The Second Chance Café (A Hope Springs Novel Book 1) Read online

  At least two dozen kids scampered around in a flurry of spit-shined shoes and yellow-dotted Swiss and seersucker shorts and bow ties and cowboy boots. Kaylie smiled at their contagious exuberance, wondering if she’d ever been that young…and, of course, she had. Just never free to run like the wind when the Easter bunny had still been real.

  She was late in arriving, the festivities already under way. Men stood huddled in groups of three and four near the beer kegs and ice chests, no doubt solving the problems of business and politics and sports. Women clustered in similarly sized groups near the tables of food, no doubt solving the problems of children and men and home, after which, she mused, they would tackle business and politics, and some of them sports.

  Her smile widening, she glanced toward the far side of the yard, where the pit was set up at a distance from the big patio, and caught Mitch Pepper’s gaze. She lifted a hand in greeting. He returned her wave, hesitated, and then left his tongs on a table next to several foil-covered platters and walked across the grass to meet her.

  “I wasn’t sure you were going to make it,” he said when he drew close, almost as if he’d been waiting for her.

  “I was slow to get moving this morning,” she admitted, shoving her hands in her pockets and breathing in the smell of smoke he brought with him. “It was so quiet around the house I didn’t want to leave. And I promised Magoo I’d be back by the time he finished his morning nap, so I probably won’t stay long.”

  “Guess it’s been pretty noisy lately. The construction and all.”

  “The construction. The deliveries. The installations, both Internet and an alarm system,” she said, getting an acknowledging nod in return. “I’m putting in a garden, too, so there’s been that planning. Plus all the interviews I’ve been doing for the cook’s position.”

  Mitch gave a snort at that. “Found anyone to fill the bill?”

  “A couple of applicants look promising,” she said without mentioning his name or Dolly’s. “We’ll see what happens.”

  Nodding absently, he looked off toward the children scrambling to get close to Luna for the start of the egg hunt, his expression drawn tight and grim. She thought of what Luna had told her, of Mitch returning from his military service to find his own family gone. She wondered if it was hard for him to be here, if he thought about the Easters he’d lost with his child. Wondered, too, if Luna had somehow filled that void in his life.

  “She really enjoys this, doesn’t she?” she asked, canting her head toward the other woman. Luna waved her arms, and the kids swarmed around as if she were the Pied Piper, or the Easter bunny itself.

  “She does,” Mitch said, his hands in his pockets as he mirrored Kaylie’s pose. “So do her folks. For some reason, this is the holiday they make a big deal of.”

  “I think it’s great. They’ve got something special. Not all families get a chance to share this kind of fun.”

  “Did you? I mean, with any of the people you stayed with?”

  “In Hope Springs, I did. The Wises loved all holidays equally. But they did birthdays better than anything.”

  “You were with them a while, I think you said.”

  She nodded. “I celebrated eight years there. Balloons and hats and streamers and candles and the most amazing cakes. All of us kids were allowed to spend five dollars on each other, and then May and Winton gave us one gift. None of us expected much, but that one gift, knowing it was just for us…it was the most magical day.”

  When she looked up, Mitch was frowning. “You didn’t get things at Christmas?”

  “Sure, but usually things we could share. Games, puzzles, big boxes of crayons. Footballs and soccer balls. Stuff like that. This necklace,” she said, reaching for the small gold heart she wore. “I got this when I was sixteen. I was a jock, so I never had a lot of time for girly things, and when I opened this teeny little box and found this inside, I started bawling. May thought I was disappointed, but it was the best gift anyone had ever given me.”

  “Sounds like you landed in a good place,” Mitch said, clearing his throat. “Though it’s too bad about Christmas. That things had to be shared.”

  Oh, but he had it wrong. “I didn’t mind. Especially since I had a few years in other places where I didn’t get anything at all. But then I also had the years with my parents and those gifts.”

  “Yeah?” He crossed his arms, gave her a curious look. “You remember back that far?”

