowery aromas. It’s like…like heaven.”

He stopped, gazed down at her, and turned the ball cap around so he could see her face more easily. “It is heaven.”

She opened her eyes, removed her apron, and took in the vast, cavernous space. “It’s so big. There are so many nooks and crannies,” she said, resting the apron on a chair. “How did you find your special stones in here?”

He studied the familiar space. Fresh sheets of handmade paper dried over long rods, their edges catching the golden rays of sunlight filtering through high windows. “The first one I found flew through the air before a game,” he said, pointing toward a vat.

“What?” she asked with a chuckle.

“One of the beaters in the vat hit it just right to mark it with two lines and then send it flying. I was helping my dad and grandpa, and I caught it. Snapped it clean out of the air. I found the others by chance, hidden around the vats like Easter eggs. When you grow up in a big family, you share everything. Bedrooms, clothes, toys, equipment. But these stones with my number on them were all mine.”

“Like that?” she asked, peering past him.

He frowned. “What do you mean?”

She walked a few paces and reached between the drying racks. “The light caught it perfectly, and it shimmered,” she said, holding out her hand.

The breath caught in his throat. She held a smooth, midnight blue starry quartzite stone with two lines carved down the center, cutting through the soft pink veins and tiny shimmering specs. “In the hundreds, no, probably thousands of hours I spent in here looking for these marked rocks, I’d found less than a half dozen. You walk in for the first time and spot one in under a minute.”

“I guess I’m just lucky,” she said with a twinkle in her eyes.

“I’m the lucky one.” He reached into his pocket and felt his baseball card, the stone, and the ring. He exhaled a slow breath. This was the moment. There was no time to sit on the pitch. He had to swing.

“Christian, what is it?” she asked, observing him intently.

“It’s TBD,” he said, his words brimming with conviction.

She tilted her head. “What about it? To be determined. It’s what you call me.”

“We should change it.”

“What would you suggest? I don’t recall my last name.”

A calm conviction swept through him. Every athlete knew when they were in the zone—that electrifying moment where the world melted away, and all that was left was a perfect harmony between mind and body.

This was the moment.

“How about we change it to?—”

“Uncle Chris! Maggie! Where are you?” McKenzie called out, her voice echoing through the space.

He and Maggie exchanged startled glances, their bodies tensing at the unexpected sound.

“Kenz, we’re here. What is it?” he asked as they hurried toward the back door.

“Aunt Izzy sent me to get you. The old judges are yelling at a bunch of other old guys. And then Grandma Maeve said that the Gemstones texted her and said they weren’t going to make it because somebody named Jade hurt her tooth and had to get an emergency root canal. And then Grandma said Donnelly Days was turning into a big disaster because the Gemstones make everybody happy, but now all we’ve got are a bunch of old men throwing pie crust at each other.”

“What?” Maggie said, blinking like a deer caught in the headlights from McKenzie’s word-a-palooza.

“My college baseball coach and his friends dress in drag and attend events all over Colorado. They were supposed to be here today,” he explained.

Maggie stared at him.

“I know it sounds a bit eccentric, but?—”

“No, drag queens are terrific. I adore them,” she replied, her brow creased like she was trying to piece a puzzle together.

“You’ve gotta make them stop throwing pie crust at each other,” McKenzie said, then gasped.

“What is it, Kenz? Is there more?” he asked.

“My shoelaces are untied!” the child exclaimed.

Christ on a cracker.

“You take care of the shoes. I’ll take care of the judges,” Maggie said and hurried out the back door.

“What were you doing in here all by yourself with Maggie?” McKenzie asked as he tended to her laces.

“Just showing her around. Let’s go, Kenz,” he said, but something was off—the day’s energy had shifted, and a chill spider-crawled down his spine.

“I’m gonna run, Uncle Chris,” the little girl shouted, her voice full of excitement as she took off like a shot.

He sighed and ran his hands through his hair. So much for seizing the moment. With his heart pounding, he picked up his pace, determined to get to Maggie. As he rounded the corner, he collided with someone, stumbling slightly. “Excuse me. I’m so sorry,” he quickly apologized, his thoughts still racing ahead.

“Well, hello, Christian.”

Christian blinked and did a double take. “Dr. Driscoll,” he uttered, a bit taken aback.

“It’s good to see you. How’s the shoulder?”

