Epilogue

Owen had this way of looking at her that made her feel beautiful. He said it, too, a lot, but sometimes—when he looked at her—she was beautiful. Tomorrow they would leave for the coast, all of them. Her mom hadn’t bothered asking her if she wanted Owen along. She’d just invited him. It was like her mother knew how important he was and how little time they had left.

“Isn’t that adorable?” Grams asked, holding up the tiny baseball mitt and glove someone had brought for Jack.

Nick eyed the baseball gear with contempt. “He’s going to play soccer.”

“He can play more than one sport,” Mimi argued.

Owen spoke up. “I played baseball for a while.”

“And ran track. And played football.” She shook her head. “You’re what they call an overachiever.”

“But you love me anyway.” He caught her hand in his.

“I do.” She squeezed his hand. Knowing he was leaving soon scared the crap out of her. It wasn’t like he was taking a semester abroad or going on safari.

He was joining the Marines—the front line.

Uncle Zach’s letters were few and far between. They hadn’t seen him in years. She didn’t want that for Owen—she’d miss him too much. And the fear of things like guns and explosions and injuries was enough to give her nightmares. Every time she thought of Owen out there dealing with that, it hurt—enough that tears kicked in before she could stop them.

And it could happen at any time. Like right now. “Be right back,” she said, needing an escape before the crying started.

She hurried up the stairs and into Jack’s nursery, taking deep breaths and shaking her hands. It was supposed to calm you down, according to Diana. She had a whole arsenal of ways to “calm down” and “decompress” and not all of them included smoking pot.

“What’s up?” Owen had followed her.

She shook her head, avoiding his gaze. He’d know. And as bad as it was for her, she knew it was eating him up, too.

“Talk to me.” He caught her hand and pulled her against him. “Talk.” He kissed her nose. “To.” Her forehead. “Me.” Her lips. He clung long enough for her to sway into him. “Did I do something?”

“No.” She gripped his T-shirt, holding on tight. “No. You’re here.”

He nodded, instantly understanding. “I’m coming back.”

“You promise?” she whispered, hoarse.

“I promise. I’ll write. I’ll call when I can.” He smiled. “You’ll be so busy at school, you probably won’t have time to miss me.”

“Don’t, Owen.” She frowned. “You know that’s not me. Thinking about next week—” Her voice broke.

“Then don’t.” His hands tightened. “Right now, it’s all about us. You and me.”

She nodded. “You and me.”

“I’m coming back.” He kissed her with everything he had.

…

Braden Martinez was a man of few words. Charity had taken to spouting off random bits of trivia just to see what reaction she could get from him. Not much. He remained ever aloof but ever present. And currently, he carried several large trays of finger foods into the dining room.

“Does he know about your condition?” her mother asked, watching the silent sheriff place the trays on the table, then straighten them before stepping back.

She nodded.

“Does he?” Her mother glanced back and forth between them. “You be careful, Charity Ann.”

“It’s not like he can get me pregnant, Mom,” she teased.

Her mother swatted her shoulder. “I wasn’t talking about you. And that wasn’t funny. Not in the least.”

Charity popped a powdered-sugar-covered wedding cookie in her mouth. “Who were you talking about?”

“Sheriff Martinez.” She sighed, exasperated. “He’s seen his fair share of hurting. Now you’re back and he’s just as smitten as ever.”

“What are you talking about?” Charity knew her mother had a flare for the dramatic, but she was being ridiculous.

“You were so determined to get out of Pecan Valley, you never stopped to look around you. That boy followed you around since grade school, not that you ever noticed.” Her tone was sharp.

“Mom, we dated…sort of. I was never mean to him.” Was she? She hoped not. She’d never have intentionally hurt him.

Her mother’s look was disapproving. “You left; he moved on. Married, settled down, and expecting.”

Charity stopped eating. Braden? Married? A father? “What?”

“Not anymore. Sad story, really. Too sad for today.” She paused, shaking her head. “I think we’ve had enough sadness for now, don’t you?”

“Mom, you can’t start to tell me something like that, then stop.” Besides, she needed to start breathing again.

“They died, honey.” She sighed. “Let’s leave it at that.”

Charity stared at the man talking with her father. “How long ago?” she asked.