  “Some of it,” she said, pushing aside the worst memories and digging for the best, the one she’d thought of the night she’d found Ten in her yard shining a flashlight over her shutters. “I got a big stuffed puppy once. All pink and sparkly. I was little, but I remember using it for a pillow, in bed, on the couch, the floor.” She laughed then, thinking about trying to clean it with soap and a rag and rubbing it bald in one spot. “It got pretty dirty after a while.”

  Mitch looked away again, rubbing a hand over his neck. He’d been courteous. He hadn’t really wanted to hear about her Christmases past. And she’d gone and made him uncomfortable by opening a vein and pouring herself out there the way she’d been doing so often these days. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I told you that.”

  He waved her off with a “Don’t worry about it.” But he didn’t look at her as he said it. Instead, he pointed toward the barbecue pit and took a step in that direction. “I hate to cut out, but I’ve got to get back to the meat before Harry decides he knows how to cook. I’ll, uh, see you soon, I guess.”

  She gave him a wave, then for no reason that made sense, mentally added, You will if you’re lucky.

  Weird, she mused, watching Mitch go, deciding he must think her a loon. Who in their right mind told a virtual stranger about a toy they’d slept with at four? Honestly, after the few short weeks she’d been in Hope Springs, she doubted her employees in Austin would recognize her. There she’d been all business, keeping her private life private. Here she was pouring out her life story to everyone she met.

  Shaking off the strangeness of the moment, she turned back to Luna and saw Ten walking toward her, a sugar cookie frosted with thick yellow icing in his hand. Flutters of unexpected delight tickled her as she breathed in, then worked their way lower to coil in her belly and burn. They made the next breaths she took a struggle, yet she held on to them anyway, digging her nails into her palms, letting the flutters fill her.

  Ten said nothing as he stopped beside her, watching with her as the kids lined up at Luna’s command. She raised one hand overhead until all eyes were on her. Then, with a flourishing sweep of a scarf, she brought her arm down to signal the race was on, jumping and clapping as the kids nearly mowed her down.

  Kaylie was pretty sure the other woman was having more fun than the children. She bumped her elbow against Ten’s. Accidentally, she told herself, though she wasn’t sure that was the case. “Did you ever hunt Easter eggs when you were a boy? You and your brother and sister?”

  He grunted. “Is this your way of getting me to talk about them? Or to find out why I don’t talk about them? Except, it seems, to you.”

  “Either. Both.” It had actually been neither. She’d only been asking about eggs. But to know that he felt free to talk of them to her…her heart tumbled at that, the honor, the privilege. She felt flushed with a satisfaction almost too intimate to bear.

  Ten popped the rest of the cookie into his mouth, talked around it. “How ’bout I just say yes? My brother and sister and I hunted Easter eggs as kids.”

  “That’s it?” she asked, looking up.

  Brows furrowed, he looked down. “What more do you need?”

  She was hungry for everything about him. His hair in the sun. His eyes on hers. His tongue flicking out to catch cookie crumbs. His Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. “Did you hunt them at home? After Sunday school? With the other children in the neighborhood?”

  “Again. All of the above,” he said, and turned back to watch the kids, as if having changed his mind about
sharing things about his family with her.

  Fine, but he was the one who’d opened the door. “If you don’t talk to your sister, why did you ask her to come by?”

  “Because you wanted to put in a garden,” he said, shrugging as if it was obvious. “And no one knows gardens like Indy.”

  He’d done it for her. Put what she needed for her café above his desire for the separation from his family that even Indy wasn’t clear on—a thought that had her returning to Winton and May and the way each looked to the other’s needs first.

  “Thank you,” she said, asking, “What?” when he responded with a weighty sigh.

  “Nothing,” he said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You’re welcome.”

  She reached for his arm, tugged him to face her. “No, it’s not nothing. What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing’s wrong.” He puffed out his cheeks, then puffed out a gust of air. “I just don’t want you to think it was a tit-for-tat thing. I’m not expecting anything in return.”

  “Anything?” Oh. “Like another kiss?”

  “I’m not expecting another kiss, no.”

