Chapter Three

Grace glanced out the window to where the citizens of Christmas stood three deep along Main Street. Inside, the bakery was just as crowded with well-wishers. She struggled to keep her frustration and, if she was honest, her resentment, from showing. She’d wanted her first meeting with Jack to be in private. But it wasn’t as if she could send everyone on their way once they’d started arriving an hour ago. Jack had known them a lot longer than he’d known her. And at least he remembered them.

“If you’re not careful,” Madison said, prying Grace’s fingers from the strand of pearls at her neck, “you’re going to choke yourself.”

Grace unclenched her hand, letting it fall to her side. “I didn’t realize… Thanks.” She managed a smile. She was as nervous to see Jack as she had been on their first date. Scratch that. She was beyond nervous. She should’ve ignored Doctor Peters and her father’s wishes and gone to Virginia. The worst of it would be over now. But no, Grace Garrison Flaherty always did what she was told. You’d think at thirty years old she would’ve broken the habit by now.

Maybe she would have if the few times in her life when she’d done and said exactly what she’d wanted to hadn’t ended in disaster. It was probably for the best she’d obeyed the men’s wishes after all. Especially since Jack Junior had come down with the flu the night they’d learned his father was alive.

She kept a watchful eye on her son as he played with Madison’s stepdaughters, Annie and Lily, at one of the tables. Raising her gaze, she met Sawyer’s. Since that night at the Penalty Box, she’d barely seen him.

Of course, because he was a good man, a good friend, he’d repaired the damage Stu had left behind and lent a hand when they moved back into their apartment. But so had plenty of people, making it easy for Sawyer to avoid her. She was grateful he’d only avoided her and not Jack Junior.

Grace hoped in time they’d get back to the way they once were. She didn’t want what happened between them to put a strain on Sawyer and Jack’s friendship. Not that anything had actually happened, but she knew it had only been a matter of time before it did.

Cheers erupted out on the street. He’s here, Grace thought, pressing a hand to her stomach in an effort to calm the nervous flutter. A look of concern in his eyes, Sawyer took a step toward her. Then, with a slight shake of his head, he shoved his hands in his jeans pockets and leaned against the wall.

Her throat tightened, and she barely managed to get the words out. “Come here, baby. Daddy’s home.”

Jack Junior glanced at Sawyer. Please, no, not now, Grace thought, and hurried to the table, scooping her son into her arms.

“Damn reporters,” Madison muttered when Grace returned to her side, her narrowed gaze moving from the window to Grace. “You didn’t happen to make a sugar plum cake for Jack’s homecoming, did you?”

Between Jack Junior being sick and getting the apartment ready for Jack’s arrival, she hadn’t had time. Grace cast an anxious glance at the glass display case that held the cupcakes and cookies she had on hand. Madison patted her shoulder. “Don’t worry about it. I just thought we could take advantage of the publicity. But since we can’t…” She smiled up at her husband. “Sugar, can you do something about the reporters?” Madison gestured to the men and women who shoved microphones and cameras into the faces of the crowd on the sidewalk. The corner of Gage’s mouth twitched, and he playfully tweaked his wife’s ponytail. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Grace self-consciously touched her own hair. With the number of people who’d come out for the event, she hadn’t noticed the reporters until Madison brought them to her attention. She should have. When her mother had called earlier, she’d warned Grace there would be a media frenzy.

Helena Garrison wanted to make sure her daughter behaved like a proper military wife, that she was suitably attired, suitably prepared. She’d wanted to ask her mother how exactly she was supposed to prepare to see the man who’d forgotten her, her and their son.

Grace ignored the thought along with the dull ache that accompanied it. After what Jack had survived, she had no right to be hurt. And maybe it was for the best. They’d have a chance to reconnect without the memory of that last night coming between them.

Madison wrapped an arm around her shoulders and frowned. “Grace, you’re trembling. Maybe you should sit down.”

Madison’s comment drew the attention of Dr. McBride. Despite being in his sixties, the dark-haired man was as good-looking as his son. “I’m fine,” Grace assured him, tightening her hold on Jack Junior, who wriggled in her arms. “Baby, don’t…” She trailed off when everyone started to clap and whistle, to shout, “Welcome home!” Her husband’s commanding presence filled the entrance to the bakery.

He stood there in his uniform, as breath-stealingly handsome as she remembered. “Jack,” she whispered, her voice breaking under the strain of the emotion welling up inside her. He’d looked different in the photos they’d released from Afghanistan. His wavy dark hair had been long, his strong, masculine jaw hidden behind a full beard. Now his hair was shorter, the shadow on his jaw accentuating, rather than hiding, his movie-star good looks. But his eyes were the same startling blue in his deeply tanned face as they’d always been. And now they lasered in on her.

