Chapter Twenty-Four

“Maisy.”

Bowl after bowl hit the counter as Maisy went berserk on her kitchen. Violet readjusted her grip on Isla, who’d been thrust into her hands about two minutes previously. Right after Maisy looked at the giant table packed with refreshments and declared, “I’m not sure that’s going to be enough.”

Violet placed herself and Isla between Maisy and the ingredients she’d begun pulling off the shelf. “Slow down for a second.”

“Can’t slow down. If everyone chooses chocolate cupcakes, there won’t be enough to go around. Or do you think everyone will want vanilla today? Strawberry sells well in the summer, which is just around the corner—why didn’t I whip up some of those?”

Violet gripped Maisy’s shoulder with her free hand. “If anyone complains about free cupcakes to celebrate your grand reopening, I’ll tell them to shove their comments where the sun don’t shine.”

While blocking Maisy with her entire body had been only partially successful, that remark landed. “You can’t tell people that.”

“Or what? They’ll go to the other bakery in town?” Violet ran her hand up and down Maisy’s arm, switching from stopping her movements to attempting to reassure her. “The people of Uncertainty love you and your treats, and we have more than enough to go around. Now, step away from the mixer, or I’ll start pushing buttons on your oven.”

Maisy gasped. “You wouldn’t dare.”

Violet shuffled toward the oven, one finger extended. “Which one should we push, Isla?”

“Hello?” The deep voice coming from the front of the bakery kickstarted Violet’s heart in a different way than Maisy’s jitters had done.

“Ooh, Ford’s here. Let’s go say hi.” Violet readjusted her grip on Isla’s chubby thigh and herded Maisy out of the kitchen. “He brought a ladder so we can hang the banner without standing on the freshly painted tables and breaking our necks. See? It’ll all be okay.”

They’d been prepping since sunrise, the bakery closed for its first weekday in forever. Since Maisy wanted Isla at the opening, she’d picked her up early from daycare while Violet placed cupcakes on tables and arranged the DIY reupholstered chairs.

The bakery looked amazing, all colorful and delicious. Not to toot her own horn, but the touches she’d added had completely transformed the place.

“Hey, Mr. Hot Handyman,” Violet said, leaning in for a quick kiss on Ford’s lips. While her nerves had taken a backseat to Maisy’s, they’d still been unraveling bit by bit. With Ford here to help her survive being in the same room as Dad, Cheryl, and the rest of the town, the decibel level on her anxiety lowered to a whisper.

As Ford climbed the ladder to hang the grand opening sign, Violet sashayed over to her water bottle, humming to Isla about how the party was going to be a huge success. Over this past month, she’d gotten rather good at optimism. It helped that she didn’t have to work as hard to find silver linings or redirect negative thoughts.

Thanks to the guy currently lifting and lowering the sign 0.2 inches to fit Maisy’s instructions, the bright side surrounded her. She had an incredible boyfriend, an amazing sister, and thanks to a photo session with Shelby, Dylan, and the rest of their charming family yesterday, confirmation that her muse was back.

Out of the corner of her eye, Violet caught a flash of Maisy’s yellow floral shirt—she was headed to the kitchen.

Seriously? I’m going to have to duct tape the woman to one of the colorful chairs.

Ford stepped off the ladder and turned. “Anything else?”

“Here,” she said, handing Isla to him. “Hold her for a quick minute while I go tackle my sister.”

“Oh, I—”

“Her pacifier is pinned to her outfit,” Violet called over her shoulder as she raced toward the kitchen, “so if it falls out and she cries, just pop it back in.”

…

Ford peered at the baby in his arms. Once again, he was in a position where he couldn’t help thinking of all the other things he’d rather tackle.

Torrential winds. Wading through neck-deep water to reach cars and houses as Pyro swam by his side. Rappelling down a sheer cliff.

Playing hopscotch on the back of hungry alligators.

“I don’t know what your aunt was thinking,” Ford said as the baby blinklessly stared up at him. “I’ve never held a baby before.”

Two dimples formed in Isla’s chubby cheeks as she grinned, causing the pacifier to fall out of her mouth.

