Temptation Trails: A Small-Town Romance (The Haven Brothers Book 3) by Claire Kingsley

Author:Claire Kingsley [Kingsley, Claire]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Always Have, LLC
Published: 2024-09-12T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 25

Harper

Marigold had a lovely kitchen. She didn’t have a stand-mixer, but that wasn’t a problem. She had plenty of ingredients, and mixing by hand was part of the therapeutic nature of stress-baking.

After leaving Garrett’s house, I’d intended to go home and do exactly what I was doing at Marigold’s—bake entirely too many sugary treats. Which was fine. It wouldn’t have been the first time.

But Marigold had texted to see how things were going and wound up inviting me over. Audrey had arrived just after me, but instead of curling up on the couch and spilling all my feelings over cups of tea—which had probably been Marigold’s intent—I’d asked if I could mess up her kitchen.

I’d promised to clean up.

I wasn’t great at sitting still under the best of circumstances. Even less so when I was stressed. And right then, I was a big ball of chaotic stress energy. My hair was twisted into a messy bun and I wore a pink apron with a ruffle hem that I’d found in the pantry. It was so pristine, I had a feeling Marigold had never worn it, let alone splattered it with eggs and flour.

The air was filled with the scent of the double chocolate brownies I’d already put in the oven, and I was busy scooping peanut butter cookies onto a baking sheet.

“Are you sure there’s nothing we can do to help?” Marigold asked.

She and Audrey sat on counter-height stools, watching me work. I had no idea what I’d done to deserve them. They barely knew me and there they were, giving up their evenings with their husbands to hang out with me.

The least I could do was feed them dessert.

“No, I’ve got it. If I stop moving, I’ll… you know, stop moving. Can’t have that.”

“I’m not even hungry, and those brownies smell so good I could probably eat the entire pan,” Audrey said. “And then have some of those cookies for dessert.”

“You really do have a gift,” Marigold said.

“Thank you.” I dropped another scoop of dough onto the baking sheet, my mind already contemplating what I might make next.

Or whether I should stop using up all Marigold’s ingredients and get out of her kitchen.

I hadn’t said a lot since I’d arrived, and they hadn’t asked. I got the sense they were waiting for me to share, and if I didn’t, they weren’t going to push.

It made me want to trust them, even more than I already did.

That was a little scary. I was already feeling a vulnerability hangover coming on, the fear that I’d shared too much—and trusted too much—making me want to retreat into my own little bubble. As I worked, I kept having to remind myself they weren’t my mom or sister. I wasn’t going to get an I told you so, or a now you’re stuck in a dead-end life with that small-town guy from them.

I checked the oven timer again. I’d only set the one, so I needed to be careful. I’d turned my phone off.

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