She felt the weight of the crowd’s attention as they parted to make room for her to go to her husband. Desperate to think of something to say, uncertain what to do, Grace felt a hot flush work its way up her face. Madison took Jack Junior from her and gave Grace a nudge in her husband’s direction. She wanted to run to him, to throw herself in his arms, but there was a guarded look in his eyes that held her back. He doesn’t remember you, she reminded herself. He doesn’t love you. As if Jack sensed how close she was to losing her composure, sympathy darkened his eyes, and he reached her in three confident strides. He hesitated for a heartbreaking moment before drawing her into his arms.

When he did, she buried her face in the crook of his neck and breathed him in. For months she’d wrapped herself in his sweatshirts, worn them to bed, drawing comfort from the warm, spicy scent that was his and his alone, until one day that faded away, too, just like his memory of her.

A sob escaped from her parted lips, and then another. The tears she struggled to contain rolled helplessly down her cheeks. His strong arms banded around her, his large hand moving in comforting circles on her back. “Don’t cry,” he murmured, his breath warming her ear. “It’s going to be okay.”

She wanted to believe him, wanted to believe his memory would return along with the man she’d fallen in love with. Not the one who’d left for Afghanistan seventeen months ago. Cocooned in his embrace, she pushed her doubts away. All she needed to do was show him how happy they’d once been. She nestled deeper in his arms and immediately sensed his discomfort, the stiffening of the corded muscles in his back. Embarrassed, she pulled away and swiped at her tear-streaked face. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

Jack Junior broke free from Madison. “No hurt my mama,” he yelled.

“No, baby, it’s okay. They’re happy tears.” Grace knelt down, opening her arms to him. “He wasn’t…” Jack Junior zigzagged past her to hurl himself at his father.

*     *     *

Jack couldn’t take his eyes off the woman who’d fallen apart in his arms. He hadn’t been prepared for the hard punch of attraction he’d felt from just holding her, from breathing in her soft, feminine scent. She smelled like wildflowers and cinnamon, and for a split second, he caught a wisp of memory. They were laughing in a meadow as he twirled her in his arms. Princess. He’d called her princess.

He didn’t know if the memory was real or not, but the name suited her. There was something regal about the way she held herself in the prim and proper yellow dress she wore, a strand of pearls at her neck. Jill was right. With her honey-blonde hair pulled back from her perfect oval face, his wife looked exactly like the snotty rich girls he’d once avoided. Until he looked into her liquid gold eyes and saw the warmth there, the warmth and the love.

But there was no love in the electric-blue eyes of the little boy who sank his teeth into Jack’s leg. Jack winced and reached for him. The kid let loose an ear-splitting shriek. Jack reared back, holding up his hands. “I didn’t touch him.”

“I know you didn’t,” his wife assured him and went down on her knees beside the little boy, trying to pry his jaw open. “Jackson Flaherty, you stop that right… Ouch.”

At his mother’s pained cry, the toddler loosened his grip on Jack’s leg. Reaching for her reddened finger, he kissed it and gave her a dimpled smile. “Owie better.” He scowled at Jack.

“I’m so sorry,” she said, coming to her feet with the little boy in her arms. “He’s never done that before. Jack Junior, you apologize to your daddy this instant.”

The little boy buried his face in his mother’s neck and shook his head. “It’s okay,” Jack said, and tentatively reached out to touch him. “He was just protecting you.” His voice was gruff as he stroked the toddler’s dark, curly hair. Son. He had a son.

“No, it’s not okay, but we’ll talk about it later.” Her lips curved in a soft smile. “He’s a lot like you, you know.”

“I think his teeth are sharper.”

She laughed. “No, I mean he looks just like you.”

Her laugh was rich and warm, and it caused his chest to tighten the same way looking at his son did. He managed a smile. “I haven’t gotten a good look at him yet.”

“Hey, baby.” She nudged his son’s chin up. “Say hi to your daddy.”

“He no Da.” The little boy pointed to someone in the crowd. “He Da.”

His mother blanched. “I-I…” She cleared her throat. “It’s just—”

“Hey, Jack. It’s good to have you home,” Sawyer Anderson interrupted her, coming to stand by her side.

The little boy flung himself into Sawyer’s arms. “Me want beer.”

“Maybe later, buddy,” Sawyer said, extending a hand to Jack.

And if Jack wasn’t mistaken, there was a challenge in his best friend’s eyes when he did. Jack’s narrowed gaze took in the three of them. For some reason, the sight of them together irritated the hell out of him. He shook Sawyer’s hand, hard. Sawyer firmed his grip. So did Jack.

“It’s good to have you back, buddy.” Gage McBride intervened, pulling him into a bear hug. “Let it go. It’s not what you think,” he said for Jack’s ears alone.