“You think that’s funny? As the baby I’m talking about, I’m not sure you should.”

Another grin, accompanied by a loud squeak, as if she were still figuring out how her voice worked. Which, come to think of it, she likely was.

When he’d seen Violet holding a baby in her arms, his blood pressure about shot through the roof. It reminded him of watching her secure that wedding dress over her clothes.

During the past couple weeks, he’d managed to bury the incident in the shop and the binder filled with wedding plans.

Until their last meeting at Addie’s house. Then he couldn’t stop chewing over the fact that Violet had planned a whole wedding. Bought decorations. She’d almost gotten married. She undisputedly wanted to, and given the awe and longing on her face as she’d danced her niece around the bakery, babies were part of her long-term plan as well.

Which, yeah, lots of women craved those things. Settling down. Stability. A family.

Serious relationships always bring about fights, and once kids get thrown in the mix, forget it. Soon it gets messier and messier, until neither of you recognize who you’ve become.

How attraction and affection turned to dynamite and destruction so easily, he had no idea. He’d seen it happen time and time again, though.

Now he was agonizing over the idea of spewing loathsome words at Violet. Of ruining everything they once had, including the tenderness she’d shown him and amount of faith she’d placed in him. She insisted on calling him a hero, but presently, “coward” would be more accurate.

Ford eyed the exit that would soon open up to an influx of people, including Violet’s father and Cheryl and the Craft Cats. If his skin could, it’d crawl right off his body and leave without him.

But he needed to stay. Not only had he promised Violet, he was also holding a baby. Which left his internal temperature flaring and his muscles aching from not moving because what if he moved wrong?

She is pretty cute. Like a furless puppy.

Isla’s round face scrunched up, jarring his already rapid pulse into the fever zone, and Ford boosted her higher in his arms. “Don’t cry, okay? Because I like your aunt, and she thinks I’m a big strong bada—dude—and I don’t want her to change her mind when she sees I’m scared of a baby.”

Five tiny fingers wrapped around one of his big ones, and a mushy sensation he hadn’t felt before twisted through him.

“Confession time,” he heard, and turned to see Violet rounding the bakery counter. “I don’t think you’re a big strong dude.”

Ford frowned, going over-the-top with his blasphemy face.

Violet walked up and placed her hand on his arm. “I know you are.” She squeezed his biceps, and his insides turned liquid on him. Apprehension and anticipation made a strange yet strong cocktail, and his gut didn’t know how to process them at the same time.

Isla’s scrunched face returned, flushing red, and she squirmed and let out a wail.

Violet reached over and popped the pacifier in her niece’s mouth. “Were you playing with Ford while I calmed down your mommy?”

A crinkle formed between Isla’s eyebrows, and the pacifier fell out as she began “talking” to Violet.

“At first I thought he was a bit cocky, too. He is, too, but you get used to it. More than that, he’s a fireman-slash-paramedic-slash-search-and-rescue-guy who also trains cute puppies and coaches baseball, so he can totally back up his giant ego.”

“And then some,” Ford added, shooting a grin at the woman at his side. To Isla, he whispered, “For the record, I thought your aunt might be a little off at first, and she’s shown me she can back that up as well.”

Violet went to smack his arm but seemed to realize he was holding a baby. Between her teeth she said, “I’ll get him back for that later. Yes, I will.”

Isla beamed at Violet the same way Ford couldn’t help doing whenever he was around her.

Okay, maybe he could do this. He just had to focus on Violet. On how he felt about her.

Vaguely, he heard the chime over the door, followed by, “Aww, how precious.”

Lucia Murphy strolled farther into the store. “I come early to sneak a cupcake before Priscilla gets here, but this is another sweet treat I no expect.” She added a chef’s kiss noise. “Bellissimo. It so nice seeing you two happy and together, like a picture-perfect family. Now you can settle down and have your own adorable bambini.”

What started as a nervous laugh came out as more of a hacking sound, and Ford quickly handed Isla to Violet. “I’d, uh, better go see if Maisy needs any help.”