  But the way he said it…“Do you want to kiss me again?”

  “Kaylie—”

  She raised her chin and looked up at him, shading her eyes from the sun when it got in the way of her drinking him in…the way he ground his jaw, the stubble of beard he hadn’t bothered to shave, the curl of hair that cupped his ear because it wasn’t as long as the rest hanging over his collar.

  She remembered the feel of it in her hands, the strands coarser than corn silk, and textured, like raffia, or hemp. She remembered his scent and caught hints of it now, spicy and fresh and of the woods. His mouth had been fresh, too, wet and warm and sure. And the discoveries she’d made of his body…

  She used the hand at her eyes to push her hair from her face, catching back strands stuck on her lips where she’d slicked them with her tongue. “I want you to kiss me again,” she said into the moment bubbled around them, close and fragile. “I want to kiss you.”

  He said nothing as he lifted one hand, hooking a flyaway lock of her hair behind her ear. She leaned into his touch, the bubble tightening, the holiday crowd and noise and watercolor eggs fading into the watercolor distance.

  She nuzzled her cheek to his hand, and he swallowed hard, his throat working around the words caught there. “You’re making it hard to say no.”

  “Then don’t say it,” she said, wondering what he had done to her, because she was not herself at all.

  “Time and place, sweetheart,” he finally said, as if it had taken him longer than he’d expected to find a response. “Do you think either is right?”

  “No.” But that didn’t change any of what she was feeling.

  “Later,” he said softly, leaning closer to whisper, “Promise,” against the shell of her ear. “You and me. No distractions.”

  Nodding, she moved away, because her hands were numb and her heart tumbling and her skin prickling with fever. “I’m going to go find Luna. She promised to show me how to work a loom.”

  “You’re going to take up weaving now? On top of baking brownies and running a café?”

  “No, but I have a toolbox needing to be packed and it’s calling my name,” she said, and his laughter echoed behind her all the way to the weaving shed.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  As Luna Meadows was rushed by a three-foot-tall screaming mob, Mitch sought out his daughter where she stood beside Tennessee Keller, still wondering how he’d made it back to the barbecue pit without breaking down after hearing her talk about Christmas. He’d woken this morning, too little sleep under his belt and sweating bullets. It was Easter. The one day each year he couldn’t get out of going to Meadows Land. And yet today, of all days, Meadows Land was the last place he wanted to be.

  It had been bad enough seeing Kaylie at the Gristmill. What had Luna been thinking, bringing her to Gruene for lunch, knowing he liked to spend his breaks on the patio or the deck, visiting with diners, making sure the food was well received? Turning the corner and seeing them there…no way could he have retreated unnoticed. But he’d wanted nothing more than to drop his gear, wave a white flag, and run.

  Stopping at their table when he’d told himself to stay away had killed him. He’d wanted to sit in the chair beside Kaylie, listen to her and Luna talk, learn what she liked, what she thought, what she wanted. Listen to her laugh. Soak up the things she shared with her friend that he would never know because he could not see her. He could…not…see her. The pain of that truth was worse than what he’d felt when he’d first found her gone.

  But no matter all the reasons it was a particularly bad idea for him to be at Meadows Land today, he couldn’t get out of it. Calling in sick to the barbecue would have Harry dropping his basting brush and coming after him, propping him up in front of the pit if he had to. So he’d made the trip over not long after dawn, put the meat in the marinade, and started the fire. Then he’d stood there, smoke making his eyes water, and watched for Kaylie, his palms clammy, his ulcers developing ulcers and burning hot pokers all the way to his spine.

  He didn’t feel a whole lot better now, having talked to her. Those few minutes…he’d wanted to pull her aside and ignore everyone around them and memorize every single word that came out of her mouth. And then she’d remembered the puppy. The cheap, stuffed arcade dog he’d won shooting at a target of a moving reindeer.