“I’m healing. Range of motion is improving,” Christian replied, trying to keep the conversation brief. He didn’t want to be rude, but his mind was elsewhere—he needed to be there for Maggie. Who knows what kind of trouble the judges might have gotten into?

“That’s what I like to hear,” Dr. Driscoll said with a nod, then gestured toward the creek. “It’s beautiful out here. We used to come this way more often when my kids were younger. My sister has a place about forty miles due south,” he added, just as his phone pinged. He glanced down at the screen. “It’s a colleague. I need to take this, but let’s catch up later.”

“I’d like that,” Christian replied, grateful for the brief chat but even more relieved to cut it short. That nagging feeling of unease still lingered. He scanned the square and breathed a sigh of relief when he spotted Maggie with the judges. He broke into a jog. “Everything under control?” he asked, his voice laced with concern as he reached her side.

“The Dennison seniors saw our pie submission. They snuck into the judging tent and tried adding store-bought sugar stars to their pie to copy us. Wolcott saw the whole thing,” Haynes explained.

“And I did what any rational baker would do,” the slim judge said, a smug look on his face.

“He threw a pie at them,” Izzy said, shaking her head in a mix of exasperation and amusement.

“We’ve got them shaking in their boots, those sneaky bastards,” Judge Ironside declared triumphantly, raising his fists.

Christian couldn’t help but chuckle at the absurdity of it all, but his concern quickly shifted. “Where are the Dennison seniors now?” he asked, his brow furrowing as he glanced around the square.

“Your mother is acting as peacemaker. She invited them to the wishing wall and led them down the path to put some space between the competitors,” Hailey replied.

Christian let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. Leave it to his mom to defuse the situation with grace.

Maggie waved in the judges. “Bakers, let’s focus. They didn’t get away with it, and liars and cheaters never win in the end. We put our hearts and souls into our pie submission. I believe in us. I feel good. I feel very good. My gut is telling me we’ve got this. Let’s hold on to that. Think of your wives. Think of the love you shared, and forget about the Dennison seniors. You know what’s important.”

“You’re right. The heat of the moment took over,” Wolcott admitted, his voice tinged with regret.

Maggie offered a reassuring smile. “I understand. Let’s take a breath and steady ourselves.”

Christian couldn’t help but marvel at her strength and composure as he watched her gracefully manage the situation.

“You all look like you could use some cocoa,” McKenzie said, looking over the judges. “Chocolate always cheers me up. Let me take you to the booth with the best cocoa around.” Without waiting for a response, she grabbed Judge Ironside and Judge Wolcott by the hands, and with Judge Haynes trailing a step behind, she led the trio toward the far end of the square.

“These judges are a handful,” Maggie said with a weary sigh. She glanced at her table. “Can you keep an eye on the pies while I go speak to the pie contest committee? I want to confirm that we’re still in good standing.”

“You got it,” he replied, his tone light but reassuring.

She smiled the smile that warmed his heart. “And then you can tell me what you want to call me instead of Maggie TBD.”

“I can’t wait,” he replied, his gaze lingering on her as she weaved through the crowd toward the judging tent. But then something—or rather, someone—caught his eye.

A man. A man making a beeline for Maggie.

Unease settled in the pit of his stomach.

This mystery man looked a hell of a lot like the younger version of Dr. Driscoll. This lookalike gripped Maggie’s wrist, and she startled, pulling back instinctively.

Who the fuck was this handsy joker?

The man said something to Maggie, then hugged her. Immediately, her perplexed expression darkened. She pulled away from his embrace and touched her head. She spoke, and he could make out one word.

Amnesia.

The man grinned. What an odd reaction.

Adrenaline coursed through Christian’s veins. He had to get to her. He turned to Izzy and Hailey as Lucky whined. Even the dog knew something was wrong. “Can you watch the pies and my dog a little longer? I need to find out who that jerk is and why he thinks he can put his hands all over Maggie.”

“We’re good. Go,” Izzy replied, concern etched on her face.

The crowd had grown. It swelled around him, thick and unyielding. Each step forward was like wading through molasses. Time stretched as he struggled to get to Maggie. Her face had turned an unsettling shade of white that sent a rush of urgency through his veins. Every muscle in his body tensed with protective fury as he reached her side, ready to punch this guy into next week for laying hands on his girl. “Who the hell are you, and why are you touching Maggie?” he growled, the words coming out like daggers.

The man smiled a slippery grin and extended his hand. “I’m Bobby Driscoll, Junior, MD—Maggie’s boyfriend.”