“Do you have a tranquilizer in your paramedic bag?” Violet asked. “Because I think that’d be the most effective method to subdue her.”

“I heard that,” Maisy called. “And FYI, Dad and Mama are on the way, so steel yourself.”

Violet cast Lucia a sidelong glance, assumedly because she didn’t want people knowing she had to prepare herself to deal with them. Which was why she needed him here, so he’d better get his head straight.

Lucia lifted a finger to her lips. “Do not worry. It will be our secret.” She brushed her hand over Isla’s hair and flashed Violet a smile. “As long as you hook me up with extra brownie bites.”

“You’re incorrigible.”

Ford tried to smile but wasn’t sure he pulled it off. The words “picture-perfect family” ran through his head until it throbbed from them.

He wasn’t ready for a family.

Didn’t even know if he wanted kids.

Babies were cute—that wasn’t exactly a news flash. Didn’t mean he was ready to give up his adventurous lifestyle for a routine that included diapers and feedings while the prime of his life passed him by.

What about poker nights? Training dogs? Being able to take off to the mountains on a whim for several days at a time. People with kids didn’t do that. Hell, married dudes didn’t get to do that.

I could use a strong bottle of whiskey about now.

Great. Now you’re dealing with things the way the rest of the McGuires do.

“Hey.” Violet nudged his arm with her elbow, and he feared his panic was written across his face. It felt like he was in uncharted territory without a map, the sky dark and the stars obscured, with nothing to help him regain his sense of direction. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” The vise on his too-tight lungs cranked another turn as he realized how much of a hold this woman had on him. She was turning him into the type of guy who showed up for town functions on the regular. Volunteering him for a road trip to pick up wedding decorations and to meet her mom without talking to him first.

What else was she going to plan and inform him of afterward? A wedding, like she’d done with her ex?

He’d decided to step down this path of coupledom, but he’d underestimated the twists and turns. Now he was glancing at the trailhead, debating turning back.

“I’m gonna go get some air real quick,” he said.

“Oh. Of course. You’ll be back soon, though?” She leaned closer, and her voice trembled slightly, her happy facade cracking and letting the worry shine through. “Because my dad and Cheryl are on their way, and I’m trying not to be a wimp, but—”

“Just a quick stroll around the block.” His brain and lungs needed to get their acts together—and if they’d get on the same team, even better.

Violet’s eyes met his, and he wasn’t sure what she was waiting for. Did she think she could guilt trip him into changing his mind? If he didn’t clear it of his thoughts, it was likely to explode.

One slow inch at a time, she tipped onto her toes and kissed his cheek. “See you soon, then.”

Ford twisted his neck and gave Violet a proper kiss that Isla seemed to take offense to. This time, he did the honors of popping the pacifier in the baby’s mouth.

Then he rushed out of the bakery, gasping for air.

Getting away from the hubbub was supposed to help, but Ford couldn’t walk fast enough. Far enough.

Without realizing he was heading there, he ended up in front of Murph’s. Not that he usually believed in signs, but this seemed like one. After all, it was Addie who’d pushed him to give Violet a shot, and now he needed her advice on how to keep from losing his mind and Violet.

Footsteps alerted him to the fact he was no longer alone, and a glance over his shoulder revealed Lexi hustling up the sidewalk in heels.

“Whoa, where’s the fire?” Ford patted the pocket that held his phone. “I didn’t get a call.”

“You’re not here for the emergency?”

Evidently, his heart could pound harder and faster. “What’s wrong? Is Addie hurt?”

Lexi darted around him and reached for the doorknob. “I was on my way to the grand reopening for the bakery, and Addie called me crying. I couldn’t make out what she was saying, so that’s all I know.” She pushed open the door, and Ford followed on her heels.

Addie sat on the couch, a box of tissue at her side and a blanket wrapped around her as if it weren’t eighty degrees outside. She loudly blew her nose and then lifted her red-rimmed eyes. “Sorry I made y’all waste so much of your time planning, because right now, I’m not even sure there’s gonna be a weddin’ anymore.”

With that declaration, she burst into tears.