“You sure about that? Because it doesn’t look that way to me,” Jack muttered, even as he realized he had no right to judge. He’d been fooling around with another woman. But he hadn’t known he was married, he reminded himself. She did. And so did Sawyer.

As though Gage and Sawyer’s greetings signaled the end to Jack and his wife’s one-on-one time, everyone crowded around him. Jack kept an eye on Grace and Sawyer while accepting hugs and pats on the back. Jill said something to the two of them, holding out her arms to his son. Grace looked like she was trying to explain something to Jill, but closed her mouth when Sawyer put a familiar hand on her shoulder. The little boy went happily into Jill’s arms.

His sister shot Sawyer a dirty look before making her way to Jack’s side, apologizing to two of his grandmother’s friends for the interruption. “I’m going to put Jack Junior down for a nap. I won’t be long. You okay?”

He didn’t know if he was or not. Half the people in here had wanted to run him out of town at one time or another, and now they were treating him like a hero. It felt like he was in a movie, and they’d forgotten to give him the script.

And the possessive feelings for a wife he didn’t know or want confused the hell out of him. He was about to tell his sister he was good when he felt a gentle hand on his arm. “Yes, I’m very happy he’s home,” his wife responded to Mrs. Tate’s question, then smiled up at him. “You must be tired. Why don’t you sit at one of the tables, and I’ll bring you a cup of coffee?”

Her comment brought about a flurry of concerned questions. Nell McBride, wearing a stars-and-striped T-shirt with a matching red streak in the front of her curly white hair, took his arm. An old friend of his grandmother, Nell had never failed to remind him what a disappointment he’d been to Libby. The older woman ushered him to a table and pulled out a chair. Her friends Ted and Fred stood behind her. They looked like the two guys from the movie Grumpy Old Men.

Jack looked for his sister in hopes she would rescue him, but she headed out the door with two young girls following behind her.

Sawyer came over to the table. “I’ll catch up with you later.”

“Yeah, seems we have a lot to catch up on,” Jack said with a meaningful look at his wife, who walked toward them carrying a cup of coffee and a platter of cupcakes and cookies. Her gaze shot from him to Sawyer, and she stumbled. Jack reached out to steady her at the same time Sawyer did.

Nell sighed. “Let go of her before she spills the coffee.” She took the platter from Grace. “Thanks, Nell,” his wife murmured in her cultured voice, then handed Jack the cup. He kept one hand on her slender arm until Sawyer lowered his.

“Call if you need anything, Grace,” Sawyer said.

She gave a jerky nod and cleared her throat. “Would anyone else like something to drink?”

Fred and Ted each asked for a cup of coffee. The band of tension across Jack’s shoulders loosened when the door closed behind Sawyer.

“She’s a good girl that wife of yours,” Nell said, pulling out the chair beside him. “Your grandmother would be proud of what she’s done.”

Before Jack could ask what she meant, several people he’d gone to school with came to say hello. He relaxed in the chair, when about an hour later, the crowd started to thin out. He caught sight of Grace cleaning tables and frowned. Every so often she’d checked in with him, making sure his cup was filled, that he had enough to eat. The same as she did for everyone else. He didn’t understand why she was playing hostess and not the attractive owner, who spent most of her time working behind the counter. Maybe they were short staffed and his wife had decided to pitch in. She seemed to be good friends with the woman. Now that he thought about it, his wife seemed to be friends with most of the people who’d crowded into the bakery. Obviously, she’d spent a lot of time in Christmas while he’d been gone.

Gage, who’d been manning the door, ambled over. “Reporters promised to give you some space for a few days, but that’s about all I can guarantee. They’d probably lose interest if you gave one of them an interview.” He handed Jack a card. “This guy wasn’t as aggressive as the rest.”

“Maybe you can put in a plug for the bakery.”

With a laugh, Gage shook his head at the woman who’d come to stand beside him. “You’re shameless, you know. Jack, this is my wife, Madison.”

She nudged her husband then smiled at Jack, extending her hand. “It’s great to finally meet you. You’ve had a lot of people praying for you.”

Jack stood and shook her hand. “Thanks. It’s nice to meet you, too.” He looked around, taking in the changes to the bakery that he’d hated as a kid. “The place doesn’t look anything like I remember. You did a great job fixing it up. And your cupcakes are amazing.”

The woman gave him a confused look. “I didn’t—”

Nell snorted. “She couldn’t bake a cupcake to save her life. You should’ve seen what she did to my gingerbread. This is all your wife’s doing. I told you your grandmother would be proud of what Grace has done. She’s turned the place around.”

No, there must be a mistake. Jill said… So this is what she’d been keeping from him. He was going to kill her, but before he did, his wife had some explaining to do. “Will you excuse me a minute? I need to speak to Grace.”