“Six years? Eight?” Her mother shrugged. “He hasn’t shown a bit of interest in a woman until now.” Her mother tipped her chin up, her gaze brutal. “Now you’re back, pregnant and alone, and he’s still following you around. I’m not worried about you, Charity—you’ve got us. I am worried about him. He’s lost enough. You be careful with him, you hear me?”

A hard, jagged knot settled in Charity’s throat. Poor Braden. Her hands skimmed over her stomach, imagining the bump and flutters going away forever. It hurt too much to imagine. Braden had lost that and more. Children and his wife? Her stomach rolled, and she sat heavily in one of the dining room chairs.

Braden was up before she could stop him, offering her a glass of lemonade. “Charity?”

“Thank you.” She took a small sip before she smiled up at him.

But there it was, just like her mother said. A flash of warmth, concern—tenderness even. Then it was gone. She’d never have suspected he cared about her if her mother hadn’t said something. She was pregnant, after all. Wasn’t that sort of a huge deterrent for a single guy? A too-hot-to-be-single guy… Then again, her mother loved to read between the lines and extract what she wanted to see. But, if there was the slightest chance her mother was right she’d be extra careful with Braden. Besides, she could use some friends that weren’t related to her. And she got the feeling Braden could use a friend, too.

…

Felicity pulled a package of clear plastic plates from the pantry. When Widow Rainey said a few people were coming for a quiet gathering, she’d believed her. Instead, most of Pecan Valley was here. Now she was scavenging for cutlery and food and working her refrigerator’s ice machine overtime.

“Need a hand?” Charity asked. “I brought reinforcements.”

Braden Martinez was there, looking as uncomfortable as ever.

But Graham slipped in behind them, and her tension melted away. His smile did that. And, boy, was he smiling.

“That tray, please.” Felicity nodded at the tray piled high with fresh chopped veggies and a homemade dip. “Can you take that one, too? With the sweets? But tell Nick to stay away from this one; it has pecans.” She put the tray with candies and cookies in Braden’s hand.

“Right. The whole allergic thing.” Charity laughed. “It is a good way to get out of eating stuff, I guess.”

Graham stood back, his warm brown gaze watching her. The sooner she shooed her sister and Braden out of the kitchen, the better.

“Anything else?” Braden asked.

“This, too?” she asked, adding a package of cutlery and plates. “Got it?”

He nodded.

“Let’s go, Sheriff. But try not to drop anything,” Charity said, pushing open the kitchen door and shooting him a cheeky grin as he led the way. “Hey, I got you away from Widow Rainey. You can thank me later.” The door swung shut.

She grabbed Graham. “I was wondering when you were going to get here.”

“Diana.” He kissed her. “She wanted to dress up.” He kissed her again. “An actual dress.”

Felicity pushed off him. “Really?”

He nodded, pulling her in for another kiss. “I’ve been wanting to do this since I woke up.”

Her tongue traced the seam of his lips, pulling a full-bodied shiver from him. “Some things are worth waiting for.”

He pressed her against the counter, his hands sliding up her back to tangle in her hair. “I’m not a fan of waiting.” His lips traveled to her neck—as the kitchen door swung wide.

“Felicity, Charity needs—” Widow Rainey stood, staring.

Graham stopped kissing her, but he didn’t let her go.

Widow Rainey kept staring.

“What can I get you?” Felicity asked, trying, and failing, to wiggle free of Graham’s hold.

“Uh-huh. I heard rumor of something happening between you two. I’m assuming Felicity is the woman you told Miss Takahashi about?” Widow Rainey asked, smiling.

Graham nodded. “She is.”

“And I’m assuming from the goings-on in this kitchen that nuptials are soon to follow?” she asked, brows high.

“We haven’t gotten around to discussing nuptials yet. We’re still very involved in the wooing and, what did you call it? Goings-on?” Graham’s smile was mischievous.

Widow Rainey’s brows shot higher, but she disappeared from the doorway without another word.

“Everyone in Pecan Valley will know we’re an item now, Dr. Murphy.” Felicity shook her head.

He sighed, brushing her hair from her shoulder. “That was the plan.” He smiled her favorite smile. “Now, about the nuptials…”