  Of all things for her to remember, though, at least it was a good one and not the day he’d told her good-bye. He shook off his musings, focused on his daughter again. She wore boots and jeans, as always, though today with a pullover sweater. It was cashmere, he was certain, and pink, a color that sent him back in time…

  …to patent shoes with bows on the toes and buckles too tiny for his tweaking fingers to fasten. Her socks had been the littlest things, the tops folded around her ankles, the lace on the back of one torn and dragging beneath her heel. He’d pulled out his pocketknife while she wasn’t looking and sliced the loose strip away.

  Her dress had been pink, too, like a tutu, the skirt made of some sort of mesh he thought looked like crap, but not Kaylie. She said it was what princesses wore. And ballerinas. And as much as she’d wanted a tiara, she’d had to settle for the ribbons Dawn had made out of a trashy lace teddy, tying up her hair like Madonna’s in strips of pink and white.

  He’d looked at her that day, her little fingers wrapped around the handle of a cheap plastic basket nearly as big as she was, everything she wore used or torn or an unwanted hand-me-down, the smile on her face brighter than all the bulbs in the apartment lamps shining at once, and he’d dropped to the floor full of shame.

  What the hell kind of father let his daughter wear a torn-up teddy in her hair? So what if he couldn’t afford to buy her a new dress. So what if the next year he’d cleaned up his act and bought her one with a big velvet bow in the back. He’d let her mother pull a piece of crap lingerie out from under the bed and tie pieces of it into his daughter’s hair.

  He turned away and walked from the pit to the fence edging the nearest pasture, a sob caught in the back of his throat and choking him. He didn’t deserve to have her in his life. He didn’t deserve anything good after the four years he’d wasted. He’d been given the greatest gift a man could wish for, and he’d been too stoned most of the time to even register the worship in the big green eyes looking up at him.

  And yet, whether a higher being had answered his prayers, or if it was simply Luna being in the right place at the right time, Kaylie was here. His girl was here. And he couldn’t turn his back on her again. Facing the direction he’d come, he watched from a distance as Kaylie leaned into Ten Keller, as the other man reached up to tuck her hair behind her ear.

  Mitch may not have done right by her in the past, but he’d damn sure do it now—whether she knew he was looking out for her or not. And if that meant going to work for her, seeing her every day without her knowing who he
was, so be it. He could cook for her café. He could wash her dishes, mop her floors, whatever he had to do. He was not letting her out of his sight again.

  Ever.

  He wasn’t going to think about her discovering his deception until he had to. Being near her after all the years and all the damage and all she’d gone through because he’d left her behind was the only thing that mattered. And he was willing to take whatever risks that required.

  “When you said farm,” Will said, minutes after Luna had extricated herself from the egg hunt and led him to her weaving shed. He circled her loom on his way to the pegboard holding her rainbow of yarn. Red on one end. Violet on the other. A spectrum in between. “I was expecting corn and wheat fields. Not sheep.”

  Luna found that remarkably funny. “Did you think I used flax fibers or stalks of grain in my weaving?”

  “Farming. Weaving. I wasn’t associating the two.” Will chose a skein of sapphire blue and flipped it in his hand like a juggling club. “And I didn’t connect either with you being famous for your scarves.”

  That took her aback, but in a good way. “Thank you. I needed that.”

  “How so?”

  She pulled the scarf she wore from around her neck, looped it around his. Circles woven in the colors of marshmallow Peeps peered back at her like wide, frightened eyes against his wolf black. “I’d obviously started believing in my own press.”

  Will laughed, lifted the scarf to his nose, and breathed in. “I didn’t mean that as an insult. And I sure didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. And this smells like you, only closer.”

  The wolf smelling her marshmallows did something sharp to her tummy. “You didn’t hurt my feelings. Not at all. I forget Hope Springs is barely a pinpoint on the map.”

  “And everyone in this pinpoint knows you?”

  “Obviously not,” she said with a laugh. “But those who do are good to keep my secret.”

  “Which secret would that be? Your true identity?” He sniffed at her scarf again, his lashes like a sweep of feathers as he blinked. “The one you’re keeping from a new friend? Or the one you hide with your hair?”